#how have i never draw bruv before

[justme068]

Look at this sociopath

[thetarttfuldickhead]

It’s a little unclear, in the end, how the conversation gets there, because all in all the Richmond dressing room isn’t the site of that many sex jokes, not since Colin came out and no longer feels the need to make them. But they’re still lads, yeah, and young, mostly, so the jokes still happen, even if it’s just gentle ribbing, and silliness.

So: somehow, one morning halfway into Roy’s first year as head coach, the topic turns to sex, of the rougher variety. Roy’s only listening with half an ear, he’s busy sketching out the new trick plays Nate’s dreamed up on the whiteboard, and he doesn’t really catch the build-up, but when Jamie’s name is mentioned his ears perk up without him even really noticing. It’s become instinct at that point, keeping track of Jamie (even as Roy does his best to give all his players at least some semblance of equal attention).

“We know that Jamie likes it rough, though,” Zorro says, and the rest of the group oh:s and ah:s either knowingly or in surprised glee.

“Eh?” Jamie sounds startled by the assertion, but not particularly put off. (He never really is, as long as he gets attention, Roy thinks with an internal scoff that’s far fonder than he’d ever admit to.) “What makes you say that?”

“You told us!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy can see Jamie shake his head. “I don’t know what you’re on about, mate.” Still not bothered, but clearly not understanding what Zorro is getting at either.

Isaac throws him a disbelieving glance. “You don’t remember, bruv? It was when you first came here, before you started going out with Keeley.”

“Yeah,” Colin interjects, “You’d only been here for about two weeks, I think, but you came into training with these marks and bruises, and it turned out you’d hooked up with a girl the night before, but you hadn’t known she was a professional dominatrix before you got to her place.”

Hoots and titters at that, delighted and amused but not unkind.

“Exactly,” Zorro says. “And you told us you’d just gone with it because you have to try everything at least once, and it hadn’t been bad.”

Ah. Roy remembers now. He’d already been absolutely fed-up with Jamie’s attitude, the arrogance and selfishness and incessant need to put others down, and the striker’s total lack of shame and casual smugness about the marks had rubbed Roy entirely the wrong way. Not because people should be ashamed for liking that sort of stuff, of course (Roy wasn’t), but there was such a thing as common decency and unspoken rules about not parading around the dressing room like you were in a fucking porno or some shit and—

If Roy was honest about it, he’d mostly been pissed because it was Jamie, and everything Jaime did pissed him off back then (though, to be fair, most of what Jamie did back then was fucking shitty, so it’s not like Roy was wrong to be pissed. Most of the time).

“Oh.” Jamie’s voice is soft, suddenly. Small, in a way that has alarm bells going off like air raid sirens in Roy’s head. “Yeah. Um.”

The realisation hits Roy a second before it does the rest of the team, and his ears are already filling with a terrible ringing as the room falls silent behind him. He can feel himself grow rigid with rage, and with cold, curdling shame.

“Shit, man,” Isaac says eventually.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.” It’s odd, the way Colin’s earnest, unhappy voice seems to be coming from so very far away.

“What?” Zorro, still not getting it, and then he does, and Roy, at a great distance, can hear his face crumpling. “Oh shit, Jamie, I didn’t mean—“

“No, don’t worry about it, man. It was a long time ago, yeah? It’s fine.” It’s a heroic attempt at sounding casual. Might have succeeded, too, back before they all knew Jamie as well as the do now.

Roy doesn’t stick around to hear the team offer their comfort and Jamie try to wave their concern away. He walks into the coaches’ office, and the only reason he doesn’t slam the door as hard as he can is because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. 

“You all right there, Coach?” Beard looks up at him from behind his book, brow creased in quiet assessment.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Nate jumps down from the desk he’s been perched on. “Did someone die?”

And Roy wants to tell them to fuck off. Wants to punch the wall so hard it stops his mind from spinning. But he’s been talking with Dr. Fieldstone about that, hasn’t he, how his maladaptive coping strategies are tripping him up, and fucking over the people he cares about in the process.

So he takes a deep breath. And he doesn’t look at them when he starts talking. “Back before Ted came here Jamie came in with these bruises all over his chest and back one day, and he told us he’d had sex with a fucking dominatrix. And I believed him, okay? I just… I fucking believed him, even though it was weird fucking bruises for— That’s not the fucking point. But because I thought he was an arrogant fucking prick and I fucking hated his guts, I told him— “ He trails off, looking up at the ceiling. Uselessly, his cheeks are burning. Maybe his eyes are, too, if he’d let himself feel it. “I told him I’d be happy to pay to see someone give him a trashing. Give ‘em extra if they knocked a couple of his teeth out so he’d shut up for once.”

Beard doesn’t say anything, but he leans back in his chair with a look on his face that lets Roy know that, yeah, he’d fucked that one up good and proper.  

“Oh,” Nate says. “So it was his dad who— That’s— But— I mean, that’s not good, obviously, that’s awful, but it’s… It wasn’t you who hurt him, Roy. And I mean, you and Jamie have said all sorts of thing to each other. Done all sorts of things.”

And that’s true, isn’t it. And mostly Roy is happy enough to write it off as tit-for-tat, old foolishness and bygones, Jamie a prick and Roy sometimes an idiot, and they’re both better now. And he doesn’t know how to explain to Nate and Beard how knowing that Jamie looked up to him ever since he was a kid, knowing that he never took that poster down, even after that, after everything, makes his casual cruelty and failure to protect Jamie all the harder to bear, even if he hadn’t known at the time that there was anything to protect Jamie from.

“Coach—“ Beard begins, but is interrupted by a knock on the door, and before Roy can tell whoever it is to fuck off, Jamie sticks his head into the office. Must have made his escape from the rest of the team, then. “Sorry, Coach, are we getting started or what? The lads— “ He catches sight of Roy’s face and his eyes widen. “Jesus, Roy, what happened? Are you all right, man?”

Under other circumstances, Roy might have found it remarkable how quickly and effortlessly Jamie makes the switch from Roy’s respectful star player to Roy’s friend, his entire demeanour changing as he moves into the room. As it is, Roy doesn’t say anything, but he must have made some sort of noise or moved some sort of way, because Jamie’s face twists in alarm, and then he’s across the floor and gently but firmly pulling Roy into a hug. “There, it’s all right, man, I’ve got you, lad, it’s all right.”

Roy blames all the fucking therapy he’d been doing for the past eight months for not pushing Jamie away but instead allowing the other to hold him, and allowing himself to hesitantly wrap his arms around him in turn. Fuck Nate. Fuck Beard. Fuck the team. Fuck anyone who thinks they get to have opinions on that.

He’s got an inch on Jamie, but Jamie’s broader, solid and strong. Steady, as he puts a hand on the back of Roy’s neck, murmuring nonsense that Roy knows is supposed to be soothing, and which maybe is. Mostly, it’s reassuring to have Jamie there, whole and hale and safe.

“What’s going on? Is Phoebe all right? Did something happen to your sister? Keeley?” Jamie is starting to sound a little freaked out, and Roy realises that he can’t just stand there mutely forever and let the fears grow in Jamie’s mind, he needs to fucking say something, explain.

He’d rather never say another word.

Tough fucking luck, Kent. “Do you remember what I told you when you said you’d had sex with a dominatrix?”

The way Jamie stiffens tells him that, yeah, Jamie does. “Roy—“

Roy tightens his grip, not wanting Jamie to pull away. “Don’t fucking tell me it was fine, because you were a nightmare for the rest of that day, you were absolutely fucking horrible to everyone.” Worse than usual, lashing out—not that Roy had known it at the time, or had thought it anything more than Jamie being a fucking prick for no other reason than to be a prick.  

For a few moments, Jamie doesn’t say anything. Then he lets out a long sigh, relaxing into the embrace and pressing his face against Roy’s neck. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters, “it was all shit, mate. I mean, all of it was, it wasn’t just you— But, Roy, listen… “ And now Jamie does pull back, just enough so that he can look at Roy. His eyes are tired, but the set of his jaw determined. “You fucking hated me, right? Back then, I mean. You hated me, ‘cause I was a prick, and I hated you, ‘cause you were a bitter old cunt.”

There’s no fucking denying it, is there. Roy gives a sharp nod. “Yeah, but—“

“No, let me just— I’m not saying that makes it all right, yeah, I just— You hated me, okay. But, would you have said what you said if you’d known what really happened?”

Roy’s lips twist into snarl. “What? No! Of course I wouldn’t fucking have— “ He might have ached to put Jamie’s head through a wall several times a day, but he wouldn’t have stood by for Jamie’s piece of shit father—

“See?” The little twat has the audacity to look triumphant at that, as if he’d scored a particularly neat goal. “That’s what I’m saying, yeah? Even when you hated my guts, you wouldn’t have said that, if you’d known what was going on. But you didn’t know, ‘cause I didn’t want you to, or anyone to, and I’m an amazing actor, yeah? So, like, it’s not fine, but it’s… Don’t beat yourself up over it, man. You didn’t know.”

It’s absolution, the kind Roy doesn’t think he deserves and the Jamie is far too quick to offer. But Jamie is also right: Roy hadn’t known. Wallowing in guilt won’t do anything to change the past, or help Jamie now.

“All right,” Roy says. “But that was still a shit thing to say and I wish hadn’t done it. You never deserved any of what that arsehole did to you, and if… fuck it, when I made you feel like I thought otherwise, that was my fucking bad, and I’m sorry.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.” And there’s a tremulousness to his faint smile that makes Roy think that for all his claims to the contrary, it had still been something Jamie needed to hear.  

It does Roy’s fucking head in that Jamie’s been up to see his dad several times since he got word that James Tartt is in rehab. But they’ve argued about that already, bitterly, and Roy has very reluctantly admitted that it’s not his call. All he can do is offer Jamie whatever support he needs, whenever he wants it.

Clearing his throat, Roy gives Jaime an awkward pat on the shoulder before carefully extricating himself fully from the hug. “We’re still on for dinner with Keeley tonight?” He’ll make Jamie’s favourite dish, he decides. Throw in some dessert.

“Yeah, of course, yeah.”

“Good.” He jerks his head to the door. “Go on then, tell the lads to get on the pitch, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, Coach.”

As the door shuts behind him, Roy turns on Beard and Nate who – wisely – don’t say anything.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about this,” he tells them sharply. “I don’t want you mentioning a fucking word of it ever again.” Because maybe he’s gotten to a point where having a fucking breakdown and hugging it out with Jamie in front of them isn’t the end of the world (even if it’s a near fucking thing), but if someone tries to make him discuss it, he’ll need to start head-butting people, and he’s been trying to stay off that since he became manager, because it just isn’t a good look, is it, and he’s trying to be better about that sort of thing.

Nate and Beard glance at each other. Roy doesn’t really care for the knowing look in their eyes, but they merely offer a nod and a yeah, yeah, of course, sure in reply, and that will have to do.

In this messed up world, a lot of things would have to fucking do.

“Right,” Roy says, already moving to follow Jamie. “I’ll see you on the fucking pitch.”

---

A/N: This was supposed to be the fourth of the stand alone ficlets I call The Locker Room Conversations, but it got quite a bit darker (and less team focused) than I usually do for those, so I’m not sure. I’ll sit on it for a bit, maybe fiddle a little, and see where I put it when it goes up on AO3 eventually.

If you like the idea of the team uncovering sad truths about Jamie’s past and are into heavier angst (and more of the team taking care of Jamie), I highly recommend checking out i should be the poster kid for this shit by anotherlongstoryshort / babytarttdoodoo

[leafing-charm-eb]

hi. i have an au to unpack so get ready wemen and men and people whose genders are bent

so... 2 much anxiety fairly oddparents au aha

SO BASICALLY its a pretty well known the fact that timmys life is miserable hence he got fairys but what if timmys parents are people who should get a divorce like if timmys parents isnt leaving timmy alone with vicky to do something and is at home they argue and what if timmy got cosmo and wanda a bit later than he did and what if vicky does things way worse.

so thats why timmy has so much anxiety for this au

now some of you may wonder from the fact that i am a nicktoons unite fan what happens in nicktoons unite!

well timmy isnt really so agressive only when provoked and since timmy already knows jimmy and trusts him he trusts the others too

now WHAT ABOUT MY DANNY AND TIMMY COUSINS HC (not the head cannon that timmy accidentally summons danny)

well for this i think the cousins never met each other till nu gang happened and LET ME TELL YA WHY

because for timmys parents and dannys parents just dont interact often. sure they call eachother from time to time but havent gone to each others places

or danny and timmy met before but timmy was so young he didnt remember (no this isnt a reference to forgor au i swear 😭)

im getting a bit off track so BACK TO 2ma

timmy before getting fairies (remember i said he got fairies later) sometimes cries himself to sleep or listen to music because timmys parents are so fucking loud when fighting at night.

the reason why cosmo and wanda was given to timmy later is because timmy would get vicky as a babysitter later because timmys parents are trying to fall in love again neglecting timmy

AND WHAT ABOUT CROCKEERRRR so crocker has a suspission to all of his class to have FAIRY 💥 GOD 💥 PARENTS (sorry i have to) and he does know that miserable children gets them (if you think about it timmys class are all miserable in thier own way like chester being poor but he shrugs it off.

timmy however before getting fairies is already having too much anxiety (see what i did there) and pretty much everyone notices that but his parents because they are lumps of shit so crocker began looking for evidence of fairy yod parents on timmy which well since timmy didnt have fairies yet and from how much crocker keeps looking there is no fairies he even asked timmy himself if he had fairies and timmy look up to crocker anxiety gilled thinking he missed something and ask whats a FAIRY 💥 GOD 💥 PARENTS and crocker still keeps looking but he just finds out timmy doesnt have fairies and how miserable timmy is to the point hes crying himself to sleep so he shrug it off and just thought timmy is just miserable but not miserable enough to have fairies. until timmy just shows up to class without anxiety and everyone is worried but that was the day timmy gets his fairies and as days go on and crocker gets suspicions again and boom the fop series but ill cut after poof seasons because no.

timmy is still a rulebreaker and even after getting fairies he still have anxiety becuase anxiety doesnt go away like that

but wait i have to talk about something..

JIMMYTIMMYPOWERHOUR

so yeah remember i said in the nicktoons unite bit that timmy trusts jimmy from jtph? yeah so-

timmy accidentally wishes to go there right and then met jimbo and hes a mad fuck lmfao.

it basically went "what the fuck who are you" "IM SORRY I DIDNT M-MEANT TO GET HERE I- I GOT HERE BY AC-ACCIDENT I DONT KNOW THIS PLACE WHERE AM I IM S-SORRY IF I BROKE ANYTHING IM SORRY-" aha..

and yknow the whole jtph happened but timmy have anxiety and stutters alot... alot.

lets just say for this au jimmy is the one who gets feelings first

so what about the other 2 jtph well its practically the same but yknow timmy anxiety and stutter but from one to another it lowers down.

EXTRAS

REMEMBER MY DANNY GETS SUMMONED BY TIMMY ACCIDENT HC? YEAH HE DID ACCIDENTALLY DO THAT AND BRO 2MA TIMMY IS APOLOGIZING SO MUCH BRUV

also uhh drawings of him becuase 💔

the first 2 i actually shared in discord earlier

gonna make more content for this but feel free to use this au

oh and one more thing to note here when hanging out with the nu gang as buddies not beating up baddies when timmy meets gary he loves him. he practically loves all pets but gary is just yes there is no meaning behind it just timother loevs snials

[x-heesy]

🆂🆆🅰🅶 🅰🆃🆃🅰🅲🅺

Yo... Eski-boy in the building

December madness

This ain't a fluke, this ain't a parody

I be in the hall of fame and art galleries

Vision in my head before Amy did Valerie

Gradually you felt like you knew me and added me

I am not a present, ain't nobody wrapping me

Shoulders ahead, many women they love tapping me

Chatting about how I come across unmannerly

Like I'm in a bike gang, Sons of Anarchy

Step on to the track, burn calories

Pekker got me on the higher salary

Heavier riddims, I got the clarity

Nobody pushed me, nobody carried me

Search for comparisons you're only gonna find similarity

I blaze weed, it controls my sanity

Without I couldn't defy gravity

I'd be a floater, and you'd be mad at me

I'm from the hood and I ain't new to tragedy

6 in the bloodclart morning, you follow me

I run bass, I'm the Bass Odyssey, of course you're dodging me

For me to act like I never knew you? It would be odd of me

It would be cold of me, it's the older me

In effect, directly from the L-O-N

East side tech, got bangers, got manors

But no respect for goal-hangers

Wiser the older I get

I said, nobody's fucking with the shower man flow

I said, nobody's fucking with the shower man, bro

You'd better know

Man can't handle these levels and I'm sorry bro, you gotta go

Draw from the pain that I had and the brain that I had

From the days when the money was low

Might sound crystal clear, we're like wolves

Walked in the dance, in the war you froze

My ability is a par, that's why I don't wanna use it

It's lary, start showing off with the music

Shows you, why I lived this why I do this

Shows you, if I'm complacent and abuse it

Got it installed in my skin, I was born to win

Maintain so I can't loose it

I don't know why you wanna question my flow in the game every day, man prove it

Popping, I got a vibe that's popping

Won't work blud if your vibe ain't popping

I've spent so many hours on the radio

Ask anybody car most of them locked in, popping

I get it done get it popping

Been here for years and the style ain't stopping

Got a whole back catalogue of songs, but it's a new day got a vibe what's popping

Don't get stuck, roll with the times

You're there in the past, we've grown with the times

Who do you know from the new generation?

No one, cus you don't roll with the times

I don't get blocked man roll with the lions

I will never get lost man go with the signs

When I was a kid I was in 9 mass lots

Friday night man might go to the chimes

If you hear me sound whack tell me I'll get my to bag to pack

I'll leave there and I'll never come back

I'm sure of myself

You're raw in a crew, but I'm raw by myself, I could tour by myself

If its shanks you're looking for turn back now bro

I'll bust a roundhouse kick like Shaodow

Straight in ya chest, hurling dub plates in ya chest

That flows without breaks, I'm the best

6 in the bloodclart morning, you follow me

I run bass, I'm the bass Odyssey, of course you're dodging me

For me to act like I never knew you? It would be odd of me

It would be cold of me, it's the older me

In effect, directly from the L-O-N

East side tech, got bangers, got manors

But no respect for goal-hangers

Wiser the older I get

And I think for myself, I was born on my own

I don't wanna false friend in my zone

Tell a brudda don't chat to man, it's alright

Stay on your side, don't wan' it with our side

Enough of them are too ropy

Can't cope with all the vultures

We don't want ya here you're like ulcers

We ain't vibing with you cause you're fake bro

When I speak it's truth we're like hey bruv

Let me move on step up the pace

I had to chill a bit when I got her wet in the face

Have you ever seen a devil when you step in the rave

Versace shades and screw face step in ya face

And say what

I'm too London I've realised

At 22 I was getting texts from XL and EMI

Looking like a walking pound sign

Bait as you like they saw my cold town side

Don't rub your wins in the face of the hood

The outcomes not gonna be good

I know the, real ones I don't wanna be shook

I had to, take time so the quality's good

And now I'm back in the mix back in the combo

Back with an umbrella back with a poncho

If you got a good vibe you can holler me

Six in the bloodclart morning you follow me

@ro3000 @2020blaq #bounza 🕺🏼☠️🕺🏼

6 In The Morning by Wiley

[debbiechanclub]

So, this little scene was in my head and I had to get it out before I could work on anything else. David and Dan having a little bro-chat about Nellie and Torrance. Setting: that night the War Dogs all went out in Tokyo last week that rewired my brain chemistry. Posting it now because it goes into Nellie and David's history from his perspective, and I don't know when or if it will get posted as part of a complete fic. Enjoy!

“I guess Torrance actually hasn’t told you.”

Dan’s brow furrowed. “Hasn’t told me what?”

David paused as he lit his cigarette. And then he said, “She’s helping me pick out a ring.”

Dan’s eyes widened in excitement. “You’re popping the question?” He clasped his shoulder. “Congrats, bruv! Seriously.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Look at you and Nellie getting all domesticated,” he grinned. “Bought a new place together, gettin’ married. You’ll be poppin’ out kids before you know it.”

“Oh trust me, we’ve talked about it,” David returned. “We want kids. But the timing has to be right. She’s on the run of her career right now and I don’t want interrupt that.”

“Oh, for sure, you have time,” he nodded. “How long have you two been together now?”

David blew a stream of smoke from his mouth before he answered. “Officially, about six months. But unofficially, it’s closer to a year.”

“Mm,” Dan nodded as he took a draw off his cigarette. “Yeah, Torr explained that whole situation to me.”

“It fucking sucked,” David wryly laughed. “It’s why I’m not wasting any more time. I’ve been thinking about proposing since the G1.” He laughed again, bringing his drink to his lips. “I’ve had it bad for her since twenty-seventeen, to be honest.”

“That long?” Dan asked in surprise.

He nodded. “That was when we first met, when she came here for her first tour with Stardom. The first time I saw her I was just like… fuck.”

Dan let out one of his signature cackles. “Schwing!”

“Fucking basically!” David smirked. “So I asked her out, and I swear she only said yes because she felt bad saying no… and I fucking blew it on that date. I was trying way too hard because I was so nervous. And after that I figured, yeah, she’s never gonna even look at me again. But we kept hanging out in group settings, and there was still chemistry there, you know?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Dan nodded.

“But then she left, and when I saw her again a year later, she was dating ZSJ.” He rolled his eyes. “I was like, fucking really?”

Dan laughed again as he tapped some ash off the end of his cigarette. “So, if you’ve wanted Nell for that long, did you ever get serious with anyone else?”

“Oh, yeah,” David confirmed with a nod. “This isn’t the first time I’ve considered proposing to someone.”

“Really?” Dan curiously asked.

“Mhm. I got real close to it a couple years ago with a girl I’d been with for a while. But she got used to my schedule during the pandemic and having me around and not gone for weeks or months at a time, and when I came back from the twenty twenty-one New Japan Cup, she told me she couldn’t be with me if I was gonna start regularly working in Japan again.”

Dan’s eyebrows arched. “She gave you an ultimatum?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “So, we broke up. I was thinking about Nellie again within a week.”

“I hear that, bruv,” Dan breathed. “Did you get in touch with her?”

David laughed shortly to himself. “No, because she was with Jay. But honestly, I had a feeling even then he was gonna fuck it up.”

Dan cackled again. “And now you’ve taken a hell of a lot more from him than just Nellie.”

“Fuck yeah, I have,” David returned, and they clinked their glasses together in cheers and drank.

“In all seriousness, though, I’m buzzin’ for you, Dave,” Dan said. “I’m surprised Torr didn’t let something slip.”

David sent him a curious look as he took another pull from his cigarette. “What about you and her? It seems like you two are getting more serious.”

Dan nodded. “Yeah. It’s got me a bit scared, if I’m being honest.”

David smirked. “Well, I don’t know if this is gonna help or hurt, but I’ve known Torr a long time and seen her fuck up more than one relationship because she can’t get out of her own way. But she’s putting in more effort not to do that with you than I think I’ve seen her put in with anyone.”

Dan’s eyes turned distant and pensive as he took a long draw off his cigarette. He held in the smoke for a second, and then he expelled it from his chest and said, “Yeah, I don’t know if that helps or hurts, either.”

David slapped a hand on his back. “Don’t think about it too much,” he said just as the others rejoined them in the booth, Gabe loudly yelling about something.

[hacash]

Top 5 "The Coaches Don't Need to Know About This" moments among the himbos.

1. That Time Keeley scoured the locker-room for forty-five minutes to find and remove a spider, while the entire team balanced on top the benches arming themselves with rolled-up newspapers and pretty hefty looking books to protect themselves from said spider.

(For the record, Keeley doesn't think a little arachnophobia is anything to be embarrassed about, but she does think it was a little strange that Jamie nearly burst into tears when she threatened to christen the arachnid 'Jamie the Spider' and keep it in a match-box as the team's new mascot.)

2. That Time Roy asked them to keep an eye on Phoebe while she was visiting the Dogtrack and within an hour she'd gone missing twice (they found her both times), learned ten new swear words (in three different languages), learned how to do a dirty tackle, and looked inside Jamie's locker.

(When Roy mentions a month later that Phoebe has been drawing impressively anatomically correct pictures of women's breasts at school, the team exchange terrified looks. "It's not as if the pics are of Keeley anymore," Jamie whispers. "That...that would be worse, wouldn't it?"

"I don't think it makes it any better, bruv," Isaac says.)

3. That Time they taught Will to drive. In Colin's Lamborghini.

(They barely grazed that cat.)

4. The Eurovision Incident of 2021.

(So bad Isaac capitalised it, and put a blanket ban on watching the competition as a team ever again.)

5. That time after the away match to Sunderland where Nate was still the kitman and admitted he'd never tried a Jagerbomb. And the team decided to rectify the situation. Very generously.

("Look at it this way," Dani says weakly. "At least we now know how many Jagers a man of Nate's size can drink before he needs his stomach pumped. It's practically science."

"I think that is a good point," Sam says.

"Do you think the coaches will see it that way?"

"I do not.")

(Honourable mention to each time there has been a nonsensical debate, idiotic competition, disastrous team holiday, or someone has gotten lost on a night out - of which there have been too many incidents to keep track of.)

Top 5 Anything meme!

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

                                   ********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

[imagines-by-rose]

New Recruit - Part 1

Hello, again! Thank you all for the positive responses to my first fic, it means so, so much. I hope you enjoy this multi-part work!

Summary: Y/n is brought into Kingsman as Lancelot after the events leading to Roxy’s death, and Eggsy is furious. As the two work together to stop a notorious jewel thief, however, attitudes change - and feelings develop.

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Genre: Angst w/ a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Death

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

He hated this. He hated her.

Well -- what she represented, at least.

He especially hated how much she reminded him of her predecessor. God, she even looked like her! This girl -- y/n, he remembered -- was the new Lancelot. Finished basic training with flying colors just last week. Just thinking about it made him scowl. She had no idea who’s place she was standing in. What right did she have to just waltz in with what he could only assume was pride? It was hard enough when Harry was killed. Now Roxy, his Lancelot, was murdered. And not two months since that damn explosion took her life, some new recruit is assuming her place? He just couldn’t stand it.

“Kingsman really doesn’t waste any fucking time, huh?” The bitter thought struck him.

“Galahad,” Merlin’s call of Eggsy’s codename fuzzed with an electric static through his eyeglasses. “You’re to join Lancelot and myself in the briefing room in five minutes. We’ve got a mission for you two.”

Oh, great.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Eggsy stilled when he heard somber voices from behind the briefing room door. Curious, he leant his ear against the doorframe, trying not to make a sound.

“I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, y/n. I want to thank you personally for joining Kingsman on such short notice, given the circumstances. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Merlin. That means a lot, really.”

Curiosity gave way to frustration. What could Merlin possibly have to console y/n over, of all people? Oh, sorry about the rushed training regimen, usually new recruits get ten days instead of seven. Is he serious? Merlin’s comforting Roxy’s replacement? She didn’t even know her.

Unbelievable.

Having heard enough, Eggsy roughly opened the door, abruptly ending any conversation. Y/n seemed timid at the sight of him, looking to her hands and twiddling her thumbs.

She looked pathetic. Eggsy wondered how someone like her could even become an agent at all.

He sat with a huff, surprised to see an outstretched hand before him.

"You must be Eggsy," she smiled politely. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm y/n y/--" 

"It's Galahad."

Her hand faltered. "I'm sorry?"

"Address me as Galahad, agent." His voice sounded cold, even to him.

A simple "oh" was all she said before taking a seat.

Eggsy didn't miss the look of disapproval on Merlin's face. It made him feel like a scolded child.

Who was he? His mum?

He supposed that was a bit harsh, but Eggsy was nothing if not stubborn. He crossed his arms indignantly and looked away with a roll of his eyes.

The air was awkward as Merlin went over the details of the mission. Eggsy wouldn’t look at y/n in the eye. She was obviously uncomfortable, shifting in her seat whenever her attempts to lighten the atmosphere between them were refuted.

“This," Merlin tapped his clipboard, prompting a photo of a woman to appear on a screen behind him, "is Svetlana Ivanov. She's stolen several priceless jewels worldwide; the rarer the better. Though she came close, Ivanov failed to steal the Hope Diamond from the Smithsonian a few months ago. The Statesman saw to that mission."

Eggsy whistled. "Well that's impressive, innit? Goin’ after the Heart of the Ocean, an’ all?"

Merlin appeared unamused, but the mirth in his eyes betrayed him.

"Do you find attempting grand theft impressive, Galahad?"

Eggsy shrugged, a smug grin on his face.

"We’ve received intel that she plans to steal the Centenary Diamond from the Tower of London. There will be a gala held to honor the 39th anniversary of its unveiling, the guests at which will all be patrons to the exhibit. You two will pose as a newlywed couple whose families contributed handsomely to the museum - anonymously, of course."

Merlin handed each agent a black folder. "These reports contain Ivanov’s photo, as well as those of the philanthropists with whom we expect you to socialize. Attached to each photo is a dossier containing enough personal information about the attendees for you to appear acquainted. Commit them to memory; we don’t need you drawing unnecessary attention. Understood?”

Eggsy made a noise of disapproval, clearly unimpressed with the assignment. “You’re jokin', bruv. Newlyweds? With her?” Eggsy gestured at y/n. “Are you taking the piss, Merlin? She’s only been here a week and you’re gonna make us pose as newlyweds?”

The calmness in Merlin’s voice did little to mask his anger. “As you know, if you’ve got a problem, Eggsy, you may address it to me in private.”

Y/n risked extending the olive branch once again. “Eg--" she paused, catching herself. "Galahad, I know I’m new, but I’m a fast learner. I promise I won’t let the mission down. If you’re uncomfortable, we could get to know each other first? It might help us act more convincing. You’ve been here longer than I have, I’m sure you could help--”

Eggsy shot up from his seat, furious.

“Just fuck off, Lancelot! If you’re trying to chum up to me you can leave it out, yeah? You’re not Roxy and you never will be, so stop fuckin’ tryin'!”

Y/n sank into herself, her gaze falling to the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Eggsy! Would it kill you to be a decent human being for five minutes?”

Merlin’s outburst grounded him. Eggsy turned back to her, his rage ebbing into a shame that gripped his chest. Y/n wasn’t crying -- she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction -- but the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. Eggsy suddenly felt very small under her upturned glare. Her face twisted into a snarl, fists clenched at her sides, chest heaving.

She was livid.

“Y/n, I’m sor--”

“Don’t!” she spat. “Don’t you dare talk to me, Galahad.” Her voice growing more severe as tears began to swell in her eyes. “If anyone knows that Roxy -- that my sister is irreplaceable, it’s me.”

Eggsy’s eyes widened, his shame sinking deep and cold into his stomach. Now he’d really fucked up. He could only watch as y/n -- Roxy’s sister. Fuck! How did he not know? -- threw the door open and stormed out of the room.

He had to fix this.

“Care to tell me what the fuck that just was?”

Eggsy sank back into his seat, head in his hands.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

“Aye. A flaming heap of it, looks like.”

Merlin sighed and placed a comforting hand on Eggsy’s shoulder. “I know you miss her, Eggsy. We all do. But the world isn’t going to wait for us to finish mourning. Kingsman has a responsibility to uphold, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“I know, it’s just--” he sighed. “Seeing someone replace Roxy so fast…it was like she was being erased. I couldn’t stand it.”

Merlin’s hand gave Eggsy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I know it looks cold to find someone to assume Lancelot’s position so quickly. But I assure you, Roxy will never be forgotten. You’re a testament to that, just as Harry was to your father.”

Eggsy’s lips tightened.

“What you’re feeling is shared by every Kingsman when an agent is lost. But we have always kept going. No one wants to know what could happen if we don’t press on.”

Eggsy rose from his seat. Merlin was right, as always.

“You’d better go sort this out. The mission is in two weeks and I need you both to be at your best.”

Eggsy nodded, heading in y/n’s direction before stopping at the door.

“Thanks, Merlin. I owe you one.”

“Anytime, lad.”

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

A/N: I hope y’all are liking it so far! Part 2 is currently in the works, so I’ll try to get that out when I can.

‘Til next time!

[tetsunormous]

WOW sorry I'm gonna keep being horny omg but also I've been thinking about sneaking away into the bathroom at the bar with Keishin? and he'd be such an ass about it, threatening to unlock the door and telling you to muffle your moans while also actively trying to draw them out of you? I'm a mess I'm so sorry 😅

NEVER BE SORRY FOR BEING WHORENY. You go celebrate that! Most of us are here cause we got brainrot anyway babes, you go be the whoreniest horndog.

YOU’RE SO RIGHT JFC THATS SO HOT BRUV. 🥵💦🔫

Okay like imagine you’re out with friends or whatever irl I haven’t been out in a while. You’re all having fun but he’s been sending you that look all night, his hands been dangerously close to your heat, and he just looks sexy. Your drag him to the bathroom and the WHOLE times he’s like “what’s gotten into you? The alcohols has you thinking about my cock that badly, can’t even wait till we at least get in the car?”

He says all that but he’s the one tugging off your pants and sweeping your panties to the side. He’s the one spitting on his cock before slapping it against your clit, telling you to keep quiet. He’s the one pressing his hand over your mouth to muffle your cries as he slams his cock into you. He’s the one rubbing your clit harshly and then chuckling in your ear, threatening to let everyone hear how slutty you are if you make a sound.

AHHSBXJWIDBEJ this shit got my heart racin babes, you are so sexy for this ‼️😼💥

[365days365movies]

February 17, 2021: Desert Hearts (Review)

Another late one! School just went fully remote for a couple of weeks, so I had some things to prepare yesterday! Nevertheless, let’s get this underway!

This was a lovely movie. I mean it! While I don’t think it’s overall quality is quite equal to other recent films I’ve seen, this was still a wonderful movie, and one that I’ll definitely be happy to watch again at some point! But OK, it’s not quite equal to other films I’ve seen? I should explain that a little.

Sonce, oh, around The Bridges of Madison County or so, the romantic dramas I’ve been watching have definitely been pretty...intense. Not necessarily negative or positive (well, OK, mostly negative), but a bit, well...dramatic. And this film is definitely a romantic drama...but it’s UCH less intense than those movies. This is legit a romance film that I could leave on in the background while doing something, and look up every one in a while and say, “oh, yeah, it’s this scene. I’ll sit down and watch this for a sec.” Then, knowing me, I’d watch the whole movie again, but you get the point.

This movie is lovely, and it’s going to be one of my favorite romances for the onth (and the chemistry of the two leads deserves my finest chef’s kiss), but...it’s not Brokeback, or Carol, or CMbYN. And did it deserve to be slept on at the Oscars? Well, what was it competing against?

Oh FUCK, is that The Color Purple? YIKES, bruv. OK, what bout Best Actress? Helen Shaver should’ve at least been nominated, so was up for that one?

OH SHIT MERYL

Uhhhhh...OK, Best Director? Donna Dietch did a pretty good job.

OH DEAR SHIT IS THAT AKIRA KUROSAWA???

...Best Adapted Screenplay?

AH FUCK IT’S THE COLOR PURPLE AGAIN

And the worst part is...NONE of those nominees WON those prizes. Yeah, this movie was FUUUUUUCKED. But, still, it’s a cult classic now, so that’s good! But what did I think of it? Well, check out the Recap first for some on-the-fly thoughts; it’s here and here. Otherwise, look out below for the Review!

Review

Cast and Acting: 8/10

OK, before I say anything else, I want to explain why this is an 8/10, rather than anything higher. The reason is because, for the most part, the acting was good...but not perfect. I never really lost sight of the fact that I was watching people perform these lines. It’s hard to explain, but there’s an inherent artificiality to the film. Might be because of the time it was made, might be the direction, but...I dunno, it was somewhat lacking in certain spots for me. Especially as compared to the last several movies, all of whom have been dramatic dynamos. OK? Now...

Helen Shaver and Patricia Charbonneau are great. I mean that, both of them are real good, especially with each other in terms of chemistry. Individually, they may not have been perfect (Charbonneau felt, at certain times, a liiiiiiiiittle forced), but their chemistry was sizzling, and I still enjoyed watching them! Side character actors are mostly fine, but some credit definitely has to be given to Audra Lindley for her turn as Frances. Again, not a perfectly acted role, but emotionally dimensional, and I appreciate that. So, a little mixed here, but good overall!

Plot and Writing: 9/10

This is basically the reverse of Carol, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. In fact, if anything, I like this plot just a little more in some ways. In some ways. It’s funny, because both of these films end with a somewhat ambiguously happy ending, but they get there in wholly different fashions, each of which seems fitting. Anyway, writing in here is done by Natalie Cooper, based off on a 1962 book by Jane Rule, and it’s good! Definitely a very romantic movie all around, and the writing very successfully reflects that intention.

Directing and Cinematography: 8/10

This is Donna Dietch’s first film, and for the record, she has been an out lesbian since this film came out, which is great! I feel like I don’t hear about a lot of LGBT directors, and the fact that she made an LGBT film in 1985 is fantastic. Again, very glad I watched this movie! Anyway, her directorial style isn’t overly apparent, but she definitely knows how to film things romantically. Some of the scenes when Vivian and Cay are together look amazing. Cinematography by Robert Elswit also has something to do with that, and this film overall looks fantastic. It’s not really a Brokeback Mountain in appearance, but it’s still great!

Production and Art Design: 8/10

This one is interesting. Because this film takes place, it turns out, in 1959, and it doesn’t feel that way half the time. I get that I might be too much of a stickler for period authenticity, but if you’re gonna make a period film, then I gotta feel it. Other than that, though, everything and everyone looks pretty good. However, MASSIVE PROPS to whoever figured out Vivian’s outfits and transformation, because that is all GODDAMN EFFECTIVE. They effortlessly and realistically took a repressed academic woman, and turned her into someone who wanted more out of her life and out of love, and didn’t even know it. Some credit to Helen Shaver here, who’s fantastic, but seriously...nice job on wardrobe!

Music and Editing: 7/10

...OK, I may need to reexamine how I examine music on here. I mean, part of this little project is to refine my taste in film, and decide how I judge movies, right? Anyway, the reason I say this is because, well...music was fine, but I wouldn’t put in on my playlist. Which I know I’ve said FAR TOO MANY TIMES, and I should adjust that parameter. But, in my defense, I did put “Quizas, Quizas, Quizas” on my playlist, so I’m not just bluffing with that statement. Anyway, music was basically all preexisting tracks, which is totally fine...but I remember none of it. Like...NONE of it. Editing was fine (done by Robert Estrin), and there were noticeable wipes that never felt jarring or anything, but...yeah, music’s drawing a blank for me. Still, I know it wasn’t bad by any means...just wasn’t memorable for me.

Well, that’s an 80%, but this really was a delightful movie!

Seriously, if my friends are ever in the mood for a more serious (but not drainingly serious) romance, then I’ll throw this one on the table! I’d definitely watch it again. Like I said, it was delightful!

And with that...well, let’s see. Watch two films featuring L, two featuring G, technically B was in there somewhere...Shall we go for a T?

February 18, 2021: The Danish Girl (2015)

[devilstree]

Answer the questions and tag 11 people you want to know better!

@devildomz tagged us in an ask game. ok hell yeah this is a 2 in 1 blog

1. What do you prefer to be called namewise?

adri: adri !

nat: nat ........ lol our names are right there

2. When is your birthday?

adri: june 29 ... cancer season 😌 ✌️ 

nat: december 11 sagittarius gang only

3. Where do you live? (You can just give the country’s or state name if you’re not comfortable with sharing the city name)

adri: both of us are from the sf bay area

nat: what she said

4. Three things you are doing right now?

adri: i made fresh strawberry milk + boba and i am sipping on that. i am also listening to weeb music. i am also drawing somn 👀

nat: i am dyeing fabric in a pot with acrylic paint bc im in the throes of finals week and also im blasting fall out boy just one yesterday cause its 2015 again. yeah

5. Four fandoms that have your peak interest right now?

adri: at the forefront it is literally obey me the demon dating sim and haikyuu the volleyball anime is my ultimate comfort media. thats all folks i dont have four

nat: obey me is my emotional support quarantine hyperfixation but also animal crossing

6. How has this pandemic been treating you?

adri: not kidding! godawful! i hate it here ive never been more depressed in my life

nat: my life is gonna turn around as soon as im done with class next week but for now i am literally going through it.

7. A song you can’t stop listening to right now?

adri: tattoos together -- lauv

nat: mouth of the devil - mother mother

8. Recommend a movie

adri: marie antoinette dir. sofia coppola. is something that can be so personal 

nat: phantom thread 2017 dir. paul thomas anderson. absolutely insane

9. How old are you?

adri: i am 19

nat: me also

10. School, university, occupation or other

adri: university but summer break just started 4 me. double majoring in english/environmental studies 

nat: university also i go to art school. studying textiles & trying to double major in illustration. still working on the last one tho........

11. Do you prefer heat or cold?

adri: for outside weather sunny and warm, for indoor temp cold

nat: 70 degrees is the ideal living temperature i dont take feedback. also it is better to be cold than hot

12. Name one fact about you that others might find unusual

adri: bruv i am a normie i cannot think of an unusual thing. i am a vegan thats my weirdest unusual shit

nat: idk uhhhhhhhh. actually ok i thought my birthday was the wrong day for 10 years

13. Are you shy?

adri: i do not think that im shy i literally am just woefully picky with people i have in my life so i snip out people i dont immediately click with. not shy just unfortunately frigid akhddkg

nat: no only on the internet 

14. Do you have preferred pronouns?

adri: she/her

nat: anythings cool honestly but i prefer he/they slightly.

15. Biggest pet peeves?

adri: gross but. aggressive burping without apology when i dont know u like that

nat: hate it when ppl try to be rude funny like what is ur damage lol.. only do that if i know u -_-

16. What is your favourite “-dere” type?

adri: i had to look this shit up bc i didnt know any dere type other than tsundere but i still say tsundere because its so fun

nat: not a weeb so i had to check anyway its deredere i love happy bitches. good for them

17. Rate your life  1-10. 1 being crappy, 10 being amazing.

adri: last week it was a -8 but today it’s a 5??? im unfortunately going thru some shit rn but im on the up again

nat: 3-4 right now but i am finally getting off my ass for my finals. as soon as next week passes i guarantee i WILL be at 10

18. What is your main blog?

adri: @adrisama where i blog about haikyuu and rb whatever else i want

nat: @goo-mies its just everything there.

19. List your side blogs and what they are used for.

adri: oh christ. they are all lowkey dead for now bc i literally caught obey me disease but @twilitinhere for twilight blogging. @puffsleeves for blogging about anne with an e. @agrestes for miraculous ladybug. u are looking at the newest sideblog here at devilstree dot tumblr dot com

nat: i have an art blog @dovebranch and an aes blog @solohsis which r the only ones im really using rn. i used to have a tf2 sideblog but i havent touched it in 2 years and the art is old so i am NOT sharing

20. One thing you think people should know about you before they become your friends? 

adri: this is just for people who follow this blog and play obey me.... i stan satan and mammon. yes they r on critical opposing ends of the sapiosexual/morosexual spectrum. i have two hands!!!!!  🤧🤧🤧

nat: im just gonna piggyback off of what adri answered. anyway i stan levi and asmo who are also on opposite extremes except its the two ends of the cringe-sexy scale. (pinches fingers together) its about the duality

[captainjetrocketboy]

I’m Tryna Understand These Days ~ 8

Also on Ao3.

Chapter 8: A World Where We Can Be Alone

Seventy-two hours. He didn’t even try to stop himself from counting every little tick of the clock.

It’s been three days since Callum gave into his desires and kissed Ben for a fleeting moment.

It’s been three days since Ben had asked for space. He wanted time to process everything that he knows now, and Callum would just have to accept that. After all, Ben had done the same for him when he was still figuring out what to do with Whitney. He owed it to the other man to show that he truly did have feelings for him. That he really did love him.

Though, while it’s only been half a week, Callum was starting to think he might go crazy if he had to wait another day. He doesn’t understand how Ben was able to be so patient with a muppet like him back then. 

Callum shifted in his bed. It seemed to feel emptier and emptier as the hours went by. He never knows the night before if the next day will finally be the day that Ben comes back to him. That he’ll have thought about it and be gracious enough to give them a second chance. Or in Ben’s case, he supposes the first chance at their relationship. 

He needs to learn to stop being so naive.

Taking a glance at his phone, Callum notices that it’s already almost past noon. The lack of sleep that he’s been getting lately has really affected his schedule. Turns out that lying motionless, but awake, in his sheets wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with this whole situation. It could be worse though, he thought.

And he knows he shouldn’t blame Ben for taking his time. He might not have told him everything there was to know about them, but what the other man does know would be a lot for anyone to comprehend, let alone someone who’s lost their memory about it.

It’s just been tough on Callum, and he’s tired of obsessing over it. But when has he ever been able to get Ben out of his mind? It certainly isn’t one of his strong suits.

After some minutes pass, he reckons that he should probably get up. He hopes Jay doesn’t mind him coming in to work late. For the third day in a row.

He mindlessly gets dressed in his suit as he lazily combs a hand through his hair. It’s maybe thirty past twelve when he finally trudged down the stairs out of his flat. 

When he gets down to the funeral parlour, his ears perk up at the two familiar voices through the walls.

“Are ya really sure about this, Ben?”

“For the last time, bruv, I’m sure.”

Callum really shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he finds it hard to do that when the conversation involves Ben. 

“And are ya gonna be on your best behavior with him?”

“As long as he’s good to me, we won’t have a problem.”

As Callum gets closer, he can hear Jay let out a sigh. “Alright then, if it’s what you want. But if he even tries to upset ya, he’ll for sure have a problem with me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ben chuckles.

He takes that moment to finally step into the office. He’s greeted by a smirk from Ben and a subtle glare from Jay.

“It lives then. Thought I’d hafta wake you up myself.” Jay rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms. He notices that he’s perched up on the desk, while Ben leans back in the swivel chair, hands resting on the back of his head. Their eyes meet, and Callum could swear his breath hitched.

“You alright there?” Ben amicably asks.

Callum clears his throat before responding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. How have you been?”

Ben purses his lips. “Fine. A few headaches here and there, but it’s getting better. I hope.”

“That’s good then.” Callum nods his head, but leaves it turned downward.

There’s a bit of silence in that moment. At least until Jay speaks up again.

“Just get on with it, bruv. I can practically feel the stupid tension between you two.” He lightly punches Ben’s shoulder, who just laughs as he tries to hit Jay back.

“Alright, alright.” Ben’s laughter subsides as he puts on a more serious expression. His smile remains, though, as he turns his attention to Callum. “So I’ve been thinking…”

“Dangerous thing, innit?” Jay butts in, grinning at Callum.

“Oi! I thought you wanted me to get it done with!” Ben yelled as he kept a smile of his own.

Jay let out a small laugh as he leaned backwards, almost on instinct, expecting Ben to playfully hit him again. “Sorry, sorry! Just had to put that out there.”

“Anyway,” Ben clears his throat and his mouth slips back into that too-familiar smirk. “I’ve been thinking of what you told me.”

“Ben, I’m so sorry about that night. I-I never meant for it to happen.” Callum couldn’t stop himself from blurting out as he took a step forward.

Ben scoffed. “Is anyone here gonna let me finish?”

Callum froze on the spot, his lips pressed tightly into a line. His gaze shifted back down to his shoes. “Sorry…”

“Look, what I’m tryin’ to say is… I’ve taken the time to get my head ‘round… this,” Ben motions between the two of them. “And I think that… it’s worth a shot.”

Callum perked his head up at that. He stared at the other man in disbelief. Surely, his big stupid ears were playing tricks on him. There’s no way that it would be that easy. That Ben could just forgive him at the snap of his fingers. He didn’t deserve such kindness.

“What?” He whispered as he fought back the sting of tears.

“Don’t get too excited there, Cal,” Ben joked. “But I mean it. Screw the past. What matters is now, and right now… I think we should give us a chance, eh?”

“Ben, I… I don't know what to say. I wasn’t exactly plannin’ on you forgiving me.” Callum started slowly making his way towards the man behind the desk. Jay sat up from his position, making room for him to get close.

“You don’t have to say anythin’ right now. Let’s just take this slow.” Ben reached out when he was near enough, and softly brushed his fingers across Callum’s. “From what you’ve told me, seems we weren’t exactly the best at doing that before.”

Callum clung onto that brief contact of skin. It sent shivers along his arms, and his cheeks were starting to heat up. He moved his hand in a way that let him properly hold Ben’s in his. “Slow… yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great.” Ben grinned up at the taller man. Their hands didn’t separate for a second in the moment of silence that they shared. It wasn’t until Ben spoke up again did he let go. “So, what do ya say about lunch at the caff?”

Feeling a bit more like himself, Callum smiled, giggling at how not-slow Ben was already being. “You mean like a date?”

Ben’s eyebrows raised, a smile of his own spreading across his handsome face. “It don’t have to be a date. It’s just lunch, innit? Like how we used to when we were mates.”

“Except now, we’re more than that, right?”

“Only if you want us to be.”

Callum was made suddenly aware of Jay’s presence when he cleared his throat, popping the bubble that seemed to encase the two men. He looked back at his boss, and pleaded with his eyes to give him the day off.

Jay seems to get the message pretty clearly. “Go on. You two deserve it.”

Callum’s never been more grateful for someone else know about him and Ben. Jay’s support is certainly something he hadn’t expected. “Cheers, mate.” 

“But someday we’re gonna have words about what exactly you’ve done with Ben.” Jay’s expression is light, but his eyes tell Callum that he’s serious.

“Thanks, bruv. I’ll see ya in a bit, yeah?” Ben goes to stand up from the chair, but he seemingly loses his balance as he clutches a hand to the back of his head.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Callum. “You alright, Ben?”

“Yeah, yeah, probably just stood up too fast,” Ben quickly responds, his voice a bit shakier than Callum would like.

The other man tries to go around the desk, but then stumbles forward. His body slumps on the desk, and Callum’s able to catch him before he falls onto the ground. Jay’s quick to his side, as well, and both of them help Ben back onto the chair.

“S-Sorry, just tripped,” Ben mutters. “How about you go change, and I’ll just… wait here. Catch my breath and all.”

Callum’s brows furrow. “Are ya sure, Ben? We don’t have to go out if you ain’t feeling well.”

“I’m fine, Cal. Just a little tumble, nothin’ to worry your pretty head over.”

He isn’t entirely convinced, but the warm hand that wraps around his arm gives him enough comfort to let it go. For now, at least. “Okay then… I’ll go put on something else, but promise me ya won’t pass out on me or summat?”

“Don’t worry, uncle Jay’s here to take care of me, ain’t he?” Ben replies, drawing a chuckle out of himself and his brother.

Callum laughed along with them, but something kept biting at the back of his mind. He’s not sure if it was simply him being paranoid, or if it was actually fear for something worse.

- - -

The sun was high in the sky as they walked along the square. They stayed close together, arms bumping into each other every now and then, but a safe distance was still kept. They were having a conversation about their personal tastes in food when Ben suddenly stopped. Callum curiously looked up at the store sign. The Minute Mart.

“I’ve got an idea. Just wait out here.” Ben says, already making his way in. 

Callum just laughed as he watched him practically skip inside. “Ben, what’re ya plannin’ now?”

“Promise it won’t take long!” Ben called out.

With a shake of his head, Callum goes to rest his back on the nearest wall behind him. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh. He supposes he’ll have to get used to this kind of thing if their relationship goes anywhere. Ben’s always been a schemer, but a feeling of satisfaction washes over him as he thinks of Ben putting that mind of his for good. Like right now, the bloke’s got something planned, but whatever it is, it’s for Callum. And that makes his smile grow even bigger.

That smile didn’t last very long when he heard a voice that was familiar, but felt so foreign at the same time.

“Callum?”

He suddenly shoots off the wall, and when his eyes open and land on red hair and a bright pink jumper, his heart drops right down into his stomach.

“Whit… H-How have… Are you alright?”

She slowly nods her head as she breathes out. “I’m… I’m getting better. Just saw you when I came around the corner, thought I’d say hi.”

Callum’s not entirely sure what he should really say. His ex-fiancee just arrived out of nowhere, and what the hell are you supposed to say when that happens?

Sure, maybe a couple of months ago he practiced some soppy speech over and over again in his head for when he got the chance to see Whitney. But after everything that’s been happening with Ben, he realized that he hadn’t really been thinking of her lately.

Should he feel guilty about that? Callum’s not sure of the answer, but he doesn’t want to know it either.

“I… That’s good to hear. We’ve both got to move on, right?”

Whitney took a step forward, closing the gap that wasn’t big enough between them. “Right… But I do miss you.”

“I…” Callum looks down at the sincerity in her eyes. He can’t bring himself to speak with that same honesty. “I miss you, too.”

Whitney looks like she’s about to hug him, but a loud and brash voice cuts through the somber atmosphere. 

“Oi, loverboy! I know we agreed this wasn’t a date, but if we’re gonna do this, might as well go all out—”

Ben stops in his tracks as he takes notice of the third person standing next to Callum. His smile fades away quickly, and his arms fall to his sides. The first thing that caught Callum’s attention, though, was the single white tulip tucked safely in Ben’s hand.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Callum shifts his gaze to Whitney, who suddenly has a questioning glare aimed at the two men.

“What… what are you on about?”

“Whitney, right?” Ben’s put up those walls again, he noticed. The hand that didn’t hold the flower was stuffed into his jacket pocket, his smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, and his tone had an edge to it. “We’ve probably met, but I’ve been having trouble rememberin’ things lately.”

“That ain’t an answer Ben Mitchell. What did you just say?” There’s a threatening air around Whitney, but Ben doesn’t back down.

“Look, I know you’re probably still upset about you and Cal here, but you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” Ben taunted, unafraid and unknowing. “I plan on treating him right.”

“He ain’t gay.” Whitney firmly asserts.

Ben scoffs. “Course he is. That’s why he broke up with you, innit?”

Callum feels completely helpless as he stands back from the brewing tension. He could only watch as Whitney tried to pull a punch at Ben, but he was too quick and dodged to the side.

“Woah there, lass. I get you’re angry, but your form’s all wrong. Ya gotta lean into the punch. Put some oomph into it.”

Whitney points a sharp nail at Ben’s chest. “You know, you’ve always been dirty. So what’s your trick, huh? What did ya do to Callum to force him into your grubby hands?”

Ben, still undeterred, scoffed in her face. “Y’know, I think I do remember ya. Though, your hair was a little less… loud back then.”

“Ben, ya better give me a straight answer before I kill ya.” Whitney growls.

A humorless laugh escapes the other man’s mouth. “Now that is quite the turn of phrase. I didn’t force nothing on him.”

“So what? Is it true?” Whitney tries once more with force. “Is Callum really…”

“Like you didn’t know…” Ben stared right back at Whitney’s glare, but he must’ve noticed something in them. His cocky smirk faltered, if only slightly. “Hold on a minute… did you really not know?”

Whitney shook her head. Her anger was still apparent, but she seems to have calmed down a little.

“But he told me that he came out…” It was Ben’s turn to be confused. He looked at the woman in front of him, but then cautiously turned to face Callum, who was still standing at the sidelines. A mere bystander. “Or was that just another lie?”

Callum really didn’t like the idea of Ben’s anger being directed at him. But this is what he deserves, isn’t it? Of course there were corners that needed to be cut when he tried explaining the other night, but he didn’t think it would lead to this. He didn’t think it would matter after Ben got over it. There he goes again, being naive.

With no answer from Callum, Ben shakes his head as he turns away from Whitney. “Right, I see how it is. We really better get going now. Got some things to sort out. See ya.”

Before Ben could make it very far, Callum was shocked as he saw Whitney lift her purse behind her, and swing it directly at the man. The bag made direct contact with the back of Ben’s head, and forced him to stumble forward.

“You disgust me, Ben Mitchell. I swear if you hurt him, I’ll come after ya.”

As Whitney turns on her heel and walks away, Callum finally snaps out of his stupor as Ben groans in pain. Both of his hands were clutching at his head where she had hit him. That’s when Callum noticed the tulip on the ground. Ben must’ve dropped it from the impact. He goes to pick it up before wrapping his free arm around the other man.

“Ben, you okay?”

He’s shrugged off as Ben continues down the street, still heading in the direction of the cafe. Callum follows right behind him, and he keeps trying to get Ben to say something, anything.

He’s mostly silent until they finally make it to their destination. He opens the door, and is greeted by Kathy, who’s working at the front counter.

“Alright, Ben?” She calls out, happy at seeing her son.

“Dandy, mum.” Ben curtly responds, a hand still rubbing at his scar.

Kathy then notices Callum standing hesitantly next to Ben. “Callum, right? Nice to see ya again. Here to reign in my son from trouble?”

She laughs and gives them both a genuine smile. If only she knew what Callum did to Ben. He wonders if she would still be so kind to him. “Afternoon, Ms. Beale.”

“Oh, Kathy’s fine, dear. No need to make me feel all old.”

“Can I just get the usual, mum? Make that two.” Ben piped up, exhaustion replacing his previous frustration.

“Course! It’ll be out in a few.”

Callum still follows closely behind Ben as he lets him choose a seat. He settles down into one of the far corner booths, away from prying eyes and listening ears. The place isn’t even that busy yet, but he supposes Ben just wanted to be sure they’d have their own space. They both sit across from each other, and Callum gently places the tulip on top the table.

Since Ben still hasn’t said anything, Callum decides to speak first. “Ben, y’know nothing of what Whitney said was true, right?”

Ben let out a deep breath. “I dunno, Cal. She seemed to know exactly what she was sayin’.”

“Okay, maybe some of it was true,” Callum regretfully concedes. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with you. It’s over between us, I swear.”

Ben shakes his head.“That ain’t what I’m worried about.”

“Then… what is it?” Callum offers his hand for Ben to take. He doesn’t grab onto it.

“You say you’re out, but who really knows about it?” Ben whispers.

Callum’s heart picked up as he couldn’t come up with an answer to that question. He’s long since accepted who he was, but he hasn’t actually told many people.

Ben decides to keep going. “And judging by what just happened, clearly some people don’t fancy the idea of me and you being together. Maybe… maybe this ain’t such a good idea.”

Callum desperately grabbed onto Ben at that, his eyes pleading. “B-But what happened to screwing the past? We can’t let that get in the way anymore.”

“Well our past just keeps getting messier the more I learn.” Ben shakes his hand out of Callum’s, and rests it on his forehead.

That’s when Callum really takes in Ben’s appearance. Drops of sweat are trailing down the sides of his face, which is starting to lose its color. His eyes were shut tight, and his jaw was clenched.

“Ben? You alright? Ya looking a bit pale…”

“It’s fine, Cal. I’m fine.”

“Ben, if you ain’t feeling well you shouldn’t push—”

“Just leave it Callum. I mean it. I’ll… I’ll go get the food.”

As Ben went to stand, his legs trembled and his body shivered as if he were cold. He’s almost able to walk to the front counter, but before he could make it there, Ben lurches forward, his motionless body crashing into the tables and chairs in front of him. 

Callum’s scream mixed with Kathy’s, and the sight that he had witnessed made his blood run cold.

[punkscowardschampions]

school play y’all

Ali: [picture of the sign-up sheet] Ali: MAMMA MIA Ali: come on Ro: Oh! Of course you'd be perfect for the leading lady Ro: You already know every Abba song word perfectly Ali: and you know every 🎹 piece Ali: Ms Riley can barely 👀 the ♬♫♪ any more, never mind know how the songs are SUPPOSED to sound and feel Ali: You've gotta, I can't do it without you Ro: Do you sincerely believe they'll let me take over from her? Ro: Hmm, despite being less certain, I'll see what I can do Ro: For the good of your spotlight and allowing it to shine the brightest Ali: Absolutely, everyone in the department knows you're the best, they'll be buzzing you're even considering Carly: 🔮✨💫🎵💙🎤 Carly: dancing queen k thanks bye Ali: yes baby 😍 Ali: cannot believe this school is actually doing something cool for once Ali: if we all get involved it will be so 🔥 Carly: we r all so young & sweet Ali: esp. you Ali: do you wanna go head to head Carly: aw Carly: ur the sweetest 🍑 u got it Ali: you could do it, boo Ali: but there are loads of actually decent actually interesting female roles so we've got no shortage Ali: Meena, you are already my child Ali: tell me that isn't inspired casting, you can't Caleb: & all the boys don't have to be tryna fight it out for that 1# Caleb: I'm about it Meena: 😊 I have watched the film about a zillion times Meena: and the choreography is really natural and chill Caleb: even our bro can handle it 😂😂 Drew: Its true, she has Drew: not me though, thanks bro 🐍😂 Drew: who's who then, fill us in Carly: youve got the look tho boy Carly: mayb theyd dub the rest over Ali: so here's the lowdown Ali: there's Sam, an architect, Pierce Brosnan, baby daddy #1, breaks my heart 'cos he's got a fiancee and goes home to marry her instead Carly: 💔😢 Ali: Bill, hella Swedish, so you're right Carls, 💙💛, a wild playboy type who travels the world but funny and sweet, baby daddy #2 and Rosie's love interest in the future Ali: then there's Harry, which honestly, if they don't pick Robbie idk what's happened with the casting Ali: he's very English, very nice, also pretty gay but still potential father of Meena numero 3 Ro: He's got the accent and... well Ro: The flair, I suppose Ro: Very true Ali: 😂 don't worry, this, and the theatre are a safe space, you can say it Ali: I think he will camp it up a bit too much but 🤫 Meena: He's been in every play since we were 👶s Carly: aw 👶🌈 Meena: Right Meena: he can get a bit...more dramatic, as opening night draws nearer but he's a sweetie really Carly: theres 💊 for that Carly: wen hes my bff itll be k Ali: 😇 Ali: so, boys, you're suspiciously quiet...are you in? Caleb: deciding on my audition song got me like 🕺♫♪ Ali: 🙌 YES CAVANTE Drew: I don't know if I can do the singing bit but Drew: for you, why not Ali: ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🥳🤩👽❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤 Caleb: I got you bruv Caleb: school you how chuck berry did for clapton & richards Drew: 👊👌 Caleb: 👊🏽✌🏽 Meena: You do surprise me, Drew Meena: from the boy who wouldn't ever watch it with me Meena: but yay ☺️☺️☺️ this will be so fun if we all get in! Carly: idk but we should all watch it Carly: outdoor screening party yea Meena: that would be so much fun Meena: before Summer is well and truly over 😥 Ali: baby you're so smart Ali: we gotta Carly: u gotta help cuz thats u 👼 Caleb: I can hook you a screen up Ali: 🤔🤔🤔 I wonder if we can make it work at the beach Ali: no greek island but the mood has to be right Ali: I'll get to pondering Caleb: it'll be chill if we put all our heads to it Caleb: & greek food will help the vibe Ali: 😋 Ali: 70s clothing not optional Ro: We're spoiled for choice in that regard Ali: truth Ali: but any excuse to go hunting Carly: yay Carly: i kno just the place Ali: 🕱 Ro: Should we perhaps wait until after auditions? That way it'll be possible to involve the full cast Ali: it'd be a bit counting 🐥 before 🐣 Ali: I get you Ali: but we don't have to get character-specific yet, like you said, our wardrobe already accommodates to the vibe Caleb: but the more the merrier whenever we decide to do this kickback Caleb: the people 💚 abba Ali: ugh, Tommy is going to be so jealous Ali: I don't think they've done this Ali: he'd be such a good Skye, right, Meena? Ro: We have to make sure he's in the front row on opening night Ro: Even if he'll be insistent upon taking the stage himself if any of us aren't playing to his vision Ali: he is that diva, awh 👑 Ali: ma will let him miss a day of school or so for that Meena: oh that'll be fun to see him again 🙂 Carly: & go out dancing after Carly: all the 👑🌈 Ali: 💃💃💃 Ali: that's settled Ali: we need all hands on deck or you know the scence-setting and wardrobe will be more tragedy than comedy Ali: can't let ABBA be done dirty like that Caleb: I've got mad numbers of friendly hands swearing they'll hold a 🖌 Caleb: bros and fam for days Caleb: it'll be sick, trust Ali: 🤙🤙🤙 Ali: put it in your diaries kids Ro: I can assure you that I have Ali: I can always count on you, Posy Meena: 📓✏ Caleb: it's in my 📱 Caleb: ready to rock, fofinho 💚 Ali: 🤘🤘🤘 Chuck Drew: I'm in Carly: idk yea Carly: what my baby wants she gets Ali: 😻

[ardentmuse]

Wild One (Eggsy x Reader)

Kingsman - Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin x fem!Reader

Summary: You are a Statesman agent brought in to assist the Kingsman, but Eggsy would much rather seduce you. If only you’d succumb to his advances.

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: mild cursing, heavy petting, talk of sex

Masterlist

(NOTE: courtesy of google. Credit to original creator)

God, Eggsy had screwed up. Big this time if Harry’s sideways glances were any clear indication. He didn’t mean to offend you and you didn’t seem offended, at least not really. But Harry had trained him to be a proper gentleman, so this slight would not go unnoticed.

When Eggsy had seen you standing outside the Kingsman tailor shop, how could he have guessed you were the biological weapons specialist Tequila requested to come from Statesman for your latest mission. You were just an attractive woman standing on the curb, cheeks colored by the cold, with a look of confusion reading on your face that brought your lips into the most kissable pout. You seemed so out of place compared to the otherwise dull street. Eggsy was not a man to pass up an opportunity to win a date with a breath-taking woman. Plus, he still had ten minutes to kill before his meeting. He might as well help you find your destination and get your number in the meantime.

“‘Ello, Gorgeous,” Eggsy called to you as he approached with confident strides. “Can I help you find something?”

When you turned to meet his eyes, he felt the wind knocked out of his chest. You were perfect. Literal perfection standing before him, lips quickly turning into a precious shy smirk that he initially read as innocence but now realized must have been exacerbation.

“Actually, I’m quite alright, thanks,” you said with a polite nod before you turned back to face down the sidewalk. The man before you was near flawless, so masculine and refined, with a strong jaw and beautiful smile, your two biggest weaknesses. But if he wanted to get your attention, you’d prefer something more direct and real, not flippant words or false chivalry.

“Sweetheart,” Eggsy said before taking a step closer and leaning back into your line of vision, “Are you sure I can’t be of assistance? Anything you need? I’d be happy to escort you to your destination if you’re lost.”

You laughed at his insistence. “Actually, I’m right where I am supposed to be. I’m meeting a friend here.”

“Your friend has a strange taste in meeting spots,” Eggsy said, now moving fully into your view again, hands casually in the pockets of his slacks, drawing attention to the breadth of his shoulders. “Maybe I might be able to show you a better time?”

Before you even had a chance to finish your eye roll, you heard Tequila call to you from the opposite street corner.

“Rosey,” Tequila hollered with near endless enthusiasm, “I’ve missed you!” After a few seconds, he had made his way towards you, picking you up by the waist and hugging you close, twisting you side to side like a beloved childhood toy. You couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend’s exuberant attentions.

“Hey there, T,” you said into his ear as you nuzzled into his shoulder.

Eggsy stood stunned at the scene before him, of the casual intimacy that you shared with his newest colleague. His brain put the pieces together and he was immediately dreading having to work alongside you for the next several weeks.

“Eggsy, this is Rosé, the best biochemist Statesman has to offer and my closest friend in the entire world,” Tequila said, his words dripping with pride as he pulled you into his side.

You blushed at the compliments and nudged Tequila with your shoulder, “I’m the only biochemist Statesman has to offer.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not the best, sugar.” With that, Tequila pulled you into the tailor shop, leaving Eggsy out on the sidewalk still stunned and embarrassed.

When he finally made his way inside, Eggsy found you in the middle of introductions with Harry.

“And you must be Agent Rosé, is that it?” Harry asks, still confused by the Statesman naming system.

“Yes,” you said, taking Harry’s outstretched hand for a proper shake, “But I believe little Galahad here renamed me outside.” You turned to look at the now nervous young man standing at the door. “What was it now? ‘Gorgeous’? Or was it ‘Sweetheart’?”

Eggsy flushed at being called out on his shameless flirting. He felt Harry eyeing him but refused to look his way. He didn’t need to feel anything else. He was already overwhelmed with embarrassment, but also this heat in his chest at your boldness, so quick to retort. No one ever gave him sass back, but you did. You had spirit unlike any girl before you, and he knew he couldn’t move on that easily. 

After a few days of prep for this mission to destroy the bio-weapons currently being perfected by an organization based in Morocco, Eggsy still found himself infatuated, but no closer to winning you over. During a particularly dull meeting in the Kingsman board room, Eggsy leaned over to engage Tequila in conversation.

“Bruv, she’s perfect,” he says, flicking his chin across the table to you, attention rapt in the conversation currently being exchanged between Harry and Ginger on the other end of the conference line about security in the dessert estate that served as headquarters for the terrorist organization. “How do I get her to notice me?”

“Don’t bother,” Tequila said under his breath, “I tried for years. Nothing gets her.”

Eggsy sighed, staring at you like some lovesick fool. But in some ways, he was exactly that. Your beauty drew him in, but then you teased him, stood up to him when he tried to treat you just like any other pretty girl. Now every day listening to you discuss your work in detail, lighting up as you impart your knowledge on the group, passion and joy making your face glow with each word, he couldn’t stop finding new and lovely things about you. Your wit, your charm, your adorable little laugh, everything was cute to him.  Even that sneeze you let out yesterday when you and him went into the storage closet to find some of Merlin’s communication prototypes was beautiful. If he learned one more new thing about you, he was sure he’d be fully and irrevocably smitten.

Each day, he tried something new. He tried discussing the mission with you and getting your opinions on things outside of regular meetings. He tried asking you about biology and chemistry so you could impart your expertise. He tried anticipating your needs, bringing you coffee before meetings. He even tried giving you a gift in the form of flowers he saw as he walked around the Kingsman grounds. But each thing only earned him a curt thank you before you ran off to join Tequila, laughing and chatting in your easy companionship.

And so before you packed up your things to head with Tequila to Morocco, Eggsy decided he’d do what he’d never done with a woman before you; he’d leave all the flirtatious words behind and just be honest with his feelings.

As you stepped into the dressing room to try on your own Kingsman suit, as you and Tequila needed to match in order for the ruse to work, you felt a hand catch the door and slip in behind you. You instinctively yelped and turned, fists in the air ready to strike.

Eggsy threw his hands up in surrender, “Y/N, it’s just me.”

You lowered your stance, but crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Why did you follow me in here, Eggsy?”

“To tell you that I like you. And that I am sorry for being so forward on the sidewalk when we first met. And for trying so hard to impress you every day since. I guess I’m just not used to a woman not being interested so I’m having a hard time accepting that from you. But I’m going to do better. I just thought you deserved to know,” Eggsy lifted his eyes to meet yours and took a deep breath before turning towards the door.

You interrupted his movement with your words. “Who’s to say I’m not interested?”

Eggsy turned to you and laughed. “You do. Every day when you ignore my advances.”

“Maybe it is the advance I don’t like, not the man making them.” Your cheeks blushed as you smirked at your own boldness.

Eggsy took a step closer to you. “How’d you like me to advance, love? Whatever you say, I’ll do it. You have me completely enchanted.” With those last words, his hands came up to gently hold your wrists to match the pleading of his words.

“This honesty is a good start,” you said as you stepped deeper into his touch.

“And what might be a good second step?” Eggsy whispered as his hands slid up your arms towards your elbows, pulling you so his lips now ghosted over your forehead.

“Maybe ask me on a proper date?”

“Y/N, I would love to get to know you better. Would you join me for dinner tonight?” Eggsy asked as he held your gaze, a smile already on his lips as you had already made your answer clear.

“That sounds nice,” you said, smiling in return. “A kiss also sounds nice, especially since we have all this privacy, don’t you think,” you continued suppressing a laugh at your own mischief.

Eggsy was stunned for a moment by your boldness, but quickly recovered, pulling you now flush to him, whispering his next words directly into your ear, “Rosé, I didn’t take you for such a naughty little vixen.”

“Well, you definitely have a lot to learn about me,” you said before taking his earlobe between your teeth for the briefest of moments, now allowing yourself to fully succumb to your wicked side.

Eggsy growled and quickly moved his mouth to your neck, beginning the delicious kissing and sucking that you knew was going to lead you to do more than was probably appropriate before you’d even had your first date.

Within seconds, the door of the changing room was flung open, Tequila on the other side. He looked shocked at first as you both pulled yourself from your embrace, your neck reddened from where Eggsy practically attacked your pulse point. Tequila just laughed.

“Good job, Eggsy. I knew you’d figure it out.”

Eggsy took a second, “You knew how to get her to like me?”

Tequila chuckled a little once more, “No, man, I already knew she liked you. You just needed to figure out how to tell her. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to help you. If you couldn’t get the balls to be honest, then you didn’t deserve this precious sweetheart.”

Tequila really was the best friend you could hope for. “Thanks, T. He’s taking me out tonight,” you said, beaming. You shuffled past the two men, taking your new clothes with you. “See you tonight, Eggsy. Text me a time and place, yeah?”

Both men’s gazes followed you as you near skipped out the store.

Tequila leaned in to whisper to Eggsy, “Bring some condoms. That girl there is a wild one.”

Eggsy laughed, unable to contain his happiness at the change of events. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

All tags: @fangirlandnerd​, @aerdnandreaa​ 

[jegheterkerry]

Pls warch lovleg S2 and share your thoughts cause I wanna know them

i do watch lovleg! i’m always a bit behind because i wait for the translations though (HUGE THANK YOU TO THE FOLKS AT @lovlegenglish and @lovlegskada WORKING SO HARD TO MAKE THEM FOR US), and the people i watch it with on twitter are usually done screaming by then. i loved season one and binged it right before season two started, so i don’t know how it played out in real time but it was really satisfying on the whole. i was really into season two at the start, watching the gunnhild x luna relaysh develop, and seeing all of the clever things that the team (or just petter?) was doing with the website. idk if it was my personal life or my interest in their story once their relationship got rocky but i felt less inclined to jump on every clip and fumble with subtitles. i loved the shift to sara’s POV, loved that there aren’t any rules for us to hold the show to (or they’re aware of the rules the people who watch skam were used to, and are playing with those). love that i’m seeing this other part of norway, the other way of living at this age. i love that it’s funny. the whole blow-up on the ferry was difficult to sit through but i would actually watch it again because of thea.

right now i’m not really rooting for gunnhild or luna, their relationships or even their personal development. i feel like we’ve been bearing a lot of tension with them since we never could really tell what direction the relationship was going in, and i’m just interested in relief right now. i’m ready for a break. if we have to keep thinking about them, i’d at least want to do it from a different POV. but i’m equally curious about everyone else’s stories too! how is torstein handling his hair? sara, oh sara, my blue baby, is she feeling any closure after everything that went down? we got more hints about alex’s past that i’d love to hear more about. and ivar! bruv, are you sleeping okay? how’s that crush on sara going? even billie, i would be interested to hear more about her history to see how she views luna, and if there’s anything besides the band that is drawing her into the white house’s circle.

i’m not big on liveblogging and feel like i miss the boat with livetweeting. i also don’t go into the tag or read the comments. i dunno, i guess i’m trying not to reshape my whole life around a show, even though this one is really good and gives you a lot to talk about.

when i get lonely, usually right before i go to sleep, i check the profile page to see who else is still awake.

[capitanogiorgio]

Santa Inzaghi

Bologna challenges Lazio and Pippo meets Simone for an unprecedented brotherly brawl

Translation below

Put your red hats away, your fake beards and your tales for kids ! No Christmas story can compete with the one that will be written this Wednesday afternoon, on the pitch of the Renato Dall’Ara stadium, where Bologna will receive Lazio. And where Pippo Inzaghi, the Rossoblù‘s boss will challenge Simone Inzaghi, the Biancocelesti‘s Great Manitou. Or how to carry on with one of the greatest epic family sagas of Italian football.

Rumour has it they look alike. No, let’s stop here with rhetorical precautions : they look alike, period. Same gaze, same jet-black hair, same skinny silhouette elegantly showcased in a fitted suit. And, above all, same professional path : from prolific players to famous coaches. But there is Pippo and there is Simone. There is Bologna and there is Lazio. And, like an inevitable vanishing point, there is this Serie A game between two teams trained by bruvs, as if destined to meet over and over, once again.

Inzaghi vs Inzaghi

To reach that point, the two brothers have struggled a lot in very distinctive ways. Pippo’s is the most perilous and most fragile. 18th place and first club in the relegation zone, his Bologna has yet to convince and proves the relative difficulty of the older Inzaghi to succeed in Italian football’s elite, after his failure with the AC Milan’s first team in 2014/2015. Simone, on the other hand, navigates on relatively calmer waters. If the club still struggle to shakes the mastodons of Italian football, his Lazio keeps on clutching to the 4th place in Serie A, asserting themselves as a model of regularity ever since Inzaghi took up the reins of the club in 2016. Easy, then, to tell a story with a simplistic outline : Pippo, who was the best player, and the most famous as well, won’t be the best coach. Karma. Or maybe, rather history.

A fox cubs duo

Let’s go back to the middle of the 1980s. You have to imagine two talisman kids, who plays on the front with other kids of their native village of San Nicolo, near Piacenza. “We have always played offensively, ever since our childhood.” tells Simone “We were always on the front when we played with our friends. When I was 7 and Pippo was 10, the older kids didn’t want me to play with them, but Pippo imposed my presence.” At this time, the oldest Inzaghi is the most wanted on the pitches but Pippo always made sure to share the light with his bro. Gino Bossalini, then San Nicolo’s club’s president, tells : “They were very different. Pippo was terrible, more impulsive. Simone was less stubborn, more classic if you will. But what I loved the most with them, was the sheer power of the affection that bound them together.” There never has been any unhealthy rivalry between the Inzaghi brothers. Neither yesterday nor today. It’s not surprising then to see Pippo be glad about the current acomplishments of his younger brother, while Simone is the one who is currently succeeding better with his career change as coach : “He has reached consecration with Lazio and has become one of the best coachs in Italy.” Simone, on his part, proudly states that his older brother “was one of the three best italian strikers in Europe.”

The two bros call one another often, can discuss tactic and football for hours on end. An old habit. “As children, we read la Gazzetta dello Sport together every single day. We learnt all the starting elevens by heart.” Simone confirms. Pippo, however, is the one who became a national and then international icon. “Eh, you know, I scored a 100 goals, and him, more than 300 :  I think there’s a reason.” Simone reflects. “For example, I struggled more than him to go from the Primavera to the first team.”

Super Pippo and Inzaghino

Simone will only carve a place for himself in Serie A in the 1998/1999 season, when he scored 15 goals in 30 games with Piacenza. A real performance, but  it’s already too late : He’s already Inzaghino only, the little Inzaghi. Because Pippo has already made far better : two seasons prior, he became Capocannoniere scoring 24 goals in 33 games with Atalanta. Everybody knows what’s next. The big brother signs with Juve, then Milan, where he will have goals and titles alike, when the little one will establish himself as a modest player, but still emblematic of a Lazio where he spends more than a decade, broken with short-lived loans to Sampdoria and Atalanta.

Here again, a difference, subtle, draws itself between the two bruvs. Pippo is the most virtuoso but Simone is more prone to sacrifice himself for the needs of a team : “We did not have the same style of play at all.” the latter confirms. “I came out of the box more often while he was the real fox. That’s also why he scored the triple amount of goals than me.” Pippo, however, is just like Simone. Obsessed with football. “Of course I watch a lot of games,” he said in 2011, a few months before retiring. “I know the qualities and flaws of all defenders… I try to use the weaknesses of my opponents. I study everything.” But he undeniably has that little something more, this innate rhythm of the gesture and the movement, that makes him a special player. “It’s true I’ve scored a lot of goals that many think are easy but these goals, I’m the only one to score them with Trezeguet. Because we have what others lack. Something you can’t learn. Something that can’t be taught. This understanding of the game and timing. You either have it or you don’t… It sure is difficult to learn how to become Pippo Inzaghi…”

“Pippo is more instinctive, Simone more rational”

So difficult that, as a coach, Pippo clearly struggles still to communicate his savoir-faire to his offensive lines. This year, his Bologna is even the 18th worst attack of Serie A. The older Inzaghi has ideas however - with a preferred 3-5-2 system - and even has known a first success with Venezia. He had brought the Lagunari back in Serie B in 2017, before just missing the access back into the elite the following season. Venezia, who did not particularly distinguished themselves by their attacking power (10th attack of the season), but rather by their rigorous and dense organisation behind (3rd best defence of Serie B last year). Maybe a sign that Pippo’s coaching methods have to mature.

Not really surprising, considering he was propelled AC Milan’s coach during the 2014/2015 season, after only a year handling the Primavera of the Lombardic club. Quite the contrary of Simone who worked six long years with the youth teams of Lazio and methodically played his scales before taking over the first team. Where he imposes since his tactic style, a 3-5-2, millimetric and attack-oriented, just like the resurection of Ciro Immobile, who never has been so strong than ever since he joined the Biancocelesti. Here’s what looks like a coaching career perfectly handled. “Pippo is more instinctive, Simone more rational.” Giancarlo, their dad, even confirms. “I must say it is a bit strange, it’s the first time that we did not spend Christmas all together because of that game, since they both have to work… But the family will meet at the stadium. Angela, Pippo’s girlfriend, never misses a game of Bologna. Maybe Gaia, Simone’s wife, will be there too. New Year ? They will all go to the Maldives. Filippo and Simone will go together. Same flight, yes. But they will go to different places.”