okay man but you bet your fuckin ass harry hart’s gonna stare at his spy of a boyfriend’s stupidly pretty face whenever he gets the chance to
itd just be out of the corner of his eye when eggsy’s in the gym and his hair’s falling in his face and his cheeks are red from exertion. or when he’s reading a book curled up on the sofa and his eyes flick across the page like he’s absorbing the literature and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. or he’s laughing loud and bright to a joke roxy cracked, eyes crinkled at the corners in happiness. when they tumble into bed and eggsy’s eyes are something deeper altogether.
and its alright that he stares, because when harry’s face is lax in slumber in the morning eggsy watches the sun beam onto his face until harry blinks awake owlishly and stares back.
For the Dwarf prompts: Maybe Dis and Dustown life? Specifically how she and Leske were together maybe??
Dis Brosca sat in the dust, her hair falling out of her braids, her feet sore as anything. She rubbed at them with her hands, scowling at the blisters forming.
She glanced up, seeing a boy only a little older than her – he was maybe eight or nine – crouching a few feet away, holding something at his side.
“Hey,” she said warily. Rica had taught her carefully. Sometimes dusters stuck together. Sometimes they took advantage. She rolled up into a crouch, wincing only slightly when her blisters contacted the rough ground. Just in case she needed to run.
“Sore feet?” the boy asked. He looked nice enough, crooked teeth coming in, dark hair braided to one side, his brand smooth on his cheek. She knew she would be faster than him, if she had to be. Probably no harm in talking.
“Yeah,” Dis admitted. “Sodding dust.”
“My brother just gave me his shoes,” said the boy. He pointed to the worn shoes on his feet, which looked slightly too big for him, then held out what was in his hands: another pair. “So I don’t need these no more.”
Dis looked at him, cocking her head to one side. “You could still use them,” she said.
“I don’t have any little brothers or sisters,” said the boy. “And my feet hurt in these. They’re too little. Might fit you, though.” He held them out.
“What do you want for ‘em?” asked Dis. “Don’t got any money.” She showed him her empty palms.
The boy shrugged. “I dunno. It’s safer with two, isn’t it? My brother’s busy now. Works for Beraht. So I’m alone now, you know? But you and me, we can help each other out.”
Dis looked at the shoes, patched, peeling leather in the boy’s dust-brown hands. “Okay,” she said finally.
The boy reached out his hands, passing her the shoes. “Hey,” he said. “I’m Leske.”
“Dis,” she said, wiggling into the shoes. They were a little big. There was a hole in the toe. They were wonderful. “Thanks,” she said shyly.
“Gotta stick together, right?” said the boy – Leske – cheerfully.
“Sure,” said Dis. She grinned, looking down at her new shoes. “Come on,” she said. “I know a good place. Stuff from the Commons ends up there. Sometimes –” she paused for dramatic effect “– stuff from the Diamond Quarter, too.”
Leske laughed. “Now you’re pulling my leg.”
“Am not!” Dis pouted. “Come on, I’ll show you.” She grabbed him by the hand – grubby, grimy, and surprisingly soft – and led him onward.
Profession(s) - Cook, angler, and former zoologist.
Birthplace - Sunsail Anchorage, Quel’thalas
Zodiac sign - Scorpio (Early November)
Face Claim - Mila Kunis
Cielya’s scent is often that of the spices she cooks with. Her charcoal black hair falls in straight layers reaching just past her shoulders. At times she may haphazardly pull it back in a bun or ponytail. Not being as skilled in magic as other Blood elves, her eyes are a paler green with a dimmer glow.
Her clothing is rather simple. Except for a pair of ruby gems that adorn each lobe of her long, elvish ears there is no other jewelry or tattoos present on this woman. Often a pocketed apron is worn. Cielya isn’t as prim and proper as others of her race, although she tends not to skimp out on color coordination. Always in her possession is a leather bound journal filled with hand written recipes. In her belt sheath is a filleting knife while her satchel contains a travel size iron pan and other cooking utensils.
Being around a plethora of Horde races, Cielya prefers to speak in Orcish. While she has retired from a life of animal researching, she often seen with one of her pet companions. The Sin'dorei is also seen spending her days at various coast lines. Equipped with a hand-crafted pole and a tackle box full of various lures. Though she is skilled in making a plethora of meals. she favors those of seafood variety the most and is likely to be seen cooking it.
Willow trees bowing in the heat of summer
Reeds by the waterside
These are the dog days
The taste of salt and nectar
A hazy afternoon at a hundred and one
Ways to say what I want
Fingertips touch trading smoke
Push past your lips and into your lungs
Watching sunlight on your skin
Bashful smiles in the flowers
Shake your head and the stars fall out of your hair
On the ground on my face