#i swear I cannot taste most things there’s just temperature and texture

[bookwyrminspiration]

MAN I wish I could be studied in a lab. just like to empirically analyze all my quirks and see what’s up. I think it’d be great

[fictionkinfessions]

"Xiaos favorite food is almond tofu, its the only thing he'll eat"

jokes on you, I'd eat crystalflies all the fucking time, way more than Tofu, I'd go out of my way to eat those lil buggers. They were like hard candies! Loved them. good texture. y u m. Almond tofu was only cause Morax refused to let me live off Liyues crystalfly population. (Dad plz Im a bird, birds eat bugs its toooooootaalyy fine I swear)

And because I know ppl will ask: They didnt have much of a flavor. Crystalflies rly do work like their core stack in game- Once theyre dead they loose most elemental traces, so there wasnt alot to taste.

At best they had very subtle flavors of their original elements. and none of those are rly comparable to direct real world flavors to my memory. Cryo ones would do the cool mint thing, but very subtle and not actually tasting like mint, pyro ones were a bit warm (like actual temperature, not heat in flavor), geo, dendro, and anemo ones were earthy in slightly different ways (yes dendro was grassy. Subtle but distinct Grass flavor(tm)). And do I even need to say the hydro ones just. Tasted like water. If you could even notice it? They were overall sweet ofc, again like candy. But I cannot pinpoint any specific real world flavor.

I use hard caramels w/ a really good apple creme filling to fill them in irl tho. That was primarily because hard candies are apparently really hard to find in my area for some reason, but they make the brain go hella brr, absolute perfect texture tbh. I'd honestly say the sweetness of caramel is neutral enough to be a stand in for the Main Flavor(tm) of crystalflies, everything else previously mentioned were SUPER subtle flavors, things hard to notice unless you've eaten hundreds of them as I had in this tl.

I dunno why mortals didnt eat them honestly. Maybe they just never thought of it. I do think I convinced the traveler and Tartaglia to at least try them at some point. Not that I remember what they thought of it.

Tartaglia would just echo Morax's food lectures any time I was eating them.. Not because he didnt want me eating them but because Morax basically told him to do exactly that if I tried to "dodge proper meals with those damned crystal cores"

I'm gonna go eat some candies now.

~Xiao 🕯♟

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 8

Day 8 - The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away. (D&D AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Roceit, Romantic Background Analogical

TWs: Swearing

–

“Oh I adore being made out to be the bad guy here.”

“You robbed the lair of the Dragon Witch! It’s literally your fault that we are mired in this bog of despair!”

Roman’s accusation rang loudly within the wagon as they made the long ride back to Amoresse to rest for the night. Janus rolled his serpentine eyes, 

“You, dear delusional knight, are totally not the one who went and killed said Dragon Witch, thus leaving her treasure for the taking.”, the half Yuan-Ti hissed, appropriately, “Besides, you can absolutely take the moral high ground here when you stole her crown at the first opportunity.”

The pristine elven knight gasped dramatically, clutching his figurative pearls at such an accusation! 

“This is an outrage-!”

“Both of you shut the fuck up or I’m driving this wagon off the nearest goddamn cliff!!”

Roman and Janus both immediately quietened down at the threat issued so casually by their wagon driver as the dhampir hissed curses under his breath. The two in the back glared at each other back and forth, avoiding looking towards the wrecked fabric of the canopy and the splintered wood. In Roman’s defense, he hadn’t known that grabbing the crown specifically would cause the Dragon Witch’s castle to fall to ruin around them. He’d realised his mistake almost immediately when he felt the dark magic radiating off of it. However, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that was the case. Especially not around Janus, the damn snake wouldn’t let him live it down. 

Being careful to pick his moment, Roman hazarded a glance over at the reptilian rapscallion eyeing up his spoils; Janus was an enigmatic entity to Roman, showing such sophistication and poise while also being prone to stumbling over his words or his own two feet in the same breath. Unabashedly, he displayed selfishness unrivalled by even the most aristocratic nobility, but in a pinch, was fully able to toss aside even the most valuable of artifacts to save a life. 

Roman had tried not to think about it. The noble and chivalrous knight, Roman of Sandaria, being saved from the jaws of death by a conman who, by all accounts, he had fully expected to leave him to die. The elven man wasn’t sure where his resentment lay; perhaps Roman thought he should’ve been able to save himself, perhaps he felt guilty for misjudging Janus but couldn’t find it in him to admit it, or perhaps it was an underlying prejudice from his training days. Yeah, he really  didn’t want to think about it.

Instead, Roman made his way to sit up front next to the moody wagon driver, making light conversation,

“I should be the one manning the wagon, your highness.”

“Roman, I’ve told you before, you can just call me by my name.”, the dhampir met Roman with piercing silver eyes, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t understand my- Virgil,”, he corrected at the last second, “Nothing’s wrong. Aside from the fact you refuse to allow me to call you by your title-”

“That’s horseshit and you know it, Roman.”, Virgil kept his eyes on the road, anxious over the possibility of a crash if he kept his gaze averted too long, “I’ve known you since we were kids, I can tell when you’re lying. Besides, being called ‘your highness’ feels wrong as it is. Coming from you? It’s even fucking weirder than this whole marrying into royalty thing...”

Roman rolled his eyes but sat closer to offer Virgil a one-armed hug. The latter gave it a moment before accepting the gesture, “Virgil, you’ll be fine. If any one of us was suited to princedom, I cannot think of a better candidate. And your future husband is unreasonably attractive, so I don’t see what you have to complain about-”

“Oh my god, shut UP!”, Virgil chuckled and shoved Roman playfully. “I mean, you’re not wrong but the last thing I need is to think too hard about Logan and crash this stupid fucking shambles of a wagon!” 

The lighthearted banter did wonders to distract Roman until Virgil managed to get things back on track unfortunately, “Now, stop deflecting and tell me what’s got you so gloomy, Sir-Sing-A-Lot.”

Roman rolled his eyes at the old nickname, “I’m fine, Virge, really. I merely wish our cascading castle adventure had been a little less…ruinous.”

“.... Was that a fucking pun-”

“Ahem.”, Janus cleared his throat from behind the two of them, “I do so loathe to interrupt.... whatever this is,”, he gestured between the two of them, “But I believe that’s our stop up ahead. Wouldn’t want to go destroying that as well.”

With that, the serpentine rogue slunk back into the wagon. Roman muttered something under his breath, inaudible to Virgil, before reluctantly joining the scaled nuisance bagging up his wares. The elven knight made sure to keep his crown tucked into his rucksack, just in case thievery was something to be wary of in Amoresse. The town’s reputation, however, gave Roman hope that their visit would prove more helpful than hindering; the rumours told of a town renowned for helping wayward, lonely souls find their soulmates. As a single, disaster gay, Roman sure hoped the rumours were true. Truly he could think of nothing sadder than turning up alone to his best friend’s wedding.

Getting booked into their rooms at the tavern was a far easier ordeal than having to endure the overly chaotic gate guard to the city. The bizarre tiefling had spent so long rambling on and on about the most grotesque topics that by the time they had successfully secured a wagon bay, the moon now shone in all her celestial beauty. Virgil had suggested resting for the night, and despite Roman’s urging that they stay together, Janus had been insistent on checking out the nightlife. The knight had been content to let him do so while he guarded the prince, but the tired dhampir insisted he too take the night to enjoy himself. Roman would have argued further had Virgil not issued the suggestion as an order after his first protest.

And that was how Roman found himself sitting at a small outdoor bar tended by a rather friendly dwarf. Said dwarf, Patton as he came to learn, was quite the chatterbox while Roman was content to take in the night air in spite of his earlier worries. 

“Say kiddo,”, the dwarf broke from his pleasant rambling, “you’re looking a little lonely there. You got something on your mind?”

Roman hadn’t expected that. He pursed his lips in thought. 

“I suppose I may as well be honest with you. I’ve been wondering if-”

“If the rumours are true?”, Patton finished, “Well, luckily for you, they are!”

He ducked down behind the counter and pulled up an ornate crystal bottle that contained a marvellous prismatic liquid inside. Roman watched with great interest as the dwarf pulled out a goblet and began to mix a sweet, fruity smelling drink before dropping in three drops of the colourful elixir.

“Anima Venenum”, Patton informed him, “Our town’s alchemist created it by accident a couple of centuries back, and ever since, we offer some to tourists who look like they need a little guidance in the ol’ world of love!”

Roman was mesmerised, “Really? You mean, I needn’t pay you for it?”

“Nope! Our only rule is to never hand it out to anyone who doesn’t ask us for it. It’s up to you if you wanna accept this, so no pressure. I just figured you looked like you might be in need of it.”

The knight had so many questions swirling around in his brain, but by the time he had settled on a single one, his hand was holding the goblet to his lips. The taste was citrusy like sweet clementines, but with a mixed berry and almost floral taste that reminded him of a rose wine. As the last of it slid down his throat, Roman noted a soft honey-like taste as he thanked Patton, 

“That tastes wonderful! I’ve never had an elixir that tasted so good.”

Patton chuckled, “Actually, the elixir itself is tasteless. People just take better to it when it's mixed with a good drink, otherwise the texture weirds ‘em out.”

“Ah, I see.”, Roman let out a gentle chuckle. He didn’t feel all that different, truth be told, and so he asked, “How will I know it’s working?”

“The effects are instantaneous, don’t you worry! It might be hard to notice at first, but when you’re near your soulmate, your heart will feel really warm- In a good way! Not like heartburn, so don’t worry about it feeling unpleasant.”, Patton assured him.

Roman nodded, making a note of it as he got up to leave before quickly asking, “Oh! How long will it last?”

Patton waved him off, assuring him, “It’ll last for as long as you need to find your soulmate, guaranteed!”

With the night reaching its peak, Roman found himself strolling along the cobbled streets back to the tavern when he felt it; a flicker of warmth in his heart. Soft as the beating of a butterfly’s wing but very much there. He followed the feeling until he came upon a narrow street, hardly lit by the lamps stationed at it’s opening. The street itself was largely empty bar a silhouette in the dark leaning against the stone bridge that arched over the shimmering water running beneath it. 

His heart raced as Roman approached the figure, the flames licking at his heart until he arrived about a foot from the entrance of the bridge. The figure turned to Roman, smirking a familiar smirk,

“Come to join me, oh loyal guardian of our beloved prince?”

Janus. His soulmate was Janus?! Roman couldn’t believe it, yet no matter how thoroughly he scanned the immediate area, not a single other soul revealed itself. The half Yuan-Ti raised a bemused eyebrow at Roman, “Please, do keep ignoring my question so you may continue to look like a fool.”

Roman scowled. Maybe the kindly dwarf was just teasing him? No, he didn’t seem the type. But this conman? His soulmate? Perhaps Roman would indulge it, see where that led him. Worth a shot anyway. 

“My apologies.”, was all Roman offered as he took a spot on the bridge next to Janus, the flames of his heart undeniably soaring to life at the close proximity. Janus gave Roman a puzzled glance which let Roman take in his features; a half scaled face and body that, the more he watched the moonlight dance along the scales, made Roman want to gently reach out and touch them. In fact, he had subconsciously been doing just that when Janus had held his wrist in place, “It’s not completely rude to just touch someone’s scales without permission. What’s gotten into that underbaked brain of yours, Roman?”

Flustered and embarrassed by his lack of tact, Roman uttered quietly, “Soulmate cocktail.”

“Pardon?”

Roman panicked, “So many cocktails. Is what I said. Like, 14 whole cocktails.” 

Great. Excellent save.

“..... You’re expecting me to believe that? Did you forget that I’m rather adept at being able to tell when someone’s lying to my face, Roman?”

End him. Just end him now. Roman wished a stray lightning bolt would smite him where he stood so he wouldn’t have to face his own stupidity. Quick, say something to help ease the situation.

“Okay. I had 16 cocktails.”, he stammered with a laugh, “I’m absolutely drunk. You got me, you clever reptile you!”

Roman of Sandaria you are a certified idiot. 

“.... Alright then. Prove it.”, Janus goaded him, locking onto Roman’s crimson eyes with his own citrine snake-like eyes. 

“Prove-?”

“Let me smell your breath.”, Janus clarified, getting closer. Each inch set Roman’s heart aflame all too literally. “If you’re as inebriated as you claim to be, your breath will absolutely stink.”

Shit.

“Uuuh, personal space-”, Roman began to move back, but Janus grasped the front of his tunic.

“Don’t give me that, Mister Personal-Space-Is-A-Societal-Construct, I’ve seen how often you get in your dear prince’s personal space...”, Roman could’ve sworn for a split second that Janus sounded resentful, or perhaps envious, before his tone took a more curious route, “... or perhaps could there be another reason you don’t want to be so close to me?”

The knight became aware of the burning within his chest threatening to rage out of control, the distance between them barely a couple of inches now. Roman wasn’t sure what to do, but the lure of Janus’ eyes and the way his ribcage radiated with a heat he’d never felt before spurred him to act; he leant forward and pressed his lips to the serpentine man before him.

It surprised Roman just how pleasant it felt, though he prepared himself for harsh retaliation from the half Yuan-Ti when he felt Janus take in a breath against his lips. However, Roman was pleasantly surprised to find that Janus, not only didn’t issue him a well-earned slap and spend the rest of the night cussing him out, but instead kissed him back even harder. Not that Roman was complaining. By the time they pulled back for air, Roman didn’t even notice the fire in his heart subsiding to be replaced with a more natural warmth as Janus’ hands softly caressed Roman’s cheeks. “I’ll be the first to admit, I totally saw the night heading that direction.”, Janus mused in surprise.

Roman let out a hearty chuckle, hardly even noticing that he’d subconsciously wrapped his arms around Janus.

“Care to tell me what brought this on, Roman of Sandaria?”

Just hearing his name spoken in such an enticing dulcet made his knees feel weak; how had Roman never noticed how beautiful Janus’ voice was? His mind was too busy latching onto every octave, every syllable, that he nearly forgot to answer him. He took Janus’ scaled hand and pressed his lips to it in a gentle gesture his soulmate clearly wasn’t used to if the flustered way he averted his eyes was anything to go by,

“I suppose you could say I did a little soul searching.”

----

Have some straight up Roceit fluff, this came out so cute.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @lavender-mochi [I know you love your Roceit so I figured I’d tag you incase you needed this] @fandomsofrandom [I nearly missed the reblog where you asked to be added I’m so sorry]

[overly-b]

True Intentions Made Untrue (A Kingsman Fic) - Chapter 1

Hey all! I am so pumped for you guys to read this first chapter! I have been working so hard on perfecting this and I cannot believe that I am posting it now! I cannot say anything other than thamnk you for the love and enjoy! 

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x American Reader 

Summary: Being the daughter of top agents meant that she never had a shot. Until one day, when it seemed that out of the blue, the rules had suddenly changed. But why? How did the rules once so firmly pressed into stone suddenly change? Was it her, was it the agency? Sometimes the truest intentions can turn bitter. 

Just a lil disclaimer, this fic will be hard to follow if you have not seen the Kingsman movies (or at least the first one) spoiler alert if you have not! Also, I am American, so I tend to write things as well as my characters with that point of view so the reader is American.

Please feel free to message me or shoot me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list!

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: swearing, a little violence, spoilers if you have not seen the movie

ENJOY! 

“So!” I beam excitedly as soon as the door to the alleged tailor shop closes. “Do we have any ideas on who could be our next candidate?” I question Harry as we begin our walk down the stairs.

“We?” He asks. “Ours?” He continues with an amused tone and a slight smirk on his face. “If I remember correctly, I was told to provide a candidate.” His accent thickens as he explains what is already obvious to the both of us.

“Well yes but” I point my finger upwards to show that I have a valid point. “If I remember correctly” I mock his words. “We are partners, of sorts. I know that officially, I do not have a spot at the table, but I think I do deserve to be a part of this process.” I state my case. “So yes Harry” I shoot him a playful glare. “Do we have any ideas on who our next candidate could be?”

To this, the grown man chuckles.

“At the moment, no. But I feel as if my candidate fails, that I will be frowned upon seeing as my last  was deemed unworthy of being a Kingsman.” Harry frowns. I remember the man mentioned, the one that saved his life. As well as the one that he lost today.

“I’m sorry about Lancelot,” I tell him. I remember meeting him a few times, but seeing as I am not an agent, those meetings were brief. “I know that you two stayed really close.”

“Thank you, darling.” I can tell that he is pushing emotions back into the deepest part of him so I let the patter of our shoes on the pavement fill the space in which our words used to. “I hope you know that I want nothing more than to bring you in as my candidate. Unfortunately, we both know that it is a bit more complicated than that.”

“I know Harry.” I turn my head that was once facing him to the ground so that he could not see the small sense of disappointment on my face if it wasn’t already obvious in my voice. “It’s okay.” I being to shiver as the London air whips against my bare face. Harry notices this and in a fatherly way, wraps his arms around my shoulders. He then pulls me to his side.

“Come on now, let’s get you home before you catch something.”

We enter the house and are met with the warm feeling that only a home can bring. I shrug off my gray trench coat as Harry unbuttons his usual suit jacket.

Although it was by no means late, I felt tired as we reached the dwelling. I tell Harry this and take an early leave to my bedroom. Once I am there, a shower and warm clothing sooth my racing mind for awhile, but as I drift to sleep, my brain continues to spark with past images and current thoughts. All of the talks of new Kingsman candidates have brought up many.

I want nothing more than to be a true Kingsman, but like Harry said, it is much more complicated for me.

I learned about the organization when I was only fifteen years old.

A letter that my parents left in Harry’s possession revealed the truth about my parents and the truth about my destiny. My parents were agents who found each other when it was of utmost importance not to engage in relationships when you are in the secret service. More or less another agent.

But in love they became, and in love, they stayed.

Luckily, no one found out about the forbidden relationship until my mother found herself pregnant. She left the agency after that. As did my father soon after. But they would always be agents. After I was born, my parents confided in Harry, as he and my father had been best friends long before they were drafted. My mother took a liking to him as well. Our small family of three moved back to the states for a while, where we could be with our blood relatives. What a good way to be raised. For a while, it was as if the agency was never a part of my parent’s lives. And to me, how could I have ever known that it was in the first place?

After ten years, my parents decided that it was time to return to their work. We took back to England where I finally met Harry, the best friend from Europe that my parents always told me stories about. He became my family, an uncle of sorts.

Fortunately for my parents, the agency had them both back, but it was not until the next fives years that I would find how different my parents truly were.

My parents died on a mission when I was thirteen.

Due to the fact that Harry was practically family, he took me in, and when the time was right, he gave me my parent’s letter, followed by his own truth.

I did not believe him at first.

How could I?

There was no way that my parents could have been spies. There was no way that they could have kept it from me. There is no way that I did not know my parents as well as I thought I did.

But it was the truth, and there was no denying that. At fifteen, I was acutely aware of an underground ring of secret spies.

My parents dying wish was that I carried on their legacy in becoming a Kingsman. So when I was fifteen, a few days after I had come to terms with my new reality, Harry began to explain the life of a Kingsman, slowly giving me the only information that he could, which was not much. I wanted to be a Kingsman, for my parents, and for myself. But as he has said before, and he will say again – it is a bit more complicated than that.

And it always will be for me. For various reasons.

See, despite the fact that my parents were top agents, they also broke one of the first rules. Relationships are not to be had, especially with another Kingsman. So I am the living proof that my mom and my dad broke the first rule. That was a given. It was difficult to get Arthur to look past even that. Luckily, I turned on some major charm and he took a liking to me soon enough.

The second reason, however, is even more complicated.

To this day, there is only one way that you can take the role of an agent. When one agent passes, there is an opening. Each other member of Kingsman must provide a candidate to possibly fill said position. The candidates will endure trials and tests until all but one is eliminated and the remaining is appointed to his or her new place on the Kingsman table. You cannot simply be born into it. And even now that there is a position open, I already have the information. From Harry as well as the letter from my parents. The small amount of information that I possess is just enough information to be considered useful in the trials. It is because of this that I would have an advantage over the other candidates, deeming the trials unfair.

There is one way and one way only that you can become a Kingsman, and there is no possible way that I can achieve it. It also does not help that there hasn’t even been an opening since near the time that I was born. Harry has vouched for me in every way possible, but the only way that I can prove myself is through the trials.

So, Harry has given as much knowledge as he can about the ways of the Kingman. Which was not much at all. And still, considering that I can never have a chance to endure the proper Kingsman trials, alongside candidates, there is no way for me to earn a spot. Which is rather upsetting to me, considering that the information I hold that it considered so valuable, is barely anything.

These thoughts spin in my head as my conscious slowly becomes a subconscious, and I sleep, but not soundly. Thinking of who Harry’ s candidate will be, and how they most definitely cannot, and will never be me.

I go into the kitchen and find that there is some coffee leftover from the past day. I sigh, pouring the remaining liquid from the machines glass compartment into my favorite mug. I place it in the microwave to heat it and the machine atop the stove whirrs to life. 

Being that it was half past noon, I assumed Harry would be working. So I find Harry’s favorite bottle of scotch and take it from the cabinet. I proceed to stand on my tiptoes to retrieve a glass. The maple brown substance smells rancidly sweet as it travels from the bottle to the glass.

I put the bottle back into the cabinet and stare at the alcohol. Picking it up, the textured material of the glass feels cool on my already cold fingers. I take a sip of the amber liquor, as I have many times before. Still, I find that the alcohol burns my mouth and throat way too much for the taste to be remotely pleasurable. I never really have been a drinker. As I am eighteen and legal to drink, I would still need to wait three more years where I am from. I do not think that this is the reason for my distaste for alcohol. It’s an acquired taste as many says.

I personally just do not enjoy it.

The microwave beeps, signaling that my coffee has now reached the perfect temperature. One minute and thirty-seven seconds. The perfect time to make the drink hot enough to warm me up, but not quite the temperature to burn you. I place the mug next to Harry’s glass on the island and retrieve the cream and sugar, in which I use both in generous amounts. I stir both into the steaming black solution and watch as it turns lighter in color.

My mind wanders to last nights thoughts as I absentmindedly continue to bring the spoon around and around. I snap out of my whirlwind when I lean too far over the table, nearly knocking Harry’s glass over. I blink a few times, shaking the ideas from my head. I breathe out, buzzing my lips and rubbing my hands over my face and through my hair, gently running my nails along my scalp. I snatch the warm mug and textured glass from the table and pad my way to Harry’s office where he sits at his desk. I place the cup alongside his computer while he types.

“Thank you darling” He pauses his work to look up at me and to take his glass in one hand. To this, I give a small smile and an even smaller nod. I turn to exit the room and leave him to his work when he stops me. “Wait, before you go,” I swivel on my sock-clad heels to face him once again, raising my brows to show that I am listening. Do you remember the young boy that I once spoke about, by the name of Eggsy Unwin?”

I search my brain, reaching for the familiar name.

“Isn’t that your trainee’s son?” I remember vaguely Harry telling me this story, once again not being able to disclose too much information. I know that a man died. I know that he did it to save Harry’s life. I know that he had a wife and a young son. That was it.

“Yes, that’s the one.” He confirms. “Seeing that I owed him my life for that day, I gave his son a Kingsman medal. It had a number on it, I told him to dial it if ever he is in trouble. Seems this young man has perfect timing.” He chuckles lightly.

“What do you mean?”

“He found himself ‘up shit creek’ as he put it. He’s at the police station a few blocks down and is calling in his favor.” It is then that I understand that he is saying.

“So you’re thinking that this guy, who is currently sitting in jail could be a decent candidate for a Kingsman?” I furrow my brow in confusion. 

“Well in the time that it took for me to explain this to you, Merlin found this kids records.” I had never met Merlin, only heard the way that Harry spoke highly of him. “Fantastic in school, training to be a military man, and one day it simply stopped. Only recently has he began to have a criminal record.” I see the faith that Harry holds in his eyes.

“So, this is your guy then?”

“Nonsense love” He begins. “This is our guy”

So Harry bails him out, and not but a half an hour later he is standing on the steps of the police station waiting for the boy he calls ‘Eggsy’. 

Although it was most definitely a terrible idea, I watch Harry through his transmission glasses as multiple people walk past him. I was lucky enough to figure out Harry’s computer password awhile ago. 

I nearly stop paying attention when I hear his voice through the microphone.

“Eggsy” Harry’s voice rings. I look up to the computer to find a boy looking to be around my age wearing a puffy black jacket with gray sleeves. A dark blue hat lays atop his head, and I can vaguely see the outline of a Kingman medal hanging around his neck. “Would you like a lift home?”

“Who are you?” His accent differs from Harry’s. It is deeper, thicker, and it has a tone to it that for some reason plants a smile on my face. Even living in England, when you’re American, you can never get used to the accents.

“I’m the man who got you released.” Harry answers.

“That ain’t an answer” He shakes his head.

“A little gratitude would be nice.” Harry muses. “My name is Harry Hart. And I gave you that medal.” You could see Eggsy’s eyes focus in just at those words. “Your father saved my life.” Eggsy’s expression changes even more so. I blow a breath out of my nose. He has no idea what he is about to walk into.

Few words were conserved between the two men as they walked the short distance from the police station to the bar. How conveniently placed. It wasn’t until the two got seated in which they began their important conversation.

“So before you was a tailor was you in the army? Like an officer?”

“Not quite” Harry replies vaguely.

“So where was you posted Iraq or somefin’?” Eggsy throws Harry a sideways smile.

“Sorry, Eggsy, classified.” Harry shoots down the rather excited boy. Classified, something I had gotten used to. However vague Harry’s response, Eggsy’s face remains positive as ever.

“But my dad saved your life yeah?” His head bobs up and down in pride of the man that he barely knew.

“The day your father died, I missed something” Harry goes on explaining the heroic death of Eggsy’s father. Eggsy’s eyes just widen, his lips curled in a seemingly never-ending grin of honor for his fallen father. This somehow makes me happy for him. “But having read your files, I think he’d be bitterly disappointed in the choices you’ve made,” Harry explains. Eggsy’s face turns from a smile to a grimace all within a fraction of a second.

“You can’t talk to me li’ tha’!” Eggsy defends himself, crossing his arms over his chest, closing himself off from the deep conversation that he was involved in just a moment ago.

“Huge I.Q., great performance at primary school.” Harry begins blankly listing. “And it all went tits up. Drugs, petty crime. Never had a job.”

“Aw you think there's a lot of jobs going around here, d’ ya?” Eggsy snaps back, arms still crossed.

“Doesn't explain why you gave up your hobbies. First prize, regional under tens gymnastics, two years in a row. Your coach had you pegged as Olympic team material.” I raise my eyebrows from behind the screen.

“Yeah, well, when you grow up with someone like my stepdad you pick up new hobbies pretty quick.” Eggsy nods his head to state his point. I cannot help but wonder what exactly he means by that. I find myself wanting to know more.

“Of course. Always someone else's fault.” Eggsy turns his head, being careful not to look Harry in the eyes.  “Who's to blame for you quitting the Marines?” Harry questions as if he were an interrogator. The light haired boy's neck turns quickly to face Harry. His eyes are wide, unknowing that Harry has all of this information, or how he got it. “You were halfway through training, doing brilliantly, but you gave up.”

“Because my mum went mental. Banging on about losing me as well as my dad.” Eggsy leans forward on the table once more. “Didn't want me being cannon fodder for snobs like you, judging people like me from your ivory towers. With no thought about why we do what we do.” My lips purse tightly together as I listen closely to what the boy has to say. It took me no time at all to figure out that he hasn’t had the easiest life, but his small speech is beginning to make me wonder what has been making it so hard all this time. I’ve gathered that his father died, I understand his mom is not in the best place, which leads me to the stepdad that came up once or twice. I find myself wanting to help him. “We ain't got much choice. You get me? And if we were born with the same silver spoon up our arses, we'd do just as well as you. If not, better.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” A voice belts from just outside my screen view. I watch as Eggsy’s brooding, confident and slightly cocky expression wipe straight off of his face. A slight panic washes over his features. “You taking the piss?”

As Harry turns to face the sudden irruption, I can see his face and it makes me grimace instantly. I recognize the boy in front instantly.

While many girls my age taking college courses like to hang out at coffee shops, mind you I do the same, I spend some of my time sitting at the bar on weeknights, and very occasionally on weekends as well. Not because I like to drink, nor do I scout out men for dating possibilities, but one of my best friends works some night shifts at the bar, and I love to stay and chat with her, seeing as when I am there, the bar is almost always close to empty. 

Though Eggsy seemed to know the people working at the bar pretty well when he walked in with Harry, it was obvious that he was a regular. I must not be around often enough to catch him there. But the slightly older boy that just burst through the doors, him I recognize.

A few months ago is when I saw him first when my friend had just started working at the bar. At first, I found his flirty glances flattering, but sooner they turned creepy. He has hit on me despite me telling him off multiple times, and I’ve never quite gotten him to leave me alone. Eggsy seems to have problems of his own with this boy.

“Some more examples of young men who simply need a silver suppository?” Harry quips.

“Nah, they're exceptions. Come on.” Eggsy rushes, suddenly eager to leave.

“Nonsense. We haven't finished our drinks.” Harry stops him. He obviously knows that Eggsy is trying to run away, but Harry stands his ground.

“After you nicked his car,” One of the men surrounding the youngest boy starts, “Dean says you're fair game. He don't give a shit what your mum says.” The old man grumbles, threatening Eggsy. I am quick to assume the Dean is Eggsy’s stepdad.

“Listen, boys,” Harry begins. The posse of men turns to glare at him with unforgiving eyes. Eyes that say he has crossed some sort of line. “I've had a rather emotional day” I chuckle at Harry’s words. “So whatever your beef with Eggsy is, and I'm sure it's well-founded, I'd appreciate it enormously if you could just leave us in peace until I finish, this lovely pint of Guinness.” Harry’s small monologue creates a wave of confusion as well as amusement within the group. I watch as Eggsy sinches his eyes shut, thinking that Harry is ridiculous and making the situation even worse. In Eggsy’s defense, Harry most definitely is. Although, Eggsy does not know this man at all. He has no idea what Harry is capable of. Eggsy opens his eyes, bringing them upwards to see what the group is thinking. 

“You should get out of the way, Granddad, or you'll get hurt and all.” I laugh at the creepy boy's statement. 

“He ain't joking. You should go.” Eggsy presses him. I laugh even harder at this. Harry looks to Eggsy, setting down his glass and standing up, leaving Eggsy to deal with the mob of testosterone by himself. 

“Excuse me.” He asks politely. The first man in line gestures rudely for Harry to scurry. 

“If you're looking for another rent boy, they're on the corner of Smith Street.” The man who speaks in a low grumble says. I smirk as Harry stops in his tracks. 

“Manners” Harry reaches up to the lock on the top left of the door. “Maketh” Harry follows by sliding the other side shut tightly. “Man.” He finishes, shoving the lock near the handle shut. It closes with a loud click.

“Alright then Harry, let’s go” I mutter the small words of encouragement under my breath. I can almost hear Eggsy sigh in the realization that Harry is not going anywhere. As Harry has not turned away from the door, I can hear the team of men’s feet shuffling as they most likely turn to face the suited elder. “Do you know what that means?” I see Harry glance into a metal sheet with words ‘Guinness’ engraved across the surface. He used this to see the men behind him before he makes his next move. “Then let me teach you a lesson.”

And before anyone says a word, a half-finished mug of beer is sent flying across the room, shattering across the creepers forehead.

“Ooo” I wince. Leaning back in Harry’s desk chair. I grin as Harry defeats each of the large men that come at him with ease. 

Though I know his skills, they never fail to surprise me. I could only hope to be that great one day. I become discouraged in my seat simply at the thought of it, knowing it’s unrealistic.

I observe as Eggsy’s eyes widen with every punch dodged and every blow Harry stops. Harry finishes off by shooting the man behind the bar with an amnesia dart and returns to the table, as casual as ever. Harry takes his beer, sipping the last bit from the bottle and placing it back onto its coster. Eggsy’s eyes search him, looking for any shred of an explanation.

“Sorry about that. I needed to let off some steam. I heard yesterday that a friend of mine died.” Harry looks downwards. “He knew your father too actually” Eggsy stares at the man like he is crazy. In his eyes, it probably looks that way.

Harry stands from his spot once more. “Now I do apologize Eggsy,” Harry explains while adjusting his watch. “I shouldn’t have done this in front of you” Harry makes a final click on his watch, switching it to amnesia.

“No, please! I won't say nuhfin’, I swear!” Eggsy throws his arms up in surrender, seemingly begging for his like. “If there's one thing I can do, it keepin’ my mouth shut.”

“You won’t tell a soul?” Harry asks though it sounds like more a demanding statement. His glasses shift slightly, showing that he was raising an eyebrow.

“Ask the feds, I’ve never grassed anyone up” I scoff lightly at this remark.

“Is that a promise?” Harry presses.

“On my life” Eggsy swiftly replies, putting his hands up even further to show that he means well. I can sense that Harry is glaring into Eggsy’s soul to tell if he is lying or telling the truth. Finally, he puts his watch down.

“Much appreciated Eggsy,” Harry says in the blank tone that he has seemed to hold throughout most of their conversation. Eggsy slowly lowers his arms, wondering if that was it. “You’re right about the snobs, but there too are exceptions.” Harry reaches to place an arm on Eggsy’s shoulder. A friendly gesture he supposes, but I know what it really meant. “Best of luck with everything.”

“Smooth Harry” I mutter as Harry walks out of the quaint bar. I close the computer. “Real smooth.”

Less than thirty minutes later, Harry is sitting in the place where previously resided, looking through more of Eggsy’s files. I find myself in the kitchen again, searching for something to eat when Harry’s speakers blast sound waves through the house. The first thing that I hear is a woman's voice. An extremely worried and panicked women's voice. I briskly walk to the office where I find Harry with a slightly concerned face amongst the noise. After the women’s voice, I hear what I assume to be a punch followed by a loud rumbling as if someone ran into something and knocked it over. The sound of a punch, and screaming in agony.

“Stop it, just stop it!” I hear the voice belonging to the woman again.

“Fuck off!” The feminine tone is overpowered by a man’s shout. “Back away, and shut the fuck up!”

A wave of realization hits my brain and I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Who was with you in that fucking pub?!” The man hollers.

The stepdad.

“I want to know the name of the geezer you was with!”  

“I wasn't with no one!” I hear Eggsy’s familiar voice cry out, sounding pained and possibly pinned down. Next is the sound of skin slapping skin. Hard.

“Who was it?” The stepdad pushes.

“I don't know what you're on about.” Eggsy stays true to his word, not telling a soul. Another slap.

“Who was it?”

“I don't know who you're fucking on about!” Another slap. 

“Fucking tell me his name!” The man screams.

“I don't know who you're fucking on about!” Eggsy claims, releasing a strangled cry. 

“You listen to me! I want to know who you was with in that pub. Do you understand? I want to know his fucking name!” Another blow followed by a wail. “Because I swear, I'll rip your head off. Tell me!” 

“I don't know what you're fucking on about!” Eggsy repeats. More punches are thrown. 

“Just tell him, Eggsy!” The woman who I assume to be his mother pleads. I then hear that faint sound of an object being picked up, and the light sound of the blade of a knife scraping against a surface. 

“Fuck off!” She shrieks. “Fuck off, Michelle! I could kill you right now…” I feel my breaths getting shaky and uneven.

“Harry!” I yelp. “Are you gonna do something?”

“Now now, be patient” Harry stays steady as a rock.  

“and no one in the whole world will notice!” Eggsy’s stepdad continues. This is when Harry interjects.

“But I would”

The ruckus comes to a halt.

“What?!” The man calls out.

“I have enough evidence on your activities to have you locked up for the rest of your life, Mr. Dean Anthony Baker.” Harry taunts the stepfather.

“What the fuck?”

“So I suggest you leave the boy alone or I shall be forced to deliver it to the proper authorities. Eggsy, meet me at the tailor shop that I told you about” Harry presses a button, turning off his microphone. I hear a faint yell in confusion from the stepfather who I've recently come to know as Dean. Next is the shuffling and the slam of the door before Harry turns off Eggsy’s mic as well. “Grab your things darling, you’re coming with. Arthur said he wished to speak to you.”

I nearly do a double take. Although I know Arthur, and I have met with him several times, he has never wished to speak to me himself.  

“Uh,” I stutter. “Okay” I bring my lips into my mouth, biting them between my teeth. I flee to my room to grab my phone off of the charger and to check my appearance quickly. I run downstairs to slip on my shoes and jacket just as Harry takes outside. I follow suit. We make our way to the tailor shop, still hugging our coats to our bodies.

The bell rings as we enter the shop. I stand for a minute while Harry looks at me, then gesturing to the back room where I know Arthur is waiting.

“He wants to speak to you darling, not me. You know where he is”

I cinch my lips to one side, knowing that he is right. I shift directions, so I am now facing the small stairway that leads to the Kingsman back room. I let out a breath through my mouth before forcing my feet to move from under me.

“Arthur,” I step into the enclosed room where the elderly man is seated at the head of the table reading a file. “Harry said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes darling. Come on in” He waves me in, referring to the stationary position I am in near the entrance of the room. I take large strides, keeping my hands clasped together behind me. “Take a seat.”

I do as I am told, putting out a rather large chair from the table just aside where Arthur sits at the head. My hands clasp onto each other again, this time in front of me on the table.

“I’ve decided that I want you to be my candidate to fill Lancelot’s position.” He says. My eyes widen, and I try my hardest not to let my other facial features change too much. I think I may have failed, due to the fact that the elderly man begins to chuckle at my expression. I gather my thoughts for a moment before I begin to speak.

“Sorry sir, but I thought that was impossible for me” My hands open as I state my confusion. “Given my position. I also didn’t think that as head, you were supposed to provide a candidate.” I nearly stumble over my words, and then nearly celebrate for not doing so. 

“Well, at first, yes, this would be quite impossible but, as the times have changed, as have you, I want you as my candidate. You have what it takes to become an agent” The man states. A breath of exasperated air leaves my nose in disbelief of the situation. “The small amount of information that you hold would not put you to any advantage. I feel that what you know is about the same amount as any other candidate when they are told what they are in for.” Arthur discloses his monologue and I still staring at the man. I am left speechless. Word try to leave my lips but all that happens is my mouth opens and then closes, a smile etched into it. “Interested?”

“Yes!” I blurt. The first words to leave me in what seems like forever. I compose myself as he chuckles lightly again. “I mean, yes sir. I would love nothing more”

“Splendid. Although I do have to tell you,” Arthur begins. “This will be your only chance to become a Kingsman, just like any other candidate”

To this, a small ‘oh’ leaves my throat and I nod my head slowly.

“You will be just as other candidates are, no second chances after this” My tongue protrudes out of my lips as I lick them, still nodding, looking at the table rather than Arthur. I let out a small breath before whipping my head to face Arthur before I can talk myself out of what I am about to do.

“Understood sir,” I say with a false confidence that I hope covered up my lack or nerve.

“Perfect. I shall give you a moment to say your goodbyes to Harry, and then we shall be off” He stands slowly. I nod quickly before swiftly taking more long strides out of the room. The large closed mouth smiles not leaving my face, because though I am nervous, I now have a chance.

“Harry!” My enthusiasm bursts out of me as I jump in front of the man sitting and holding a new glass of alcohol. “Arthur wants me to be his candidate! I have a shot!” My voice reaches a high pitch as I grin ear to ear.

“Darling” Harry sits up, walking to me. “That’s fantastic!” He embraces me in a hug and we stand for a moment. We are soon interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

We release from each other’s arms to find Arthur waiting for me. Harry firmly grabs my shoulders, looking me in the eye.

“Alright, you listen to me. I know that you have what it takes, but so may every single person in that room” He begins. “I know that you try hard in everything that you do but in this, you must try your hardest. Do it for your parents, but most importantly, do this for you”

I quickly blink away my tears as the father like figure gives his advice.

“Jesus Harry leave some for your candidate” A small rumble of sad-happy laughter shakes my shoulders. I almost say Eggsy, but I technically am not supposed to know who Harry has appointed. I realize now that I am going to meet him soon. I almost grin even wider at the thought.

“Well,” Harry starts. “It’s definitely going to be a competition in who I route for now” He humors. I scoff in another laugh. “I love you Y/N”

“I love you too Harry” The tears cloud my vision again but I refuse to let any fall.

“Go make me proud” He kisses the top of my head and sends me off to Arthur.

Oh my god. 

// next chapter>

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