#im gonna be talking everyone’s ears off im SORRY in advance

[solplease]

txt dropped the logo today and ive been losing it since

[gojohater101]

i am formally requesting a part 2 to the friendship bracelets (please)

A/N: Hi, anon! I am formally delivering part 2 of the friendship bracelets. So sorry for the wait! As always, I hope that you love it! Likes, comments, and reblogs are super appreciated <3

(im not even gonna lie it might be a little bit messy because i proofread these at like 3 AM so i apologize in advance)

Pairing: Obey Me! Brothers x GN!READER

CW: Mentions of death and violence on Asmo’s part, slight lesson 16 spoilers on Belphie's part!

Part 1

Obey Me! Younger Brothers Reacting to MC making matching friendship bracelets for them (Pt. 2)

ASMODEUS

Asmo loves jewelry! He loves all kinds of jewelry - earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, the possibilities are endless!

Asmo can appreciate a good friendship bracelet. He doesn’t have one himself, but you have a couple of them, and he has always thought they were cute. He just hasn’t thought about them that much to the point where he would ask for one. 

Asmo had a speech coming up. He was gonna give this speech in RAD with Lucifer, Diavolo, and Satan. The speech was about the safety of all students in RAD. Recently, an argument occurred between five demons, and as a result, all of them passed away in a gruesome fight. 

Diavolo was heartbroken upon hearing the news, and rightfully so. He desperately wanted the best demons of the council to take part in the upcoming speech. He chose Lucifer - his most trusted right-hand man, and the most respected and feared demon of the seven brothers. Satan - a respectable, smart, and witty demon with the ability to deliver clear points. Asmodeus - A charming, attention-grabbing, and popular demon. These three are all great demons for this job, because 1. Everyone listens to Lucifer. 2. Satan is firm and clear. 3. Everybody loves Asmo. He’s one of the most popular demons in all of RAD, in the whole Devildom, even, so he figured that everyone would listen to Asmo because everybody wants his approval. 

You and Asmo talked about the speech for the first time three days before it was gonna take place. He was, strangely, nervous about it. This was a serious issue, one he wasn’t sure if he qualified to talk about. He only told this to you. He trusts you to death. 

-

“I don’t know, MC… I know I’m the most beautiful demon in this world, and everybody loves me, and I’m so popular, and everyone wants to be my friend...” “But you’re nervous?” You asked. “Exactly! I don’t know why… this is so unlike me!” “You’re gonna do wonderful, sweetheart.” You grabbed his hand. You suddenly grinned and jumped off of his bed. “We need to choose your outfit and makeup for the speech!” You smiled, pulling him to his closet. He let out a well-needed laugh, hugging you and kissing your lips. “This is exactly why you’re my soulmate. You’re too cute, MC!” 

As you guys rummaged through his closet, you guys settled on his demon form with some tweaks - fancy tweaks :) You guys added some accessories, played around with his makeup, ETC, ETC. Just making him look more presentable. 

“So the outfit is settled?” You smiled, blushing slightly. “Yes! Thank you for cheering me up, MC. Let me give you a kiss!” 

-

When Asmo woke up on the day of the speech he kind of lost it. He was getting increasingly nervous, and he kept wandering around his room, not knowing what to do. Luckily, the speech would be held one hour after the brothers would usually have to arrive at RAD - so Asmo, Satan, and Lucifer had time to practice before, get ready, eat, and whatnot. However, you and the rest of the brothers had to leave for RAD at the usual time. 

Asmo woke up a little later than usual. You and his brothers (except for Lucifer and Satan) were eating breakfast. You guys laughed loudly as Mammon told his best jokes, you guys helped each other reach the foods that you couldn’t reach, and the brothers complemented the human realm dish that you had made… you guys looked so calm and happy. Asmo couldn’t help but feel jealous as he heard everyone. When you guys were having the time of your lives, he had to be stressed and nervous?

He was upset that his brothers got all of your attention. You should be here with him! He suddenly missed you, missed your attention, even if you were with him the night prior. It was unfair.

He managed to calm himself down enough to start getting ready. 

As he jumped into the bath, he heard you all leave for RAD. He sighed a loud sigh. He needed you at this moment. 

The truth was, you felt guilty for not being able to be with him. You had been instructed by Lucifer to take the role of the Lucifer of the house this morning, to make sure that no one got to school late. You felt a sense of responsibility that you couldn’t abandon to help Asmo. Everyone in the house would get in trouble if you did, so you chose to follow Lucifer's orders. 

Asmo sat at his vanity when he got done bathing. He was putting his makeup on, putting the jewelry you guys had chosen on, and putting his perfume on. He couldn't shake off that uneasy feeling. He felt defeated.

That was when he noticed a little box on the counter of his vanity. Strange… he didn’t know how it got there. 

He opened the box to find a little pink, blue, and white yarn bracelet in a diamond pattern. Under the bracelet, there was a note. 

“Hi, sweetie! It’s MC. I made you this. I put this here when you were sleeping, I hope you don’t mind. Please wear it to your speech. I asked Solomon to cast a spell on it, a spell that calms you down, so it’ll come to use. I love you lots!” <3” 

He cried. He cried harder than ever. He cried so hard his makeup got ruined. 

He put the bracelet on, and he immediately felt the effects. He felt calmer than ever. He felt like his usual self! He kissed the bracelet and squealed. “My beautiful MC always helping me!” 

- 

Asmodeus was standing on stage, "listening" to Diavolo giving his part of the speech. The truth was, he wasn't paying attention. He was looking for you in the crowd, but he wasn’t able to spot you. He was standing in front of thousands of people, after all, so he wasn't all that surprised that he couldn't spot you. 

After Satan and Lucifer had given their parts of the speech, Asmo had to end the speech perfectly. 

He walked up to the microphone and started talking. It was so quiet in the crowd that you would be able to hear a pin drop. As the end of the speech neared, he finally spotted you and his brothers. You looked as pretty as ever. You saw him looking at you, so you sheepishly gave him a wave. That was when he noticed something on your arm - a bracelet - a bracelet identical to the one he had! He felt his heart flutter instantly, and he stopped talking for a second mid-sentence because of the shock. He did recollect himself, however, and he did in fact end the speech flawlessly. 

As everyone was clapping and cheering he looked at you and blew you a kiss. 

After the speech, he ran up to you and hugged you so tight that you couldn’t breathe. You were laughing and so was he, feeling nothing but joy run through your viens. He gave you a long kiss on your lips and he cupped your cheeks. 

“Sweetie! You’re an angel! Thank you for the bracelet. You have a matching one too! I got so happy when I was you with it on! You’re just too good for me!” 

You reassured him that it was nothing, and he just hugged you even tighter. 

He would NOT let go of you for the entire rest of the day. He did not stop talking either, which you didn’t mind at all, but Lucifer kept scolding you guys for talking in class.

Asmo only ever takes the bracelet off if it clashes with his outfit, other than that he keeps it on all the time. He forces you to take yours off if he thinks it doesn’t match with your outfit too 😭 which you don’t mind, he just wants the best for you. 

He always smiles and kisses the bracelet when he sees it, AND, he runs over to you and kisses you as well. 

That bracelet is his lucky charm - well, his second one. The first one is you. 

BEELZEBUB

Beel didn’t know about friendship bracelets before you gave him one. He never really ran across them anywhere in real life, on social media, in conversations, ETC, so he didn’t seem to know anything about them, or even what they are. 

However, Beel is a gentle giant and he has such a soft spot for you. He appreciates anything you do. You cooked him a meal? He chows down that meal like his life depends on it. You bought him a new sweater? He wears it every day. You made him a friendship bracelet? He has it on at all times and he never takes it off. It doesn’t matter what you did for him, he will always love and appreciate it. 

Beel had an upcoming Fangol match. His biggest one yet. You wanted to do everything that you could to support him and his teammates, but every time you asked what you could do for him, you got the same response. “You being there is enough, MC.” He always smiled at you, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. It was sweet, but you wanted to do something for him.

Three days before the match you got an idea. 

Beel always tells you that you’re his lucky charm, the team's lucky charm. And it’s true! Every single game you’re at, Beel’s team wins. You wanted to give him a little gift to cheer him up before the match, and to give him another lucky charm, one that would be with him forever. 

At 1 AM when almost everyone had fallen asleep and no one had a chance of catching you, well, except for Lucifer, you got out of your room and went to the library of the House of Lamentation. You looked around for the spell book that Solomon had given you a while back, and you found it after thirty minutes of looking. 

You snuck back to your room, holding the book tightly in your arms. 

You walked into your room silently and closed the door behind you, trying not to make noise. You put your book down and you gathered your supplies. This was gonna be a long night. But hey, at least Lucifer didn’t catch you.

-

When the day of the match came, Beel wanted to make sure everything would go smoothly, so he woke up extra early.

There was no school that day, so he had some time to get ready, eat, mentally prepare, get to the match, ETC.

Beel had gathered everyone in the house to the living room when they had woken up. He looked nervous, uncharacteristically so. Beel told everyone all the information about the match that they needed to know, fumbling with his fingers while doing so. 

“So the match starts at 8 PM, therefore you want us to leave for the match at 7 PM?” Satan asked. “Yes.” Beel nodded. “When are you leaving, Beel?” Lucifer asked. “At three. So in an hour.” “Do you need help with anything until then?” “No. Thank you, though.” Beel smiled, but you could sense that he was still nervous. 

When he had finished telling everyone about the information, and nobody had any more questions for him, he headed straight to the kitchen to calm himself down. You followed him silently.

You tapped him on the shoulder only when he had started eating some pudding that was in the fridge, the pudding that you had made him (how cute). “Oh, MC, is everything okay?” He asked, wiping his mouth as he turned around to look at you. “I was gonna ask you that.” You chuckled, setting yourself on the counter in front of him. 

“I’m nervous. This is a big match.” “You’re gonna do great. Don’t worry.” You put your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He, in turn, put his hand on yours and smiled at you. “You’re gonna be there, right?” “Of course I am. It’s my responsibility to be there as your lucky charm.” You giggled. That was when you remembered. “Oh! Beel, I have something for you.” Your hand went straight to your pocket, fumbling around inside of it. When you pulled it out, you were holding two identical yarn bracelets: orange, red, and yellow yarn in a braided pattern. 

He looked at them, then looked at you, then looked at them again. He was blushing, hard. 

“MC…” “I made these two days ago. I put a little spell on them, too. My energy is in these bracelets.” You said, blushing. He was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. “I… I want you to have one of them. You know… so that you have a lucky charm even when I’m not there.” You looked away from him. 

Beel didn’t say anything. For a second, you thought he felt indifferent, that he didn’t care, but you suddenly felt his strong arms wrap around your frame. He snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, smiling ear to ear. “MC… I don’t know what to say.” He said. “It’s okay. Your appreciation is more than enough.” You quickly responded, wrapping your arms around his back. “I don’t deserve you.” He pulled away to look at your face. He was blushing like crazy, still grinning widely. You giggled and kissed his forehead. “You’re the one I don’t deserve.” You smiled. He cupped your cheeks carefully and kissed your lips gently, pressing his forehead to yours when he pulled away. “Thank you. I will wear it forever and ever.” 

-

You waited anxiously in the crowd, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist. “I hope he’s doing okay.” You said, looking at Belphie next to you. “Don’t worry, MC. This is Beel we’re talking about.” “Yeah. I’m just worried. He looked nervous earlier today.” “It’s okay, MC. He’ll be fine. He has the bracelet after all.” You chuckled at Belphie’s sly smile. “He told you?” “Yeah. He looked really happy.” “I’m glad.” “You did a good deed.” 

When the clock struck eight, his team ran out on the field. The crowd started cheering loudly, supporting Beel and his teammates. They were so loud you couldn’t even hear your thoughts. The brothers were probably the loudest in the crowd, so they weren’t helping.

As everyone got in position when the match was about to start, you saw Beel kissing the bracelet on his wrist. Such a simple, yet intimate act. It made your heart flutter, and you could only kiss the bracelet on your wrist as a response. 

In the end, Beel’s team won the match. You and the brothers almost lost your voices as you guys cheered so loud. Beel could hear every single praise and compliment from you guys, just laughing in response. 

When the match was over, Beel ran over to you and hugged you as tight as he could. He buried his face into your hair, kissing the crown of your head repeatedly as he whispered “I love you, I love you, I love you…” over and over again. When he pulled away, he picked you up and spun you around as you both laughed, feeling nothing but sheer euphoria. 

As I said before, Beel never takes the bracelet off. Not only is it made by you, but he feels your energy and warmth at all times when he was it on, and who doesn’t want that? Also, it’s really pretty, which is a bonus. 

He has made it into a habit to kiss it before he goes to sleep. It always gives him good dreams :,) <3

He gets so warm and fuzzy inside when he sees that you have yours on. He always fiddles with it when you guys are cuddling. He doesn’t even realize that he does it, it just happens. 

He will cherish that bracelet until the end of the world. Beyond that, even. 

BELPHEGOR

As Belphie used to love the human world and visit every chance he got, he learned a lot about friendship bracelets. The Devildom is not big on the friendship bracelet culture, so Belphie is the most knowledgeable about them out of all of his brothers. 

Even though he knows quite a bit about them, he doesn’t have the strongest opinion of them. He thinks they’re cute - and that’s that. 

You and Belphie were laying on the roof of the House of Lamentation, stargazing as you were holding hands. 

As Belphie told you about all of the stars in the sky, you turned your head to face his so that you could see his side profile. He was smiling brightly as his eyes sparkled. He looked so comfortable. It made you happy to see - but you were still unsure. Was he… comfortable enough? 

Your free hand found its way inside your jacket’s pocket. You fiddled with the yarn bracelets in there, thinking silently to yourself. Was he comfortable enough? 

Belphegor’s head turned to yours when he noticed that you had gone silent. He had a small smile on his face, yet he still looked concerned. 

“Is everything okay, MC?” He asked, squeezing your hand. 

You averted your eyes from him, holding the bracelets tight in your hand. “I… I want to give you something.” 

His smile faded, and now he just looked confused. ”Give me something?” 

You took a deep breath before you slowly removed your clenched hand from your pocket, unclenching your fist, revealing two identical friendship bracelets. They are both in a spiral staircase pattern, alternating in different shades of purple - violet, lilac, and lavender.

His face lit up, turning his whole body to face yours. He looked up at your face after looking at the bracelets for a while. 

“Friendship bracelets.” He said. You smiled softly at him. “You know what they are.” You shyly looked away. He, in turn, smiled at you and laughed gently. “Of course I do. I didn’t spend almost all of my time in the human realm many years ago for nothing .” “That’s true.”  

You gently took his wrist, giving him a look. He gave you a reassuring nod before you tied his bracelet on for him. “When did you make these?” He asked. 

“Around two months ago. I’ve been holding onto these for a while because I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable enough with me.” “Why wouldn’t I be?” “I don’t know. I guess I just have a lot of anxiety. I don’t want to ruin anything between us, you know?” You turned your body to his. 

He knew deep down what you meant. He beat himself up over it, hard. But he had promised you that he wouldn’t, that he had forgiven himself, just like you had forgiven him. But, still, he knew that what had happened affected your ability to fully believe him, which he understood - but it still stung. 

He gently grabbed your wrist, and he took the other bracelet from your hand. 

He tied your bracelet on for you, as you did for him. 

He looked you in your eyes. “Don’t be stupid, MC. I know we’ve had a rough past, but we shouldn’t let that come in the way of our trust.” He smiled at you. “I will always be the most comfortable around you.” 

Your eyes watered as you nodded. You bit your lip to hold back your tears, but you weren’t strong enough. You let the tears flow down the side of your face. He smiled softly at you as he wiped them away. “It’s okay. You should be as comfortable around me as I am around you.” “I know. I am.” 

You took his hand and kissed it, holding it close to your body. “I love you a lot, Belphie.” You smiled. 

He blushed and rolled onto you. “Silly human.” He said, wrapping his arms around your body. “I’m sleepy.” He giggled. You both laughed in response and held each other close to one another. 

That gift of yours was so much more to you both than just some silly bracelets - it solved a big issue in your guys’ relationship. You now know that Belphegor fully trusts and loves you and that you can leave the thoughts of the past behind. 

Belphie never takes that bracelet off. EVER. Like you will never catch him with it off. 

He loves looking at it and admiring it, knowing that you probably spent quite some time fiddling with all of the pieces of yarn used to make the bracelet. 

He also adores seeing you have your bracelet on, and it would make him sad to see it missing from your wrist. 

He has also started hugging your wrist with the bracelet on in his sleep. You aren’t sure if he does this intentionally or not, but either way, it’s cute <3 

He also gave friendship bracelet making a go quite recently, so now you guys have two pairs of matching friendship bracelets. The bracelets he made are in a candy stripe pattern with different shades of blue yarn - sapphire, royal, and navy blue! He gifted them to you when you guys went stargazing again, and you ended up bawling your eyes out as he reassuringly hugged you and laughed. 

He still isn’t sure how he managed to get you, but damn he is grateful. 

hi again! yes, the dateables version will also be coming! <3

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 04  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02 03

⇢ Word Count : 4.7k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Last night can’t get out of your mind. It’s not like you to do such a dumb thing. Kissing Jimin... you didn’t know what had gotten into you last night. The last thing you’d ever want to do is have someone go through the same thing you did with Jimin when he had cheated on you. Your mind raced all night thinking if that kiss, that one sole kiss, would make you the bad guy? Make this whole situation worse? 

Wrong.

Both of you were vulnerable and just not the same. Of course you’re still tender to the subject of and about him, and forever will have have a soft spot for Jimin. You didn’t expect that to happen though. 

‘‘ Yes.. Yes.. Okay.. I understand.”

You drone on for the millionth time today. Only 9 am and calls are making their way to you. You’ve been caught. Someone spotted you and Jimin last night walking to your apartment. Luckily the pictures were only garage scenes of you and him. Jimin’s head hanging low trailing a distance behind you while you hold your sore arm. Thankfully, by the looks of the new articles every damn hour, they think that you had hurt yourself and Jimin was supposedly there for you for comofort.

The fanpages are going to have a field day with that.

Your manager continues to lecture you about how this could start a scandal, how you should of been more careful, and finally that those words everyone has told you before. He wasn’t good to you, move on.

‘‘ Listen im just going to be with Ryan today and she’s bringing Jungkook. We are heading over to Ryan’s office to discuss things and what not.’‘ You sigh into the phone, wanting to hang up already.

Your manager on the other line is hesitant for you to go, but gives in once you say you’ll only be an hour in and out. That’s the only way you’ll get to go out today. Whenever small scandals like this brew up, the management company would make you stay low for the next three days. 

You both say your goodbyes and then hang up. Finally. Somewhere in the room Clara lets out one of her tiny meows making you smile to yourself. The day planned ahead is way more exciting than you worrying to yourself

‘‘ Baby please. I have to go’‘

Isabel smirks lowly while shaking her head. Jimin watches her intensively as her hands roam all around his now bare chest, that was covered with a shirt two minutes ago.

‘‘ Jimin, you and I both know that we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately.’‘

Her dainty fingertips trace over his forming abs one by one staring him straight in the eyes. He bites his lip hard just before letting out a useless groan with his head thrown back in the chair. It’s true. With all the celebrity show appearances they’ve had, the quality time together has been cut short.

He ries to pry her hands away from his jeans but it’s no use. “ I have to leave, Jungook wants me at Ryan’s office in twenty minutes.”

Her face turns into a pout, lifting her hands from his jeans.  ‘’ So he’s more important than your girlfriend?’’

‘‘ Well I mean he is my blood broth- Fuck!’’

It’ was quick enough to where he didn’t feel it coming. Before he knew it, his jeans were unbuttoned and her mouth glides across the imprint of his shaft hiding behind his boxers. “ We can stop and you can leave.. if you want..” She knows exactly what shes doing by making sure her voice is low and those round eyes meeting his. 

His groans only become louder when she takes a long, slow lick from the base to the tip. There’s no way on hell he’ll miss this opportunity to get some head. Jimin’s craving for sex has been high lately and with no time to recieve pleasure, he damn sure wasn’t gonna let up this offer. “ Fuck that. Keep going my love.”

Grabbing a fistful of Isabel’s hair, he yanks his boxers down revealing his thick, hard member hat springs up to his belly button. Isabel smirks at him just before taking the whole thing down her throat making Jimin moan out louder in pleasure. The sound of sucking, wet noises fill the studio’s ambiance.

Jimin watches her intensely while letting out low groans and growls as her bobbing head becomes quicker. This isn’t what he wants truly.  What he wants is you. You is who he wishes who’d be pleasuring him right now. The way you’d sometimes gag on him when his dick filled your mouth completely was something he’d always enjoyed seeing. The way your eyes water with him stuffed in your mouth but determined to go on was a major turn on for him. He wants you and only you. Right now in this moment Isabel doesn’t mean shit to him but you do. 

He can’t help but to lean back in his chair and close his eyes waiting to chase his high, all with the thoughts of you and your guises past sexual encounters turning him on even more with the lost track of time in the back of his mind.

You on the other hand, wait with Jungkook and Ryan who are getting a bit anxious waiting for the boy’s arrival. You of course didn’t want him to come. It’ll only make things more complicated than it is right now. Essentially you were going to leave when Jungkook said he’d be inviting Jimin.. yet again. 

Seeing as though when you were on your way to the office, you had glanced at the clouds and could see a big thunderstorm brewing. You’d rather not take your chances of being rained on while walking back to your apartment.

‘‘ Geez where is this guy? He’s always late ever since he’s been with Isa-”

A shove by Ryan shuts him right up before finishing his sentence. Ryan gives him a glare and a few utters of words to him before turning back to the giant window that gazes over the bright nightlife of Seoul.

One part of you wishes for Jimin not to actually show up but the other does. Just to see his face and reaction too you ever since yesterday. But just for the sake of it, you won’t bring it up. Play it off like it never happened.

‘‘ Was it really necessary for us to come at night? We couldn’t of just come during the day?’’ Jungkook says, walking over to her.

He snakes his arms around his waist placing gentle butterfly kisses around her neck. The reflection off the mirror shows her facial expression, a slight smile as they sway from side to side. A ping of happiness shoots through you at the sight of them. It reminds you of you and Jimin. That happiness quickly shuts down.

You smile to yourself, “Well i’m a model, Jungkook and his brother are idols, and you’re an upcoming fashion designer dating said Idol. ”

Jungkook clears his throat before placing his arm gently around Ryan, “ Yeah she’s MY girlfriend.’’ He says proudly. Ryan shakes her head while playfully rolling her eyes. 

You giggle along with her. It’s only been a short while since he’s asked her and he seems so happy and proud with her. Something you wish that Jimin wouldn’t have ruined for you two.

‘‘ Nobody knows we are dating and If paparazzi catches you coming to my office it’s going to stir up something rather it be little or not.’‘ Ryan sighs, sitting down next to you on the white couch.

Jungkook pauses to be silent for a second but continues on, “ That would happen regardless because paparazzi comes out at any time of day. We just so happen not to get caught.’’

Your frail hands begin to play with the sleeve of your shirt at the wrists. Something you do when anxious but trying to keep calm. You’re starting to get annoyed with this couple talk. You’re happy for them but rubbing it in is starting to hurt a bit. Where is he at?

‘‘ You know what im tired of waiting. If he comes he comes. If he doesn’t oh well we already knew he’s an asshole because of that girl now.” Ryan scoffs.

She folds her arms as she leans onto Jungkook who’s now sitting on the arm of the couch. He chuckles at her pouting and sudden anger just before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

You take in the sight of them. Two love birds that mean the world to each other. You wouldn’t dare want nor try to break them up. You knew Jungkook has been waiting for that moment to ask her. When he did on that day Ryan couldn’t of been even more happier.

And if as on cue, that familiar face comes in quietly with two large brown bags in his hands. You choose not to make eye contact with him when he stops infront of the couch, glancing at you.

‘‘ Im sorry im late. I bought food for us..” He pleads for forgiveness. If it was up to you then you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Hell, you still don’t want to forgive him for that act last night. Yet you can’t be a hypocrite because you’re just as guilty.

Jungkook takes the bags from him due to the way to familiar scent coming from them. Jajangmyeon. His favorite noodles of all time. A quick way to earn his forgiveness of anything.

‘‘ You are forgiven don’t let it happen again,”  He says, smiling ear to ear as he pulls out his serving of noodles.

Ryan hands you a pair of chopsticks and your serving of noodles. You thank her and look down at the bowl. If you did eat it that means you forgave him, if you didn’t that means you wont. Your mind doesn’t know which one to pick.

While everyone sits there talking amongst themselves you sit there with chopsticks in hand zoned out. You seen the hickies when he had came in. When he had tilted his head announcing his arrival, thats when you saw it peeking from under his scarf. that The dark bruises peaked up and back into hiding whenever he moved.

‘‘ You don’t like the noodles?” Jungkook says, taking a big bite of noodles then slurping them up.

Ryan gives you one of your guises code looks but you give one back to say you are fine. ‘’ Im sorry I was just zoned out.’’

You don’t engage on any of the conversation instead you sit there eating your noodles quietly until they’re gone. That is until the real reason why you are here is brought up.

‘‘ We are here because me and Jungkook have thought about you guys.” Ryan glances at the boy who’s now wiping his face free of sauce.

Great. When are people going to stop doing that though?

‘‘ Ryan come on now, I honestly don’t care. He’s happy with her and I am with myself. Im serious. Please stop thinking about things like this. Im happy can’t you see that! ‘‘ By this point you know you’re all worked up.

It isn’t the truth, but you just want everyone to stop worrying so you could move on. Bringing the whole situation up all the time is draining for you and you’d rather not be reminded of Jimin and what he does and how he’s doing.

Jimin keeps quite with a stare that’s intense on you. You stare right back at him with an emotionless expression. The both of your eyes never leave each-other but you knew it had hurt him. Saying that you’re fine but he knows you’re bothered a lot.

Jungkook sighs heavily, “Baby-Cheeks don’t get all upset now. We are just worried solely on you. Even Jimin is and we all came to an agreement to have this civil conversation right here and now because all of it needs to be addressed.”

You cock your head slightly to the side not leaving Jimin’s eyes. You knew for a fact that this entire conversation is his doing just by Jungkook saying that last sentence. 

“ I told you to stop worrying about me. I really meant it. I’m fine. I am F I N E .’’ You spell out the words, then shake your head clearly pissed off. 

‘‘ But you aren’t. You constantly lose focus and don’t talk as much. Im worried for you so much that it pains me to even see you like this.” Jimin bites his lips to prevent from breaking down. You know that expression all to well.

That still doesn’t mean he should be worrying about you. You two are no longer together and no matter how many times you scream it to the top of your lungs each time, nobody listens to you.

‘‘ I am fine. I promise you guys. I’ve just had a comeback and they set me on a strict diet for the next few months and I go to the gym more than I used to because that’s what us models do. Since I have been absent for a year now my break time is over. The reason I zone out is because I have a busy schedule and sleep is whenever I can get it so that makes me tired often. I am fine.”

Your explanation is partially true and you do feel bad for lying on some of the parts but knowing them they will keep doing whatever to make things right. It’s time for you and them to stop worrying about Jimin and your relationship with each other.

The group doesn’t say anything after that. You tried to keep the best serious tone you had to explain that to them. Luckily they fell through and believed it. All except Jimin.

‘‘ Now can we move on? Is everything okay now?”  You ask, looking at both Ryan and Jungkook. They both shake their head slowly still unsure of what to think.

‘‘ Well since that is over with, lets all take our leave yeah?” Ryan sighs, collecting everybody’s trash from the food. You nod your head and begin to help her while the boys go somewhere in the room to talk privately together.

You don’t care enough to want to know about what they’re saying. As long as they don’t bring anything of worriedness about you again then it’s okay. Soon after the room is all cleaned up you grab your coat and scarf. Jungkook grabs Ryan’s and helps her into hers, zipping it all the way up.

‘‘ My baby can’t catch a cold.” He giggles before placing a kiss on her forehead. Ryan turns a deep red in her cheeks as he continues to dress her properly for the snow outside.

‘‘ Can we talk privately again?’‘ A quite voice says behind you. You knew it all to well. But you don’t turn around at all while slipping your coat on.

‘‘ I’ve thought I made myself clear. I don’t need to say it again. Please just accept it.”  The maroon colored scarf is gently placed around you from behind.

You grab his hands to stop him but he’s quick enough to come in-front of you and begin to wrap it for you. “ You lied. You can fool them but not me.’’

You break his hands away from the scarf, making sure to glare at him before you storm out of the office. All of the pressure and just concern in general is getting to you. It’s not like you to get worked up to this point. You hate making scenes and you knew that when you left like that it’s going to spark more curiousness.

The heel of your black suede thigh high boots click down the hallway fast as tears feel the brim of your eyes. Why wont they just leave it be?

After taking the long way out and going down three flights of stairs from the emergency exit, you make it down to the lobby and out the rotating doors.

When you do you almost choke out a whimper at the sight at Jimin greeting Isabel with a hug in which she pulls him down to a deep passionate kiss while waiting in-front of his car.

He was just upstairs dressing you properly, but kissing on her a few minutes later. Typical Jimin.

You bite your lip hard enough for the taste of blood to fill your mouth to prevent from crying right then and there. You can’t show her any sign of weakness. This is what she wants you to do. Cry and breakdown in-front of her to gain victory. She can’t have it. She wont have it.

You slip your hands into the coat pockets and begin your journey down the street. Catching a taxi would be no use. The cold harsh wind mixing with the hard drops of rain feel euphoric but numb to you.

‘‘ What are you doing? You’ll catch a cold for walking in this type of weather!” A voice yells far from behind you.

You don’t bother to look back at him. You up your pace just by a little to get that voice far away from you as possible. He kissed you last night, but kissed her right infront of you. The lump in your throat is sore and your heart hurts with each step you take.  Is this how the game goes? It hurts. It hurts a lot. 

 The wind blows harsh and the rain blows on your face making your makeup wet but not smeared. The mascara running down your face doesn’t matter from your wet tears.

 The stop lights turn yellow, red, and then green a couple of times. You count the number of changes before walking past it. Three times total.

Yellow

Red

Green

then back again.

The thunder roars causing you to jump a bit, but you’re numb to any noise around you anyways. You sniffle repeatedly to stop your nose from running but why not just let it run? Why not just let everything go. Let yourself go. Yeah that sounds about right. Let yourself g-

The blackness of your vision is sudden. No chance to react when the sound disappears from it. To the ground your body goes, laying there in a puddle of water. Your eyes blink slowly when you wince in pain upon bringing your hand up to your head. Vision goes in and out, in and out. You can’t hear the disorted person above you screaming and shaking you just before blacking out again.

The look of horror on his face and adrenaline runs through his body as soon as your eyes close. He thinks it’s his fault. His fault for wanting to keep talking to you. His fault for kissing you last night. His fault for stressing you out to your limits for you to walk home instead of asking him for a ride.

Running his hand through his hair, he slowly picks up your limp body. He saw that fall, and that fall was hard. You slipped on a decent sized amount of a dirt and mud mixture from not paying attention. Tears roll down his eyes when he places you in the passenger seat to buckle your seatbelt where your chest rises up and down. A sign of life.

The ride to your house is hell for him. Constantly hitting the steering wheel out of anger from himself and crying loudly wishing for you to be fine and okay. The hospital wasn’t an option right now. If paparazzi saw him taking you in unconcious right after the small scandal, he’d be sure that he’d be on the news for the next two weeks for supposedly abusing you, which isn’t the case.

It doesn’t take him long to arrive, considering he was tokyo drifting through the streets of Seoul. Laying your body on your bed, he sees the bottom of your outfit is dirty with mud. At first he hesitates but keeping muddy clothes on you wouldn’t be right of him.

After picking out some sweatpants, he moves on to your hoodie collection and spots one in the back of the drawer folded into a ball. Jimin lets out a small laugh when he realizes its one of his. It must of ended up here in transit when packing from the old apartment.

Nevertheless, he decides it’s that one you’ll be wearing and not anyone of the others. When it comes time to undress you, he looks away when taking off your clothes and putting the new clothes on. He tucks you in when done, planting a small kiss on your forehead just before going to get an icepack for you to place it on your head.

The sound of cartoons playing in a distance wakes you up. Your eyes stir open until full view. The throbbing of your head makes you wince a little. You’re just as more confused as to when you made it into your apartment let alone your room.

‘‘ You’re awake?’‘

He places the icepack on the back of your head but when he goes to grab your hand to make you secure it, your heart skips a beat when his soft hand touches yours. It’s been a while since you last had his warm touch against yours. 

The thoughts in your head stops when he lets go of your now cold hand. ‘‘ Why are you here?”  You say, finally looking at him.

‘‘ You fell. You fell on a puddle of mud while crossing over to the next sidewalk.” He sighs, eyes staring at you with anger yet relief. Instead of fighting back for the sake of your throbbing head, you just look down.

Thats when you notice the new set of clothes on your body. You certainly weren’t wearing this hoodie before. In fact you knew for a fact that this particular hoodie was balled up in the back of your dresser drawer. It’s his. 

 “ You undressed me?” You yell, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You pull the cover closer up to your body out of embarassment but Jimin doesn’t care. He’s more worried about the fall than the undressing.

“ Do you fucking know how got damn worried I was?” Jimin walks over to you with his arms crossed and jaw clenching. You want to hide right about now. “You’re more worried about if I was a pervert or not but news flash, I didn’t even look at you while undressing you. I’m not the asshole you think I am.”  

Silence is golden.

‘‘ We all shouldn’t have been out there with a storm coming, but we came to the office for your sake. You keep putting yourself at risk, just stop!‘‘ He semi-yells at you. 

You know he’s correct but that doesn’t stop you from forming the lecture into an arguement.

‘‘ Risk? I don’t take risks unless necessary. I was just minding my business and walking home. I guess I wasn’t mindful for that the weather wasn’t suitable for walking. Thank you for tending to me.’’

The boy scoffs with a sarcastic smile on his face backing away from your bed. You close your eyes knowing you shouldn’t of said that. ‘‘ Wasn’t mindful? Really? Why can’t you just listen to me whenever I need you to?”

‘‘ You were with Isabel. I don’t have anything to do with your guys relationship at all. I didn’t want to seem like a threat to her. ‘‘

Jimin sighs and rubs his temples, ‘’ You know you’re hard headed right? Do you think I give a flying fuck if she was there or not? You health and you yourself are important to me. ‘’

Here we go again.

‘‘ I said don’t worr-’‘

Jimin raises up quickly with anger and sadness written all over his face, ‘’ I don’t care what you say. Fucking listen to me when I say so! I’m going to worry about you until the day I die and cannot breathe anymore! Accept it okay?’’ He semi- yells, chest heaving up and down fast.

You keep your eyes away from his. You knew it would happen. You knew he would blow up somehow today.

‘‘ Im not going to accept it. Want to know why? I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I have to accept the fact that you no longer are in a relationship with me Jimin. You need to too.’‘

Jimin sighs, pacing back in forth across the wooden floor while running his fingers through his hair repeatedly, “ I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be like this. I’m not letting it happen anymore. From now on I will be checking on you everyday. Understand?’’

‘‘ No I don-”

‘‘ Understand?’‘ He growls, head whipping towards your direction.

There it goes. Pissed off Jimin. The side of his dominance that he dares anyone to overpower.

‘‘ Jimin you cannot come he-”

He shoots you a glare wanting his question answered now. You bite your lip making sure to shut the fuck up at this point. Anything you say after you know would do damage. ‘‘ Do you. Fucking. Understand?’‘

You nod your head. When he becomes like this there isn’t any way to stop him or change his mind.

‘‘ Good. Im not leaving for the night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Woah Jimin. Okay that’s too far. That’s considered cheating on Isabel.”

‘‘ It’s not. Not if im not with her anymore.’‘

Your heart jumps at those words. Not with her anymore?

‘‘ You honestly didn’t have to break up with her for me.”

You know you’d honestly feel very bad, but not as bad because she honestly deserves it for being a homewrecker. Then again, what does that make you?

‘‘ We technically are on a break. Im planning to break up with her in a couple of days.” He says, turning the blaring hot heater that was turned on prior to you waking up, onto it’s low settings.

You decide that’s enough of questions and to just enjoy his company there while it lasts. Putting the cover back down, you pick up your phone from the nightstand. A few texts from your manager, a missed call from Ryan. By the looks of it they both don’t know what happened and that somehow relieves you. 

Looking back up at him, you notice him turned around about to take off his shirt. His back muscles are evident and flex whenever he moves. You miss those. The way they’d feel under your hands and nails when he used to be ontop of you giving you the best nights of your life.

You hadn’t known he had turned around because you’re too deep in thought recalling those nights. “ Im assuming you like what you see?”

So you’ve been caught. “ No. Put your shirt back on.” Its a lie but you can’t admit to daydreaming about him.

‘‘ Hush im just changing into new clothes.’‘

You watch him go to your bottom left dresser and it all clicks to you. Back when you both shared an apartment Jimin kept extra clothing for emergencies always in the left bottom drawer.

You don’t know why, but you felt that it was tradition to put his extra clothing inside the bottom left drawer when you moved into here. Jimin had left the box of emergency clothing, on accident, with you as the both of you moved out.

When things had arrived here and you started unpacking you had seen what was inside the box. Instead of calling him to retrieve it, you just placed them in the bottom left drawer of your dresser in case something had ever happened where he was in need.

And that scenario just so happened to play out today.

You close your eyes as he casually slips his pants off in front of you. You want to peak but choose not to. ‘‘ Why are you covering your eyes? You’ve seen all of me before.”

And you want to see it all again.

‘‘ Yeah whatever. Im sleepy.’‘

 You rub your eyes and let out a quite yawn. You can feel his eyes staring into you so you turn to face him while getting comfortable under the covers.

Jimin turns out the lights first and then the t.v. Pitch black just how you like it.

‘‘ I forgot how cute you can be.’‘ He shakes his head, pulling you closer to him to where you’re laying on his chest with his arms wrapped around you.

His heartbeat is relaxing to you. So relaxing that soon enough, the both of you are fast asleep tangled in each-others love.

Once again, you fell for his sweet-talking and little white lies. All because you want another chance, one last time.

[ellieswhoreeee]

The Two of Us. pt 2

authors note; thank you guys for the support, it really means a lot to me! Im glad you guys liking the story so far! Anyways, here’s part two! Also, i’d like to apologize in advance for any errors or if something doesn’t make sense. English isn’t my first language so i’m sorry if there’s something wrong :)

Endgame pairings: Ellie Williams x fem! reader.

Warnings: Violence, marijuana, swearing, ect.

———————————————————————

It really hurt seeing them together.

You felt the disappointment, the hurt and the jealousy as they simply talked. Though you know there was a deeper meaning behind their seemingly innocent conversation. You know more than anyone about them. Being one Ellie’s best friends is both a blessing and a curse.

She smiled, looking slightly flustered after Cat whispered something in her ear, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw at that.

It was a troubling sight, really it was. Everything seemed so off. Like it wasn’t real. But it was. Ellie was laughing with the cool girl who can do tattoos, one of your friends. God, it really felt like you were getting jabbed in the heart over and over again.

But you had no right to jealous at all. She wasn’t yours to be jealous about.

Cat looked around, making sure nobody was looking- but held eye contact with you for a moment before she leaned in and kissed Ellie on the lips. That’s when you finally looked away, continuing to fix Gemini’s saddle.

Gemini was tied to the fence by the barn and was close to the fence. Other horses lined up beside his right side. Today’s group was getting to leave for the morning. Earlier than usual.

Mondays are rough.

“How long have they been together now?” Jesse asked when he walked over to you as you were packing up for patrol. You turned to look at him so you could have an actual conversation. He looked directly into your eyes, almost as if he was trying to figure you out. Jesse was someone who could see everything with one look. You kinda hated him for knowing so much about how you felt about Ellie without telling him much about it.

“…I wanna say 2 months, but we both know it’s been longer than that.” You replied with a frown, continuing to distract yourself by finishing to prep Gemini for patrol.

“Y/n, could you stop looking so miserable? It’s starting to bum me out.”

You chuckled lightly, finally stepping away from Gemini and decided to lean against the wooden fence beside your horse. Jesse decided to the same, and he leaned against it with you. You looked down at your hands, deciding to pick at your cuticles just so you wouldn’t look at the couple. “Why don’t you look just as miserable as me? Didn’t Dina break up with you? Again.”

“Ouch, you really know how to turn on certain emotions.”

“I’m serious. Like, i haven’t been broke up with, yet here i am…” You paused, you stopped picking at your cuticles just to look across the street, where the couple was. Happily minding their business. Ellie and Cat were talking and laughing sweetly. Again, with that pain in your chest. “Utterly heartbroken.”

Jesse patted you on the back, it was his way of comforting you since he had no idea how else to help. “It won’t get easier. One moment you think you’re stronger than whatever you’re feeling but then… you realize it doesn’t matter how good you hide it. If you keep on hiding it, the pain will get to you before you can express those feelings properly.”

“I’m gonna be honest Jesse… I have no idea what you mean by that.”

“Of course you don’t…” He mumbled with a laugh. Again he patted you on the back and pushed himself off the fence. “Think about it clearly.” He then walked off, somewhere towards Maria and some other adults.

Again, you and Gemini were left alone together.

You couldn’t help but think about what Jesse brought up earlier. What did he mean by that? You’re not sure how to process what he meant. Either you were completely clueless- or Jesse tried to be all wise but failed.

“Y/n! Come over here.” You heard Maria’s voice, which broke you from your trance. You left Gemini tied to the post as you walked over to Maria and some other people. Mila and Benji smirk at you as you walk closer. Mila and Benji are your close friends and have been for a while. Though you haven’t seen them lately because of work. Everyone is extra busy lately. Mostly.

“Look who finally decided to join us.” Benji remarked as he wrapped his arm around you once you were close. He pulled you closer and walked towards Maria’s table that was used for placing maps for patrol.

You pushed him off of you gently and made a grossed out face at him. “You really stink, Benji. When was the last time you took a shower?”

Benji only smiled and raised his left arm up to smell his armpit and his clothes too. “It’s my natural musk, all the ladies love it.”

You and Mila looked at each other simultaneously. It was as if you were on the same wavelength. Both of your rolled your eyes at him. “As a lady, i will be speaking for everyone when i say you smell nasty.” Mila exposed truthfully while crossing her arms on her chest.

“Hold up, you’re not a lady, you’re a brute.”

“Oh, i’m the brute? You haven’t taken a proper shower in weeks. Jumping into lakes and rivers don’t count.”

“Says who? It’s more natural,”

“More like nasty.”

You ignored the two bickering idiots and moved closer to the table where Maria was. “What were you thinking Maria?” You asked, looking down at the map of the area. It stretched out for miles.

She looked up at you. “Have you ever done the urban trails? It leads up to the dam checkpoint.”

You shook your in response. “I haven’t. Do you want me to take that route? You should pair me up with someone who’s done that trail then.”

There’s a lot of trails, so there are at least 10 or 15 trails you’ve never done before. These type of trails are the longer routes. The reason you haven’t done those routes is because Tommy isn’t that confident in you to take on the longer routes.

But now it was different, not only are you older but more capable of handling yourself more than anyone.

“You’re right…” Maria paused, she was thinking, trying to slowly put some pieces together. “But there isn’t anyone on duty right now who knows the trails that i can think of.”

Jesse’s head perked up at what she said, smirking at you from across the table. He was right next to Maria like always. She trusts him a lot because he was also a natural leader. “Actually, Ellie knows that trail.”

You instinctively felt your heartbeat start to speed up, and your face started to warm up at his insinuation. You knew what he was doing. “Ellie and Dina are already planning on running their routes on chestnut drive. I can take a group and we’ll figure it out together.” You intervened, giving Jesse a look that said, ‘shut up’.

“No, Jesse is right. You and Ellie can take the urban trails. It’ll be much faster with you two clearing that area. We can’t send a group to one trail- especially not now when we’ve been getting reports of infected in the southern territories- the opposite direction of urban trails.”

You sighed, knowing that her words were always final. You scratched the back of your neck- feeling an inch. “I’ll go let Ellie know. Jesse talk to Dina.” You give him another glare and just he smiled, sending a wink your way.

You turned around, looking over at where Cat and Ellie were still talking. Lately, things have been awkward between you two. It may have something to do with the fact that you maybe- just maybe that you were avoiding her.

It didn’t really matter, Ellie hasn’t noticed anything differently anyways. Or so you assumed.

“Ellie!” At the sound of your voice she quickly turned away from her girlfriend. She dropped Cats hands and fully turned to face you. Her full attention was now on you. But of course, you didn’t notice that either. “Assignments! Let’s go, kiss your girlfriend goodbye and get your ass on shimmer!”

It was getting easier to hide your feelings, even your distain for the couple and how you felt about Ellie.

“Fuck… Alright, just give me a minute!”

You gave her a thumbs up, and turned away. You walked towards your horse, seeing Jesse waiting there for you. He must have finished talking with Dina. He held out a hunting rifle and a shotgun towards you. He looked between both guns. “Which one do you prefer?” He questioned.

You smiled, looking at both guns. “Quite the tough question, Jes.”

Ellie walked up behind you, looking right over your shoulder. She was so close to you. Your breathe hitched lightly as she observed both guns. “I think you’re more of a rifle girl. It suits you more than a shotgun.”

Jesse grinned, and his eyes sparkled for a moment when you looked at him. He then nodded, agreeing with what Ellie had said. “That settles that then.” He held the rifle for you to take, which you did. Jesse then passed the shotgun to Ellie.

With the help of the sling, you tossed the rifle over your shoulder. Ellie was staring at you, trying desperately to get your attention without having to say anything but you were occupied with Gemini once again. She sighed, and decided to just start the conversation.

“So… Where have you been lately? I haven’t seen you around, not even in the mess hall.” Ellie hesitated but walked over to Gemini’s mane. You were by his saddle, and when you stared into her eyes it felt like it was only you and her. Instinctively, your eyes trailed from her eyes to her lips. You couldn’t help it. She was so close. Ellie shyly looked down at her hands as she continued to mess with Gemini’s mane. “I’ve uh… Missed hanging out with you. We still haven’t finished our halo campaign.”

You bit the inside of you cheek, and decided that laughing nervously would help ease your nerves. “Yeah, i’m sorry about that. I asked Maria for more assignments since… You know, i have nothing better to do.”

Ellie wanted to say something but held her tongue. She wanted to say something to continue your conversation but you interrupted her instead. “Listen, Maria wants you and me to handle the urban trails. Pretty sure we have to replace Danny and Axel at the dam checkpoint …”

“You and i,” Ellie corrected suddenly, making you stare at her in disbelief and confusion. She gave you a smirk. “You said ‘you and me’ but that isn’t proper grammar.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at her. “Fuck off, Williams. Did you even listen to a word i said?”

“So, we’re back to last names? Since when?”

“Since you decided to be a grammar queen, you dick.”

“Woah! Language, there are children around, L/n!”

“The only child i see is you.” You replied with a happy smile on your face. You and Ellie climbed on your horses and waited by the gates. Ellie continue to talk to you like nothing was wrong- well, not like she knew if there was something wrong anyways. You kept stuff to yourself.

You missed this. You missed hanging out with Ellie. You just… Missing having her by your side, kicking the worlds ass together but now… Ellie was with Cat. Her relationship put a wedge on your friendship. You felt farther away to Ellie then ever.

Everything has changed. Which sucked because you weren’t sure how to deal with the changes. It was all going by so fast. You just wished everything was different. It was selfish of you but… You didn’t care.

“Y/n, you with me?” Ellie snapped you out of your thoughts. She looked back at you as the gates opened.

You nodded. “Always.”

[moonculus]

terrible things ~ wilbur x reader

angst

warnings: death, weapons, kissing (all non-descriptive)

pronouns: implied she/her

notes: inspired by the song, terrible things by mayday parade. i apologize in advance <3

☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽

that’s when i met your father, the boy of my dreams. the most beautiful man that i’d ever seen.

“mommy?”

you looked away from your coffee cup to meet your child’s bright eyes staring back at you.

“yes, honey?” you asked, smiling softly.

“what happened to my father?”

immediately, you felt your heart tighten. you had put off talking about your husband for as long as you possibly could. phil, techno, even tommy. everyone who cared for you worried about you. you had thrown yourself into caring for your child, barely even giving yourself time to feel.

“when you’re older, baby,” you tilted your head sympathetically.

the daughter clung to your leg, pouting up at you with puppy eyes. the same her father would make whenever he wanted a hug or kiss from you. you were never the disciplinarian. to be honest, neither of you were. you hoisted your daughter onto your lap, preparing yourself emotionally.

“well, since i was your age, i was convinced i would be a leader. no one could ever tell me i needed a husband, i thought boys were frivolous. while my friends would talk about crushes and cooties, i would talk about sword skills and the inner workings of our country. i never thought i’d need anyone. until i met your father…”

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

you swung your wooden makeshift sword at a tree, grunting as it was stuck in the bark. you pulled at the handle, kicked at the stump, and eventually plopped down in the grass beside it, frustratedly.

“need some help?” a soft voice asked you.

a small boy your age crooked glasses and a yellow sweater he seemed to be quickly outgrowing.

“no. i can do it myself,” you huffed, brushing yourself off and attempting to pull the sword out again.

“my dad says it’s always best to accept help, even if you think you don’t deserve it.”

“my dad used to say if you can’t do things on your own, you shouldn’t do them at all.”

“your dad’s wrong,” the boy shrugged, leaning against the tree.

“do you mind?”

“i’m wilbur,” he grinned, sticking his hand out for you.

“i’m tired of this,” you folded your arms against your chest.

“well, tired of this. do you want to be friends?”

“my dad said friends make you weak,” you muttered, shifting from foot to foot.

“your dad’s wrong,” he repeated, smiling. “anyways. sometimes, everyone needs a knight in shining armor.”

with a swift hit to the handle in exactly the right place, the sword fell to the grass. your chest rose and fell as you glared at the weapon.

“thank you,” you mumbled.

“i’ll take a friendship as an apology.”

you rolled your eyes at him, a smile threatening to cross your face.

“fine.”

wilbur’s face lit up with a toothy smile.

“but,” you began, pointing a finger at him. “only because i owe you.”

“oh, of course,” he nodded, stifling a grin.

“y/n. my name. i’m y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated. “i like it. i’ll see you around, y/n.”

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

“and then what happened?”

your curious daughter that had been squirming in your lap, now settled, relaxing in your arms.

“well, a few years passed, and we became practically attached at the hip. inseparable…”

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

i can tell by your eyes that you’re in love with me

“stay together- be safe!” phil called after the two of you, as if you would’ve gladly left the other alone.

“we will!” you chorused, already bolting away.

the once short and underdeveloped boy had grown into a lanky, somewhat scrawny teenager. stretch marks dotted his knees from an unexpected growth spurt at twelve. he had long since ditched his glasses, claiming that he was too mature for his crooked lenses. suspiciously, he had adopted the spectacles back once he had overheard a conversation between niki and yourself in which you told her you thought boys with glasses were cute.

the two of you flopped onto your backs at the same willow tree you had first met. it had become a memorial of the start of your friendship, a place you visited often.

clouds drifted through the sky, the both of you pointing out ones that looked like ducks and cats.

“d’ya ever think about your future?” wilbur asked you out of the blue.

“yeah. i’m gonna be a ruler. you can be one of my royal consorts,” you shrugged.

“what’s a consort?”

“i dunno, i heard my mom use it once. i suppose it’s like an advisor of some kind. you’re my second in command!”

“well, i’m fine being your second. as long as you don’t let it go to your head,” he nudged you, smiling.

you rolled your head to the side, meeting gazes with wil. his eyes searched your face, and for a second you were confused. you had barely even acknowledged the thought of crushes- you didn’t know what they felt like. later on, you could assume it felt a little like this.

the two of you leaned in, connecting your lips gently. neither of you had any clue what you were doing, it was both of your first kisses. as soon as it began, you pulled away. you didn’t miss the blush creeping into wilbur’s cheeks, just as he didn’t miss the smile you tried to hide behind your hand.

“i- crap. i li-“ wil stammered.

“i know.”

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

“ew, cooties!”

“you’re right, cooties. that’s why you never kiss boys,” you pointed at your daughter.

“anyways, we loved each other. we had since the day we met, just were too young to know it…”

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

im asking you, please. you know that i love you, will you marry me?

“gods, you look beautiful, honey,” niki cooed as she placed flowers behind your ears.

“you think so?”

“i know so! wil is going to be speechless.”

“we haven’t been out for weeks, with all of the battle preparations,” you sighed, placing your face in your hand.

“don’t remind me. there you are, perfect!” niki smiled, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“thank you so much, i owe you.”

“oh, hush. you owe me nothing,” she dismissed. “now, hurry! he’s waiting.”

there was a calm breeze as you walked to your willow tree. the air smelled floral and familiar, like it was curated just for you. you heard the soft strum of a guitar, and your steps quickened.

a grin plastered itself across your face as you saw your love, surrounded by blue petals and lanterns, plucking the strings of his instrument. it was a scene out of a movie as you took a seat in front of him. he smiled at you softly, not speaking until the melody finished.

“i love you,” he began, clasping his hands around your own. “i have loved you since i’ve known you. you are my muse, my meaning. without you, i’d perish beyond means. i promise i’ll care for you when you’re sick, when you take up half of the bed, when you insist on midnight walks- i’ll take it all.”

by now, tears of happiness were falling down your face, you practically already nodding.

“y/n y/l/n,” he started, pulling out a dark ring.

you interrupted him, throwing your arms around his neck and all but tackling him to the ground.

“will- you- marry- me-“ he laughed in between kisses. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

“yes, yes. of course it’s a yes, you idiot. i love you,” you smiled.

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

“but if you lived happily ever after, where’s dad?”

again, your heart felt pained. your eyes filled with tears as you squeezed your daughter’s hand.

“sometimes, it was just never meant to be…”

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

please don’t be sad now, i really believe, you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

you were married as soon as possible, only your close friends and family invited to the wedding at the willow tree. a few months later, you were expecting. once you told wilbur, he was ecstatic. your family was growing. alas, the past few weeks had been strained. wil had grown further apart from you, feeling as if he were worlds away while he laid next to you. it all became clear, all the pieces clicking once the three of you stood in the final control room.

“wil, please. you’re going to have a child- you have me! you can’t do this, think of everyone,” you pleaded as phil held your arm.

“i’m sorry, my love. truly. i wish there were another way. i will never stop loving you. never,” he smiled sadly, his fingers dancing across the button that would annihilate your entire nation.

“it was never meant to be.”

phil held you close as you sobbed, his shouts at his son drowned out by the sounds of explosions. once the dust settled, you saw your boy, the same one who had always had the brightest eyes, dull and lifeless as he stared at you.

“i love you,” he mouthed as he nodded at phil.

you didn’t quite understand what was happening, not until it happened. your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your screams as the man’s blade plunged itself into it’s target. you scrambled to your lover, his soul already left his body. you cradled him in your arms as long as you could before his father had to carry you away from him.

from that day forward, you pledged to throw everything you could into daughter- the legacy of your late husband. you swore you’d never leave her.

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

don’t let it get you, i can’t bare to see the same happen to you.

“he’s gone?” she breathed out, tears falling down her little face.

“yes,” you sniffled, failing to hold back your own tears. “yes, he’s gone. but he loved us very much, even if he never got to meet you.”

your daughter clung to your shirt, not fully understanding everything. you would explain to her later more in depth, when she was old enough to understand.

“you were his unfinished symphony. his little melody,” you smiled down at her.

melody would learn to understand her father through stories from you, her uncles, and her grandfather. the two of you continued to visit his final resting place- the willow tree you had buried him at. for a while, it had only reminded you of misery, memories you’d never get to relive. but, ever since melody had been born, the tree was rejuvenated. it even seemed to sway as if it were listening when you spoke.

your wilbur, his love, and your baby, melody.

your symphony.

☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽

[watevermelon]

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi goes yandere over the reader dismissing him.

➳ A/N: Hi hi!! SO many people in my dm’s about this Akaashi cheating scenario! I don’t mind writing about it more at all, if anything please feed my imagination because I dont know what to write! ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ Checkout my updated Masterlist to see what continuations are in the works!! :) ➳ Warning: Not a Happy Ending; IM GONNA BE UP-FRONT, THIS ONE IS FUCKED UP - do not read this if any of your triggers involve yandere-like behavior: violence, kidnapping - you have been warned. ➳  Masterlist ➳  Part One ➳  Part Three (NSFW)

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Akaashi could ever say that would let you bring him back into your life. But the setter was intent on getting your attention, often waiting outside your classroom after school or pursuing you during your free period.

Any rumors about the relationship were quelled when Akaashi set the record straight. He would not allow anyone to sully your name, basically telling the nosy president of his fan-club that he was the one who fucked up the relationship. Akaashi told them to never bother you again, he was the cause of it all and he would do anything to regain your forgiveness.

Akaashi would never beg, but he urged you on multiple occasions to hear him out and possibly explain what he wanted. Why he thought he even had the right to ask that of you - just that fact alone flamed up your anger. He was being selfish and you wanted no part of his life anymore. 

But there was also something… majorly different about Akaashi.

He was still quiet, still the ever mannered pretty setter of the volleyball team. People still fawned over his good looks and the quiet genius that he had. But there was something off about him these days, not that you could really explain it. His gaze lingered on you too long and he just so happened to be around you even outside of school hours.

There was one time you went out to eat with your friends on the weekend, going from vendor to vendor along the busy streets of Kichijoji. At some point, you felt the telltale pinpricks at the back of your neck, turning to see his familiar blue eyes staring back at you in the distance. You swore you saw Akaashi that day, but after not seeing it again for the rest of the night, you wondered if you were truly just going insane.

He never outright said the reason why it was over to other people, but at least most knew that Akaashi was at fault. But seeing him so earnestly pleading to have a part of your life again, it made many people sympathize with the setter. They had no idea what he had done wrong, but those ignorant students were so quick to jump on his side.

You tried your best to ignore him, your best friends having your back when it came to his advances. You were rarely ever alone, friends walking with you to and from class. Konoha was your one friendship from the volleyball team that was preserved and he had mentioned once that to even him, something felt off. And so he suddenly started sitting with your group during lunch.

To your knowledge, Akaashi was still pursuing Bokuto romantically as well. The two were often engaged in public displays of affection and so you were curious as to why and how the wing-spiker was okay with Akaashi so actively chasing you. There was something off about the two of them, they were a couple, but not in the traditional sense. They had yet to confirm their relationship publicly, but had no qualms about sharing a quick peck for everyone to see.

You remembered passing the both of them as you exited home, taking the main entrance this time. They were standing there, just waiting by the stairs. You watched as their eyes scanned the crowd quickly before they latched onto you, Bokuto’s owl-like eyes, which usually held a loud innocence, were scarily following you with each step. Akaashi was no better, his blue-eyes that always mystified you, for some reason brought an uncomfortable crawl up your spine.

You only let out a breath when you turned the corner, neither volleyball member able to see you from this distance anymore. But when Bokuto turned the same corner, you felt your pace suddenly hesitate. Akaashi was nowhere to be found, the wing-spiker hot on your trail as you took out your phone. You called the first person you thought of.

“Hey, (L/N)! What’s up?” Konoha’s voice rang through the other end.

“Hey!” You hesitated, not wanting to give anything away as Bokuto’s presence loomed over you, “Um. Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I actually took the train home already.”

“No worries, I’ll go to you!” You urged.

Konoha hesitated, before asking. “Is something wrong? I can tell from your voice something’s off.”

“Um, how about we talk about it over dinner instead?”

“Sure. Where are you now?”

“I’m still by the school.”

“Ah, okay. Go back to the gates where the teachers are, I’ll go to you.”

“Thank you so much!!” You exclaimed, immediately turning around as the phone call ended.

Bokuto was right behind you.

“Hi, (L/N).”

“Bokuto-san.” You greeted, unsure why the upward drag of his gaze was lighting up every nerve in your body. 

All the signs in your head were screaming danger!

“Was that Konoha?”

“I don’t see how that concerns you.” You bit out.

“Not yet, at least.”

You swallowed in fear before angling your head proudly, “Stay away from me.”

Bokuto put a hand on your shoulder, “I know you’re mad at me and Akaashi, but we never meant to hurt you.”

You shook out of his grasp easily, saying nothing to him as you passed. When you returned to the school grounds, Akaashi was still standing where you last saw him. You rushed over to the teacher waiting by the schoolgate, your heart leaping up again when Bokuto turned the corner back to where you were and waited, eyes still trained on you. You busied yourself with your phone, texting your friends and scrolling through social media in the meantime.

It was only when Konoha showed up, this time in casual attire, did you feel like you could breath. Their eyes stayed trained on you and you swore you heard Bokuto snarl when Konoha laid a lazy arm over your shoulders.

You explained it all to Konoha, how the two were freaking you the fuck out these past few days. They kept you on edge, not in the way that should have made you mad for their relationship. But rather like they were too focusing too intently on you to be considered normal, especially with the given circumstances. If Akaashi was truly begging for forgiveness, you would have thrown hands with him long ago. But now, it felt like he was truly stalking you, his eyes following you at every open opportunity.

Konoha listened to your worries and genuinely tried to alleviate your stress. He moved to sit next to you instead of across, hugging you to his body and saying he would do his best to make sure you were okay on school grounds. You didn’t cry, just leaning a head on his shoulder as he caressed lazy circles on your back.

He walked you home that night, your hands held together and a genuine smile on your face.

And true to his word, the next day, Konoha was outside your classroom door after lunch. He even beat Akaashi to it, the setter’s annoyance obvious on his face as he watched you take Konoha’s hand.

Your best friend commended his tenacity, “Konoha is the only one with rights in this house.”

You laughed eagerly then, happy to finally have a feeling of normality setting in again. And for a while, the one who broke your heart was pushed to the side. You had more real problems at the forefront, his blue-eyes were the least of your worries when you had exams and homework due in the next couple of days. 

Akaashi’s quiet gaze and Bokuto’s bold eyes were far from you now - your friends were by your side. 

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Konoha made sure to walk you home whenever he could. And, as per usual, he was waiting at the gate until he saw you safely enter the abode. Only then did he walk away, heading in the opposite direction toward his own family home. 

You meandered through the kitchen, grabbing an after-school snack and blasting music in one ear as you walked up to your room. Shaking off your backpack, which hung on one-shoulder to begin with, you threw it onto your bed before taking out some of your books. You wanted a jump-start on this homework and you knew that if you mentally wandered off now, there was no doing it at all.

You dragged the textbook out and plopped it on your desk, notebook following as you sat down and mentally prepared yourself. The last few lessons in chemistry were confusing, but not impossible. With the right amount of concentration, it would be done easily with time to spare for a nap within the hour.

Leaning down and angling your head down towards the table, your focus was completely on the task at hand.

You weren’t expecting a completely separate hand to slam the textbook close and latch a firm grip around your neck.

“Finally, we’re alone.”

You struggled against his hold, the striking blue-eyes that you got to know over the past year now reflecting back at you. Akaashi had your neck between his fingers, the usually docile setter lifting you to your tippy-toes. Panic set in just as quickly as you were losing your strength, air circulation cutting off as your ex-boyfriend assaulted your person.

Trying your best to push him off, you punched at both his chest and the arm holding you, but he deflected it easily and simply continued to watch you fail to heave in air in his fist. Only when you felt your eyes rolling backward, barely on the brink of consciousness, did he drop you to the ground.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Akaashi stated, affectionate pet-name a complete contrast to his monotone voice. This was nothing like the boyfriend you had for the past year. His loving eyes screamed of danger and you wanted nothing more than to leave immediately.

You were down on your hands and knees, gasping in air in both shock and disbelief. Had Akaashi really choked you within the safety of your own home? You rubbed at your neck, as if the action would help you fill back-up your lungs. 

You had to get out of here, now.

Glancing over to your door, Akaashi immediately entered your line of sight and kicked you in the abdomen.

“Now how is that fair?” Akaashi asked, “I went through all this trouble to make sure we would have this moment alone.”

You heaved out, “Why are you doing this?”

“You weren’t willing to listen to me back at school.” Akaashi spat out, as if this was your fault. “And I couldn’t wait any longer - who knows how far that bastard Konoha would have gone if I waited?”

Desperate to put any distance between you and this monster, you crawled back toward your bed, only for Akaashi to close it with paces of his own.

“Shut up.” You boldly stated, struggling to stand but doing so anyway. “You are the one who ruined everything.”

“Baby, I said I’m sorry a hundred times and I’ll do it again if I have to.” Akaashi whined before his face took on a darker look, “Why don’t you understand? What do I have to do to make you understand?”

Not wanting to take another kick to the middle or worse, you tried to talk it out before you could think of a plan to escape. “Understand what?”

“Understand how much I love you.”

You reaction was instantaneous, not even your dumb fuck mind could read the danger in the room.

“What a fucking lie.” Akaashi recoiled, ready to challenge you before you continued. “You don’t cheat on the people you love! And you don’t physically hurt them and break into the homes your victims!”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you fucking phsychotic?!” You yelled back.

Mental reminder: don’t yell that at someone who is clearly off their rockers.

Akaashi laughed loudly, at what exactly, you were not sure. But it was not the right question since it elicited that type of response. He just cracked a half-broken smile, one that felt wrong and yet genuine.

“Get out of my house!”

The look he shot you back - a quirked brow and a small smirk, none of which was the usually calm Akaashi you were used to - basically told you how dumb your statement was.

Instead you asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“To claim the one I love.” He guestered out to you, out-stretching a hand for you to take.

There were two options here: take the hand and get sucked into the immediate space with him. Or don’t take it and risk losing a fight with the nationally-competing athlete in a matter of seconds. Or worse, anger him to the point of extreme violence like before.

There was no convincing yourself this was normal, your shaky hand hesitantly reaching out to Akaashi’s open palm. He smiled gently at you, almost slipping on the usual mask of the perfect boyfriend that you had originally fallen for. But when he tightly gripped your hand and pulled you to him, you knew that was all a farce for this much more violent persona.

“I knew you would understand. We’re meant to be together, I know it.” He murmured against your ear, holding you at the waist against his body. You almost verbally gagged at the thought of him grinding against you, but if you wanted out of his house you would have to take the first opening you got. You had to play it smart.

Akaashi leaned down to kiss you and not even your survival instincts were enough to hide your true feelings. He must not have liked what he was seeing, since he forcibly grabbed at your chin to angle up towards you. You pulled at the feeling, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to get him to think you were playing into it.

His eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the feel of you steadying yourself, of you giving, against his body.

And you kneed him in the groin as hard as you could.

Akaashi doubled over immediately and his grasp on you crumbled. You took the chance and ran out the door, slamming it behind you as you ran down the hallway and towards the stairs. The danger looming behind you was extraordinary, the loud scream of anger coming from the setter was enough indication that he was hot on your heels.

You scrambled toward your front door, throwing it open and screaming out into the neighborhood for anyone in the near vicinity to help. There was a woman walking her dog and another person on their phone and you pleaded with them with rabid yells for their attention.

But before they even tried to help you, a hand clasped over your mouth and dragged you back into the house.

This person, you could not fight off, his strength more than even you and Akaashi combined. Bokuto pulled you back into your living room, tossing you on the ground with no regard to how much power was behind his movements. 

That was when you realized how much they truly planned this out. You always felt their eyes on you for a reason - they were memorizing your schedule. 

From the route you took home, to when you had off-days, to the one time in weeks that both your parents would not be home tonight - Akaashi and Bokuto had planned it all.

And now you were trapped in your own home with two violent volleyball members.

Bokuto looked at you expectedly while Akaashi trudged down your banister, his gaze harsh and predatory as it scanned your figure on the ground. You were sandwiched between the two, nowhere to run and if you were to scream, then the wing-spiker would just hold you down like before or worse, the setter would choke you until you had no voice.

“Let me go.” You stated, voice promulgating the silent air.

Bokuto crossed his arms and walked to your kitchen, expression on his face stating that he wasn’t willing to listen to you beg. His presence alone was a silent warning, run and he will catch you. 

You backed away from Akaashi but he rushed forward to grab you by the hair, pulling you to a standing position and forcing your lips together. The force was bruising, not at all romantic or gentle like you had done so in the past. He was nipping harshly, surely swollen lips under his teeth as he continued to assault your person. 

“You are mine, forever.” He muttered against your lips, locking in your future least you face the consequences of disobeying.

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

Come checkout some of the other ending’s for the Cheater!Akaashi scenario:

➳  Masterlist ➳  Part One ➳  Part Three (nsfw)

[beann-e]

No I don’t think Denkis dumb I just think he wants to help so much that he loses the ability to make good, normal, smart decisions.

What I mean is — here let’s take the other day for example when he overheard you telling kirishima you were out of energy.

He meant well really or at least that’s what you tried telling yourself while you were burning up from the inside out at the attempted electrocution that was taking place in the middle of the classroom.

Kirishima screaming at denki to let go only for him to short circuit and dumb himself out so much that you both had to wait for him to return to normal to figure out why he just attempted murder in front of the whole class

“ well I thought I could give her some energy “

“ why would you think you could share energy “

he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment “ well actually now that I think about it I don’t know I guess I just really wanted to help you “

you sighed as kirishima shrugged his shoulders moving to look at bakugou who sat in the desk across from him.

Kirishimas eyes begging for help that bakugou was reluctant to give only giving up on his repeated no’s when you looked at him and smiled softly.

Your eyes told him you were kidnapped by kirishima and being held against your will as his friend similar to himself

Bakugou scoffed as he turned to denki “ oi assbolt whyd you electrocute shitty hairs friend “

“ hey I thought we were friends katsuki “

“ you call me katsuki again and i’ll ri—“

“ woah let’s um let’s calm down—so um denki bro whyd you do it “ kirishimas voice came out in an uncomfortable cough pushing you into his chest trying to shield you away from your recent assailant and your newly made enemy

“ well I overheard y/n saying they were out of energy so I thought I could help in a way— I-I screwed up it wasn’t my place “

“ so you fucking electrocute ‘em“ bakugou screamed now interested in his idiot friends thought process

“ look I don’t know ok “

“ well denki I hate to be mean but you’ve been doing weird stuff like this for weeks and I -it’s sweet but“

you laughed “ i’m getting kinda tired of getting hurt in the process of your help “

His face went downcast

“ oh fuck this — just tell the loser you’ve got a crush and move on “

Your eyebrows raised as you sat staring at the ground letting bakugous words register first before you spoke but the class understanding them before you

“ oh wow dude not cool “

seros voice came out in a laugh “ if he did have a crush on ‘em chances are out the window now “

“ I-I think he may still have a chance y/n seems“ Dekus voice was soft as he stood in front of the mess unfolding “ they seem nice they’d think about it before they said no, right y/n”

He smiled as he moved a bit closer but quickly falling on his face as bakugous small laugh took over the room before he pulled his foot back under his desk slowly

bakugou scoffed “ your one to talk about thinking seeing as though your dumbass just walked in front of my desk thinking I wouldn’t do something “

“ s-sorry kaachan “

“ what the fuck ever “ he moved to look at you

“ the hell are you gonna do shitty airhead —we’re all invested now “

your voice had failed you as you looked to kirishima who was not trying to be in the middle of this right now

his eyes quickly darting away from yours as you called out for help with your own.

He knew just how fucked up this situation had turned neither of you were expecting this.

“ well don’t be an asshole y/n say something“ bakugou laughed “ you got this dude over here pissing himself in fear “

your ears perked up as you heard a calm voice enter into the conversation

“ well Bakugou how about we not scream at them“

you threw your head to the floor as todoroki spoke “ this isn’t even our business in the first place everyone is just being nosy right now “

he moved over to you standing behind you “ though I would like to know what your thinking “

he rubbed your back as he squatted next to your desk “I guess you could say I agree with Bakugou i’m a little invested in what you’ll say next — seeing as though a lots on the line right ? “

your heart clenched at his words as you bit your lip the screams and echos of peoples voices coming in your ears and never leaving

You couldn’t figure out what to say or at least what to mean when you said it

much less how to say it

Which is why you sat shaking as someone’s small touch made the words tumble out of your mouth as you grabbed the persons hands

You stood up as you faced everyone dropping your grasp on Todorokis hand before you screamed

“ I don’t— I— I can’t because—“

Your voice was drowned out as the bell rang it’s noise moving through your head

Your body moving in a heat of adrenaline as you grabbed todorokis hand and yanked him along with you out of the classroom

“ y-y/n I— this isn’t you being very nice to someone who just confessed to you “

You both stopped in the hallway as he stared down on you his eyes capturing you in a look of curiosity “ why are you looking at me lik- “

“ he’s gonna hate me-i didn’t know he felt that way—maybe my own advances were wrong i-i’m sorry“ you said lowly as you looked up expecting to see a different look than the basic one you saw on the males face

“ i— shoto why dont you care “

his face went straight in confusion“ I-Im not understanding what you mean my love “

“ shoto we “

“ you could have simply said no —what’s the problem here“

“ it was a love confession “

“ that you could have said no to “ he laughed

“ my love your taking all of this too seriously— I simply said I dont care if people know but their nosy so let’s keep quiet — your the one who keeps dragging things out into daylight and making them obvious and hurting people“

“ how was I suppose to just tell him no “

“ did you want to tell him yes “

“ well no but “

“ then your not just telling him no your saying no because you don’t want to date him “

he smiled as he kissed you softly “ and because you have a boyfriend “

Your hands moving to hold him tightly in a hug as he laid his head in the crook of your neck.

The clacking of shoes on the floor sounding from hallways down from the both of you as anxiousness and sadness radiated from the spot someone stood

So , no I don’t believe Denki is dumb seeing as though he was smart enough to not ask you out because he was the only one who caught on to your underlying messages with shoto

No, I don’t believe he’s dumb because he’s the only one who darted out to look for you after the bell to bring you your favorite eraser you’d worn down and to care for you even though he knew someone would already be there with you.

I actually can’t say if I think Denki is dumb or smart because he’s the same one who’s crumbled up in a ball on the floor in love with a person he’d never be able to have

Seeing as though his quirk wasn’t compatible with yours which is why you two didn’t get paired up on the day you first met for quirk training

Which is also why he got cut off by his own partner when he tried to talk to you seeing as though your were the new kid

The new beautiful kid

And todoroki was the partner — he envied— the one he envies

The one who took his place as the guy kissing you in the middle of the hallway taking your breath away with a small thumb rub across your cheek

Denki Kaminari is neither smart nor Dumb

Denki Kaminari is just an intelligently naive respectful guy in a one-sided battle with himself who got caught up in a diagnosis of an idiotic sickness made up of stupid emotions he can’t seem to let go

or to put it simply

Denki Kaminari Is stuck in a unrequited love affair

[fuckyeahharryhart]

KINGSMAN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE, IN MY AU, HARRY HART WOULD STILL BE A BADASS WHEN THEY FIND OUT HE’S ALIVE. HE’S JUST A BAD ASS WITH NO MEMORY

IN MY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE - this is what happened when they found Harry. And Roxy is alive, cause “what the hell?” And basically is an excuse for me to thirst on Colin Firth as Harry Hart, who will always be a badass gentleman spy, memory or no.

Merlin, Eggsy and Roxy survived the explosions that destroyed Kingsman. Following the clues from their doomsday protocol, the three of them traveled to Kentucky to Statesman HQ.

They are confronted by Agent Tequila where they try to explain what they are doing there. Tequila does not believe them. He disarms and disables them. The scene begins in Statesman underground holding room. Roxy, Eggsy and Merlin wake up to find that they are bound and restrained.

(apologies in advance for grammar, spelling, format. First draft, secondish draft. Just did one quick read-through and fixed most of the glaring errors.

PS I kinda nerded out with the amnesia and weapons research) 

-----------------

The room remained vague and shadowy. Eggsy fought against a heaviness that kept his eyes closed. He tried again to blink them open. No such luck. They were uncooperative. Moving on. Assessing what little he could, he tested the restraints that bound him to a cold metal chair both at the wrists and ankles. Zip ties. Cheap and easy, but harder to release from than traditional handcuffs. He tried anyway. And then a second time, only with more force. Nothing. He willed himself to relax. If he couldn’t get free with brute force, it was time to get creative. Switch to strategy and problem solving. At least try to figure out what the hell was going on and why a souped up cowboy was holding them hostage. 

His training, his instincts wanted to kick in regardless of the fact that he was restrained. He ran through his checklist anyway. Scan and clear the room. Assess the threat. Spot entrances and exits. Locate the nearest weapon. It didn’t necessarily need to be a gun. Any object that could possibly disable an enemy would suffice.

It was infuriating that he was unable to proceed with his training. Like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It was a moot point anyway, nothing of him seemed to be responding to his commands. His surroundings remained a bleary haze. His brain still foggy, was trying to catch up.

The renegade cowboy that had disarmed and disabled Eggsy, Roxy and Merlin, was waiting rather patiently for them to wake up. That is, until the point he was no longer patient and decided to empty a bottle of perfectly good whiskey on Eggsy and Merlin. As he considered himself a gentleman, he spared Roxy.

 It was unsettling how he took the three of them down so easily. Eggsy reasoned that they certainly weren’t at their best. Shit had gone down in the last 24 hours and they were damn tired.

Eggsy and Merlin sputtered in protest. 

“So good of you to join us.” The cowboy’s tone was relaxed and untroubled.

He took a casual stance and leaned up against the wall like he was just waiting for something interesting to happen.

His head cocked to the right. “Now where was I?”

 Nodding to himself, “Oh yeah”, he said, as if he just remembered something fascinating. His fingers snapped together with a sharp click. “You were just about to tell me who ya’ll were and how the hell you found us.” He mentioned this as if he were waiting for them to describe what they ate for breakfast and whether or not they had enjoyed it.

The disparity between his gregarious tone, his friendly manner, and the slightly hostile glint in his eyes was disconcerting.

He crossed his legs on the other side and tipped his head to the left.

“Anytime ya’ll are ready to start talkin’, Im all ears.”

They had already tried to explain what happened to their headquarters. Well, their tailor shop backstop. How likely was it that generations of tailors had passed down a secret doomsday protocol for survivors in case of complete destruction? Of their tailor shop? Eggsy had to admit, as a story, it positively wreaked implausibility. But it was true, aside from replacing their secret intelligence agency with a bespoke suit business. 

From the cowboys perspective, it would seem kind of insulting that they expected the him to buy their story. Actually, It would seem pretty insulting to expect anyone with the most basic cognitive skills believe it. The problem was that, as ridiculous as story was, it was, in fact, the truth.

Eggsy didn’t have any more to say. Roxy, who would probably take him down if given half the chance, wisely remained quiet. Merlin’s furrowed brow meant that he most likely had a bloody lot to say, but nothing that would improve their situation. 

They had reached an impasse. 

The cowboy regarded them thoughtfully from under his Stetson, wide brimmed hat. 

“We don’t have folks from your neck of the woods in these parts that often.” His lips pursed in thought.

“I would reckon once every year or so, some might pass through here that sound like y’all. Why,” nodding his head confirming his own information. “I think it was just about a year ago, we had someone drop in unexpectedly.” 

He gazed up and to the right, as if recalling a memory. Maybe y’ll know him.” He said, his eyes falling back on them.

Merlin. “I highly doubt that.”

The cowboy drew back slightly, irked by their obstinance. These brits were stubborn as all get out. Did they seriously expect him to believe their doomsday protocol story? What was this? Were they on some kind of scavenger hunt?

“I just find it awfully convenient that you just “happened” to find this bottle of whiskey with our name on it. Right after your entire “shop” exploded with ALL it’s employees and everyone who worked there. Every single person who knows you, gone with it. That would be mighty upsettin’ if I was in ya’lls shoes.” He tried on a little sympathy for size. Nope, didn’t fit. He continued with his slight undertone of sarcasm. 

 “Can’t even make a call to see if anyone can vouch for y’alls.” Such a shame, he thought. Alrightly, he’d just keep talkin’ at ‘em until one of them slipped up or said something interesting.

He could talk into the night for all he cared. “Not even anythin’ left to take with you. Except a couple of watches that can unlock a biometric security system.” Now this was legitimately irritating. 

“Why would some little ole tailors shop need to have a biometric security system? I mean, ya’ll look mighty fine in them suits and spectacles, but sorry to say, not that fine.”

He used this opportunity to break out one of his favourite southern idioms. “You see, that dog don’t hunt.” He amused himself.

“Look.” Said the Scotsman. “We have no idea what you are talking about. The only reason we are here is because we found one of your bottles.” 

He nodded his head in understanding, before pressing his lips together, this time doubtfully twisting them to the side.

“See, here’s the thing. Lots and lots of folks have our bottles. Ain’t none of them ever broken into our maximum security “warehouse” before.”

“You’re looking for the Brit, ain’t ya? “His eyes narrowed. “And now why would that be?”

Merlin’s brow furrowed even deeper. “We still don’t know what you’re talking about.” He was reaching the far ends of his exasperation. “We do not know anyone here. Quite sorry to say, but we have never heard of Statesmen before. In our part of the world, we prefer a single malt scotch. No offence.”

“None taken.” He said pleasantly.

The cowboy pushed himself off the wall.

“Well,” he huffed, “It seems we’re at a stalemate.”

The cowboy continued to study them as he spoke.

“Ya’ll telling’ me a story you say is the truth.”

He shook his head in disappointment, feigning sadness. “And I just don’t believe ya. Now we could go round n round like this until we’re all blue in the face. But that sounds like a waste of time to me.”

“If we ain’t getting anywhere like this, might be time to switch things up a bit?”

“Ya’ll say you don’t know the Brit. But I’m thinkin’ y’all should talk to him. Might be able to make some sense out of what’s comin’ out of your mouth ‘cause I just don’t get it.”

Silence from the three of them. Well, weren’t they a stubborn bunch. 

The man sighed dramatically and shrugged his wide shoulders. 

“Well, it appears you wont be cooperatin’ with me. I think it’s about time ya’ll talk to someone else cause I sure aint getting’ nowhere with ya. But I don’t know if you’re gonna wanna talk to him.”  

He regarded them sympathetically. “I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be on the other side of that table when he’s the one asking questions. Ya’ll might be wish’n to see my pretty face again.”

Three almost identically frustrated faces looked back at him.

“Word is round here, don’t matter what you won’t say to me.” 

He started ambling across in front of them, from wall to wall in slow, measured steps. 

“What matters is what y’all gonna to say to HIM.” He stopped mid-stride, turned toward them. 

“Now, I’ve seen him doin’ his thing, right?  Believe me, he’ll have ya talkin’ in ways you can’t even imagine.” He continued along his thoughtful line, turning away from them.

He began to let the heel of his boots scuff the floor with every step. “You wont even be able to shut up, ya’ll talk so much.” He spoke over his shoulder. “ Tellin’ him things you ain’t even tell your mama.”

No response from the three Kingsman.

He turned toward Roxy. “My apologies little lady, but here at Statesman?  Guys and gals? We’re all on equal footing.” He had the gall to wink at her. “No matter what our name says.” 

He hooked his thumbs under this belt and hitched the whole get up, flask holster and all, up his non existent hips. 

“I hate to see a pretty miss like you have to go down with the likes of them.” He tilted his head in the direction of Merlin and Eggsy. “But, at Statesman, no special treatment for the fillies.”

Roxy proceeded to murder him with her eyes.

Absurdly, he decided it was a good and proper time to dial up the charm.  “Say, you don’t wanna tell me what you and your boys were up to here? I’m pretty sure you’re the one keeping these fellas in line.”

Her eyes were wide and fierce. It turned out that Roxy no longer needed to blink. 

“That’s quite a look you’re thrown’ at me.” The cowboy smirked.

“Well, I’m really sorry. I apologise for this, but ya’ll don’t give me no other choice.” 

He turned toward the side and pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses from his shirt pocket. The lenses were shaded to a dusky gold. He unfolded them, put them on and tapped the side of the lens. 

“Ya there?” He spoke into the air.

Evidently the glasses were a communications device and he received an answer in return. He nodded to himself. “Yep, affirmative.” 

There was another brief pause as he listened to the person on the other side. “Roger that.” He turned off the communication by tapping the side of the lens a second time. 

He looked at them almost sympathetically. “It looks we ARE gonna find out what happens when we change things up a bit.”

He walked over to the frosted panel window and flipped a switch.

Roxy, Merlin and Eggsy were momentary blinded by a brilliant white light. So bright and unexpected that they had to turn away. They squinted against the flare as coloured spots tripped behind their eyelids. They continued to blink until their eyes adjusted to the intensity of the new light. 

What they saw as the opacity of the glass dissolved… Well, to say they were ill prepared would be the understatement to understate all statements.

It couldn’t be.

It was utterly impossible.

But there he was. 

Outlined by a dazzling white light. 

Unmistakable.

It was Harry Hart.

—

The agents tried to gather their collective wits like they were trying to herd cats. It was nearly impossible. Harry disappeared from view. Sharp, tell tale footsteps could be heard walking down the short distance from the viewing area to their holding room. 

Between the three of them, none had taken a single breath from the moment Harry Hart appeared behind the glass.

For Eggsy, a white hot wave surged through his body and seared him from his finger tips to his toes. He could even hear the heat ringing in his ears. It was a high pitched whine that reverberated from one side of his head to the other. He had no control over his physical response. Any authority that he may have had, dissipated with the frosted glass. Apparently, his body knew exactly what to do, because it was doing its own thing, without any input from him. He set his thoughts aside and let his body do whatever it felt the need to. He was fairly certain he was exhibiting the physical signs of shock. He felt pale, his hands were damp and clammy. He felt weirdly mortified. He might as well be naked, for he felt exposed to the deepest, most secret recesses of his soul. Places that had no business being brought to light. 

He felt laughter bubble up through watery eyes he didn’t even know if he could call tears. For joy? Sheer bewilderment? Whatever the reason, his eyes were leaking. The buzzing in his ears wouldn’t stop and he felt sure he was about to pass out. He wanted to drop his head between his legs, but he didn’t dare pull his gaze away from the door he knew Harry Hart would enter from. He didn’t dare blink. Let alone look away. 

His ears burned, his cheeks flamed red and splotchy. It was as if he was caught off guard doing the most embarrassing thing he could think of, just times a billion and witnessed by everyone from his mum to his kindergarten teacher, not to mention every famous person that he had a crush on or looked up to and the whole mortifying episode was being televised live around the world. 

Whatever he was experiencing, it was nearly unbearable. Like suffocating and hyperventilating at the same time. Was that even possible? His heart had either stopped or was beating so rapidly that it felt as if it was hardly beating at all. Which seemed feasible as most of his blood had pooled in his cheeks and the tops of his ears. Surely, there was none flowing to his brain. It had signed out for the moment. It certainly wasn’t sticking around to see what was coming next. 

 He tried to arrange his face into the shape he thought would be appropriate for when his mentor, who he saw get shot point blank in the face, a man who died over a year ago, who he had spent what felt like a lifetime grieving, materialise as an interrogator for a covert cowboy secret agency in Kentucky. He couldn’t imagine what an acceptable face would look like in that situation, so he assumed that his face had no expression at all. It was the best he could do. 

He didn’t even posses the wherewithal to see how his partners where faring. He hoped that they were in a more presentable state. He moved his mouth to form words, but nothing came out. He tried clearing his throat, but it was dry and papery. Apparently, whatever autonomous system that controlled his salivary glands also decided that this whole situation was bullshit and decided to check out, too.

The track of the footsteps, even now so familiar, paused at the door. The handle turned with a weighty click. 

He didn’t have the brain capacity to even imagine what would happen next.

The only thing in his head were three letters. And they weren’t  ABC. 

They were W. T. F.

The door opened. 

They saw the man who had once been the foundation of their agency. 

The man who had once been its living and breathing heart and soul. 

How long had it been since he last thought of Harry Hart? After the initial grief, the denial, the anger, and finally, the acceptance, the loss became a dull ache.  Though tolerable, it never went away. They never found his body, but he didn’t have hope that Harry would ever return. He saw the shot that took his life. Even the best agent had no way of possibly surviving a point blank shot to the face. Harry fell where he had once stood. He didn’t get back up. And like that, Harry Hart was gone.

In the aftermath of V-day, Eggsy and the others didn’t have a chance to even stop and think about what happened to Harry, let alone process the loss. That came after. In the moments when time slowed down, things got quiet, and they no longer had the urgency of missions to distract them from the loss or to use as a vehicle for their anger and rage at the unfairness of it all.  

Eggy’s pain was not only due to the loss of his mentor, but also from the fact that he never got to tell the man just how important he was to him. Their final conversation repeated in his head, over and over, on endless loop. The last words that he had exchanged with Harry were harsh and accusatory. How much he wished that that conversation had not been their last. What wouldn’t he give to say the rest of the words that were caught in his throat. To finally release them. To say he was sorry. But the chance never came and the words clung to him, never to be spoken.

A tall man in a dark pinstripe suit entered the room.

At first glimpse, he was their Harry Hart. As perfect as they imagined and just as they all remembered him. Only on closer inspection did they notice small, but significant details that would indicate otherwise.

He was wearing what looked like the exact same suit he “died” in. But this one didn’t show any of the wear and damage that was sure to have happened in that final, brutal rampage. Either Statesman had an excellent tailor repair the original suit, or more likely, Harry had his suit replicated. 

The details were exacting as they had always been. The tie with the Windsor knot. The pristine white spread collar and crisp pocket square. French cuffs that were still held by the Kingsman cuff links. 

His standard horn rimmed communication glasses had been modified. The left lens was now shaded a solid black. There was an additional piece that covered his peripheral vision from the edge of the lens to the end of the arm on his left side.

How was it possible that he stood before them, as handsome and regal as ever? Hell, the man could even make a blacked out eye look distinguished. It added to his air of gravitas.

A curious pair of black cowboy boots with elaborate stitching, stood out from below the mid-break of his trousers. The footsteps they heard in the hallway didn’t come from his standard oxfords.

Neither did they see the familiar Kingsman standard issue pistol he would always pack without fail. In his right hand, held down by his side, he toted a nickel plated Colt Single Action Army revolver modified with a double barrel. He carried it by its smooth, wooden grip.

But he did walk with the same measured strides, familiar in pace and sound. Harry took his place in front of them as the cowboy found a space off to the side. 

They wore their incredulity in silence.  Words were insignificant compared to this impossible occasion. Words that would adequately express their turmoil did not exist. Merlin looked like he was trying to deconstruct a complex algorithm in his head. Roxy looked, he imagined bizarrely, like she had just been denied an orgasm. Where the hell did that come from? Eggsy fairly certain he looked like a bloody idiot.

And so they waited. 

Familiar, golden brown eyes, well, eye now, gazed over them. Making and then holding eye contact with each of them in the way they had always remembered he would when he required their full attention.

They searched his eyes and face for recognition. To see any kind of dawning realization that he knew who they were. Merely seeing Harry, alive and mostly whole, was something that was unfathomable to them. 

Finally, Harry spoke.

The vibration of his voice was able to resonate through their shocked and dampened senses. It was a deep and calming sound. Smooth, measured tones with an aristocratic accent that clipped his words. Vibrant. It was a voice that was warm, safe and familiar. It was a voice that sounded like home.

What was completely baffling were the words that beautiful voice said. 

“Please excuse my dreadful manners. But I don’t believe we have properly met.”

They turned and glanced at each other in confusion. What the hell? Surely there had to be some part of Harry that recognized them. At least Merlin, with whom he shared a history going back over twenty years. 

“Harry. It’s us.” Merlin implored. “We’re not undercover. Right now, we’re not anything. That’s why we came here.” 

“Harry.” Merlin’s voice was touched with sorrow. “Kingsman is gone.”

Harry’s face remained impassive. The spark of recognition remained unfired. There was no hint of softening, no warmth, no glint that told them, “Not to worry. Everything is under control.”  

Harry confirmed. “Yes, I had the pleasure of hearing your story.” He leaned back against the wall and took a casual stance. Crossing his legs in front of him much like Tequila did.  He placed a hand in a pocket. The other gripped the Colt lightly.

“It’s quite interesting.” He looked thoughtful. “And particularly unfortunate that this Kingsman Tailoring “Agency” that you speak of, was completely and utterly destroyed. How unfortunate that the three of you happen to be the only survivors.” 

Time paused with him as he contemplated this thought for awhile.

“It would seem rather convenient, on the other hand, for that gives us absolutely no way to possibly verify your doomsday scenario.” 

The disappointment on his face hit them with a guilt that was worse than his impassivity. 

“And why, all of a sudden, after a year, would not only one, but three mysterious Brits arrive here at Statesman, of all the places in the world, for no other reason than a bottle telling them to.” 

Beseechingly, Eggsy replied. “Harry, we don’t understand what’s happening. We thought that you had died when Valentine shot you outside the church.”

Harry’s face suddenly hardened. Slowly he pulled himself up to his full height.

“How could you possibly know that?” The air around them became sharp with tension. 

How did they end up on the wrong side of the interrogation table? They had never seen Harry from this perspective. But they had witnessed him work targets before. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

As Harry continued, his voice remained very calm and very steady. 

“No one. Pardon me. I should clarify. No one alive except Statesman has that knowledge. Not even I had that knowledge in the beginning.”

Instantly, it was crucial that no one speak out of turn. Harry’s voice had taken on a tone that was flat and affectless.  They had rarely heard it before, but they knew it was dangerous to be on the receiving end of that dull and indifferent voice. 

Harry was walking his edge. And Harry on the edge was not someone you wanted to push. To anyone else, he would have appeared unchanged. But he had the sharp glint in his eye, the set to his jaw, and the steely note to his voice that betrayed he was very, very angry. They only knew this because of their history with him. It was critical to tread very lightly. 

Eggsy words were dressed with caution. 

“Harry, you were at the church, “he emphasised, “on behalf of Kingsman.” He carefully walked through a minefield of words, wary of any misstep that would trigger Harry’s anger in their direction.

“We knew that Richmond Valentine was up to no good. You were assigned the mission to find out exactly what he was planning. You flew to Kentucky. Valentine was testing his SIM card transmitter on the people in the church. You were there as well. Even though you didn’t have a SIM card, the transmission was strong enough to affect everyone, whether they had a SIM card or not.”

 “Merlin and I were on the communication feed. We saw everything…. You were affected by the sound waves, too… You had no control…” He wasn’t sure how to continue, but he definitely didn’t want to mention the number of people Harry had killed.

Merlin spoke on his behalf. “Eggsy’s right. We saw you confront Valentine. We saw him shoot you in the head. We thought that you had died. The bullet destroyed the communication feed or else it would have transmitted…” he paused. “Proof of life, or confirmation of death.” 

Harry reflected. “Yes, I did almost die on that day.”

Eggsy and Merlin flinched.

“It was only through, whatever would like to call it, luck, perhaps fate. Regardless, it was Statesman that located me. They were able to save my life. I owe them. I am a man who honors his debts.”

The room prickled with silence. They dared not say more until they were able to see more of the landscape they were trying to traverse. It was littered with threats.

Harry, now pacing in slow, steady strides, continued. “With all the resources you say this Kingsman agency had, how surprising that it had to be strangers that came to my aid. Otherwise,” he recalled, “I would be, quite dead.” 

The three of them realised they were on eggshells atop a minefield. Never before had they been confronted by Harry in this manner. Never before had they even witnessed Harry in this state. They were uncertain of what to do when faced with this degree of suspicion and mistrust from a man, who in the past, would have given his life to save any of theirs.

When no one spoke, he began to ruminate. “At Statesman, we knew that it was Richmond Valentine who shot me. Confirmed by two of their agents.” He turned back toward them. “Though the question of why still remained unsolved.”

Coming closer. “But you three, now, are here with that answer,” He paused in-between his points for effect. 

“But you are here, completely by chance.” pause 

“Only because of a doomsday protocol scenario.” pause 

“A scenario that led you to Statesman.” pause 

“And I just happen to be here as well.” pause  

“Do you know what the odds are of that happening?” pause  

“Rather extraordinary, don’t you think?” pause  

“I must say, you are quite the interesting trio. Unassuming.  Not quite what one would expect for this sort of operation.  Perhaps that is the point. Disarm me with your improbability, with your accents, so familiar to my own. Here to deliver stories of how I was part of an organization that no longer exists. And you are the only other individuals who know what occurred the day I was shot.” He stopped in front on them. He turned to face them and drew tall once more.

Looking at each other was a dare none of them were willing to take. They knew that the most important thing at that moment was to maintain eye contact with Harry anytime he looked in their direction. If they couldn’t offer him any answers, at least they could show him that they had nothing to hide. Now was not the time to look or act guilty.

No matter how many tactics he used, regardless of how hard he pushed them, their story would be the same because they had no other story. Was there no memory of Kingsman at all? What about Harry’s moral code, that Kingsman only risked a life to save a life. Was that a credo he still followed? The did not know what to expect.

“Regardless. Questions for another time I suppose.” He waved his hand as if brushing them away.

“The pressing issue still remains.” He was firm and unyielding. “Who are you and how did you find us.”

 What could they possibly say at this point? They remained silent.

“We welcome our visitors and our guests. However, we do not take kindly to trespassers. You say you have nothing to protect, but your honor. If the three of you are the only survivors of your organization and you are as close as you say, I would assume that you would, at the very least, protect a third of what remains of your agency.

Eggsy suddenly found himself on the business end of a Colt Single Action Army revolver. 

Staring down the barrel of the gun, he felt drunk, off balance, like he had fallen into an alternate universe. Where the laws of physics no longer applied. 

“Harry, it’s me.”  The only thing he could think of that could reach Harry was the guilt he had carried with him for over 17 years. The guilt that made him reach out to Eggsy in the first place. 

With self-possession he did not have, he composed himself as well as he could while being threatened by the mentor he once thought was dead.   

“My father saved your life.” He spoke quietly and deliberately and without hesitation.  “But you had made a mistake that cost him his. You were trying to repay him by helping me find purpose, to do something good with my life. You recruited me to Kingsman. You changed everything for me.” 

The look Harry returned for these words was almost kindly. 

“I’ll give you the following three seconds to prove that to me.”

Fuck. Eggsy was drawing a blank.

He could hear Roxy and Merlin, as if they were underwater yelling to Harry anything they could to make him stop.  

What felt like a lifetime later, the door burst open. Apparently, he had lost the ability to count, because that brief passage of time felt like much longer than three seconds. 

“Stop!” a woman yelled urgently. She tossed Harry a black umbrella. He caught it deftly with one hand.

“Their story checks out.” She held her palms out toward Harry. Please stop.

“I checked our doomsday scenario locker.” She explained. “Only to be opened in the case of a catastrophic event that cripples the agency to the point where we cannot rebuild on our own. It was established by a network of international intelligence agencies, forged when they first began. Since autonomy was the goal for each agency, once the protocol was put into place, no agency was to uncover it unless absolutely necessary.” 

“Take a look.” She nodded to the umbrella in his hand. “Kingsman. It has our logo on it.”

Harry paused to inspect the handle. Sure enough, the Statesman logo replaced the “s” in Kingsman.

He handled the umbrella in a way that seemed familiar to him. It almost seemed like he was looking for other recognisable features. Eggsy has seen plenty of Harry handling the umbrella like it was an extension of himself. He had saved Eggy’s life with it. It looked so natural in his hands. Like it completed the final picture of their Harry Hart and he was hopeful that this might be the final piece of the puzzle.  

Harry looked at the umbrella thoughtfully. It was difficult to read his face if he didn’t want it to be read. After a pause, he tossed it lightly back to Ginger. 

“Not good enough.” The gun swung back toward Eggsy.

They froze, unable to move, speak or even breathe. They were at a loss, nothing in their training prepared them for this. Roxy and Merlin could only watch helplessly as Harry cocked the revolver at Eggsy. Was it a live round? Or was it blank?

What kind of FU world would allow something like this to happen? Eggsy thought. He grasped for any hope, any last play that he could make, but the only thing within his reach was empty space. It simply slid through his fingers, without purchase, without substance. There was nothing that he could hold on to.

BUT… his eyes darted towards Harry’s right hand. The gun in his face was blocking his view… Fuck it. He squeezed eyes shut as he opened his mouth. The words ran together and toppled over each other as they spilled out without pause. 

“you wear a gold signet ring on your right little finger gentleman are traditionally supposed to wear the ring on the left hand but you wear yours on your right because a Kingsman always wears it on whatever hand happens to be dominant and you are right handed”

Nothing happened. And it was quiet.

Cautiously, Eggy peered from one eye. He wasn’t dead. He opened the other eye.

Harry regarded him from along the barrel of the revolver. Eggsy flinched away from its deadly mouth.

Harry deliberated. His mind took a step back and a step to the side. He looked at the situation from a different perspective. Because he was wearing a signet ring on his right hand, not on his left, as was the gentlemen’s  tradition. He was wearing it when he was shot. He could not recall where the ring came from, or its significance. Researching the insignia came up with no leads. But he continued to wear the ring, for no other reason than it felt right to him. Like he insisted on wearing his suit, rather than Statesman’s tie and jacket. 

His eyes let go of some of the hardness. Eggsy hoped that he saw a little softening at the edges. 

Harry’s voice, so familiar it made his heart hurt. Not accusatory, but with interest, he asked, “How do you know that?” 

Eggsy, with great effort willed his gaze to leave the barrel of the gun and meet the face that had once meant so much to him. He caught Harry’s eyes and didn’t flinch.

He took a deep breath. “I know,” he said with a calmness and a clarity he did not feel, “because I’m wearing one, too.”

Harry, without breaking eye contact, nodded to Ginger. She hurried to Eggsy’s side. After a quick glance, she confirmed, indeed, he was wearing a signet ring exactly like Harry’s.

Harry lowered his gun. There were three consecutive sighs of relief.

“My apologies.” He said as he holstered his weapon.

“It seems as if we have much to discuss.”

———

They found themselves in a massive great room at Statesman HQ, the top floor of a huge structure the shape of the Statesman signature whiskey bottle. Floor to ceiling windows circled the entire room, providing a 360 degree view of the rolling hills of Kentucky from every vantage point.

The centrepiece of the space was a leviathan of a conference table. Elaborately carved, solid hard wood. The trees that created that table must have had lived for years to grow to such a substantial size.  It had space to sit 12, but only few of the spots were occupied.

One of which by a larger than life, genial, vintage cowboy of a man. A little flashy, a little ostentatious, more than a little gregarious, he was the head of the Statesman outfit. With a place at the head of the table, he leaned back in his plush armchair with aplomb. He introduced himself as “Champagne” or Champ as he was known affectionately by his agents.

Roxy wasn’t surprised that, aside from Ginger Ale, she was the only female present. Hell, Ginger was the only other female that she had seen since they had entered Statesman HQ. Well, technically ‘broke in’, but still. They had an invitation, even if it was only in the shape of a whiskey bottle. A bottle that they had emptied while wallowing in self pity. Even Merlin was a bit maudlin, at one point, sobbing into his whiskey and singing Country Roads a little off key. Roxy had side-eyed him until Eggsy spotted the secret message hidden behind the label. She wondered they they had made the clue unnoticeable until the bottle was emptied. They could have quite possibly missed the hint. Being under the influence of, admittedly, very smooth whiskey did not enhance ones ability to spot decades old subtext on the back of whiskey labels. Whose clever idea had that been? 

Once again, she found herself in the odd situation where she wanted to be taken seriously as an agent, but Agent Tequila’s insistence on calling her sweetheart, miss, darling, filly of all things didn’t give her much confidence that Statesman would be any different from the old boys club that was Kingsman.

Even back at HQ, she was often, dear, dearest, or darling. The only person that she tolerated those endearments from where Eggsy, who used them in jest, and surprisingly Harry Hart. But Galahad, and Galahad Sr. calling her dear was much different than a two-bit, over the top, slick cowboy secret agent she had just met calling her something as intimate as “darling”. 

Would it kill him to call her Lancelot? It miffed her that he used Eggsy’s handle and not hers. Looking at the head of their organisation, she didn’t expect him to be much different. 

She took a seat the near end of the table, between Eggsy and Merlin. Agent Tequila walked in with Ginger, followed by Harry. She was surprised when he continued past them and walked around the head of the table to the other side, the Statesman side, and took a seat next to Ginger. He pulled out his chair, as smooth and as graceful as he sat thousands of times at the head of the Kingsman table. Even unbuttoning the last button of his suit so it wouldn’t crease and smoothing the back of his jacket before he leaned into his chair. The crossed legs, the hands folded on the knee. The authoritative, yet relaxed posture. It was all so familiar. What she couldn’t reconcile was the inscrutable, impenetrable expression that fell over his face every time he glanced in their direction. There was no warmth, no familiarity, no flicker of understanding. It made his face look unfamiliar and she did not like it one bit. 

To add insult to injury, Ginger had leaned over and whispered something in his direction. The small hint of a ‘not quite smile’ that pressed his lips together, his mouth just barely turned up at the corners, meant that she had shared an observation that confirmed something in his mind in a bemused sort of way. It was the look Harry had once made, when inquired about Eggsy’s tardiness, she revealed that he was running late because it was JB’s birthday party later and he wanted to get the dog “pupcakes” to celebrate. The memory tugged at her heart.

She didn’t turn her head to see how Eggsy was faring, but she could almost feel his dejection. She hoped it wasn’t so obvious on his face. Sometimes he was a little too earnest for his own good. Not that her other side was an improvement. Merlin was seated directly across from Harry. Only a distance of several feet, but it might as well have been lengths of the world for as distant Harry was from them. The furrow between the Scotsman’s brows had appeared the moment they discovered Harry alive. It took up residence on his face. Harry Hart, the man who was the only person close enough for Merlin to consider a friend, was now a mystery to him. 

The loss, between Eggsy and Merlin, was a cold empty space that Roxy had the unfortunate pleasure to be seated between. She was determined to warm up whatever mood vacuum that had sucked her in. Or at least not make it any worse.             

 And why did she always have to be the mediator? The men had elected Roxy as their spokesperson as neither of them thought that they would be able to speak without laughing, crying, shouting or hitting something. Predictably, she found herself the voice of reason. To be fair, she WAS the one with the least emotional involvement. Not that she hadn’t adored and respected Harry Hart, like everyone that worked under his guidance, but she had to admit, Merlin and Eggsy must be twice as confused and devastated by the recent turn of events. She mentally steeled herself against any additional revelations that might be thrown their way. But at this point, if there was something that could top this most recent turn of events, they might as well just blow up this joint and let it all burn down, too.

After everyone had settled in, and to her amusement, a pour of whiskey was set in front of each of them. She decided to get this “rodeo” started. She nodded in Champs direction. He tipped his chin, tapped his glass with his pen to get everyone’s attention and announced the opening of the meeting. All the Statesman and Harry, emptied their glasses. From her peripheral she saw Merlin and Eggsy follow suit without hesitation. Did all agencies revolve around the consumption of alcohol? She had already developed quite a tolerance from her brief stint at Kingsman so far. Well, if it brought these two agencies on familiar ground, who was she to argue? She tipped her glass back. And the welcomed the warmth after the initial burn, though still much smoother than could be expected. She appreciated the added touch of liquid courage. She cleared her throat. 

“We find ourselves here, under what we,” she gestured to herself and her colleagues, “believed to be the most difficult of circumstances. Only to be faced with another impossible situation. As you can imagine, the revelation that Harry Hart, our Sr. Agent Galahad,” she nodded in his direction, “who we believed had been killed over a year ago by Richmond Valentine, that he is still alive, has been shocking for us.”

In Harry’s direction, she continued, addressing him directly. “Harry. If we had believed there to be even the most infinitesimal chance that you could have survived Valentine’s bullet, we would have not hesitated to garner all the forces of Kingsman to find you and bring you back.”

Harry, respectfully listened to Lancelot, attentive, but without revealing anything aside from simple interest.

She faltered a little under his gaze. And she, too, wished for that little wink, the small tilt of his chin that would encourage her to continue. Just as he first did when she joined Kingsman, nervous over her first debriefing. There was no comfort to be found in his direction. She took a deep breath and continued. 

“Both Eggsy - our current Galahad - and Merlin witnessed the events of what we thought was your death.” She forced herself to face him, eye to eye, without hesitation. After all that he had sacrificed for them, it was the least she could offer him.

Her voice was clear and firm, her words meticulously thought out. “They saw you get shot, point blank, in the face, by no more than a distance of 10 feet, by a 9mm semi-automatic Heckler and Koch P30. The bullet destroyed the communication transmission via the left lens.”

Both Eggsy and Merlin were looking down. Both remembering all too clearly the events from that day. The details were painful for them to hear, especially when the man who they thought had died, was in fact, sitting across the table. Even though they had every right to call time of death, they couldn’t help but feel they had left him behind. 

Roxy continued. “Merlin, our communications and technology strategist and Galahad, who was at the time, your protege, had witnessed all the events up to the point the bullet severed the transmission. We could only deduce, at that point, that a bullet of that caliber, from that distance, would have shattered the lens.” She took a deep breath, “and continued through the left eye and exited the back of the head. Resulting in immediate death.” 

She could sense Eggsy flinch by her side. He had seen the whole thing far too clearly. 

“As much as we wanted to, we were unable to collect the body at the time of death. Due to unforeseen circumstances regarding treachery within the highest ranks of our agency, Merlin, Eggsy and I, had to straight away address both the source of our internal corruption and abort the plans initiated by Richmond Valentine. We were successful in both, but not in time to prevent casualties, both enemy and civilian.”

In speaking so intimately regarding what they thought was his death, she decided to switch identifiers from “the” to “your”. The man was sitting right in front of her. She spoke with a new earnest note in her voice. Rather than distancing herself from her words, she decided to speak from the place that had felt the same grief and loss as Eggsy and Merlin.

Harry’s eyes took on a different note as he heard the emotion in Roxy’s voice. 

“In the immediate aftermath of V-day, after the initial threat was neutralised, we flew to the States in an attempt to find you, identify you, and bring you home for proper internment, but we were unable to locate your body. We tried over weeks, through every channel, every resource, we followed every lead, with no success. We didn’t hope to find you alive.” 

She fought against the wave of emotion that threatened her composure.

“But we hoped that we would be able to properly commemorate your bravery, your integrity, your sacrifice, with the honour, dignity and grace worthy of your life and your legacy.” 

Roxy had stop for a moment, but she did not look away. A small tear rolled down her cheek without her noticing or bothering to wipe it away. It was as if the loss was new again. This pain was fresh. For all of them.

Harry’s eyes finally softened and they caught a glimpse of the man they remembered. But whether it was empathy for Roxy, clearly struggling to continue as her emotions caught in her throat, or understanding how they felt and what they had to do in the most difficult of situations, they did not know. 

And whatever amnesia he was experiencing had to be temporary, right? Surely Melin could devise a plan to help jump start his memory. Now that the were there, they could help him remember.

—

Roxy was determined to continue until the end. 

“After the events of V-Day, we had to recenter and regroup. Our agency had clearly been compromised. We needed to locate and close the leaks and tie up any loose ends.  Our losses were felt across the board. We had to rebuild what we could from the ground up. To recapture the integrity of our organisation. The immediate need to clean up the aftermath was one of the few things that we could focus on to help us come to terms with your loss. We knew, that if you had survived, you would have taken the mantle of Arthur. And that it would be your highest priority to rebuild the agency beyond reproach.”

“After several weeks, in which we continued our search for you, we felt that it would be best for us personally and professionally to move on. We held a private memorial for you, and honoured you as best as we could. After that, we could only move forward. It was a difficult time for all of us.” 

“We found ourselves here, after our organisation was levelled again. This time with only the three of us as survivors. Our HQ, our foundry, our storefront.” Her eyes flared with anger at this point. “And all of our agents worldwide aside from Galahad and I, were all taken down as targets.”

“Merlin was the only surviving handler and tech strategist and the only one of us that had been with the agency long enough know that a Doomsday protocol existed. With all of our resources destroyed, we had no way of protecting ourselves, to find out who had organised and carried out such a coordinated attack. Our last and only option was to see if this protocol existed.”

“We found the Statesman logo. Located your distillery here in Kentucky. At this point, we really had no plan beyond finding your organisation and hoping that you would be able to assist us.”

“We still had some tech in our possession, which I admit, looked suspicious for a group of tailors to have, let alone know how to use. That’s when your agent found us. We meant no ill will, but we had no other way to get into contact with your organization.  We didn’t even know if you existed. We had nothing to lose but to continue to follow any clues that we might come across. We had no protocol for a circumstance like this.”

“You can only imagine our bewilderment to be taken as adversaries when we were looking for help. And then our shock of finding Harry Hart. Finding him, not only alive, but with no memory of the agency he was devoted to over 30 years. It still is an unthinkable situation that we were not prepared for and obviously, are still trying to process.”

She had been speaking for a long time. She paused, took a sip of water, swallowed, before continuing.

She addressed the table. “Everything that we have said is the truth. We were also an independent intelligence agency with headquarters in London.” 

She turned again to Harry. “You were an integral member of this agency for most of your adult life. You know each of us well. Merlin has been your colleague for over 20 years. You knew Eggsy’s father, he saved your life in a mission that had gone sideways. That was seventeen years ago. You had recruited him as a way to repay his fathers sacrifice. My uncle was also a long time colleague of yours and our families go back many years.”

“We are so grateful that you are alive. We are sorry that we left you behind. That would never be our intention. We are forever indebted to Statesman for saving your life and taking care of you. But as you can imagine, we have questions of our own. How did you get here? How did you survive? Do you have no memory of Kingsman at all? What can you remember? Obviously, you have retained your skills, but to what extent? If you honestly don’t remember, then we can see how unbelievable our story is. But I think if you are still a man of honour and integrity, then you have to feel that we are not hostiles or adversaries. We pose no threat to you. Your instincts must tell you we are offering you the truth.”

She could tell that Harry was processing the information, she just couldn’t tell whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Roxy concluded. “And that brings us here to the present. I think our most pressing question is “how did you survive?”

Harry nodded to Ginger to answer the question. He seemed to want to observe the conversation. His attention had never wavered from Roxy while she spoke, only widened at times to include Eggsy or Merlin. If he had come to a conclusion, there was nothing that they could see.

Roxy gladly handed off the meeting to Ginger. Harry’s unwavering gaze was getting a little unnerving. Without the added scrutiny, she could get collect her own thoughts and feelings. Kingsman recruitment training had been brutal, but nothing could have prepared them for the last 48hrs. Nothing in the Gentleman’s Guide had a blueprint on how to behave when your agency gets blown up and your dead mentor, comes back to life, has amnesia, and then almost shoots you.

——

Ginger spoke up.

“I would like to confirm that we now have proof that your story is legitimate Which means, Harry, what they are saying about your history with Kingsman is most likely the truth.”

Harry tilted his chin slightly in her direction in acknowledgement. 

She spoke in the direction of the three Kingsman. “We have just received corroboration from several independent sources that the events did occur as described and that your agency was the target of a massive strike against organisations such as ours. We are sorry for your loss. You will have full access to our resources to investigate this adversary and we will provide you with support. This is a threat that affects all of us.”

Merlin spoke up. His voice was rough with concern. 

“Harry, what happened?” 

Harry’s voice, deep and a with familiar, crisp authority, suddenly filled the space.

“At this point, I believe Ginger will be able to recall the events much more clearly than I. I have no recollection of events immediately following the shooting.” He turned to her. “Please, continue.”

Merlin gaze remained fixed on Harry and worried there for several moments, before he turned his attention to Ginger.

“The day prior to V-Day, we detected the transmission of a very low frequency sound wave. Much lower than what is normally used for any legitimate communication. This frequency, for the time and location, was suspicious to say the least and it was imperative that we investigate. Agent Tequila and I helicoptered to the spot, about 10 miles away.”

“The frequency stopped right about the time we were closing in on the location. We had already pinpointed the source so we knew where it originated from. Even though the transmission had stopped, we could still find clues to its origin.” 

“We were just flying into the zone when we witnessed the shooting. We saw Valentine and his accomplices depart. They didn’t confirm death. I expect they thought that shooting someone in the face.. well, there are not many outcomes. Our timing couldn’t have been better planned. We had developed what we call “alpha gel” to use on our own agents in the case of a head shot. Previously, a head shot meant immediate death. Body armour can only protect so much. We’ve lost very good agents.’ 

But depending on where the bullet entered the skull and if there was minimal damage to the actual brain and spinal cord, the gel could potentially save an agents life. 

Harry was still alive when I checked his vitals. I applied the alpha gel immediately. It’s crucial to activate the gel to prevent tissue damage and accelerate the nannites that are used to repair neural pathways. I won’t go further in depth at this point. The main issue at that moment was to preserve life. 

Of course, because of his glasses, we knew that he was intelligence, we just didn’t know whose and we had no way of finding out without compromising Harry’s safety and our anonymity.  

Harry suffers from retrograde amnesia, which could be from the injury. But it can also be a side effect of the alpha gel. However, when life it at risk, the benefits outweigh the possible negative outcomes. This kind of memory loss, you lose existing, previously made memories. This type of amnesia tends to affect recently formed memories first. Older memories, such as memories from childhood, are usually affected more slowly. 

She motioned to Harry, while he listened closely to her explanation.

“So while Harry was whole as a person, personality wise, function wise, cognitive and behavioural skills in place, he had no memory of who he was aside from what could be observed. He had no memory of his past, people, places, events. This was an interesting case because usually with retrograde amnesia, there can be the regression to the younger self. The skill set and knowledge and the growth that occurred during the time of memory loss can also be lost as well. Such as, if you learned French while you were in college, but you lost the memories of this timeframe, in most cases, you would no longer be able to speak French. In fact, the whole memory that you learned it to begin with would be gone. In these cases, the knowledge and skill learned during this time would also be forgotten. However, in some rare cases, the ability to remember the skill remains, while the memory of the past when it was learned is lost. 

“In Harry’s case, it was obviously the later.” 

The slightest shift in the landscape of Harry’s face indicated that we was thoughtful and reflective. How must it be to wake up and not know who you are.

Harry, while still maintaining full concentration on Ginger, set a small part of him free to revisit the day he regained consciousness. Which technically, would not be regaining consciousness, since he had no recollection of losing consciousness to begin with.

——

POV HARRY HART

“My name is Harry Hart.”  It was the first thought that went through his head.

Secondly, “Caucasion male, 6’2”, brown hair, brown eyes, 58 years of age. 13.5 stone” That all sounded perfectly reasonable to him.

Thirdly, wasn’t a thought, it was a feeling of emptiness. Not as if he was missing something. It did not feel like loss. It did not feel as if he was lacking. That would imply that there was something present to begin with.  It was not a feeling he could identify or that felt familiar or could find a word that was representative. It was unusual for him. He never found his vocabulary lacking. Perhaps if it could be called a non-feeling. He was a vessel. Neither empty, nor full. And no desire to be either or. An interesting sensation. 

When he first woke up, he had not realised that he was suffering from amnesia. Due to the amnesia there were no memories that insisted he should be a certain person. That he had to exist in a certain place. Doing something specific. A curious circumstance. There was no sense of surprise waking up in the condition he found himself to be. He did whatever he would do in a circumstance like this. Assess the situation. 

As he entered a conscious state, his mind automatically shifted into overdrive. But without moving. Without betraying any kind of change. He felt the need to remain unnoticed. He did this from where he rested. He first determined if he had sustained any injury or damage that had caused permanent physical disability or bodily harm. He had full function of all of his appendages. He did not know how long he had been in this state, but he did not notice any signs of muscle atrophy or joint stiffness. They must have a system that stimulated muscle tissue and nerves to prevent deterioration or he had not been in an immobile state for any length of time. Blinking his eyes was like scrapping sandpaper and his throat was a desert of sand. He attempted to make any kind of noise and found it difficult. That meant he had to have been out for at least some meaningful period of time. His head did ache something awful, and he noted a bandage or some other type of patch over his left eye. The use of only one eye would change his perception of depth, and the range of his peripheral vision, but he did not doubt that he would be able to adjust accordingly.

He had no reason to question his cognitive function. He processed information unhesitatingly and with ease. Without a sense of doubt, without faltering, he scanned the room and began to examine his surroundings. He was being held in some kind of hospital or medical ward. Not civilian. It was either private or for research. Maybe military. Hi tech, advanced equipment. Everything was in pristine condition. Two exits on opposing sides. No windows. A complex ventilation and filtration system suggested an underground location. No immediate threat that he could ascertain, but that could change at any moment. No apparent weapons. Some medical instruments that could possibly work. He was not restrained so he was not being held against his will. Or there was no need if he was unconscious the entire time. He did not feel any urgency or sense of immediate danger, but he did not question his need to assess the situation .

He heard two people approach the door to the left. Judging from the echoing quality and the gradual volume and clarity of their foot steps, from a fairly long corridor. 

His eyes remained closed, his breathing shallow and steady, his heartbeat was slow and rhythmic. He concentrated on the sound. One set of footsteps was clearly male. The stride was longer, more pronounced, in heavy shoes, presumably boots. But an easy pace. Most likely 6’, 13 stone, physically fit. His gait was even, balanced and light. Not the walk of someone that led a sedentary life. The second set of footsteps he concluded were female. Lighter, but not timid. A confident woman. Just a smaller stature. Medium height. Slight frame. Like her partner, fit, alert, competent. 

He did not know why or how he came up with these deductions, but he did not question them. He held the information in his mind so it was easily accessible. The voices, once they became decipherable, were relaxed and easy. Their tone was jovial and non-threatening. Younger than he was. American accent, with a southern drawl. He could be in the US, but anywhere was possible. While he did not expect danger, he still prepared himself for the risk. Mostly, his need was to understand the where he was, how he got there and have leverage over the situation.

The door opened with a heavy swooshing sound. He did not hear the click of a lock being turned, so he was not being held in high security setting.

The two individuals were still conversing, and he could just almost decipher what they were discussing. The man remained on his right hand side while the woman walked around the foot of the bed to inspect the instruments and diagnostics panels to the left. Her back was turned away from him. The man remained at his side. A quick glance in his direction. A holster was slung around his waist, it held a nickelplated SIG-Sauer P226 with wooden grips. A quality weapon. To his advantage, the strap securing the weapon was not snapped in. That would have been a trickier maneuver.

He guessed the woman was in medical, the man, based on the weapon and the fact that he was not actively participating in the tasks, that he was a guard or protection of some sort. With their relaxed tones, and familiar interactions, possibly a friend or colleague. 

Not one to overthink a situation, he decided now was as good a time as any. No use in waiting, expecting a better scenario. Best to address the situation you know rather than wait for one you don’t. Never a guarantee for a better set of circumstances. Only guarantee is time lost.

He waited patiently for the moment to proceed. Just a small distraction was all he needed. It arrived sooner than he anticipated and under better circumstances that he had the right to expect.

“Tequila, would you be able to hand me the print outs right behind you?” 

Harry saw him turn away from the bed, his hips rotated in his direction, the angle ideal for him to grab, cock and point. He only hoped that his deductions regarding his physical state were correct, or it would be a moot point. He might not even be able to sit up, let alone hold a weapon.  Take the out, the told himself. 

These thoughts occurred within fractions of a second. Without hesitation, in one fell swoop, he grabbed the gun, pulled back the slide to load the chamber. Thankfully his body responded without any resistance or weakness and he slid himself back into an upright position. 

He judged the distance between the three of them. The man called Tequila, was close enough by his side to possibly disarm him, so he swung the weapon in the woman’s direction. She was far enough away that the gun was not within her reach. He centered the sight at her chest. It was not the aim of a stop shot. It was the aim for a kill shot. Might as well show them he was not a man to underestimate. He did not want to shoot her, but he did want to make it very clear to them that he was a man to take very seriously. 

Once he guaranteed that he had their attention. Though he had many questions he wanted answers to, he asked them the two questions that were the most urgent.

His voice was gravelly, but still clear enough to understand. 

“Who are you?”

“What am I doing here?”

For having a gun aimed at her chest, the woman was surprisingly relaxed. She held up her palm towards the other man. She would handle this. The man shifted his weight back to a holding posture rather than the offensive stance that prepared him to take action. 

“You have a British accent. That’s helpful to know. How are you feeling?”

“My first two questions still stand.” He regarded them impassively, but kept any notes of aggression from his tone.

—— 

Gingers POV

“My name is Ginger Ale, I’m Head Strategy Executive and Director of Medical here at our outfit.  This is Agent Tequila. Welcome to Statesman, our whiskey distillery. You’re at our HQ in Kentucky.” 

She handed him a cup of water. “Sip. Don’t guzzle.”

She was succinct. “As for what you are doing here, we were waiting for you to wake up so you could tell us. We found you outside of a church about 10 miles from here. You had been shot in the head. You were still alive, so we did everything we could to keep you that way. You’ve been unconscious the entire time here. Your vitals were strong. We were just waiting for you to wake up. We have some questions for you as well.” 

Her voice was gentle, but firm. He did not catch any inflections or hesitations that would indicate she was lying, or with holding information. Her tone was honest, forthright and it put him slightly more at ease. 

“I answered both of yours. Would you be so kind to answer mine?” She asked politely.

He did not refuse, but he didn’t say yes.

“How are you feeling.” she asked again.

“Would you care to clarify?” He asked in return. “There are multiple ways I can respond to your question.”

So he was witty.

“Pick one.”

“At the present moment, tolerable. Though this persistent ache in my head leaves something to be desired” He equivocated. 

“That’s to be expected with a headshot. You did lose your left eye. There will be residual pain/discomfort until the injury is completely healed.”

“What is your name? 

“My name is Harry Hart.”

“Do you feel comfortable enough at the moment to answer some questions for us? Is there anything that you require immediately? 

“More water would be appreciated. Otherwise, feel free. Fire away.” He looked amused. He reached over to return Tequila’s gun. “Perhaps a poor choice of words in my case.” He revised his response. “Very well then, proceed.”

She refilled his water and pulled a chair next to his bed. Tequila found a place strategically viable to intervene if things went sideways. He wasn’t one to get caught off guard twice.

“Now, since we are on a first name basis, can you tell us why you were at the church that day? Why would someone would want to kill you?”

“No.”

“No?” 

“I simply do not know.”

“Why you were there? Or why someone wanted you dead?”

“Neither.”

“Where are you from?”

His face remained blank.

“That may be a little vague.” Ginger specified. “Where do you live? Where is your home?”

No response.

How old are you?

“58” 

“Do you know what you do for a living? Where do you work?”

An almost imperceptible turn of the head.

“Can you remember where you went to school? Secondary or university.”

He squinted his eyes. But no answer.

“Do you know who the current world leader is? President? Prime Minister?”

Her regarded her impassively. She started to form her own understanding of how he was communicating. She could play along. Any form of communication was good for her. It didn’t have to be words. There was more than one way to impart information. It would all get her to the same place. Plus, she would have the chance to read his non-verbal cues. That would be a challenge. His expression was nearly inscrutable.

A slight turn of the head meant I don’t know. His impassive face meant maybe, but he can’t know for sure. The blank disinterested stare meant that he had no idea what she was referring to. She was already intrigued by her patient. She was becoming more fascinated by the moment. 

Changing tactics, she asked. “Can you play the piano?”

A slight tilt of the head. This was new. That meant the question sparked something in his mind. It was a possibility, but he couldn’t know for sure. Interesting. She went further down her tangent.

“What’s pi to the tenth decimal?”

Without hesitation, he rattled off. “3.1415926535”

“Parle vous français?”

“Oui”

How many languages can you speak?

“Six ”

“What are they?”

English, French, Spanish, German, Italian, Arabic.

Hmmm. Arabic was interesting. She filed that away to look at more closely at a later time.

“Do you know were you learned Arabic or why?”

He was taciturn.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Right.”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

Impassive.

“Do you own a car?”

Impassive.

“Do you know how to drive.”

“Yes.”

Now they were getting somewhere, she thought to herself.

“What was your favourite game as a child?”

He furrowed his brow but answered.

“Chess.”

Were you good?

“Yes.”

“Did you compete?

No answer.

Hmm. Retrograde amnesia, she pondered.

“Can you shoot a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever killed someone?”

A tilt of the head. Possible, but can’t confirm.

“Do you think you’re a good person?”

“I have no reason to doubt that.”

“Do you know what orange means?”

“The color or the fruit?”

Good. “The fruit, what does it remind you of? 

“Winter. Christmas.”

Excellent. “Do you remember a Christmas from your past?”

Blank stare.

“Do you think you’re attractive? Good looking.”

He huffed, amused. 

“It’s not a trick question.”

“Not to seem chuffed, but I’ve never had any complaints in that regard.”

“Can you remember any specific compliments that you’ve received in the past?”

Thwarted.

Good. “So you know that other people think you are attractive and desirable. But is that how you see yourself?”

 “I was attempting to be modest.” 

She waited for his response.

Reluctantly, “Yes.” He admitted. “I know that I am attractive, handsome, good looking. However you would like to call it.” 

He continued even though he had already answered the question. It was his first moment of revealing information on his own.

“I would go out with myself if I were able, but unfortunately, that is not an option. I am not a narcissist. However, I would say that I regard myself with a healthy and acceptable amount of vanity. “ 

Did Ginger just discern a bit of sarcasm?

His good looks have been a point of contention in the past. Not that she could blame him. She was curious to know how his appearance either hindered him or helped him. She did note that there was no wedding ring when they found him. She couldn’t complain. It didn’t hurt her daily check ups that he was extremely easy on the eyes. Even his hospital issue gown made him look handsome.

Ok. Time to move on. She switched her line of questioning. 

“Where are you right now?” She asked.

His expression was doubtful. Of her, not of his answer. His face asked the question. “Didn’t we just discuss this?” Nevertheless, he answered her with a bemused sigh.

“Kentucky, United States. Apparently 10 miles away from a church where I was shot in the head.”

Ginger nodded. She was encouraged. 

He didn’t see why. It wasn’t difficult to recall. She had only just told him.

“Do you remember our names and what we do?”

He found the helpfulness of these questions debatable, but if it would accelerate his process, he was willing to comply. And participate, if it made this whole interaction a tad more interesting.

“Your name is Ginger Ale. After the beverage, I can only assume. Your colleague, here, is called Tequilla, after the alcohol. I am under the the impression that these are code names that are assigned by the intelligence agency that employs you. Statesman. With a distillery as a backstop. Hence the libation themed code names. 

“Ginger Ale, I gather from your code name’s slight variation, you are in an essential, but supportive role. Whereas Tequila, a right tipple, would be classified as an agent. Of your independent organisation. I would believe, comparable to the CIA, but without the restrictions that often hinder government run spy organisations. And with more interesting code names.”

There was just the slightest hint of cockiness in his tone and in his expression. She found it equally amusing and charming at the same time. Now they were making progress. More than she could have hoped for.

He was obviously intelligent, well mannered, well spoken, though taciturn. Understandable upon waking up with no memory of where he was and why he was there. It was a very promising discovery. He seemed to accept his situation without resistance. He was alert. No hint of confusion. Just a desire to understand the circumstances he found himself in. 

He was emotionally stable, if not a little irritated, by his current state. He took the loss of his eye as a matter of fact. Overall, his ability to acclimate was nothing short of remarkable. 

He folded his hands on his lap, one over the other, tilted his chin in her direction. His posture said. “I’m waiting patiently..” He was throwing shades of a personality she was already warming toward. 

There was a momentary pause. They regarded each other with interest. 

 Finally Harry spoke. “I have amnesia.” He wasn’t asking a question. He was stating it as a fact.

She confirmed. Nodding. 

“I would like to perform some additional CT and MRI scans, and EEG, but judging from the traumatic brain injury you’ve suffered, you most likely have retrograde amnesia. Just based on this conversation alone. To be more specific. Focal retrograde amnesia. 

She continued to explain. “Focal retrograde amnesia, also known as isolated or pure retrograde amnesia, is when someone only experiences the loss of memories that have already been made. Anterograde amnesia, on the other hand, is being unable to form new memories.

He listened to her with a new interest. 

She continued. “So, it appears you have retrograde amnesia, but no anterograde. This means that the ability to form new memories is left intact. You easily recalled information from a short time ago. That is very good news.” She paused, looking for his understanding.

“Please, go on.” He said.

“This kind of isolated memory loss doesn’t affect a person’s intelligence or ability to learn new skills, like playing the piano or affect previously learned skills, like driving a car, speaking different languages. Most likely, if we sat you at a piano, you would be able to play, based on your response to my question.”

“What is the prognosis?”

Ginger, equivocated, a little hesitant “With amnesia, it’s difficult to predict. Retrograde amnesia can result from damage to different parts of the brain responsible for controlling emotions and memories. These include the thalamus, which is deep in the center of the brain, and the hippocampus, which is in the temporal lobe and the cerebellum. There are many variables involved.”

“Thats is all very interesting, but doesn’t quite give me any predictions for my future.” 

“To be completely honest, for the injury you sustained, the amnesia is surprisingly less severe than I would have predicted. Most traumatic brain injuries are mild, resulting in concussion. But a severe injury, like a serious blow to the head, or a bullet for that matter, can damage the memory-storing areas of the brain and lead to anterograde amnesia as well. Depending on the level of damage, the amnesia could be temporary or permanent. I know that’s not very helpful.”

“Ginger, there is no need to “hedge your bets” as they would say. I am quite prepared to accept any answer you provide.”

“The fact that you can remember new information is promising. Your cognitive and behavioural skills are, as far as I can tell, excellent. I would be interested to test your knowledge further. You may have skills that you don’t know you have until you have a need for them.”

“If I were to summarise… “ Ginger concluded. “And please let me know if I go too far off the beaten path as I find this area of research very intriguing.”

She stole a glance at Tequila. “Many would find it boring.” 

Tequila gestured with a shrug of his shoulders..”So what? I think it’s boring.”

Ginger turned back toward Harry.

“Are you comfortable?”

“As much as one could hope.”

“Please understand that I’m generalising here. Just the fact that you are interested in this subject and can process information is extremely promising. The questions I asked you, though random, I asked for very specific reasons.” 

“Our memories” she explained, “can be separated into two groups: Explicit and Implicit. Each of these categories can then be further broken down. If I can use your case as an example?”

Harry nodded.

In the clear and assured tones of a professor, she explained. 

“Explicit memories, or declarative memories, are those we consciously try to remember and recall. When I ask you a question, such as, “Where were you born?” to answer, you would navigate through your explicit memory.

“Explicit memory stores events and facts. This is your conscious memory. You know that you have them and can remember them when you need to. In your case, I asked you to recall a derivative of Pi. You did that easily. That would be an explicit memory. Your knowledge of different languages also taps into your explicit memory.” 

Harry was still, but receptive.

Encouraged by his attentiveness, she broke the concept down further.

“Of these explicit memories, there are three different types. The first two are episodic and semantic memories. Do you know what semantic means?” She asked him.

“Of course. That which is related to language.”  replied Harry.

Ginger was pleased.

“Exactly. Our semantic memory stores knowledge about words, concepts and language-based knowledge and facts. Knowing the definition of “Semantic” is, in fact, a semantic memory. So is your knowledge of Pi in relation to the numerical expression, and the ability to speak different languages. This part of your memory seems to be unaffected.”

She checked in with Harry. She had the tendency to explain way beyond the interest of the listener. He confirmed. Go on.

“The second kind of explicit memory is called episodic memory. This is information about events that you have personally experienced. For example, if something looks or feels familiar, you’re probably trying to pull from your episodic memory. Times in your life, people, places, emotions and context that make up the events in your life. The what, when, where, how and why of your memory.”

“This seems to be a large part of your memory that has been affected and it seems to go back for a very long time. Typically, when you see lapses in episodic memory, it’s usually the more recent memories that can’t be accessed. Memories of childhood are still there.  In your case, your entire past seems to be wiped.

He asked his first question. Well, other than the first two, but that was at gunpoint, so they didn’t really count.“Then how is it that I still have all of this knowledge.”

“Yes, just getting to that. Now we move over to your implicit memories. These memories are not part of your consciousness.”

She took a breath. “These memories are based on behaviours and movements. Memories that are retained through practice and repetition. A learned skill would be part of this memory.”

She had vast knowledge of memory loss due to brain trauma and she welcomed the opportunity to share. “There are two types of implicit memories. Procedural and emotional conditioning.”

“Procedural stores information about how to do things. Why you are able to perform actions without consciously monitoring the sub procedures that need to be pieced together in order to perform the task. Or, more simply, it’s the reason you can brush your teeth without a second thought. It is the memory for skilled actions.”

“This part of the memory is why you can do things without thinking about them. You know how to drive a car. But you don’t know if you own one. You can play chess, but you don’t know if you played competitively. Same with the piano. You can shoot a gun, but you don’t know if you’ve ever killed someone. Even something as simple as brushing your teeth is part of this. You don’t have to consciously think about every sub action you have to make, or the motor skills involved. Probably the same way with a gun. If I asked to take apart and reassemble Tequila’s gun, you could probably do so without knowing how or why you possess that skill.”

“Lastly is Emotional Conditioning.  This can be a little trickier to identify. I would have to ask you more questions to see how this part of your memory was affected. These memories are made through classical conditioning, associations made through stimuli. You know what an orange is. You know what they smell like. It reminds you of Christmas. This is emotional conditioning. But you can’t remember any Christmas that you’ve had. That is your episodic memory.”

Harry looked openly thoughtful. He was no longer guarding his expression. The softness took years off his face. It was hard not to just stare at him. 

“There’s one more category of explicit memories that is important. Autobiographical. This memory system is made up of both episodic and semantic aspects of your memory. It’s a collection of memories specifically related to the self. This could be how you look, your height, specific meaningful points in your life, or the general idea of your concept of self. Which is why I asked you questions not just on how you look, but how you, yourself, viewed your looks.”  

“You know what a gun is. Semantic. You know how to shoot a gun. Procedural. You don’t know if you’ve ever killed anyone. Episodic. Killing someone is only acceptable under certain circumstances. Emotional conditioning. But without knowing whether or not you’ve ever killed anyone, you believe you are a good person. Autobiographical.”

“In regards to the actual landscape of your brain, your cerebellum and prefrontal cortex seem to be the least affected.  In addition to contributions to implicit memory, conditioned responses, fine motor movements, posture and coordination, the cerebellum also maintains internal representations of the external world, which allow you to move in darkness as long as the room or space is familiar to you, and how you would need to position your self to aim a gun and hit a moving target.”

Harry was still engaged, so she went on. 

“It seems the hippocampus was the most affected by your injury. This would make sense based on the entry point of the bullet. This part of the brain processes declarative and episodic memory, people, places, and things as well as recognition memory.” 

“I know that’s a lot to take in. I’d like you to rest in the meantime. You’ve only just woken up, in well, less than ideal circumstances. Even though you say you feel “acceptable” you are still recovering from a major injury.  We’ll follow up with you more frequently, now that you are awake.” She wasn’t asking.

Harry, for the first time, addressed Tequila. “I take it that she is always the voice of reason.”

“Without fail.”

“And I assume there is no sense in arguing.”

“None at all.”

——

For simplicity’s sake, they assumed that he was from the UK as many of his mannerism and idiosyncrasies were quintessentially British. Tequila had gotten into the habit of calling him Hart, or The Brit for short. Harry, who was not one for such informalities, was amused. He did, however, recognise that Americans, as well as Statesman, were more easy going and relaxed in their word, dress and interactions with each other, overall. 

——

“Was there anything, physically, or possessions that I had on my body when you found me, that would offer any clues to my identity.”

Ginger paused. “Well, Harry, we found you in quite a unique state.”

They had already been over the event numerous times. But Harry knew that little details were often overlooked the first time around and could surface after a spell.  Ironic, since his own memory wouldn’t be surfacing in any amount of time. He would have rather used a more elegant metaphor, but he was like a top notch computer with nothing to process. All of his files were wiped. Who knew if they were recoverable. No use in wondering. 

When Ginger Ale and Agent Tequila found Harry, he had made quite the impression. As the helicopter descended, Ginger and Tequila saw him closely for the first time. He was splayed out, flat on his back, unconscious, with a bullet through his eye, wearing of all things, an impeccably tailored, navy pinstripe double breasted suit. He was fully decked out with all the details. Spread collar, tie with a Windsor knot, suspenders, oxfords, even a tie pin, cufflinks, a pocket square, and a signet ring. It was a sight not often seen in their part of Kentucky.

While Ginger attended to the man, Tequila checked the church. It was the site of a bloodbath. This was no mass shooting. A mass shooting would be clean and simple compared to what he found inside.  These people had been slaughtered. Creatively. Luckily, whatever or whoever the threat was that had massacred the congregation, had departed. 

Harry had definitely been involved in the bloodshed, but to what extent, they did not know. The tell tale signs were on his suit. It hard to see the bloodstains against the dark wool, but there were unmistakable splashes of red on the crisp whiteness of his cuffs and collar. It was torn in places, whether from a weapon or some other object, one couldn’t tell. But mostly, the proof was on his hands. They were stained with blood and gunpowder residue up to his wrists. He did not have any weapons on his person when they found him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one inside. Nevertheless, a person doesn’t get that much blood on themselves from using a gun. Even at close range, the blood spatter would spray backward. 

Whatever he had been involved in, it was up close and personal. Rage sound waves plus the expert skill and killer instinct of a veteran assassin could definitely equal the carnage that was left behind. He was fitted with a shoulder holster, but no weapon. They didn’t have enough time to search for identifying evidence in the church. The object that they found the most interesting were his glasses. Handsome, squared off, dark tortoiseshell horn rimmed frames. But it was the lenses that revealed the most about him. The glasses told them he was intelligence. They just didn’t know whose.

Intelligence agents, as a rule, never carry anything that can identify them. Harry was no exception. His clothing, even his shoes, though exceptionally well made and no doubt very expensive, bore no labels. It was all bespoke, custom made to fit him, and him alone and as a result, no identifying markers.

They tried to reverse engineer the communications transmitter from the remaining lens. They also attempted to disassemble his watch, but both were designed to withstand and prevent external tampering. Whoever designed them was talented and had the foresight to put anti-tampering mechanisms in place. 

Of course, they had run a facial recognition and prints through their international database, but as they expected, there were no matches to be found. They couldn’t investigate thoroughly without compromising his safety. Obviously someone wanted him dead. It could even be his own agency. More than once, had an agent been removed by their own employer. The threat might still exist. Nor could they risk the anonymity of their own agency. 

They scanned news for anything surrounding the Kentucky event, who was involved, any unusual occurrences that happened at the same time, but they only found information on Valentine and his cohorts. They even kept their ears open on the secret spy wire, to see if a fellow agency was looking for an operative, or had an agent who had gone rogue, or had one go dark. They didn’t have any luck. It’s not like they could put out an “if missing an agent, please call” flyer. While Harry was recovering, they also put out feelers for possible missing persons that matched his description in the civilian world. Even if he was an intelligence agent, that didn’t mean he didn’t have a cover in place, a backstop that could possible lead to his identity.

His accent immediately suggested he was from the UK. However, his lack of a specific regional dialect, made it difficult to narrow their search criteria. Harry’s accent was that of the Queens English, or RP Received Pronunciation. Which might mean he was from Great Britain, or any of the commonwealth countries. Their contacts at MI6 and MI5 received a little exchange of information to see if they had any leads, of which there were none. Whatever agency that he was with, was not government funded. Of course there was the brotherhood of clandestine intelligence agencies across the globe. But in this circumstance, they did not want to broadcast that they were potentially sheltering an agent that could have possibly blown his cover, been burned, or been compromised in any fashion. The safest avenue for both Statesman and Harry was to remain inconspicuous until a tangible lead was discovered.

Because, at the very least, he was intelligence, and so were they, they were curious as to his specialty, his area of expertise. Handling a gun was part of every agents training, no matter where their loyalties lie. It was no surprise that he was comfortable shooting a weapon. All agents were. It was possible that he could be a clandestine officer, or focus on espionage, recruiting assets. He could be an interrogator. He was intelligent, well spoken, articulate. Psych-ops, psychological warfare or diplomacy could be just as likely.  His fastidious appearance, polite manner and gentlemanly demeanour would certainly lend itself to international relations. Certainly a man with his physical attributes wouldn’t be secluded to a desk in analysis. With his charming personality he could possibly be a raven, a male agent employed to seduce people for intelligence purposes. That would be effortless on his part. He would just have to show up. There were many ladies that had taken notice of the handsome figure who was a mysterious presence at Statesman’s HQ.

 It was also feasible that he had cross specialties. Some of the specialties would be more challenging than others to assess. Weapons were straightforward. You were either good or you weren’t. Once he felt both physically and mentally up to task, they brought him to their version of Hogan’s Ally or the Farm, the FBI and the CIA’s, respectively, tactical training facilities. 

When Harry’s health improved, they discovered the true extent of his abilities. They were far greater than Statesman expected.  As Harry’s strength and coordination returned, complex tasks became second nature again. His body began to respond to the stimulus and he gravitated toward the physical challenges that Statesman tested him with. What they learned on the shooting range, then in the Statesman tactical training facility and Special Operations Division, they did not expect and were not prepared for.

Harry found the whole process amusing. If not outright entertaining. Losing ones memory had its advantages. One need not worry about expectations, preconceived notions or judgement. He would either be good, or he would not be. Either outcome would be acceptable to him. No one, not even he, would know the outcome until after the fact. And he knew how useless it was to wish for one scenario or the other when anything was possible.

What did happen, was that the challenges of their tactical installation were not capable of quantifying his ability. His skills far surpassed the most advanced exercise they had.

He proceeded to excel at every exercise, drill, and challenge they placed in front of him. He performed without thought, without hesitation, with the grace and composure they had come to equate him with. First, on the shooting range and then finally on their full scale replicated “warehouse” where they would simulate real life combat situations, including the use of live rounds.

The first test was for speed and accuracy and his knowledge of different firearms.  At the shooting range, they laid out a variety of weapons in front of him. The guns were unloaded. He was tasked with loading the ammunition in to the proper clip or magazine and then loading the weapon. He was to discharge the all the rounds at the target at the end of the range. Aiming for a kill shot either at the head or chest, release the clip and return the weapon and then move onto the next weapon he was familiar with. 

Statesman didn’t know what to expect, but the certainly didn’t anticipate what they witnessed. 

Harry had insisted on wearing his full suit as he did every day. The Brit was calm, cool and composed. He was neither excited nor concerned regarding the proceedings. More than anything, he seemed relaxed, but slightly more interested in the tactical challenges than the cognitive behavioural tests that they had him perform. They explained to him what the task was. One by one, load the clip, load the matching weapon, discharge all the rounds, release and repeat. 

Without any visible effort on his part, Harry loaded the first clip, loaded the weapon, and then seemingly without aiming, pulled the trigger.  The first several shots landed off mark. He adjusted and then fired the entire clip, alternating between two chest shots, followed by one round to the head of the target at the end of the range, chambering each bullet between shots if there was a slide. It did not go unnoticed that his method was the one used by assassins. They all knew, when eliminating a target, it was without fail, two to the chest, one to the head. He was still completing his follow through on the previous round, while reaching for the next clip, before releasing the clip of the weapon in his hand and switching to the next. He did this smoothly, with ease, dexterity and without hesitation with the entire set of weapons. One after the other, shot after shot, hitting mark after mark without effort. No fancy moves, no showy stance, just incredibly efficient, accurate, skill and technique. With the reverb of gunshots echoing through their ears, Harry laid down the last gun in line with the rest, turned toward the observing Statesman. His precision was astounding. 

 There was no perceptible change in his demeanour. He could have been doing a crossword puzzle for all the exertion that was evident on his face. 

“Does this suffice?” His face was pleasant. There could have also been the tiniest hint of amusement. 

It was Ginger that spoke up first. “I do believe, yes, that will suffice.”

Tequila regarded him not only like he was from a different country, but a different species of man all together.

 “How the hell ’dya do that?”

Harry gave him a good natured smile. 

“Knowledge of the weapons.” He continued plainly while smoothing out the front of his suit and adjusting his cuffs to their proper length.

“One must possess an understanding of the moving variables involved when discharging handguns, especially for a significant number of rounds. One must focus on accuracy, which involves trigger pull pressure and control, proper stance, a secure but consistent grip, taking in to account grip tension and fatigue. Excessive trigger pull weight will cause muscle fatigue of the index finger and can ultimately lead to task failure during pistol marksmanship.”  

While opening and closing his shooting hand, he massaged the base of his trigger finger. 

“With the variety of weapons that were included in this drill, one must locate the front site alignment based on the make and model and identify the site picture, either combat, center, 6 o’clock hold, if adopting a classic stance. However, front site becomes irrelevant in situations where the target is not in front of you.”

The Statesman were surreptitiously glancing at one anther. Was this man for real?

“And then one must consider breath control, trigger press and reset, and naturally, follow through.  Of course, one must account for situational awareness. Needless to say, it is far less complicated aiming at a static bullseye in a controlled environment,” He gestured to the range. “rather than at a moving target under enemy fire.”       

He spoke with an easy nonchalance, as if he were describing how to serve tea. Incidentally, last week, Harry had already instructed them on the official rules of how to prepare a proper cup of tea. He had looked vaguely insulted when he inquired about tea and Tequila handed him a cold bottle of sweet tea from a nearby cooler. Following this incident he educated them on the finer points of afternoon tea.

“First and most importantly,” he informed them.” Select the appropriate English tea.”

Harry recommended Earl Grey, Breakfast Blend, or Traditional 100’s black teas. Slightly more bitter than American teas, he informed them.

“Always use freshwater for individual steeping. Boil water between 180-200 degrees.”

Harry stated that it was imperative that the water is at boiling point to properly release the flavours of the tea.

“Slowly pour into a teapot over a single tea bag or loose leaf diffuser. Let it steep for six minutes. Remove the tea bag. Do not squeeze the tea bag. Pour the tea into a proper tea cup, not a coffee mug. At this time, one can add milk, not sugar, unless you want to disrupt the flavour of the tea.” 

He was firm on the following point. “Only milk, if you are looking to make a proper cup. The color of the tea with milk should have a dark orange-brown hue, similar to American coffee. Once the milk is stirred, the tea should be at the perfect temperature to enjoy. If feeling especially British, one can pair with scones and clotted cream.” 

With the same casual, relaxed ease, he continued. “Naturally, it helps if one is familiar with muzzle velocity, air resistance, barometric pressure, humidity, air temperature and wind speed. The quantity and quality of propellant used in the firearm as well as projectile mass and length of the barrel.”

He saw the blank stares of the Statesman agents. He equivocated, “Or in more simple terms, front site, trigger press, and follow through.”

If he was this level on the shooting range, they were eager to see what surprises he had in store for the simulation. If his performance on the shooting rage was any indication of his abilities, his proficiency on the full scale replica could very possibly be stupefying. 

Word traveled with the wind on Statesman grounds. The following day, allowing his shooting hand appropriate time to recover, Harry prepared for the real life simulation.  A variety of curious onlookers, from fellow agents, handlers and operations support began to gather in small, inconspicuous groups at the control center where anyone watching would have full audio and visual of Harry the entire time. 

The immersive course was situated in two enormous warehouses with an open courtyard area in between.  It was devised to test Harry’s technical and tactical skill. So far, he had shown exemplary marksmanship. But like he had mentioned, it was much less complicated to shoot with accuracy in a range under a controlled environment. The ability to perform with the same accuracy and precision under pressure is what separated a good agent from an exceptional one. They were going to find out which category Harry fell into.

Harry, as an operator, would have to perform under the following conditions; unknown target distances that vary from close to extended ranges, identifying threats and non-threats prior to engagement, making decisions under pressure, speed vs. precision shots, tactical movements, utilising different types of cover and tactical shooting positions to accomplish the mission, which was to come out clean on the other side. Firearms ranged from pistol, rifle, shotgun, carbine rifle, AK -47, as well as improvised munitions. There could be an active shooter scenario. A hostage situation. Anything was possible.

The Statesman insisted that he didn’t have to wear his suit during the engagement and offered him combat gear. His suit was certain to interfere with his maneuverability. He showed up to the course, fully attired in his classic pinstripes, down to the cuff links. He couldn’t explain why, but it felt completely natural and at ease. 

“One should always be able to engage in life threatening situations while properly attired.”  He explained. 

 Call it vanity, call it pride, but he only felt comfortable in suits when he was in a professional role. Wearing anything else seemed sacrilegious. He wasn’t going to wear any less for an evaluation, no matter what the evaluation entailed. And he was very particular. About his suit specifically. He had several suits tailor made by a firm of Statesman’s recommendation. 

The one concession that he did make regarding his attire was to replace his Oxfords with the Statesman issue cowboy boots. Cowboy boots, of all things. But he had to confess, they felt good on his feet. It was easier to cover the unfamiliar terrain of the Statesman property, which included dirt, gravel, hay, barns, and stables and various other interesting outbuildings. At least the boots still made a familiar sound on hard surfaces. He particularly enjoyed the hollow, rounded quality his footsteps made when he crossed Statesman’s many hardwood floors. Particularly in the large storage areas the housed the enormous barrels of whiskey while they aged. 

He was also pragmatic. The boots were definitely more appropriate on the occasions they went horse riding, or other “outdoor activities” that his new keepers might engage in. While he might be fastidious in regards to his appearance, he still valued practicality.  For the landscape of Kentucky, the boots were more appropriate. And they did indeed, have a satisfying click that was comfortingly familiar. 

While the course was being finalised, he tested his right hand by creating a fist and then opening his palm wide. He repeated this several times. There was residual soreness from the prior days drill, but nothing that caused him concern. In the simulation, there would be a wide variety of firearms and weapons available in the course. Not every weapon would be a handgun. A shotgun or a riffle could be braced on the shoulder. Different weapons would require a different set of muscle and therefore prevent repetitive fatigue.

His shooting hand didn’t concern him, he was fairly certain he could fire from his weak hand as well. He was curious to find out. He decided to try even if the opportunity didn’t present itself. 

As he entered the course, the Statesman gathered around the monitors.

Even in a suit, he manoeuvred like an elite operator. His movement was refined, graceful, efficient. He held himself tall when he needed to check and clear areas, keeping his spine in alignment. His footing was sure and stable as he maintained a mid-foot drive with every step he took, balancing his weight between the ball of his foot and the heel.

He was not one to peacock. His skills and technique always had a specific goal and end result in mind. Ego had no place in life and death scenarios. But on the course, after he completed a task successfully, he could’t help but push the level of his abilities. Explore his edge. He began following up his kill shots with a second maneuver from a trickier vantage point, or with a more demanding technique, adopting more and more challenging strategies and unlikely scenarios. Each time, giving a little bit more than was necessary. He wanted to discover the full capacity of his skill. 

On the course, he felt a new vitality. Whether it be due to the physical exertion of being in the field, or the mental challenges that sharpened the edges of his mind, he did not question. He simply allowed it to flow.

He attempted to fire from his non-dominant hand when the weapon and the cover required it. He adopted a canted shooting stance, firing the gun from a 45 degree angle, aiming for a target that would be impossible in his position with a right hand grip. Well, that was confirmation he could shoot with both hands. When he needed to reload, he also did so with one hand, just to see if he could. He could. With the slide locked to the rear, he placed the gun between his knees with the grip facing upwards. He slid the magazine and then locked it into place and removed the gun from between his knees. His hand hit the slide release and he got back into the fight in a matter of seconds. Some of those watching hadn’t been noticed. His technique and execution was flawless.

He fired on the run at a moving target who was using a “civilian” as cover and hit his mark.

He shot two weapons at a time.

He shot from behind his back. 

He could shoot through things and still hit his target on the other side. 

He could shoot away from a target, knowing that the force and angle of the ricochet would hit its intended target.

He used bullets as a tool, shooting items into place, to remove barriers, open doors.

He used bullets to adjust a reflective surface so he could see around a blind corner.

It was as if he was mapping the entire course and picturing it in his head while he moved. Once he scanned an area, he was immediately able to place the location in relation to his position and the rest of the course. 

Not only was he expert at weaponry, a top notch marksman, his physical capabilities far exceeded their expectations. He was physically fit, but it was beyond that. He was evolved. He had a body awareness, not only in control of his physical actions, but the awareness of his own body moving through space. (He would be one hell of a lover) At times his movements were economical, not wasting a single iota of energy on a motion that was unnecessary.

But the movements that he did come up with were impressive. One motion would seamlessly flow into the next like a dance. A dance with bullets and weapons, but a dance nonetheless. 

He could shoulder roll while aiming and discharging a weapon.

He could knee slide to dodge obstacles.

He could position himself to make a defensive position into an offensive one. 

He could use a target as a cover, while taking out the target at the same time.

He could practice hand to hand combat for close quarter contact, simultaneously hit targets on the periphery with his weapon. 

At one point he threw his gun forward in the air, while on the move, used both hands to catapult himself over a low wall while the gun was still traveling through space. He caught the gun, landed and then swung it around in his hand and used it as a cudgel to incapacitate a target before he had a chance to reload. 

Agent Tequila leaned in.

“Holy shit.”

“Mmm Hmm.” Ginger replied.

If they hadn’t witnessed it on the monitors, they would not have believed it. 

It seemed like the further he got into the course, the better he performed.

He moved faster, with more precision, solved problems more quickly, took out more targets.

His most valuable asset, even more than his marksmanship and his physical and tactical expertise, would be his sheer creativity and his ability to improvise on the fly. It was as if, when faced with a problem, there was always a solution. You could almost hear him say, “Well, let’s find out.” The methodology that he used could be seen as unorthodox. It often purposely put him in harms way, but that same method enabled him to open a door to a solution that previously had not been possible. It wasn’t that the proposed solution was not feasible. The solution did not even exist until he created it.  He was confident enough to trust his own judgement and took risks in only the most challenging situations.

Agent Tequila, “If there was a soundtrack to go with this, that would be some kickass music”. 

Ginger nodded. She had to agree. Watching Harry move the way he did in his suit? It might seem silly or old fashioned or traditional to think what she did. He looked noble, gallant, honourable even.

Harry Hart was never one to disappoint. When he was expected to deliver, he delivered and then some. He completed the course while beating Statesman’s record time. To the observers, it felt like he had been in the warehouse for a lifetime. Hadn’t he been moving in slow motion? Some of them even forgot to breathe. 

He burst through the exit on the other side. The doors opened to the sound of cheers and applause. The breeze was cool on his skin, while the sun provided an inviting warmth. The air was fresh and crisp. It was a beautiful day to feel accomplished. He left any residual stress or tension behind. He felt light.

This was not a sight that Statesman was accustomed to seeing after a course was completed. More often than not, the agent would appear dazed, distressed, a little shell-shocked, a little traumatised, perhaps even rethinking his chosen career. Not many were cut out for this kind of work. Rarely did you ever see one, not just capable of the work, but made for it, thrive on it. Harry Hart was the latter.

Harry was exhilarated in a way that he hadn’t felt since he regained consciousness. The calm, cool, collected, focused, deadly Harry Hart from the warehouse gave way and a new man took his place. His expression opened up with a vibrant laugh that changed the very structure of his face. Hell, it changed him into a different person. Whatever, walls, barriers he built had fallen aside, revealing his true authentic nature. He was a man who enjoyed being alive. When he grinned, it was easy to imagine that he would have no problem winning hearts. Certainly most of the females that had watched him take the course were left a little breathless, a little enchanted. And actually, the men didn’t look that much different. 

Why did he seem so attractive at that moment?  

Why did he look so charismatic as he stood, tall and confident in his pinstripe suit, outside the warehouse with an easy smile and warm brown eyes? What had changed from the time he entered the course on the other side? 

The man who started the course had been handsome. The man that came out at the end? It would be easy to fall in love with him. That man was beautiful.

They were seeing a man in his element.  

They were witnessing a man finding his identity.

He seemed more present, more there, more alive. 

He finally felt like he had a place and a purpose. 

When he woke up in the medical ward, his first thought had been:  “My name is Harry Hart.” 

It was different now. There was a connection, a new realization. 

Now he was awakening outside the warehouse.

This time around, he thought to himself.

“I am Harry Hart.”

His brown eyes appeared even more golden in the sunlight. They were warm and inviting. No longer cold. No longer closed off. The light wind tossed a lock over his forehead. In a rare gesture he ran his hand through his hair.

He slung the communication headset around his neck, but not before jesting.

“All right.” He said definitively.   He paused for a moment.

He grinned. “Would you like to see that again?” 

——

What they discovered when Harry completed the course. …Whatever past Harry had come from, he had advanced tactical and technical skills that had muscle memory and strategy so ingrained into every fiber of his being that he didn’t need to think–he simply acted. In the face of immediate life threatening danger, he didn’t merely react to a situation. He took charge. He didn’t make decisions to survive. He made decisions to win.

They had to assume an agent of his caliber would be missed by his organisation. His talent, skill and expertise, if found in an agent, you very well make sure that agent stays in your employ. It was even likely that he was a senior agent or a director. They could certainly imagine him in a leadership role. A complicating factor could be that he was presumed deceased, and therefore, there was no chatter on the wire where you could find information, if only you knew what to look for. 

——

After Harry had literally triumphed over the course, there was a new aura about him. Before the trials, though he was always the perfect gentleman, he was reticent, distant, not quite aloof, but definitely keeping himself an arms length away. Both physically and metaphorically.

He wasn’t one to participate in any activities that weren’t directly related to him. He certainly didn’t spend time in the lounge, conversing with the others or stopping in for a cocktail. He didn’t socialise with any of the others. He would politely participate in conversations that happened around him. Could be quite engaging when immersed in a topic he was intrigued with. There was an unspoken invitation that he was always welcome. In addition, one of the Statesman usually asked him to join directly. Harry would always politely decline. Not offering a reason or excuse, but simply turning down the offer in his quiet, but firm way.

He answered questions that were directed to him, but when the conversation took a turn away from work and into more personal areas, he would offer his apologies and depart for a quiet location. He could often be seen a little aways from campus, sitting in the sun, an open book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. 

He never spoke of his past unless he was questioning Ginger or Tequila for any information that they may have overlooked when they initially found him. By all appearances, he seemed to be handling himself well. Especially under the circumstances. But since they didn’t have a frame of reference, they didn’t know if he was usually so reserved, or if this was a result of the situation he found himself in. 

They found that he could horse ride. Once he brushed up on tacking and the most basic fundamentals of horsemanship, he was able to recall the rest on his own. He only rode alone. He never left the campus unless it was required by Statesman. He wouldn’t have anywhere to go besides. The only time he was away, was when he was on horseback. 

He did make an exception regarding his attire when it came to this activity. The Statesman all rode western style. A suit wasn’t the most appropriate. If they rode English, he would have requested a riding habit. His compromise? A pair of trousers, and a button down shirt. No suit, no jacket, no tie. Regardless, he did make a striking figure on horseback. Once he was, quite literally, back in the saddle, he handled himself gracefully. He was both firm and gentle with the animals and they responded to him in turn. He seemed more at ease and communicate more with the horses than with people. It was auspicious, though, seeing a cowboy hat perched on this head. 

They kept an eye on him, at least from a distance. Making sure that they caught any signs of undue stress, mental or emotional problems, disassociation, anhedonia, or displacement. The side effects of amnesia were hard to predict. If a person is unable to reclaim their lost memories, they would have to start rebuilding their history from scratch. This was easier for some than others. The older the person was when they suffered memory loss, the more difficult it became to let go of a past they no longer remembered.

With Harry being older than most of the Statesman, he may be having a harder time assimilating. Even though upon waking, he was coherent, intelligent, adaptive, accepting of his situation, once the realisation sets in that their condition is permanent, there may be a later period of denial that was similar to grief. Suffering the loss of their identity. 

Looking at the person that he was before the physical trials was like looking through a window that was covered with a thick film of dust. You might be able to discern that there was something significant, meaningful, worthwhile on other side of the glass, but it would always be a shadowy, vague, dim suggestion of what it actually was.

The tests had cleared away the dust and debris until the glass was clear, crystalline, perfectly see-through. And what had been behind the glass suddenly shone through. That person was the real Harry. Not the shadow form that you would occasionally see, always crossing from one place to the next. Hardly ever still. Never comfortable to remain in one place for long.

After the trials, he was more open, quicker to smile and engage in conversation. Though he would still refuse invitations on occasion, he would be more willing to accept with equal frequency. They discovered he could be quite the conversationalist. His dry wit and biting sense of humour was a welcome change to the often crass or juvenile comments from the male agents. 

If he wanted to, he could easily hold court. His accent and his deep voice were as captivating as his words. But never did he dominate a conversation. He always made a conscious effort to include everyone’s remarks and would even ask the opinion of those who looked like they wanted to say something, but were hesitant for one reason or another. He was more than willing to have someone else take the lead in a conversation, but if the conversation veered in an uncomfortable or inappropriate direction, he always managed to guide it back to civility. Not that he was opposed to a healthy debate, but he did believe that some words should be either said in private or not at all.

He was just as expert at navigating social situations as he was the field. This was a surprise to them since he was so withdrawn at first. They discovered that he was just someone who never wasted words. 

Not only did he become an increasing part of the fabric of Statesman’s front, he also participated more in the intelligence side of the agency. His insight was valuable, his strategies were sometimes unexpected but always effective, and his analysis sharp and concise. He didn’t go out into the field on operations, but he often assisted handlers and their agents with more demanding, complicated missions. Many times he was able to foresee an obstacle that they could avoid, or lead them out of an operation that had gone sideways. At first, the teams were hesitant to request his assistance, whether they were averse, intimidated or just nervous to approach him. But as he led teams into more successful missions, with less loss, less injury, less risk, he was often sought out, his time claimed in advance.

If he missed the field, it didn’t show. They still didn’t feel comfortable sending Harry out on assignment and he never requested a mission. They feared that the lack of direct action, the kind that he had participated in during his test course, would revert him back to the state where he was listless, closed off, removed. But he did not regress. If anything, he become more. It was difficult to explain to someone who didn’t know him during his transition. But with every passing day, with every new interaction, with every mission that he assisted, with every training session he held for advanced weapon and tactical skills, which he did have to admit, he particularly enjoyed, he just become more himself. 

By the end of the year, he was The Brit. Everyone knew him. Everyone adored him. He was free with his smile, his laughter, with a kind or encouraging word. His pinstripe suit was now a common site on campus. He had his own group of women that would pine after him, though he remained firmly unattached. His opinion was respected, his advice valued, his critiques, though sometimes harsh, were always considered constructive. 

He was not exactly gregarious, but he was a very skilled conversationalist. He could exchange witty repartee, as well as engage in topics with depth and you could trust that there was always something interesting on his mind. When he excused himself for any reason, you were left knowing more, feeling more, thinking more. However, by nature, they learned, he was a reserved and private person. But whatever walls or fences that he had constructed at the beginning of his stay, had slowly but consistently been deconstructed. On that bedrock, he wasn’t rebuilding his history. Without even thinking about it, he was fashioning a completely new one. 

The last year had been spent laying down the foundation for his new life, accumulating building blocks, each experience a new row of brick and mortar. He had let go, completely, of who he might have been in the past. The exercises that he and Ginger went through to try to recover his memory, from hypnosis, light therapy, trauma induced memory retrieval, did not work. After not even a modicum of success, felt that he spent an appropriate amount of time trying to regain his memory. He accepted the fact that his memory was gone. That he would be best to move forward. Not to look back. It was simple really. There wasn’t anything to look back on. So he began his life at Statesman.

—-

His awareness circled back to Statesman HQ, to their stateroom and fully to the present moment.  Ginger was explaining the last of the progress he had made during his year at Statesman.  He had finally reached a point of satisfaction with what was his life. Was he looking for more? Perhaps. Contentment wasn’t a natural state for him. There was always room for growth, for learning new things, and having new experiences.

However, ironically, not just because of the amnesia, he was not one for looking back. He felt that he had always been this way. Now, here were three individuals who were asking him to do just that. Asking him very earnestly, sincerely, and genuinely. 

Like the girl had said, his instincts would be triggered if they were being dishonest or withholding information.  He believed they were telling the truth and had nothing to hide. But for once, he was at a loss.  What was he to do with this information?  Was it even possible to be the person they wanted him to be? He was looking for an answer, but could find none.

He tested the weight of his questions. Was this a burden that he wanted to carry? Does a past that you can’t remember even matter? Should it even? Perhaps the only reason would be to recognise the relationships with those who still remembered you. Where was the honesty in that situation? Wouldn’t faking a past that you can’t remember be just as bad as pretending that you are the person that you used to be. While organising these questions in the folders of his mind, he kept his face calm and neutral. He didn’t have to decide anything at this moment. But he did need to establish boundaries.

He couldn’t give an answer to these three individuals. But what he could do was help them in their current situation. Help them find out who had destroyed their agency, what they were planning and how to stop them. At least, that he could offer. That, he could do. The rest would still be there. Problems, if ignored, only became more vexing. He would look at them later. Perhaps the answer would come to him.

“My sincere apologies.” He started. 

“Ginger is correct. I suffer from amnesia and I recall nothing about my history. Nothing prior to my time recovering here at Statesman. While I retain the skills and knowledge that I possessed in the past, I do not have any memory as to how or why I have them.

“We have tried every means available to recover my memories, with no success.” 

“But we are here now.” Merlin interrupted, encouraged. “We can remind you. Perhaps trigger something that makes you remember.”

“We can help. He’s right. “ Eggsy added. “Who knows more about you, than Merlin?”

Roxy nodded in agreement.

It was probably the first time the group looked somewhat enthusiastic.

Ginger interrupted. She was worried about this. She would have to be the one to grab their hopes and tether them back to reality. 

“Not to discredit your suggestion. If this were a different case, then yes, there is the possibility that it would work. But when someone is suffering from retrograde amnesia, unfortunately, their memory cannot be recovered by simply being informed about their personal experiences and their identity. What you are referring to is called the reminder effect. This would consist of re-exposing the patient to past personal information. This can work for other types of amnesia, but simply giving Harry details of his life won’t help him retrieve memories.”

Eggsy eyes narrowed. He was dubious. He was convinced something they said or told him could surely open up the gates to Harry’s memory. They just needed to try.  They just needed a chance. They hadn’t even had the opportunity to say anything to him at all. They looked toward Harry, imploringly.

Harry was his usual respectful, attentive self. But his expression was guarded and he was quiet.

Their frustration limped across the table in his direction. Ginger needed to redirect.

These people had been through hell and back. But Harry was her patient. And he was Statesman now, regardless of his pinstripe suit, his accent, or his British mannerisms. As much as she sympathised with their situation, there was the risk that Harry’s progress would stall or that he could relapse. The worst thing they could do would be to insist Harry be someone he no longer was under the misguided notion that they were helping him. Harry would be trapped, defeated and they would only face disappointment.  Ginger arranged the words carefully before she spoke.

“Memories are exceedingly intricate. But to simplify, making a memory involves storing information in the brain as a specific pattern of electrical activity.” she explained.

While avoiding excess jargon, she wanted to emphasise the complexity of Harry’s memory loss. If only it were as simple as forgetting something and not being able to remember.

“When we recall a memory, we recreate the pattern of electrical activity that formed it in the first place. This information is then distributed across different regions in the brain to retrieve the memory.  Injury in any part of this circuit can fracture memory function.  It’s not that the synapses, the path, necessary to make these connections, is blocked. It’s much more than that. There’s nothing at the end of the path. There’s nothing to retrieve. It is as if the memory was never made. It’s not hidden. It’s not in the subconscious. It’s not filed somewhere deep in his psyche. It simply does not exist.”

Disheartened. Dejected. Depressed. The three of them were the dictionary definitions. Ginger sighed. Being the bearer of bad news was never a party, but this was less than enjoyable.  However, she wanted to explain as much as she could so Harry wouldn’t have to. He had made so much progress in the past year. It had to be unsettling to face an unknown past, when you had made so much effort to be in the present.

Getting to her point. “Unfortunately, there is no established cure for retrograde amnesia memory loss. There’s no magic drug or deep-brain stimulation that jolts memories back into the mind. I wish there were. If recovery does happen, it largely occurs on its own.  With amnesia as a result of brain trauma, If you're really lucky, new pathways form among the remaining brain cells, like in stroke victims, or other parts of the brain take over from the damaged areas in what we call neural plasticity. But that is very rare.”

“Sometimes, the reminder treatment is more than ineffective, it can also be harmful. Too often, the stories people tell amnesiacs sound like someone else's life and it can be unsettling to them. Witnessing the disappointment of past friends, colleagues, and family when they can’t remember, or be the person who they used to to be, can be emotionally damaging. Having people tell you how to think and feel, or that you’re not who you are supposed to be can be distressing.”  

 “I don’t mean to be discouraging or unsympathetic. It’s crucial for us, for our own sakes, but most of all, for Harry’s,” she placed her hand on his forearm for emphasis, “ that we are realistic.” She wanted to be very clear as she drew her hand back and made her final, essential point “Do not make expectations that can only result in disappointment.”

As Eggsy, Merlin and Roxy discussed Harry’s future with the other Statesmen, Harry claimed this time to examine the three faces across the table. He set aside any of their mannerisms, agitations, conflicts that were due to the current circumstance and concentrated on what he believed to be their true and natural state. He didn’t try to analyse them, judge them or question what he saw. He tried to feel them. To feel the look in their eyes, to feel the expressions on their faces, to feel the quality of their movements.

He closed his eyes for a moment and just listened, not to their words, but to hear the sound of their voices. He felt their vibration.  Not only to see if anything sparked in his mind, but viscerally. A reflex, an intuition, a sensation that stirred something deep rooted in his bones. 

But his mind and his body were quiet and still.

It was time for him to speak up. Before he addressed them directly, sat up even straighter. Tall and silent. He did not make any of the usual gestures he did when preparing to take over a conversation. Familiar movements of brushing something non-existent off his suit, adjusting his cuffs, running his hand along the back of his hair, adjusting his glasses. He was still. His hands were clasped and rested on the table. 

Only seconds ticked by until everyone quieted along with him. Their heads all turned in the same direction. Harry could always pull attention to him without saying a word. 

He was also not one to hold back words that needed to be said. Time would be lost and nothing would be gained.  He did not want them to get their hopes up. He did not want to them to expect something from him that he could not deliver. 

For the second time, he opened with an apology. “I’m very sorry.” His eyes were sympathetic. 

They had the feeling he was preparing them for bad news.

His words were sure and resolute. There was no hesitation. No wavering. When Harry made a decision, he was firm.

“I do not remember Kingsman.” 

He shifted his weight forward in his chair, resting his elbows and forearms on the table and folded his hands together. It was a gesture of familiarity. He spoke directly to them, as if they were having a conversation. It wasn’t just reciting a statement. He knew, full well, they would be affected by his words. He knew that they would not be the words they wanted to hear. He knew it would be painful for them to be on the receiving end of his words, not matter how gently and honestly he delivered them. He would serve them by being unguarded, unreserved and up front.

He paused so they could process what he was telling them. 

“Prior to your arrival, I was not even aware of its existence.” He added frankly.

“I do not recall any relationships I may have had currently or in the past.” He spoke plainly.

“As much as you may want me to, and I recognise that you do, and I understand where that need comes from, I cannot say, in all honesty, that I know you.” 

Harry was nothing if not direct. 

His eyes held each of theirs. He saw the dejection in their faces. He could not help but feel empathetic. It was obvious that, whoever he was in the past, these people cared for him very deeply. Perhaps even loved. But for Harry, he was never this person and he was never one to fake an emotion he didn’t feel. 

He was compassionate, but firm. "I’m unable to say I even recognise you. I want to make it abundantly clear that I am not the man you used to know. I may look like him, I may sound like him, at times I may even act like him. But I am not him.” His voice was kind now. His face was gentle. His expression no longer guarded. 

“However meaningful your relationship was, no matter how strong the connection, I am unable to reciprocate in a way that would honor that bond.”

With an honesty and an openheartedness that touched all their raw wounds, he offered.

“It’s not that I can’t remember the Harry I used to be. Or that I do not care. It’s obvious that your relationship with this man was very important, very meaningful, to all of you.” 

He softened both his voice and his manner.  

“It is, that this person you used to know, in my eyes, he never existed.” His face gentled. Became grave and solemn, almost tender. 

“Do you understand?” 

And for Roxy, Eggsy and Merlin, that perhaps was the most painful moment of all. Because with the kindness they heard in his voice, and the softness they saw in his eyes, the way he held his concern for them, on his sleeve where they could see it, he was in that moment, everything that they knew and loved. He was their Harry Hart. He was their Galahad. 

-----

Whew! If you got this far thanks for reading. Let me know what you think, good, bad, funny, dumb, sad, WTF? Whatever.  

Always feel free to reblog, share with someone else who thought TGC had sooo much more potential. Or was pissed that they killed off Roxy. And don’t even get me started on Merlin....

[darling-i-read-it]

Paulie’s Daughter

Jimmy Conway x reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: cuss words, drinking, talks of murder

Author’s Note: I hope you guys like this! Sorry it took a bit to be posted but I was so backed up with requests. We stan Jimmy, he really be superior 

Requested: by anon, HI BABE!! IM SO LIKE INVESTED IN JIMMY X PAULIES DAUGHTER READER SO DUJDJE so I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is older and like jimmy asks her out on a date. (Maybe include Henry losing his shit in the background because he likes her)  Hdhdhd :)) if you don’t wanna do it tHATS fine but thank you!!

Requested: by @oh-my-love-anastasia​, Officially requesting Jimmy x Paulie's daughter reader, on behalf of everyone 😂💖✨ thank you for entertaining all these ideas, hun, we don't deserve you! ✨👑👑👑✨

Summary: the requests!

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

When you were born you were already practically made. If you hadn’t been a girl you were pretty sure you would have been, just beside your dad baptising you as well. As you grew up you knew the ropes, better than mostly anyone. You were treated with respect at the young age of seven because you were Paulie's daughter. That was a big deal.

Your mom died when you were young so it was really just you and him against the world and the guys who may want to hurt you. Honestly though there wasn’t anybody who wanted to hurt you for anything more than leverage. That being said you had a heavy guard of protection. 

When you were old enough to be involved in business you mostly knew everyone. There wasn’t much you had to learn so when you were twenty you were pretty much in the full swing of things. 

You sat in the bar, people playing games around you and women handing out drinks. You took one and gave them a meek smile which they always returned. It was hard being a girl in these parts and they were younger than you, in their teens probably. Henry nudged you and pointed out one of the guys coming in already drunk. You laughed, raising your half empty drink. 

“Ah to One Eye Joe always being drunk,” you laughed.

“Have you ever seen him sober?” Henry asked.

“Not since we were like 13,” you said truthfully. You leaned against the counter, staring out at the crowd. You glanced at your dad who was walking up, likely to chastise Henry about something. You and Henry had known each other forever. Your dad had basically made him his son so you were very used to Henry being around. You liked him enough, not one to shy away from his dry humor. 

“Hey!” You heard Tommy before you saw him more often than not. You turned your head and both Paulie and Tommy approached you and Henry at the same time.

“Tommy,” you said, putting your drink down as your dad pointed at it. “Dad.” 

“Need something?” Henry asked. 

“I gotta steal you a moment,” Paulie said. “Away from the daughter.”

“Leaving us alone, quite a plan Paulie,” Tommy said laughing. You shook your head and pointed at Tommy. You scanned the room and your eyes caught Jimmy entering the bar. Seemed to be the hot spot for the afternoon. 

“I’m going to see Jimmy about some cash,” you said, downing your drink.

“Oh did he forget to pay the last time you left bed?” Tommy teased and you pointed a finger at him as you walked away.

“You’re just fucking pissed you can’t get into bed Tommy,” you called. 

You walked over to Jimmy and smiled as he saw you. He walked through the crowd, making small hellos to people as they said it. 

You and Jimmy hadn’t known each other your whole life. You had only met when you were about 16 because your dad said he was one of the big bosses and was nervous you might get hurt. When you were eventually introduced you hit it off. You had been friends for ages and he had always seemed to understand. 

Now that you were older and all grown he leaned against the wall, smiling charmingly. 

“Hey stranger. Thank you for entering at just the right time to get me away from Tommys advances,” you joked, leaning against the wall with your back. He chuckled and crossed his arms. One of the girls quickly offered him a drink and he took it, shoving a fifty in her pocket. 

“It’s my job.” He offered you a drink and you declined. “I was actually hoping to find you,” he said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Why, you gonna wack me Jimmy?” you asked, smiling teasingly. 

“No actually I was gonna ask you out to dinner with me.” Your mouth opened in surprise but you quickly closed it again as the question registered. You had always had a crush on Jimmy, a harsh one but you never thought he would feel the same way.

“Only if you pay Conway,” you said, attempting to play it cool. He chuckled and shrugged.

“I’m not opposed. Tomorrow work?”

“How about tonight? What's the point in wasting time.” 

You glanced over and your dad was pulling Henry by the ear back to you while Tommy tailed along, laughing. 

“What’d he do now?” you asked. 

“Take him down to the house and don’t let him leave,” Paulie said annoyed. 

“He fucked up, still gauging how,” Tommy chimed in.

“I can’t, I have plans tonight,” you said. 

“What? A date?” Henry asked and everyone hung off your answer, your dad holding his breath. 

“Yeah actually,” you said smiling.

“With who!?” Tommy yelled. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Jimmy said and then slithered through the crowd again. You smiled to yourself and felt yourself fluster. You pointed meekly at Jimmy.

“Him.”

“Him?!” Henry asked. Paulie thought you would end up with Henry one day. This threw a wrench in the plan but he wasn’t against it. Jimmy was a good guy and he knew he would treat you well. 

“You got a problem with that Hill?” you questioned. “Tommy can you take him back to the house?” 

“Shit, sure now that we know you and Jimmy are actually going to bone this time.” You hit him but you had a sly smile on your face as you disappeared into the crowd.

[milkbread420]

Your requests are still open? I was wondering if you could write something for Oikawa or maybe Atsumu being excited after a win and spontaneously kissing their team manager y/n in the heat of the moment? I love your writing! You always give us such nice stuff to read and enjoy 💕

Warnings: a possible swear word, oops.

a.n: I DROPPED EVERYTHING FOR THIS OMG IM IN LOVE WITH THEM. Also if you like atsumu and oikawa I am so very sorry in advance about the fic I am currently working on

It was match point for Seijoh, and you were sitting on the edge of the bench with the coaches, biting the tips of your fingers nervously; one bad play was all it would take to turn it into a two point game. You inhaled deeply and whispered a silent plea as you realized who was up to serve.

“Let’s go Oikawa!” someone yelled. You weren’t able to tell who it was, because you were far too focused on the brunette himself. He was tense, but not enough that it would throw him off, only nervous enough to show he really cared about winning. You bit the inside of your cheek as the ball went up in the air, and you almost couldn’t watch. Your heart sped up as the setter took his steps, and leaned forward when he jumped.

“Dear god, don’t let it be out,” the couch said burying his face in his hands. You gritted your teeth together when his hand hit the ball, sending it over the net so fast you almost missed it.

The whistle blew.

Your team cheered, and you flew up from your spot on the bench to join them in their celebration. They were in the midst of a group huddle and Oikawa’s eyes locked on yours from the short distance between you. He pulled away from his team with a smile and ran up to you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he said to you, holding you firmly by the shoulders. You laughed and shoved him playfully, frightened when he looked at you like a deer in headlights. For a moment your tongue was tied, and when you finally had opened your mouth to speak, you were cut off by the sensation of his lips on yours. Your eyes shot open for a moment befofe they fluttered shut and you melted into his embrace. Though he’d done the same thing in the past, he’d never really said anything before the kiss, so his words were more what caught you off guard. Oikawa held you there for a moment and you were honestly a little embarrassed that there were still at least a hundred people in the gymnasium watching you make out with the boy everyone wanted to make out with. He felt your body tense, and pulled you closer, reassuring with his strong arms around your waist, smiling against your lips as your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

You were certain the kiss would’ve lasted longer, and gotten much more heated, if coach hadn’t tapped Oikawa’s shoulder and said, “Alright, that’s enough.” The brunette pulled away, out of breath, his face flushed and hair a mess; he looked at you with an intense emotion you didn’t quite recognize, “Oikawa get back to your team.”

“Yes sir,” he said breathlessly, backpedaling towards his team. He pointed at you and smiled, you giggled and shook your head, “I’m gonna marry you!” the boy yelled, then turned around and jogged back to his teammates. You laughed as Iwaizumi smacked the back of his head.

Mizoguchi approached you with a confused look, “Did he say he was going to marry you?” you nodded and chuckled as the man sighed, “Boys will be boys, I guess,”

You shrugged and let out a sigh, “It’d be nice if he didn’t go saying weird things like that in front of everyone,” the assistant coach nodded in agreement before walking away, leaving you to ponder the situation alone.

When the team finally broke away, you offered them all high fives as they cleared out of the gym, last but certainly not least, was Oikawa.

“How about you meet me in the storage closet when we get back to school? So we can pick up where we left off,” he whispered lowly in your ear, making you blush furiously as he continued toward the exit, “And by the way, y/n, about what I said earlier,” he stopped and turned all the way towards you, brown eyes locking on yours, “I’m a man of my word.”

Inarizaki was a team well known for winning, so it came as a complete shock to both the crowd and the coaches when they entered a two point game. Your team had managed to take the lead, but you were aware that could change at any moment. Ojiro was up to serve and you took a deep breath as the ball went over the net. For a moment you were sure it would be a service ace, but the other team recieved it. You wiped your hand across your face in nervousness and watched as the opposing team made their play, recieved by Akagi. You saw your team’s setter smirk and toss the ball to his brother. Yelling something you couldn’t quite make out as the crowd went wild.

You got up and cheered as Osamu spiked it onto their opponents side, hearing the whistle of confirmation shortly after. Your arms flew in the air, accidentally flinging your clipboard at your coach who let out an irritated huff as you ran towards the twins.

“You guys!” You yelled, jumping up and down in excitement, “That was amazing!”

“Thanks,”

“Thanks,”

They spoke in unison and then sent each other a glare; you laughed and looked at Atsumu, “That was an amazing set, ‘ya know?”

His lips curved upwards into a smirk, “Are we about to kiss right now?”

“Oh jeez,” Osamu mumbled, rolling his eyes and walking away.

“What?” You laughed thinking he was joking. The boy smirked and picked you up, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you into a rough kiss.

You were too taken aback to react properly, and you heard him mutter, “Relax,” against your lips and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You giggled and wrapped your legs around the setter’s waist. His arms slid down under your ass and you swore he smirked as he gave it a light squeeze. Your fingers ran through his blonde hair and you finally felt him pull away. He set you down gently and shot you a charming, but breathless smile.

“Right in front of my salad,” Osamu said shaking his head as he yanked his brother’s arm into the team’s huddle. Your hand flew to your mouth as you took in what had just happened. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment as you realized he’d just done that in front of all of his insane fans; a shaky sigh escaped your lips as you caught your breath.

“Woah,” you said to no one in particular. Atsumu Miya had seriously just kissed you in front of a few hundred people like it was nothing. You wondered how you would bring yourself to talk about it later; if you could even bring yourself to talk about it at all. Either way, you were certain of one thing. He would tease you about it relentlessly.

A sigh escaped you as you realized you were the last one from your team still in the gymnasium, at least you thought you were, until your eyes fell dead on Atsumu’s. He sauntered towards you with his arms folded and a shit eating grin on his face, “So,” he began, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he spoke, “why ‘dontcha head back to my place after this?”

You squirmed out of his hold, “I’m concerned about what you’re implying,”

“Oh ‘ya know,” he leaned down to talk in your ear, not whisper, because he wanted whoever else was there to hear him too, “‘Ya left me with some unfinished business,”

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, “Isn’t Osamu gonna be home,”

“He won’t know ‘yer there if ‘yer quiet,”

You would not be walking the next day xoxo

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Boundary Communication

A/N: This was a little steamier I think than I have written but I do intend to extend my horizons as I begin writing again. I can read the crap out of some smut but never managed to write it lol but I’m gonna ease into it. I hope you like it! Also, anyone who wants to, feel free to send more requests in!

Requested?: Yes, “Heyy can you write with harry? Where harry and reader are dating and when Harry and reader are alone harry is being all needy clingy touchy touchy kisses hugs cuddles all cute but reader is a bit uncomfortable because she is shy. After a few attempts of trying to warm her up(this part may be a bit smutty but it is totally fine if you dont write smut) harry  gives her space and he is heartbroken bc she is not comfortable with him yet? And then they make up this time she pushes herself out of her comfort zone. Im sorry this is so specific but i thought it would be cute. And harry is so underrated he deserves more imagines. I would be so happy if you can write this!! Love you😻”

Summary: I think I stuck to the request above, I just didn’t get super steamy with it.

CW/TW: Sixth Year, No Voldemort AU, Harry Potter x Reader, it might be a little heavy bc the reader is uncomfy w/ her boyfriend Harry’s advances. Kisses, neck kisses, that sort of thing.

Word Count: 1,114

Your POV

    I dropped my school bag at the end of one of the common room couches and plopped down on to said couch. It’s been a long day with a double Potions lesson in which Snape was being extra cruel. Poor Neville managed to get detention simply for chopping his ingredients wrong and Seamus got detention and 20 points deducted from Gryffindor for blowing his potion up yet again. I had trouble as well. Snape seemed rather unfond of me today and kept a close eye on me. I already suck at Potions, let alone when my every move is being watched and criticized.

    Then there is the matter of my issues with my boyfriend Harry. He’s been rather clingy and touchy lately but I still haven’t gotten used to it yet so I’ve mostly shrugged him off or made an excuse to escape. I can tell it’s weighing on him but I’ve tried my hardest and still can’t manage to be comfortable yet. My moody thoughts are interrupted when the portrait guarding the entrance to our common room opens and Harry steps through.

    The air in the empty common room suddenly feels suffocating. I watch Harry out of the corner of my eye as he looks back and forth between me and the staircase to his dormitory. He finally seems to make a decision in his struggle and makes his way over to me and takes a seat on my right. I keep my gaze on the lit fireplace to my left as he gently places his hand on my knee. When I don’t look up at him, he gently squeezes my knee to pull my attention toward him.

    I look toward him but don’t meet his eye and he is the first to speak, “You seem stressed.”

    I shrug my shoulders and look back towards the fire, “Potions was a royal pain in the ass today and I didn’t sleep well last night.”

    Harry seems to think for a moment before ducking his head to whisper in my ear, “I know something that could help you relax.” His hand slowly ventures up my thigh as he says this. Suddenly, he gets up off the couch and picks me up bridal style before carrying me up to his empty dorm room. He drops me on the bed softly before placing a tentative kiss on my lips. I kiss back but he quickly moves on to pepper kisses along my neck as he hovers above me. I stiffen at how ticklish it is but force myself to relax. I trust him with my life, why is this such a struggle for me.

    Harry stops to look up at me as he tugs gently at the hem of my shirt, “Are you okay with this? You usually stop me here.”

    I look into his eyes as a battle rages within me before looking away and muttering softly, “I’m sorry Harry I can’t do this.” He moves from above me and sits down on the edge of the bed with his back turned toward me. I get up and silently leave the room to pick up my bag downstairs before heading to my own dormitory.

    It’s a few days later before I really manage to talk to Harry again. I sit down at breakfast beside Hermione. Across from me, Harry keeps his head low and focuses on his breakfast. Beside him, Ron gives Hermione a specific kind of look and she returns with one. They go on swapping facial expressions, seemingly having a silent conversation, for a minute or so before Hermione finally turns to me and whispers in my ear, “At least say good morning to him. This silence between the two of you is killing us.”

    I clear my throat before timidly catching Harry’s eye and saying, “Good morning, Harry.” He mumbles a good morning back before grabbing Ron’s arm and dragging him away and out of the Great Hall.

Hermione nudges my shoulder, “Please do try to make up with him soon. I’ve never seen him so glum, not even when the Whomping Willow destroyed his Nimbus.” I laugh softly to myself and am soon lost in thought. Harry is a great guy and I love him dearly. “Perhaps what you two lack is communication. Tell him how you feel and express what makes you shy away from intimacy with him,” Hermione says before grabbing her book bag and walking off toward Professor McGonagall.

I sigh and grab my bag as well before wandering off toward our first lesson, half hoping to run into Harry on my way there. My wish is quickly granted too. I literally run into him as I turn a corner. When I notice it’s him, I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on as I mumble, “Can we talk after class? I miss you.”

He wraps his arms around me as well and mumbles a, “Sure, love.” We stand there a moment before the bell rings and pulls us apart and towards our class. We take our usual seats in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. As the professor begins their lecture for the day, I reach over and take Harry’s hand in mine before resting our hands on my thigh.

After a long and dull lecture, Harry and I wander off out of class and depart from everyone else who is heading towards the grounds. We are still holding hands when we step through the portrait hole. He tries to sit on the couch but I drag him toward my dorm instead because I know for certain it will be empty.

Harry stands awkwardly in the door way as I plop down onto my bed. I giggle at him before beckoning him towards me, “Come sit, will you and close the door behind you?” Once he’s done as I requested, I take his hands in mine, “Harry I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I want you to know that I love you so very much and I would trust you with my life. I’ve just never really had a serious boyfriend before so this is all new to me.”

Tension seems to melt away from his shoulders as they relax. I continue my explanation, “I’ll do better about letting you know when I feel comfortable pushing the boundary back a little bit okay?”  

He kisses my knuckles before nodding, “Thank you, love. I’m sorry I’ve pushed you so much.”

I smile, “You’re forgiven. Now, how about we push that boundary back I little bit?” He grins as I move to straddle his lap and place his hands on my sides under my shirt.

Masterlist

[incorrect-the-foxhole-court]

Northern Road Trip

This is my piece for the AFTG Gift exchange! I went for Andriel coz im a complete Andriel junkie, but i couldnt resist a little Renison on the side XD

This is for @andthenthefirenationattacked​ - I hope you like it! I’m sorry it’s not very good but I tried! (And if you wanna talk or fangirl about aftg at any point, i’m definitely around for that!)

Neil couldn’t remember a time he had felt this safe. Which, he had to admit, made no sense considering his current situation. Despite having family in England, an uncle who had once saved his life, the UK had never been a place that had screamed safety. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of an endless stretch of rolling green hills that looked like they had been taken from one of Matt’s fantasy novels, and he felt…safe. It was as much a disquieting feeling as hope had once been.

The sky was a bright, forget-me-not blue that, after only five days in the country, he already knew was a rare blessing. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky, and the relief that they weren’t even a little grey had been unexpectedly strong when they had woken up this morning. Two cars idled behind him, the engines rumbling softly, and those inside were already betting on the upcoming games outcome and snacking on junk food that Kevin had already tried to throw out four times over.

Neil sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cold air settle in his lungs like shards of ice. Beautiful, this country, but cold. And wet. This was the first day they had been there that it hadn’t rained.

He could hear his old team behind him, laughing and joking, teasing Andrew for their stopping. It hadn’t been Andrew that had wanted to stop, but the goalie knew Neil too well now – had feigned car sickness to cover Neil’s need to see something. To see something other than exy courts and press rooms from the place his mother had come from. The woman had been cold and cruel and protective and beautiful, and standing there now, in the place she had always talked about, in Rivington, he could understand. The people he had met from around here felt like they had been born from the place itself. He could almost feel his mother in the wind’s cold fingers as it raked through his hair and cut straight through his winter coat to chill the blood in his veins.

“Neil! Come on! Andrew says he’s okay to keep going now,” Matt shouted, a grin on his face that was far too smug and pleased to merely be teasing.

Dan smacked him in the ribs as she disappeared around the other side of their hire car and slid into the driver’s seat. And then smacked the wheel in frustration, got out and went round to the passenger side door, grumbling about stupid English cars. Neil tuned out Matt and Allison’s teasing, both of them needling Dan about still not being used to which side of the car to get in, and turned to the other car. Renee smiled at Andrew before going to join the others.

Neil slid into the backseat next to Andrew, Aaron on the goalie’s other side, Kevin up front and Nicky driving. Within thirty minutes of driving, Andrew was asleep, head tipped back against the back of the seat – Neil wasn’t surprised, Andrew had barely slept since the flight, as though he was more scared than Neil that some relative would show up at their hotel. It wasn’t a secret they were in the UK; the whole world had known this is where they would be. The press had been covering the US exy team’s trip to the UK in excruciating detail for weeks. They had already had their games in Glasgow and London, and tomorrow, the last game of Us vs. UK, would take place in Manchester. London had been an easy win for the US Court, Andrew had barely bothered to try. Glasgow had been significantly more difficult. It had taken bribing Andrew to lock down the goal for them to come close to winning – even then it hadn’t been enough; they’d lost by two points.

Tomorrow’s game would decide who would face the Chinese team. And the old team from Palmetto State had come out to show their support as Kevin, Andrew and Neil, played their last UK game of the season, fighting to advance closer to the title of ‘Exy International Champions’. Kevin had been training and planning nonstop. It had taken Andrew’s knives to convince him to have this day off.

“Erm…Neil…?” Nicky asked, voice tight. Neil dragged his eyes away from staring out the window as the North sped by, and met Nicky’s worried eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Satnav is freaking out.”

“Get Andrew to fix it,” Aaron grunted, “he’s the tech wonder boy.”

“Waking Andrew up in a car has never been a good idea,” Nicky warned, no doubt thinking of that time all those years ago.

Neil could feel Aaron’s smirk as the man reached over and tapped his twin on the shoulder closest to Neil. From habit, Neil’s hand was out waiting as Andrew jolted from sleep, one hand instinctively reaching out. Their fingers twined together and held on tight. No elbow in the stomach, no fists flying, not anymore – they had been sleeping in the same bed now for nearly two years; Andrew was too used to being woken by Neil’s nightmares to react violently. Now it was a grasping hand and white knuckled grip, each proving to the other that they are here – that they are safe. On Andrew’s other side, Aaron huffed in frustration and turned his attention back to the steady stream of messages between him and Katelyn.  

“Satnav isn’t working properly,” Neil explained quietly, and Andrew shook off his grip, leaning forward to take it from Kevin.

“Going old school,” Nicky muttered to himself. “Gonna have to use these damn stupid road signs.”

Neil didn’t bother to watch what Andrew was doing to fix the machine – he had learnt a long time ago that when Andrew couldn’t sleep, he and one of the cats curled up on the sofa with an instruction manual of some sort. Andrew couldn’t sleep most nights. By this point, Andrew’s eidetic memory had given him the ability to fix almost anything technological.

It took them another hour and a half to reach the Lake District. They were aiming for a shop that the Northern players on the UK team hadn’t stopped raving about since the team meets had started. By the time they finally arrived, it was raining again.

They parked in a garden centre opposite a tiny little place called ‘The Grasmere Gingerbread Shop’ and stared out through rain-streaked windows. Nicky’s phone started ringing. He took the sat nav out of its holder, tossed it onto Kevin’s lap before balancing his phone in the slot instead. Allison’s face appeared on the screen, and then the rest of the others.

“So, how do we decide who goes out into the rain to get the damn gingerbread we drove for two hours to come and try?” Allison asked and Renee, in the driver’s seat beside her, tucked a few stray blonde curls behind her ear, dragging a smile from the otherwise annoyed face.

“Flip for it?” Nicky suggested.

Matt lost to Renee. Dan lost to Matt. Allison rolled her eyes and picked at a perfectly manicured nail, but called heads when she went up against Dan, only to lose. Storm clouds gathered on her face as she waited for the other car to decide who would flip against her.

Aaron called heads, Allison, tails. Aaron won.

Neil hadn’t heard swearing like that for a long time. He couldn’t help but smile. He had missed them all. He loved being on Court and he loved his team and exy, and playing with Andrew and Kevin, but he had missed being a fox.

Renee went with Allison, smiling as the blonde tried and failed to hide under the trees from the rain. Neil could hear through the cracked window Andrew was smoking through as Allison cursed everyone and everything for her having forgotten an umbrella. Renee just laughed and tugged her in for a kiss. Neil smiled again; it had taken them a long time to realise just how meant for each other they were – but now? Together? They were a sight for sore eyes.

Andrew blew another cloud of smoke past Neil’s face. He couldn’t help the deep inhale as the smoke curled past his nose. Andrew watched, utterly unimpressed – but Neil could read the affection in the stare. Smoke was no longer the reminder of his mother, of the fire, of how it had smelled when her body had burned. Now it was Andrew, it was nights on the roof, the bite of his key in his palm, the feel of a thundering heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Andrew’s knee nudged his, and Neil smiled again.

Allison and Renee got back in the car behind and they drove to Windemere, where they had booked out all the rooms in a little bed and breakfast. The man at the desk was the most English person Neil had ever met. He was the embodiment of every single English stereotype, and Neil couldn’t get away fast enough.

Their rooms were all on the second floor, Dan and Matt disappeared into one room, Allison and Renee into another, Aaron claimed his own room, as did Kevin and Nicky. Nicky was already face timing with Eric before his bedroom door closed. And despite Allison’s usual warning of ‘keep it down’, there were delighted giggles and moans coming from her and Renee’s room.

Neil shook his head, smiling, and followed after Andrew into their room. Andrew was already lighting up next to the window, so Neil dropped the bag by the bottom of the bed and slumped onto the mattress, stripping off his black armbands and dumping them over the edge. He heard Andrew shut the window and the bed dip as he settled nearby. Neil reached a hand up, and Andrew’s fingertips trailed over his bare arms, dipping over every scar and mark.

Neil closed his eyes, even now, years later, most touches on those scars brought back the car lighter, the knife, his father’s axe…

But then Andrew’s lips began tracing every raised bump, slowly washing away the memories one by one, until there was nothing left but the two of them, Andrew’s hands under Neil’s shirt, Andrew’s lips pressed hard to Neil’s, and Neil’s fingers tight in Andrew’s hair.

He didn’t realise how much he needed it until Andrew tugged his t-shirt over his head and slowly but steadily began taking him apart. Neil couldn’t stop the moan that Andrew dragged from deep in his throat as Andrew pushed him harder and faster until Neil’s breathing became ragged and Andrew leaned up to press their lips together as though he could swallow Neil’s hard groans when he fell over the edge. He lay limp and sweating, breathing hard, with Andrew beside him, the man’s expression open and soft in a way he had only seen four times so far.

Neil reached out, “Yes or no?”

Andrew didn’t reply, just pressed his cheek into Neil’s palm and closed his eyes as Neil’s fingers played with the tiny hairs at the nape of Andrew’s neck. He wanted to say something, anything to remind Andrew just how amazing he was – how he always knew what Neil needed, usually before Neil knew himself, how even though Neil had long since learned to stand alone, it felt safe knowing that Andrew was there for him if he needed to lean on someone. But he didn’t have the words.

And he didn’t find them fast enough before Nicky pounded on the bedroom door.

“Come on, lovebirds, Allison ruined her hair to get this gingerbread, and Aaron and I went out for alcohol, come and have a drink and a snack like the old days. But put clothes on first!”

Andrew growled under his breath, but Neil smiled.

“When will he leave me alone?” Andrew said, shaking out his hand and pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He’s been in Germany with Eric for ten months. He can’t leave you any more alone.”

Andrew just stood and stared down at him a moment. “Come on junkie. Let’s go.”

Neil stood and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself up, before he joined Andrew at the now open door to the bedroom, stood in front of a very irate Kevin.

“We have a game tomorrow. Tomorrow. And they want us to drink and eat and party. Why did they come at all, they’re not playing,” Kevin said, face set; cold and hard.

“Tomorrow will be fine. We’ll win or we’ll lose, but it’ll be fine. Let’s go, it could be fun,” Neil said, shrugging. He’d never felt as safe as he was in that moment and he’d never seen Andrew as relaxed – that was all he needed. All he wanted.

They should take road trips more often.

“Three hundred and seventy-four percent,” Andrew murmured.

Neil didn’t bother to stop the smirk on his face.

----

That’s it! Again, I hope you liked it and I hope it was a good enough gift for you in the exchange! Have a wonderful day!

[romanceimp]

Hitoshi Shinsou x Y/n | A Bad Date

Inspired by some bad dates I’ve been on... I was once on a date with a guy who made jokes about a kid from our school who was shot in a drive by AND he made fun of my mom to my face... If only I’d had a Hitoshi... *sigh* Feel free to inbox me some of your bad date stories (specify if I can share them or not <3) 

It was a horrible date to say the least. This guy had been going on for ages now about how he had been horribly mistreated by his ex-girlfriend and how she just thought she was so great because she blocked him on social media this, and how her new boyfriend that, and probably some other stuff too but… you had stopped listening a while back and were now staring longingly into your empty wine glass. “So I said to her, just shut up and finish what I asked you to do like hours ago,” he roars in laughter at his own misogynistic story. “Well, it’s getting late and I actually have to get up early tomorrow, do you mind if we get the check?” you ask. “CHECK!” he screams into the restaurant. You burry your face in your hands and prepare to leave a large ‘Im so sorry my date is an asshole’ tip. You’re kicking yourself for not taking your own car. The thought of being stuck with him for one more second has you feeling icky. The waiter brings over the check and your date fumbles around in his pockets before saying, “oooh, umm, think you could spot me? I think I forgot my wallet at home.” You’ve had 

enough of this guy, the constant complaining and insulting jokes and now this? He ordered lobster for fucks sake. You blatantly roll your eyes, “you had your wallet when you were getting change for the meter, so I’m pretty sure you have it actually.” He blinks at you then runs a nervous hand through his hair, “well, I do have it, but I forgot my credit card at home.” You are furious now, you saw his cards in his wallet when he was pulling out change for the meter. Your eyes would be boring holes into him if they could physically do so. “Aww cmon babe, money isn’t everything right? I thought this was going well! Let’s keep the good energy flowing and maybe take it back to my place?” You were thoroughly disgusted. You stand up, scooting the chair and making it squeak across the floor. “I don’t want to go home with you, I want to go home, alone,” you say much louder than you meant to. Silence falls across the restaurant, except for a few snickers from other tables. And with that you grab your purse and walk across the restaurant to the waiter. “Thank you for everything,” you say and slip him 50 bucks for all the trouble he’s endured. You make your way to the front of the restaurant, your date trailing behind you. “You’re just gonna leave me to take care of the bill?! What?! ‘Cut I’m supposed to be ‘the man’?? Selfish bitch!” he shouts at your back. You know you shouldn’t be hurt by his words but that doesn’t mean they don’t sting. How could someone be this awful? “Hey,” says a voice, “I don’t like the way you’re talking to her.” You look behind you to see a man with indigo coloured hair standing calmly behind your date. Your date whirls around and starts advancing upon the man. “Oh yeah?! And who the hell asked yo-“ Your date suddenly becomes quiet and still. The man with the indigo hair smirks and says, “listen buddy, you’ve made everyone’s night a living hell, especially for her. So why don’t you pay the bill, tack on a nice bottle of wine for the lady, and leave a generous tip.” You watch in amazement as your date does exactly as he is told. He goes to the wine case and retrieves a bottle from the top shelf, then walks to the waiter, holds out his card (which he said he didn’t have), and waits for it to be returned to him. He brings you the bottle of wine in a brown paper bag. When he hands it to you, you notice the irises of his eyes are white. You gingerly take the bottle and wait by the door. The indigo haired man strides up to where you and your date are standing and then whispers in his ear, “why don’t you just go on home, have a nice rest.” Your dates walks out of the restaurant and you’re left with the handsome, yet incredibly intimidating stranger. He speaks before you can, “I would have made him apologize to you, but my quirk can’t make others speak, so I hope the wine will do.” He gives you a gentle smile. “Yeah, the wine is great, thank you so much… for everything.” He opens the door for you, “do you mind if I walk out with you?” You shake your head, “not at all.” You step out onto the street, followed by the handsome stranger. “Thanks again, umm sorry, I didn’t get your name…” He extends his hand, “Shinsou, Hitoshi Shinsou… and you are?” You take his hand and tell him your name. The summer breeze toys with the hem of your dress and it brushes against his legs. “You must be a hero with a quirk that powerful,” you say sweetly. His cheeks flush and he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks, I uh- am a hero… but the way you told that guy off was no doubt just as powerful.” You smile up at him. “Ya know, you go on enough of these things and your patience starts to wear a little thin.” Hitoshi scoffs “What do you mean ‘a little thin’? I was sitting a few tables away and had been day dreaming of doing that for an hour. You’re incredibly patient, Y/n.” The way he says your name makes you wish he’d say it again. “Well maybe I’m an optimist… I just kept hoping that it would miraculously get better but…” You pause, he is listening intently to what you have to say. Even some of your better dates didn’t do that. “It did though, thanks to you.” He smiles, “I won’t keep you hanging around on the sidewalk… may I walk you to your car?” he asks. Your car. Crap. You nervously laugh and look up to see Hitoshi raising an eyebrow at you. “I uh- I didn’t drive myself,” you say. He looks around, “okay, I’ll hail you a cab then, or if you’d rather, I’d be happy to take you home.” You take him up on the offer and follow him down the street to his parking space. He opens the door of his sleek black car for you, and you climb in. If only you’d been on a date with him from the beginning. He drives you back to your place, and you’re talking all the while. You love how he listens to you, and how he adds to the conversation by asking you questions and honestly answering the ones that you ask. You’re also shocked that he doesn’t try to impress you by driving like a maniac. Your date earlier acted like he was auditioning for fucking Tokyo Drift. To say that you are disappointed as Hitoshi pulls up in front of you place is an understatement. “Here we are,” you say, slowly unbuckling your seatbelt. You just push the button as his hand closes over yours. “Wait- I uh- hope this isn’t too forward, but I would love to take you on a date… I think you deserve to have a good one.”

[aonogifreactions]

Also, I happened to be perusing your tag list for Mephy dearest and noticed you didn’t do before/during/after mating season headcanons for him, so if you’d be so kind when you have time? (And Amaimon too if he hasn’t been done cuz my stupid ass forgot to check him before requesting) thanks in advance~ ;) ❤️

hI HELLo and welcome! it is me! and im actually writing! *applause* i actually dont remember if ive done amaimon before, so i wrote about him too. no regrets. enjoy! :eyes:

Mephisto:

Before:

gets hella irritated by anything, doesn't talk much. is really grumpy, has weird cravings, pretty much feels like he’s pregnant.

is easily flustered, so you better not start a fight with him.

is brutally, and i mean, BRUTALLY honest with you and everyone else.

“Why did you buy me a banana milkshake? I wanted the strawberry one!” *cries on the floor* or *tosses the milkshake on the floor and leaves*

he can get really cold towards you, whether it’s your fault or someone else’s. will say some cryptic shit, might even expose your secrets, use you for his plans, but! he won’t kill ya, don’t worry. unless...?

he informs you a few days prior to his “grumpy days” to not be with him much. Mephy’s literally giving you a warning, and I advise you to listen to him, lmao.

During:

immediately calls you when his “grumpy days” are over, telling you how much he missed you. practically screams into his phone.

this quickly can get steamy, since he’s just.. to be blatant, horny. will start his famous dirty talk, hell, you can even get some dick pics to your collection.

expects you to be available all the time. like you’re taking a bath? poof! you’re in his office, cuz he needs you right there and right now. 

gets uncharacteristically subby and very desperate during his mating season. his pathetic whines to touch him, to let him release all that thick cum.

speaking about cum, he cums a fucking ton. It's thick, kinda white-ish, and S W E E T, I kid you not!

God, don't even mention tail play. He's gonna cream his pants 3 times when you only just try to touch the tip of his tail.

When you're mean, however, pull his tail a little bit or keep rubbing it's tip. He'll moan as loud as he can, with a slight smirk on his face, tongue lolled out.

He does aheago face, no one can convince me otherwise.

Pops out of nowhere, stating: "Darling, I might need your help…", then slowly places your hand on his bulge.

Has no shame. Literally. He wants, and will grope you whenever he can. Especially your chest.

Is willing to use toys on him. He just wants that sweet release, no matter with what way he's going to achieve that.

giving him a blowjob might make him literally explode with confetti.

Feels a HUGE need to mark you, even more than before. You need to stop him though, sometimes he draws blood; during this time he usually gets lost in pleasure and kinda drifts away from reality. Just flick his forehead. Or smack him really hard.

After:

He,,, feels a bit "embarrassed". Every time he's after his mating season, just thinking bout his actions and that desperateness.. really makes him cringe.

Makes it up for you, apologizes for hurting you just in case; however, "you should've known what you signed up for, sweetheart."

is now his usual, annoying self; considers having you as dom from time to time.

Amaimon:

Before:

c l i n g y. all the damn time. will not let you go anywhere without him.

eats 2x more sweets than usual. I feel sorry for your bank account.

gets really talkative??? talks non-stop. this is so out of character he’s surprised himself.

does THE STUPIDEST things while possibly risking his host’s health. Ha, see that tall building? what would happen if you two jumped off of it-

W H I N E S.

During:

you better have health insurance just in case.

wants to fuck you anywhere it’s possible to. even in the air.

goes full-on demon mode, his pupils sharpen, his ears change, as well as the tail. his breathing gets louder as well.

gets a bit more aggressive; pulls you by the hand and literally rips your clothes off. he will fuck you whenever he wants to. you’re his fucktoy and there’s no other way but to accept it.

he snarls! right into your ear! :chill:

his “nails” change into claws that can dig into your skin quite painfully; be sure to remind him when he goes overboard!

despite being a literal killing machine, he doesn’t want to kill you, especially during intercourse. Which means! he actually knows when its a bit too much for you. It’s somewhere.. but it is!

loves pain! and unfortunately, you digging your pretty nails into his back isn’t enough. he’s satisfied when he’s all bloody, with bruises and small wounds (that will heal quickly, so don't worry.)

pulls your hair a lot, especially when you blow him.

marks you with his cum.. everywhere. in your mouth, on your chest, stomach, ass, or his favorite place - your gorgeous face.

will try to breed you. just imagining your tight pussy filled with his cum that’ll make your stomach all pretty and round is driving him crazy. (even though.. he doesn’t really like kids?)

in addition, he loves the sight of your mixed juices dripping out of you. that makes him even more aroused than before.

is capable of eating you out for HOURS. and I literally mean hours! his face gets all messy, your silk on every single part of his face.

After:

acts like nothing happened.

i could just end it here.

might feel a lil bad if he hurt you; this is when he shows that he’s capable of actual lovemaking. this is kinda his apology to you, since he’s awful with words.

[words-for-holland]

Happier (6) | T.H.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: A deep conversation between Tom & Y/N takes place. Tom offers a solution to Y/N’s problem, but does she take it?! Can Harrison convince her?

A/N: It’s a rather short chapter but a lot of Tom & Y/N action!! I absolutely love reading all your therories and comments! Thank you guys so much for reading & sticking around!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Betrayal

Its a vile word for the people you trusted your life with. Still in a state of shock, Y/N couldnt understand why Katie would have betrayed her like this. To think she was her best friend through thick and thin, always having each other’s back...it all seemed meaningless. Now here she was, packing up and trying to figure out where to go from here. London wasn’t an option and neither was the city with the rent being so high up.

As if her path was written by the stars, Tom had decided to call her the moment she started zipping up her bag. Y/N knew it wasn’t a good idea to answer, but it was almost instinctive in the moment. Truthfully, she needed someone. Someone to tell her it was going to be okay. “Hey, look. I know you probably hate me after the last time we talked on the phone like this, but I just wanted to say Im sorry.” Tom’s voice spoke softly through the phone as he let out a slight chuckle of nervousness.

Y/N smiled slightly as she listened to his voice. It was the most conforting thing she had heard, and could only imagine his voice wrapping around her to make her feel some sort of ease. “Yeah. No it’s um..it’s fine, really.” Y/N responds trying to calm her breathing after sobbing for the past hour.

“Yeah I guess, you were right. Maybe I was just jealous, because..I mean you already knownhow I feel. But you’re your own person so I can totally understand why you’d want to see new people. After all you broke up with me and—” Tom started getting more nervous as he continued to over explain his reasoning, but Y/N didnt seem to pay any attention as she lets out what was bothering her.

“Kate’s been crossing us.” She interrupts.

“Wait what? What do you mean?” Tom asks now more concerned, pushing the phone closer to his ear.

“She leaked information about Natalie staying thats where the rumors came from and she sent those pictures of Matt and I to Natalie’s publicist.” Y/N says as she closes her eyes.

Tom was more confused and in complete shock. Not understanding why Y/N’s most trusted best friend who do this to her. “Y/N...I dont know what to say..I’m sorry.” He replies, feeling defeated that there was nothing he could do, especially since she was so far away from him. Even if Y/N would have rejected his advances, he knew she needed him...now more than ever.

“Don’t be. It’s fine.” Y/N lies as she sits down on the bed, silently crying.

“No, it’s not Y/N. I know you’re hurting and I wish I could be there to do something about it.” Y/N smiles at his words. For every sad and painful moment, there would always be some sort of comfort. Tom was hers. For a moment...just one moment, she forgot about all the terrible things that happened. The betrayal, the rumors, Natalie. The moment felt like it was meant just for Tom and Y/N.

But not all moments last forever. Y/N’s phone went off, alerting her of a notification. In fear, she thought the unknown number was ready to leave another threat for talking to Tom, but it wasn’t. Though it was just a simple Twitter notification that came up, it showed that Tom and Natalie were out again on display for the Public. Casually flirting back and forth, with pictures of their social media interaction with each other. Her heart sank even more..if it was even possible.

He was still with her, even if it was pretend. Y/N thought back to when Natalie first arrived to stay with them, and how she slowly tried to flirt her way and spend time with Tom. She thought about how well they worked and looked good together, and how she left Tom saying “You’d be happier with her.” While it was all under the unknown’s plan to say those exact words, Y/N couldn’t help but feel some sort of truth to it. Certainly, she wasn’t happier with everything thats happened, but for Tom...at least he still had a chance to be happier with Natalie.

“Y/N? You still there?” Tom asked through the phone, when he didn’t hear Y/N say anything for a good while.

She shook her head to stop her thoughts as she replied, “Yeah...still here.”

“Oh okay. Good. I thought you hung up on me.” Tom laughs nervously. “Look, uhh maybe we should focus on what you’re gonna do. So do you have a place to stay?”

Y/N looks around as she sighs in defeat. “No. I’d find an apartment but the rent is so high here in the city especially for those that live alone, and I really dont feel like moving back in with my parents right now.”

Tom listened to her dilemma closely, when he offered without hesitation, “Come back here.”

“Tom, you know thats not an option nor a good idea for us. I told you we needed space, and I certainly don’t want to live under the same roof with a girl your fake dating at the moment.” She says in digust, voiced laced with anger.

“Calm down, Y/N. Im just offering you a solution and I could make sure you don’t see her. It’s a big house after all.”

“It’s not happening.” Y/N says quickly to end the dispute. Y/N stops to think about her other option, one Tom make not very well like. “Maybe I could ask Matt. I know he doesnt live too far from here.”

“Okay, now you’re being delusional. That’s definitely not happening.” Tom scoffs, as he thinks about the sickening idea. “I don’t want you near him.”

“You cant tell me what to do.”Y/N snaps at him. “Just like I’m not telling to stop being near Natalie, let alone enter a PR relationship.”

“Well at least Im being honest and open about it and not hiding it like an immature child.” Tom fires back. Y/N was at a loss with the way he responded to her. While she did keep it secret, deep down she knew it was for his own good..but he would never know. “Im sorry. I didnt mean it. It’s just...I wish you were more honest with me..with everything. It hurts you know.”

“Yeah..” Y/N whispers on the phone, feeling guilty and upset by where they’ve ended up. “I know. I’m sorry too. I want to be honest with you about everything but I cant for good reason.”

“No reason is good enough, if you have to keep secrets from people you love.” Tom says bluntly. “Look Im not gonna make you choose where you want to go from here. It’s your decision and life. Im just saying my door is always open for you...no matter how many times you hurt me.”

“It’s not your obligation Tom. I’ll be fine with whatever happens to me. I have to be, but thank you.” Y/N says as she bids him farewell.

As Y/N grabs her stuff and heads toward the door so do Harrison and Harry. “We booked a hotel for a night, if you want to stay with us.” Harry says as he tried his best to smile for her.

Y/N does in return and nods. “Yeah. Okay let’s go.”

Harry, Harrison, and Y/N made it to Aviary Hotel in silence. No one was sure what they should say to the other, when everything had gone to shit in the past month. Once everyone settled down, Harry decided to go down and grab food the group, while Harrison stayed to watch over Y/N in case she needed anything. “So, you told Tom, Im guessing?” Harrison asked, sitting across the other bed as he watched her intently.

Y/N nodded not saying anything as she brushed her hair avoiding eye contact. She thought for a moment deciding if she should tell him about what really happened in the phone conversation. “He and I fought..kinda I guess. I told him I didnt have a place to stay and he wanted me to stay with you guys, but I said it’s not a good idea and then I mentioned Matt, and everything went downhill from there.”

“Wait why not? Why can’t you stay with us?” Harrison asked.

Y/N gave him a look as if he didn’t know the reason already. His blue eyes shifting from surprise to realization. “Right, I forgot.” They sat in silence for a few seconds before Harrison interjects again. “You know, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I know Natalie and the unknown number still poses a threat, not to mention risky, but it’d be unexpected for them.” He offered.

Y/N thinks hard about it, her brows furrowing. “Yeah okay...but how does this that make it any better knowing that Im living with my ex-boyfriend who is also living under the same roof with a girl that he’s fake dating not to mention your childhood friend, and may very well be the other person terrorizing me.”

Harrison looks at her as he rubs his face in embarassment. “Well..when you put it that way.”

“Harrison, you can put it in any other way you want, it’s still going to be a bad idea.” She says.

“Look just think about it, okay. Its a big house, and you can use the attic room upstairs if you dont want to see anyone and have schedules until we can sort all of this out. And if it bothers you that much I even have a friend that lives close by who also needs a roommate herself.”

Y/N looks at Harrison skeptically, as he weighs out her options. “You really out here trying to find a way to make me stay with you guys and leave home huh?”

Harrison smiles as he combs back his dirty blonde hair. “No, Y/N. This here?” He points out arms wide, gesturing to the room to represent New York. “It was your home. Your real home, whether you want to believe it or not, it’s with us back in London. I know everything has been rough between you and Tom, but we’re going to find a way. I promise.”

Y/N sheds a tear, as she hears Harrison speak. He was right. Home just didn’t feel like home anymore. Not without them, but as much as she wanted to say yes, the odds of it being okay were against her...that couldn’t be ignored.

“So what do you say?”

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl​ @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams @averyfosterthoughts​ @fangirl-with-a-mission @drishtisikarwar @eridanuswave​ @ifntelyinspirit @trumpettay @astridcommings @parkershoco @racewife2004 @sleepybesson @greatpizzascissorstaco @andievgs

[kaori-flowers]

A little short i wrote. I didn't execute it correctly as I seen it in my head and I began falling asleep at the end. So yeah im super sorry. Here's some writing for the first time in like maybe a week. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy it?

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Poppy sighed from the roof top but quickly sat up as she noticed the crowd advancing on Ranboo. It was clear he was trying to talk away but they kept following him. She jumped down off the roof, and pulled out her umbrella so it would lead to a lighter land. She managed to land between the crown and Ranboo which resulted in everyone going quiet. Poppy was Technoblade's older sister and everyone was quick to avoid her. She was far more powerful than Techno, and even Techno did his best to avoid any conflict with her.

"What's going on?"

She crossed her arms tightly and stood tall in front of Ranboo, ready to fight anyone who rushes him. Although everyone before her knew better than to try anything. Ranboo joined her side and gently elbowed her to get her attention.

"I was just leaving. Come on."

"Pick a side Ranboo."

A voice spoke up quickly and Ranboo looked at Poppy. Then he looked at the crowd as did Poppy. She scanned the crowd slowly and then uncrossed her arms with a large sigh. She grabbed Ranboo's arm and gently lead him up to the crowd.

"Yes of course Ranboo. Pick a side, actually. Allow me."

She let go of Ranboo's arm and then walked to Tubbo first. She slung her arm around Tubbo's shoulder and yanked him into her. Like a hug.

"Will you pick a mentally unstable child that can barely control his emotions which while running a nation. Or whatever this is. Dangerous. Don't forget he exiled his BEST FRIEND. or should I say ex best friend?"

Poppy let go of Tubbo with a small shove, and walked over to Fundy. She grabbed him by the tail so he couldn't escape, holding it gently. Fundy's ears went back, not wanting to hear what she had to say about him. Which.... she had a lot to say about everyone here.

"Will you pick a fox who's dad is a ghost and his mom is a fucking salmon? Which doesn't make sense but hey it works right? He lots everyone so he's pretty reckless. He has nothing else to lose, so why not right?"

She let go of Fundy's tail and he looked down, uncomfortable by the truth. He was in fact alone now, and he lost everything. His family. His lover. They were dismantled and gone. So he really didn't have anything now, and that wasn't good for his sanity. Or physical health!

"What about another child that doesn't know who he is? One that keeps changing sides and keeps getting betrayed and betraying others. Do you feel like being the next victim of betrayal?"

Poppy looked Tommy up and down as a few tears ran down his cheeks. She gently wiped them off and kissed his forehead. She sighed, and hugged him before moving to the next person in the crowd.

"Don't even get me STARTED on Punz. You all are idiots. He's spying on you for Dream. Him and dream are still working together. Punz is the REAL traitor."

"How did yo-"

"I hear everything Punz. I know everything."

Punz looked off in the distance, probably looking for Dream. Or an explanation to say later to Tubbo. Not like they'd all talk to each other. All of them have a lot of reflecting to do, and as much as they hated to hear it. They needed to.

"Sapnap doesn't want to side with anyone really. He follows Dream around like a puppy or else he'll get his ass beat. He needs to learn how to think for himself."

Sapnap looked away quickly because he knew it was true. He puts up with so much shit just so he can feel like he belongs. When in reality if he just thought for himself then he would be great. He would actually be better off and would have a much better life. Unfortunately Sapnap doesn't realize that though, and he probably never will.

"Poppy y-"

"I know I should stop. And I'm going to because there's too many people here. But for those of you who I didn't mention flat out just know I have shit to say. I have A LOT of shit to say about each and every one of you."

Poppy's chest tightened as her head raced with anger. She knew so much and seen so much these past 2 years that she hated basically everyone. There was not one good thing she really liked about this place anymore. The only reason why she hasn't killed herself yet was because of Ranboo. He's new and so fresh, and innocent. He's the only one she likes and she isn't willing to let him change. Or let others change him.

"I want you all to know that you are personally wrong. Each and every one of you are liars and hypocrites! I hate every single one of you and I always will! You all are pieces of shit!"

The crowd was insanely silent as they slowly looked around at each other. No one had ever seen Poppy this emotional or upset it. So it was highly uncomfortable for them to witness this as she yelled at them. It put a lot of tension in the air for them and Ranboo was unsure of what to do.

"If even the slightest reason to kill any of you popped up then I would do it without hesitation. You all need to reevaluate yourselves and your self worth."

Some of the people in the crowd were crying, while others were insanely silent. No matter what they were all feeling, they didn't disagree with her. And they shouldn't. This was the truth. The truth they needed to face.

"Ranboo is officially off limits. If even a single hair on his head is hurt I will kill all of you. He is protected by me and to get to him you will need to go through me."

Poppy stepped up towards the crowd as she pulled out her sword. Everyone in the crowd took at least 2 steps back, and away from her. Ranboo gently grabbed her elbow, which caused her ro look at him quickly. He uncomfortably leaned by her ear to whisper so the others wouldn't hear.

"Please be quiet. You're embarrassing and you're gonna get hurt!"

Poppy rolled her eyes at him, but nodded nonetheless. She then cracked her knuckles and glared at everyone in the crowd. They looked at each othe slowly before moving back. Poppy turned around and gently hugged Ranboo, not worried that her back was turned to them.

"Its okay mm?"

"Alright lets go home dork."