Corvin Castle, a Gothic-Renaissance castle, is located in Hunedoara, Romania, and is one of the largest castles in Europe, and one with a very morbid history. In the yard of this spectacular castle sits a 30 meter well. This well was allegedly built by Turkish prisoners who were promised they would be released if they dug deep enough to reach water. It took the prisoners 15 years to dig deep enough to find water, but the captors did not keep their promise. It is said that there is an inscription on the well which reads: “You have water, but not soul.”
It’s also said that Vlad the Impaler was imprisoned here for seven years.
I went through the fics saved on my Kindle aka I read them at least thrice (not the recently bookmarked ones on ao3 or on my laptop) and here are what I found. The order is mainly sorted by authors’ names and texts in italics are my comments. I try not to spoil them for you guys and only include tags the authors use.
Of course, a refusal to apologise and a handjob on the floor of a fitting room does not reparations make.
Eggsy left the shop that night with a new chip on the shoulder of his new suit. Harry left the shop that night with the knowledge of what Eggsy looked like flushed and trembling with pleasure under his hands and the certainty that this single torturous taste of what he wanted most was worth living with the possibility that he would not get another.
“Caution in the field isn’t confined to simply an awareness of your surroundings,” Harry says, his tone stern but his breath soft and warm against the back of Eggsy’s hand. His gaze lifts, his eyes hooded as he peers at Eggsy over the rims of his glasses. “You’ve told a lie, Eggsy, and now that lie must be truth.”
(Or, that time Eggsy scored them a better table by saying it was his and Harry’s anniversary and quickly grew to regret it.)
“What sort of aggression is it then?” Eggsy asks, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
Harry knows even before he hears the response. Knows because even as Merlin is saying, “It appears to affect sexual responses. Activating latent desire and cranking up the subject’s sex drive whilst simultaneously increasing pheromone production,” Harry is thinking primarily of the distance between himself and Eggsy and how very few steps it would take to be within range to push the boy to the floor and pin him there.
“You know, you almost fooled me yesterday with the whole I want to watch the legacies speech,” Merlin says and Harry groans, because he knows things just went tits up. “Well, I suppose you were half telling the truth. You wanted to watch one certainlegacy, but it was more about his mouth, eyelashes and that thing on his eyebrow you can’t seem to stop staring at.”
Harry head snaps up at that. “Oh, shite.”
“Oh, yes,” the agent keeps going, completely enjoying this. “You forgot to turn off your feed. I saw the flirting. And Lee’s reaction. Good luck with that.”
Eggsy pulled furtively at the ropes binding his arms and legs to the metal tracks, as if he’d forgotten the last five minutes already. God, though. Before he’d felt trapped, terrified; now it was more like he was… at Harry’s mercy.
There are three-hundred and twenty-six members in Kingsman’s tech departments all over the world, and obviously they have lots of stories to share about their agents and what they do to drive them crazy.
The best way to do so is a super-secret WhatsApp group, and if it gets a challenge for all of them to finally get Harry and Eggsy together, it might just be Merlin’s fault.
A chronic of Harry’s and Eggsy’s love, following them from their first meeting to the last time they set eyes on each other, through shots in the head and falling in love and finally getting their shit together.
Harry survived V-Day - because of course he did - but not all the Kingsman agents were so lucky. With the world still going to shit and the worst staff shortage since the organisation began, Merlin calls a group of retired agents back to their posts to help out while he trains the new recruits.
Featuring snowball fights, banter, innuendo, handsome old men, lady scientists, secrets in walking sticks, Harry’s appalling crush, thumbnails of bigger pictures, a pastede on plot crammed in around all the flirting which is really just an excuse for me to write a silly sword fight, and an old bet from 1986 that’s still not been decided.
“I am entirely capable,” Harry proclaims cuttingly to Merlin, puffed up like a prissy cat. And Merlin throws his arms skyward like he’s just begging for lightning to strike ‘im where he stands and asks, with scathing exasperation, “Of what, waddling up to someone and ruthlessly bumping into them?”
And Eggsy one hundred percent doesn’t snicker, and he’s got the bloody inner cheek to prove it, ‘cause Eggsy’s a fuckin’ gentleman.
Instead Eggsy takes in the sight of ‘is pregnant mate, huge as a fuckin’ planet and still the most bloody gorgeous man he’s ever seen. And then takes in ‘is face, and he wonders how much ice cream he’s gonna need to buy to get them all through the four weeks of bed rest Merlin just ordered.
And then Harry’s upper lip looks like it might fuckin’ quiver, and Eggsy contemplates just buyin’ stock in Ben and Jerry’s.
The Weeping Angels, Eggsy reads on the stolen Torchwood intel. Aliens that pose as statues, and kill their victims by sending them back in time and feeding off their years not lived in the present. The politest psychopaths in the universe, a note reads, scrawled in what looks like a doctor’s chicken scratch on the edge of the page by someone who clearly had a perverse sense of humour. A one way trip, the report concludes; you get transported by the angels, and it’s the slow road back to the present for you.
Eggsy lays his head back on the wall, takes stock of his situation. He’s lost 30 years - three years more than his entire lifespan up ’til now - in the blink of an eye, and now he’s stuck here, in 1988. Three years before he’s even born. Arthur, the prick, is sure to be heading up the Kingsmen, and Merlin, if he’s even there would be…20, maybe. Fuck, so fucking young.
Shite, even Harry’d only be…
Alive, Eggsy thinks, and finds himself sitting down hard from where his knees can’t hold him. This is 1988, and Harry’s 23, and alive.
Suddenly, being stuck in 1988 doesn’t seem so bad.
Eggsy whips around to find Harry Hart standing right behind him, holding a martini glass and just as gorgeous as Eggsy last saw him, three years and two months ago.
Thankfully, Eggsy is too busy staring in shock to actually say anything in response, because Harry then says, “Excuse my poor manners. Harry Hart. And you are?” And then extends his hand, which is how Eggsy remembers that he’s not supposed to be Eggsy Unwin right now; he’s actually undercover.
He sees Westminster Abbey. Instead of a burst of civic and national pride, it feels like someone has just punched him in the chest. Harry stumbles, nearly falls over, and he can suddenly see bright Southern sunlight, he can smell the scent of blood all over him, his shoulder aches where someone’s just stabbed him, there are bullet bruises all over his back. There’s someone screaming in the distance and he can see flat, brown eyes facing him down the barrel of a silenced gun.
He winds up crouched, retching on the floor of a public loo, head between his knees, breathing high and fast through his teeth while Merlin’s voice, quiet and calm and grounding in his ear tells him just stay there, Arthur, someone’s coming, and someone comes.
Eggsy’s words are ‘What’s your name, young man?’, but Harry’s isn’t ‘Eggsy.’ So he keeps quiet, keeps it to himself, but when he finds himself face to face with a younger Harry Hart, Eggsy can’t help falling in love all over again.
Sometimes, the first words you say to your soulmate aren’t the first they hear from you.
“The international community is in chaos this morning in the wake of the deaths of many world leaders. The death of the president of the United States has been confirmed, along with the majority of his cabinet. Great Britain can count itself lucky that the Queen has been found and finally returned to her throne, but her heirs are another story. It appears that both princes and their own heirs are among the casualties of what is being referred to as the Valentine’s Day Massacre. Sources close to–”
It just so happens that there is another direct heir to the British throne out there, but he’s probably going to need a bit of polish.
“It’s from the gentleman over there,” replies the waitress, pointing over her shoulder.
“Err….” Now, Eggsy knows he’s pissed. He learned his limits and exceeded them back in Cambridge, so being drunk off his arse is nothing new. He also knows that he can finish his pint and maybe get away with one more drink before he’s making a raucous or somehow getting involved in a fight, but he certainly can’t handle six more cocktails of Irish alcohol.
“Invite him over,” he tells her with an easy smile.
Or, the drunken one night stand Eggsy thought he’d never see again until he does and they have sex again.
But sometimes at night after waking up from dreams (nightmares) where Valentine wasn’t afraid of blood and Gazelle wasn’t so enamored with the lisping psychopath Harry wakes in the dark all too sure he’s dead.
Harry’s chest hitches on an indrawn breath. The contours of his face are cast dramatically in the fiery hues of the street at night, highlighting the wrinkle in his forehead and the soft slope of his chin and the silvery pink of his scar.
He’s beautiful, and Eggsy loves him.
“I miss you.” The confession falls. It lands heavily onto the pavement, cracking into the asphalt. “You’re alive, you’re right in fucking front of me, and I still miss you.”
Watching the light spread in those heavy-lidded eyes, seeing the small twitch at the corner of his mouth - the only other physical sign he had strength enough to give - was more than enough to know for sure.
Eggsy was fucked.
Or: In a world rapidly descending into anarchy in the wake of V-Day, Kingsman - under the guidance of it’s new Arthur - must decide whether or not to abandon its hitherto undercover nature and save the the world from itself.
“This is your next target,” Merlin said into Harry’s earpiece, as Harry leaned forward to look at his laptop screen.
It blacked out, for a moment, then a clip out of some interview began to play. The video was in black and white, crisply and tightly shot, its subject a young man shown seated from the waist up, against a pale gray background, grinning at the camera. He was probably in his mid twenties, dressed down in a black leather jacket over a pale t-shirt, loose over denim jeans, his hair long enough to feather slightly over his forehead, a hint of stubble over his chin. He was also, quite possibly, the most beautiful young man Harry had ever seen, and disturbingly… familiar, somehow.
As the young man laughed noiselessly at the camera, elegant serif type faded over the lower third of the screen: Gary Unwin, by Vanity Fair. Harry blinked, and studied the young man’s pretty face more closely, the crinkling around his eyes, the joyous curl to his mouth, the way he sat, relaxed yet alert, like a hunting hound, waiting to come to heel.
In the glade where the star had fallen, the gloom of the gnarled old woods was deeper than night, save around the blackberry bush that had broken his fall: the grass and the battered leaves were now luminous, moon-touched. There was a long pause, broken by the sounds of twittering insects and the forest folk, then, there was a loudly groaned, “Fuck!”
The star rubbed a hand over his eyes, then flinched and held his hand up, spreading unfamiliar fingers up against the night sky. He turned his hand this way and that, curling and uncurling fingers, then he let out a softer, yet just as vehement “fuck!” and sat up, wincing.
⭐ Calm Like You - MartinShostakovich. E, 10k. Teacher/student AU.
Eggsy develops a heavy crush on his new Classical Literature Professor Harry Hart, and strives to reach the top of the class in order to impress him. Little did Eggsy know, Mr. Hart is fairly easy to impress.
It’s a rainy Monday when Eggsy Unwin is killed in the line of duty. And it’s a rainy Tuesday when Harry Hart starts to feel that there is something very wrong with the world now. As one tragic event after another unfolds, he becomes convinced that Eggsy was never meant to die. Somehow he has to put things right again and find a way to get Eggsy back. No matter what the cost.
The night before the final test, Harry makes Eggsy a promise: once he is a Kingsman, they will talk about their future together. Then V-Day happens, and although Harry recovers, he doesn’t remember that last day he spent with Eggsy. Now Eggsy has to carry on like his heart isn’t breaking every time he looks at Harry and he thinks about what they might have had. He manages to do a good job of it, though, keeping things between them strictly professional.
So then, of course, Harry remembers.
⭐ One Night - Nickygp. E, 53k. Judge!Harry, rentboy!Eggsy.
Harry Hart, a Lord Justice, has his life turned upside down when he meets a young rentboy, named Eggsy, who charms his way into Harry’s heart. But can he act upon those feelings, or are their cirmustances too different to breach the gap?
The first time Harry Hart threatens to end Eggsy’s step-father, it’s a bluff.
The second time is going to be a promise.
⭐ No Charm Equal- potentiality_26. E, 29k. Cupid AU. The one that got me hooked on this author.
To say that Harry was too surprised to react at first would have been a grave understatement. He wasn’t literally invisible, because he did sometimes need to interact with mortals to do his job, he was just unnoticeable. People- the particular charge he had been assigned to most of all- were meant to see him and yet never actually process his presence. Unless he showed up in their houses- which a gentleman would never do, of course- they would ignore him and just get on with their lives. And yet here Eggsy was, closer than anyone had been to Harry since- well, since he was mortal, and that was long enough ago that Harry could hardly remember it- snarling, “Why are you following me?”
“Kiss me,” he murmured when he reached Harry, because while it wasn’t exactly vital to the mission that Eggsy convince this woman that they were in love, it would certainly make him feel better. Harry pressed his mouth to Eggsy’s as he passed him a glass of champagne, and ‘feeling better’ went out the window. The kiss was quick, sweet, marital. Eggsy didn’t know how Harry made it feel so practiced, but he did.
“I have an admirer,” Eggsy informed him, almost breathless with how much he wanted Harry to kiss him like that every day, how much he wanted Harry to have a reason to.
Five times Eggsy gets Harry to kiss him for the wrong reasons (and one time he gets it right).
Harry stated the obvious, something he should have seen that morning but hadn’t: “You shopped.”
“I been here quite a bit,” Eggsy explained, shrugging one shoulder. “And anyway it seemed… better. Food in the fridge, nothing gathering dust. Made it more like you’d be back any day now.” Eggsy swiped his knife over the bread with a little more aggression than was strictly necessary, but his voice was very even. “You said you’d come back and sort things. But you didn’t.”
Harry comes back a week after V-Day. He isn’t strictly alive, but that means less than he would have expected it to.
Harry is a celebrated food critic. Eggsy is a Youtube-famous food blogger. They meet at the grand opening of Mediterranean restaurant Mallorca when they’re forced to share a table. It’s a meal, and a night, neither will soon forget.
Out of all of the blokes occupying their flat, Harry was the one Eggsy saw the most, and yet they had only ever shared passing greetings. It was a growing source of disappointment for Eggsy; he was strangely drawn to Harry and his gorgeous brown hair and eyes.
In the wake of V-day the world’s economy hangs in a delicate balance, liable to crumble without warning. One man has the knowledge and the power necessary to send it tumbling down, so that only he remains on top.
The Kingsman have been tasked with stopping him before he can carry out his plan. In order to do so, Harry and Eggsy must act as lovers at an elite couple’s getaway to earn this man’s trust. Will they be able to carry out their mission as planned? Or will old wounds and buried emotions cause a havoc greater than anything they could have expected?
It wasn’t unusual, Eggsy told himself. There were plenty of people- just a little under half of the world’s population, really- that weren’t with their soulmates. Some of them just hadn’t met yet; others had died beforehand; and then there were the people in Eggsy’s situation. Sometimes people genuinely didn’t want their soulmates. Either they were in love with someone else, or they just didn’t like what they got stuck with, and Eggsy imagined the latter was very much the case with him and Harry. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have felt like for him, the world’s prime example of a posh bloke, to have his soulmate be some beaten-up kid. He would have rejected him too.
Or: soulmate AU where you know your soulmate from the moment you touch them, and when you do, their name gets written over your heart like a brand. But that’s not always a guarantee.
⭐ Tailor Shop - rougewinter. E, 13k. Like a Disney movie except really gay and for grown-ups.
“There’s no need for that now.” The older man said, both hands raised in a placating gesture that only had Eggsy narrowing his eyes in wariness.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Eggsy demanded, making sure to keep the poker up.
“My name is Harry Hart. And I’m the man, well, the mannequin that you just assembled.”
The one where Harry is cursed to be a magical mannequin and can only be saved by the power of love.
He does not only recognize this man, he knows him. Harry knows the way he laughs and the way he would smile cheekily at Harry. He knows the way this man say his name, all rough cockney accent and confidence. Harry knows him better than Harry knows himself but none of that matter because Harry does not remember his name.
“Harry–"Eggsy breaks off, because, god, Harry’s here! He’s alive, breathing, beautiful, and he’s got Eggsy crushed in his arms and Eggsy can feel his mouth tingling from the roughness of his kiss.
Then Harry pulls back; more-so he shoves Eggsy away. He keeps him pinned to the wall, at arms length, and Eggsy is pleased to see Harry is panting, stray chocolate hairs fallen out of place. The action, however, makes his blood feel cold, and he stares up at Harry in confusion, expecting something more. But Harry makes no move to close the space between them again.
When Harry speaks, finally, it’s low and deadly and it fucking hurts.
Eggsy crashes his stepfather’s car into the front window of a quaint but reputable tailor’s shop on Savile Row and, thanks to the charitable spirit of its mysterious owner, ends up working there to pay the damages.
Plenty of people had looked down on Eggsy throughout his life. He had gotten fairly used to it. Didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. What really sucked was that the new Arthur was worse than the old one.
“Eggsy grimaced. He didn’t know how to explain to Harry – who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life – that the new Arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”
5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?
10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?
I wish I was more creative with their outfits (but maybe u noticed i tried to include the bags haha). Basically Corvin likes more clothing, he gets cold easily. Starling also likes layered clothing, but It needs to be comfortable as well and it has to be good for running, and Wren loves to wear skirts and dresses<3
15. Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not?
I find this question kinda difficult to answer, but I’d say Starling is more invested in material possession, she’d have her room full of souvenirs from her adventures, she cares about a lot. And I think the Twins would be more preoccupied with money, but I can’t think of why yet hmpf >:c