dark locks

anonymous asked:

Hartwin meet at a dog park??? :D

In South Kensington, lodged in between the neighbourhood houses, is a fenced community park that Eggsy only visits when it’s dark. The lock is so ridiculously easy to pick it might as well be made of butter. He sets JB on the grass and the damn dog just stands there looking at him. “Go on.” He urges, “I ain’t coming here for you for you to just sit around, yeah?” As if on cue, JB sits, gets back up, and for a moment he looks threateningly close to barking, but then he just totters off.

Eggsy takes a seat on the bench he knows JB will come back to once he’s done his thing, and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

From here, he can just glimpse the top of the roof, and for now, it’s all he can bear to look at. What to most is an empty house is to Eggsy filled to the brim. It screams Harry in ever crevice, in every breath taken there. It’s not his fault Harry’s a hoarding freak, with his paper clippings and his butterflies and all of his framed photographs that Eggsy believes aren’t even of anyone Harry knew.

That house, along with two single-sentence announcements in the paper, are the only things that can prove Harry ever even existed.

“You’re being sentimental again, aren’t you?” Eggsy’s immediate response is to hold up his balled fists, which, granted, looks a bit amusing since they are still in his jacket’s pockets. “I can’t believe you’re still repeatedly surprised at this when you know I’m going to show up.”

“That’s cause you’re always sneaking up on me.” Eggsy finally manages to reply.  Harry’s smirk shows just how pleased he is with the situation, and Eggsy knows he had every intention of sneaking. He turns his focus back on the house, because sometimes, when he stares at Harry for a too long period of time, he looks too much like an illusion. Which is stupid, yeah.

Harry sits down next to him. “How was the mission?” Eggsy shrugs, “Nothing much. Arthur still won’t let me go alone because he’s afraid I’m gonna do something ‘reckless’.” He huffs bitterly. “You can’t exactly blame him.”

Eggsy scowls at Harry for that. Again, only briefly. “You came here to blame me then?” He can see Harry shaking his head from the corner of his eye. “You know why I’m here-” “Yeah, alright.” Harry picks up on the threat and anger in those two words and doesn’t continue. They don’t say anything for a while, and Eggsy begins to wonder just how big of a shit JB is laying.

Eventually, Harry’s hands swipe over the front of his trousers and he stands up. “I have to go.” He steps into Eggsy’s view, and seems to be waiting for some sort of reply, even though he has to know at this point he isn’t going to get one. Harry exhales heavily through his nose, grabs his umbrella and, right before he leaves, he says, “I’ll see you around.”

Eggsy wishes that wasn’t true. It isn’t healthy, he knows that. But as long as his memory can conjure this vivid of a fantasy, he’s going to keep doing it. He knows that too.

anonymous asked:

This isn't a request, unless you want to write it... Imagine an AU where the reader is the Queen of Scotland and must marry Mark the future king of France. On the day they meet Mark let's it slip that he has an older brother, Dark, who was locked away from trying to kill Mark. The reader has sympathy for Dark, as she was locked away too, so she visits him and slowly falls in love with each visit.

I’m going to keep this as a thing to work on. Because that sounds like an awesome AU to write about


Fᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ Tᴏᴍ Hᴀʀᴅʏ’s ᴘᴇʀғᴏʀᴍᴀɴᴄᴇs.

I’m angry. I have been, for weeks now.

I didn’t want to make a post or say anything because I don’t think enough people will notice or care. But fuck that, because I’ve got something to say.

I’m a fanfic writer for Haikyuu, I’ve been one for over a year; going on two. I’ve written 50 fics for this fandom, and I’ve been posting one fic or chapter update every week since the beginning of this year.

I write because I love writing, because I have a lot of ideas, and because I love the characters. I post my work because I think other people might enjoy my work, too.

But I’m also sick of it.

I’m sick of spending all my free time on writing only to get ten notes max on my fics on tumblr. Which, you know - it might just be that people don’t like my work. But it’s not just me.
I’ve participated in events, and if you look at the pages for any fandom-related project that includes artists and writers, I can assure you that you’ll always find the same thing: art with over a thousand notes per pic, and fics with less than twenty.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the art that people are creating in the fandom, just as much as the next person. I buy every zine I can get my hands on. I commission artists when I can.

Recently, I commissioned a writer. I didn’t even know that was a thing until a couple months ago, and even then, I’ve seen writers offer 1k words or more for as little as 3$. Are you fucking kidding me. I paid 25$ for 4k and I wish I could have tipped more.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’m done with this.

I’ve been thinking every single day for the last three weeks that I want to just say I’m not going to be writing anymore. Because I’ve got no more energy for this. I’ve got enough other shit going on, and constantly being angry about how writers are treated is not helping, and it’s not something I can turn off. Every day I’ve been thinking “you should just go. For your sake. Stop this shit.”

I can’t do that. When I finally reached that point, and made the decision today that I’d stop, I’m done, I’m out - I immediately felt AWFUL. I love writing, and I love the friends I’ve made through it. I get really sweet and supportive comments sometimes. I feel like my work has maybe impacted a handful of people.

But I hate this. I hate the way the fandom treats us. I hate getting 1k hits and 2 comments. I hate getting 20 notes, only one of which is a reblog. Who’s going to see my work? No one. I hate it, and I don’t know what to do about it.

I guess that’s all. Expect a new fic from me next week, as always. Because as much as I hate it, I can’t leave. But I’m done pretending I’m not angry. Because I am.

Sharing Is Caring (M)

Originally posted by sunshine-hobi

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Seokjin
Genre: lowkey pwp, um…this is literally filthy smut with my faves lol, oral, lowkey cum play, slight spanking, whole lotta dirty talk, explicit language (eg: cum slut, whore etc), slight thigh riding, dry humping, minor breathplay, minor gagging/choking, bondage, mentions of DP/anal, mxm themes, threesome, mutual masturbation, slight rimming, orgasm denial, Model!Reader, CEO!JinKook, Dom!JinKook
Word Count: 5.8k+ (holy crap…)
A/N: Okay this was supposed to be posted on the 1st, but I only finished editing and writing everything now ;-; yes this was my birthday present to myself lmao. Feedback is always appreciated! I really hope you enjoy because I literally died while writing it

  • Summary: “We love to share everything baby girl. Isn’t that right Jungkook?” The younger man nodded, the smirk not having left his ridiculously handsome face just yet. Jin pressed himself against you, fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt with ease as Jungkook helped the flimsy material slide off your legs, pooling on the floor. Jin slyly ran his fingers across the top of your already soaked panties. “Mind if we share your mouth tonight? You know what they say; sharing is caring.”

Jeon Jungkook. An young man who supported dark locks, cheeky smirks and quick fucks with his secretary, or rather, his secretaries when time allowed (which to his delight, was every morning and at every lunch break - unless he had meetings of course). As the owner of Jeon Magazine, a company that was entirely dedicated in making models look their absolute best and create monthly editions to sell in the shops meant Jungkook was practically living in money, but that also meant he was constantly under the spotlight, his every move being captured.

Every women he ended up sleeping with (which would be two of regular secretaries), would rave on about how good he was, how great his mouth was, how great his hips were when they were being pounded into the bedsheets at ghastly hours of the night, probably managing to wake up the neighbours next door, only managing to fuel Jungkook’s ego. If anyone threatened to tell the press, he wouldn’t hesitate to threaten them back - either that or he’d pay them a shit load of money so they could keep their mouth shut with something that wasn’t his cock.

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