“Merlin,” Eggsy hissed only after Harry went to take a shower. “There’s only one bed in here, mate.”

[“Yes, I know.”]


[“And you’re both adults, so if I hear one word of complaint I’ll have you sleep in a cardboard box behind a petrol station on your next mission.”]

Eggsy hugged, taking off my glasses. “Don’t have to bite my head off,” he muttered.

The bed was queen size, easily large enough for both of them, but not large enough for him, Harry, and his massive crush on Harry. It was embarrassing, it was, but he couldn’t think of another solution. Sleep on the floor? No way Harry would let him, and no way he would let Harry. The room was their hiding spot for the night, simply getting another was out of the question (Merlin said so.)

Eggsy jumped when he heard the shower turn off. Fuck. He hurriedly changed to his pajamas, a gift from Harry last Easter and tucked himself in on the far left of the bed. Any further and he’d be hanging off the side, but he’d slept in worse places.

Harry came out a few minutes later, also dressed for bed, his hair only slightly damp. “Would you mind if I read for a bit?”

“Knock yourself out,” Eggsy said with faux nonchalance. He was lying stiff as a board with his back to Harry and his face buried in his pillow. Even if light did bother him, he wouldn’t be able to see it.

He felt the blankets move and the mattress shift. Eggsy could see in his mind’s eye, Harry sitting up in bed, reading from a tablet where he kept digital copies of all the books that lined the shelves in his bedroom. So domestic, it shouldn’t have turned Eggsy on as much as it did. He snuggled further into his pillow and sighed. “Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Eggsy.”  


Eggsy woke up in increments the next morning, until he was fully conscious and staring happily at the blackout curtains over the hotel window. He’d have to remember to get those installed in his room, and in Harry’s guest room for how often he slept there. He wondered if Harry was up yet, Eggy hadn’t bothered to check his mobile, so he had no idea what time it was.

If Harry was up, Eggsy thought it was rather rude of him to just wander off. Still, Eggsy wouldn’t complain, not when he was bundled up in the middle of the comfortable bed, warm and content and—

Oh, of course. Clearly he hadn’t been as fully conscious as he thought, because he was only just becoming aware of the arm draped over his waist, the face nuzzled into his hair, and the taller, firm body spooning up against him. Eggsy shifted, then froze, yup, that was morning wood pressed against his arse. Eggsy’s own cock twitched in interest and he mentally scolded it.

Harry murmured something and hugged Eggsy tighter. Eggsy cursed the thin, but luxuries material of his pajamas, they did nothing to protect him from the rigid heat as Harry snuffled and moved his hips.

Eggsy was torn; on the one hand, this was honestly one of his private fantasies, but on the other, he wasn’t so fucking low that he’d take advantage of the situation. Eggsy didn’t try to move away, Harry was a light sleeper and Eggsy didn’t fancy being almost killed in sixteen different ways. So he cleared his throat loudly, hoping that would be enough.

It was. Harry immediately tensed up, and Eggsy felt a long exhale of air against the back of his neck. There was a moment, a pause where Eggsy was sure Harry was cataloguing all their points of contact. Eggsy yelped when Harry moved his arm and it inadvertently brushed over his groin.

Harry paused again. Eggsy gulped, “Good morning Harry.”

“Good morning Eggsy.” Eggsy almost wanted to kick him for sounding so perfectly composed.

“Have a good sleep?”

“Quite.” Harry started to remove his hand again, this time with more care, but Eggsy caught his wrist.

“Got a question, Harry.” His red face burned hotter than he’d ever felt, but Eggsy had the strangest ‘now or never’ feeling. He knew Harry, knew this would hurt any chance Eggsy might ever have with him. Harry stopped moving, so Eggsy asked. “How does a gentleman show he’s interested?”

The curtains grew more and more interesting the longer Harry’s silence continued. Eggsy wondered if he should have just let the man leave the bed with their dignity intact, but then Harry hummed, “It depends on his intentions.”

Eggsy licked his lips, the hand holding Harry’s wrist was practically shaking. “And what if he’s been mad for the other party for a long time now?”

Once again Harry took his time in answering, but his thumb rubbed circles on Eggsy’s hip. It was enough to ground Eggsy while he waited.

Harry kissed his shoulder, “Then it sounds like something he and the other party should discuss once they’re out of hostile territory.”

Eggsy whined, pushing his bum back against Harry, “Can’t we at least get off a bit?”

“After we brush out teeth.” Harry patted Eggsy’s hip and rolled out of bed.

laughingsmilez asked:

11. Annabeth to Percy please

thingsyou said when you were drunk

The second morning she wakes up in Las Vegas, there is an unusual weight on Annabeth’s left hand.

It’s the first thing she notices – aside from the wicked headache pounding away at her skull, courtesy of one of the worst hangovers of her life, that is. She nearly pokes her eye out with it when she reaches up to rub sleep and crusty mascara out of her eyes, and when she pulls her hand back to glare at the offending weight, it sparkles like a diamond in the morning light.

No, it’s sparkling because it is a diamond. A diamond ring, actually.

Weird, Annabeth thinks, her brain fighting to put all the pieces of this puzzle together through the groggy haze of her hangover. It almost looks like a…

Realization hits her like a freight train and Annabeth bolts upright in bed with a strangled gasp. Her head spins at the sudden movement, but the nauseated lurch of her stomach everything to do with the piece of jewelry on the fourth finger of her left hand.

The ring is glittery and gaudy and everything Annabeth’s worst nightmares are made of; it looks like diamond encrusted fly’s eye, so cumbersome and ridiculous that it will undoubtedly get caught in her hair, on her clothes, and maybe even in the door. It is not a ring she’d left her hotel room wearing last night.

It is, unmistakably, a wedding ring.

Di immortales,” Annabeth swears, staring at the ring in shock. What on earth had she done last night?

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Where do we go from here? After
the last building has fallen,
after the last star blinks out
into the night. 
There are no maps, no street lights
for us here. Only the
smoke from where
the last city collapsed. 
There are pieces 
that don’t fit inside of me anymore.
I stumble over them
in the morning, cut
my feet on the edges that were once soft.
Where do we go with
our hands that no longer know
what to do with themselves.
They are confused because
everything I touch
reminds me
of you.
—  A.Y. // uncharted territories

kingsagent asked:

hartwin, 5

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Harry stills.

He’d tried to keep his affections for Eggsy close to his chest; first of all, it would have done no good to show any blatant favoritism even after the end of the Lancelot recruitment trials - but that’s not to mention the age difference, their position as co-workers, and the mentor-student relationship they initially had. 

It’s a little alarming to think that he hasn’t been nearly as opaque about his feelings as he’d though he’d been, though, and it burns in his chest that he’s being so obvious.

“You are jealous,” Eggsy says with something like dawning wonder, a smirk-turned-grin spreading across his face. It’s admittedly an adorable expression on him - actually, rather attractive, coupled with Eggsy’s skewed glasses and rumpled suit from the impromptu firefight they’d just escaped.

And how could Harry not be jealous? Eggsy had spent the whole evening doing splendidly on his end of this assignment - which was to say, he’d been flirting quite charmingly at the gala’s bar, with men and women alike, sipping martinis and laughing brightly and leaning in to whisper and-

There’s a smudged red mark on Eggsy’s cheek from where he must have wiped away a lipstick-kiss imprint; Harry most definitely does not growl as he corners Eggsy into the nearest wall and tugs his pocket square out of his pocket and leans in to clean it away more thoroughly.

Eggsy’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly, eyes darting back and forth between Harry’s as he wipes at the mark - gently, despite his irritability - and he catches Harry’s wrist before he can pull away when it’s finally gone.

“You know,” Eggsy murmurs, stroking along the underside of Harry’s wrist with his thumb, “I- Harry, there’s no need for jealousy. ‘M already yours; you’d know that if you’d just asked.”

Eggsy’s blushing prettily by the time he’s finished, and Harry catches it when Eggsy glances down at his mouth before meeting his eyes again. But then Eggsy licks his lips and it’s Harry’s turn for his breath to hitch, anchoring a hand on the wall behind Eggsy as he leans forward even further.

“Still,” Harry finally says, voice roughened with growing desire. “Jealousy is not a becoming trait on a gentleman;  you must allow me to apologize.”

“You can put your mouth to better use than that,” Eggsy quips with a grin, eyebrows raised, and pulls him in for a kiss.

I stared at his veins, wondering if his demons matched mine. And I was so scared because our broken edges fit into one so perfectly, realizing we had so much more to lose together than apart.
Confessional (10x16 coda)

The room is still cold and silent, undisturbed by the hushed whispers of prayers and the soft echo of footprints on tile floors.  A little breeze brushes in through the doors, making the candles flicker; someone coughs before continuing their reverence.

Churches have seen much worse than a little death over the years.  One ghost isn’t enough to disturb the echoing silence.

“So,” Dean says, trying not to look uneasy.  He’s never felt comfortable in the oppressive atmosphere of a church, especially now that he is- that he was- especially nowadays.

“So,” Sister Mathias repeats.  She doesn’t have the stone face of the church to ground her after what happened.  Her hands are still shaking a little, but she hides it with a brave smile.  Dean wonders again what brought her here, when he can see a spark somewhere in her eyes that doesn’t belong her in this cold cave.

“Next time you see a ghost, try not to make friends with it, okay?” Dean says, trying for levity and not really reaching it.  It’s hard to find that lightness within himself, these days.  “Just… you know, help it along.  If you need to, give us a call and we’ll swing by to help you out.”  He hands her his card, the one that just says FBI in big bold letters and one of his cell numbers underneath.  He neglects to mention that maybe by the time she calls, it’ll just be Sam who answers.  No need to bring that up to a nun.

“Thank you, Agent Allman,” she says.  “For everything.”  She smiles at him, and if this had been another time, another place, another circumstance, he might have kissed her.

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never-not-ever-again asked:

"I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice." and of course hartwin oh man

Eggsy remembered a time when he would look in the mirror with trepidation. He didn’t like what he saw, he didn’t like who he was. But lately, it was starting to change. It began with the suit, the bespoke one in navy blue with flattering pinstripes. Eggsy had stared in the mirror and felt an echoing sense of the pride he wanted Harry to feel.

After everything was said and done, when the world was saved, when Harry miraculously returned, when Eggsy was offered a spot in the Kingsman as Galahad to Harry’s Arthur, Eggsy still had to cling to Harry.

He recognized the idea that he had some personal worth. He believed the people around him, the ones who leaned on him, the ones who loved him. But there was always the underlying notion that it was all a lie. Who would ever really look at Eggsy and see anything other than a thug with no future and no hope?

Even when he started bringing home more money, keeping his mum and sister in a nice house, with nice clothes and plenty of food he couldn’t shake the feeling of being completely low class.

He’d walk into Kingsman HQ and feel like an imposter.

The second thing, and really, the biggest thing that started to inspire a stronger change of mind was Harry. It wasn’t just the words that Harry spoke, or the meals he cooked for Eggsy, or even their strolls through town with JB trotting along on his leash. It was the looks he would catch, out of the corner of his eye, or in a convenient reflective surface.

Harry would gaze at him with a look that puzzled Eggsy for weeks until one day in the park. Some bloke was proposing, on one knee with a stupidly expensive ring and everything. Eggsy had stopped, like many others to watch the outcome. And he recognized softness that overtook the man’s features, the adoration warm and fierce in his eyes, the trembling, hopeful quirk of his mouth.

Eggsy looked harder for those things the next time he’d seen Harry. He could still remember every detail about that day. The sky was overcast as usual, but not overly cold. Eggsy had worn his spotted tie because he and Roxy liked to match their patterns every now and then. It was 12:22PM on the third of October, when Eggsy realized that Harry Hart was staring at him lovestruck.  

Even in the present Eggsy’s stomach whooped with joy and anticipation for when Harry would finally tell him. He’d nurtured his own crush for months, so he reveled in the idea of Harry pining for him as well. Especially when he caught the looks, because he could believe in someone like Harry, at least until he learned to really believe in himself.

The mentality lasted almost four weeks before Eggsy couldn’t take it anymore. Sure he hadn’t outright said anything, but he’d been dropping more than enough hints for Harry to pick up on. Unless the daft prick thought Eggsy just loved taking his shirt off. (Which he actually didn’t lately since he’d been putting extra ‘healthy’ weight.)

Eggsy was done waiting.

He checked in with Merlin first, however, lest they end up in an embarrassing situation.

“I’m planning to seduce Harry,” He said, when he found Merlin in his office. “Can I get radio silence for a couple hours?”

Merlin didn’t look the slightest bit surprised. He even finished reading the memo in his hands before he answered. “This can’t wait until he’s home?”

“Maybe,” Eggsy shrugged, then remembered gentlemen didn’t shrug. “But if I did it now you lot would have to stop putting up with us that much quicker?”

He didn’t bother asking when Merlin figured it out. Harry was an elegantly subtle man, but Eggsy was still refining the art himself. Even if he had been trying to hide his feelings the past couple of weeks, Merlin and Roxy knew him too well to be fooled.

“That’s true.” Merlin sighed, crossing his arms as he swiveled to face Eggsy. “And just to get this out of the way now, if you hurt him, I will kill you.”

Eggsy had expected the threat, but expecting was different from hearing it in Merlin’s deep brogue. He didn’t doubt it for a second. But then again, Eggsy could relate, he remembered what he felt when he saw that scar on Chester King’s neck. Wondering if the old snob had sent Harry to his death, had betrayed a man so good and so wonderful. That was a death he’d never regret, one that he’d look back on in cold satisfaction.

He smiled, but his tone was all rumbling threat when he said, “Ditto, mate.”

Merlin nodded once and turned back around.

Eggsy took the dismissal and went to find Harry. It wasn’t hard, paperwork had been piling up since the agents had been working almost non-stop. Harry was in his office, staring down at his computer and typing rapidly.

“Thought Merlin said he wanted us wearing the glasses when we used the computer.” Was Eggsy’s way of announcing himself. Something about the lenses having a special coating to protect their eyes.

“They were starting to give me a headache.” Harry stopped typing almost immediately and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eggsy took the opportunity to look at the spider web scarring at the underside of Harry’s left eye. He wondered if Harry ever didn’t have a headache. “What can I do for you, Galahad?”

“No codenames right now,” Eggsy stepped in and closed the door behind him. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Harry’s posture stiffened. “If I’ve made you uncomfortable—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Eggsy snorted. He was sauntering towards the desk and loosening his tie, who could possibly misread that. “How long have you been in love with me?”

He walked around the desk, pushing Harry’s laptop aside so he could lean against the edge. Harry looked calm, but his eyes were darting all over Eggsy, as if trying to figure out some hidden message behind what was being clearly broadcasted.

Eggsy sat fully on the desk, and then leaned forward to tug on Harry’s tie. He went obediently to his feet and stood between Eggsy’s thighs. “I wanted to protect you,” he said; which was strange, because the last thing Eggsy needed protection from was Harry’s affection. “I wanted you to get your own life.”

Rather than try and argue, Eggsy just started to loosen Harry’s tie as well. “Do you want to know how long I’ve been in love with you?”  

thebarofgold asked:

Hm, are you still taking Hartwin prompts? I've read "under my skin" yesterday evening (it's gorgeous, the kissing scenes were breathtaking) and decided that I need more of your excellent writing. How about this one: "You were chased, got into my car/cab and just yelled ‘Drive!’" AU? ^^

It isn’t often that Harry Hart drove himself around London; usually it’s more convenient to be driven in the Kingsman car, or hail a cab rather than deal with the city’s narrow streets and unpredictable traffic. But sometimes it’s unavoidable, and tonight is one of those nights; thankfully, it’s late enough that there are few people on the streets, pedestrians and other cars alike. The necessity is also tempered by the luxury of the car itself - a sleek black Jaguar, Merlin’s choice, and a good one at that. Still, it’s Harry’s opinion that such a car is wasted on London - there’s no room to really push the car to its full potential, though there’s still something very satisfying about the pur of the engine and the cushion of high-quality leather. It’s more of a prop than anything tonight - showing up to black tie events in a sports car is as much about fleshing out his cover as the tuxedo, though the car is arguably more bulletproof. Merlin’s decked the Jaguar out nicely, too, with spy-related gadgetry that is definitely not street-legal, but the heads-up display is rather a nice touch.

It’s the only reason he’s able to slam on the brakes as someone trips into the street in front of him.

There’s no squealing brakes or burned rubber - the Jaguar’s quick on the draw and responsive for that - but there is a muffled thump as the man collides with the passenger side of the car. Harry blinks, a little startled; he’d stopped well in time not to hit the young man, but he’d run into the side of the Jaguar anyways - and, to Harry’s further surprise, doesn’t even look into the car. The young man glances over his shoulder with wide eyes, fumbling to find the door’s handle and tug on it. It’s locked, of course, but as he tries again - harder this time, with an edge of desperation - Harry finds himself reaching for the unlock button.

Ah, and that’s why: there are men pouring out of the pub, now, eyes locked on the young man outside his car and coming closer with the brutal confidence that only belongs to gang bullies. Whereas a moment ago he was unsure, Harry’s decision is made in a heartbeat - he unlocks the Jaguar with a click, and with one firm tug the door flies open.

The young man swears and flops down into the seat, breathing hard and eyes a little wild. He scrabbles to sit upright, and then makes a frantic circling motion with his pointed finger.

“Fuckin’ drive, mate!”

Harry smirks - he’s already got a foot on the clutch and a hand on the gear shift - and he does.

The young man gasps as the Jaguar roars to life, shooting forward so quickly that he’s pressed back into the seat. Harry keeps his eyes on the road - and on his mirror, he can see the goons piling into a horrid yellow Impreza to give chase -  but out of the corner of his eye he can see the young man taking in the interior of the car and then glancing up and down at Harry himself.

“You should buckle your seatbelt,” Harry said, shifting gears as they swung around a tight corner and up another narrow street. “I think they’re going to try and come after us.”
The young man’s eyebrows raise - probably at the use of the word us.

“Shit, mate,” he swears, running his hands along the supple, dark leather and studying the heads-up display with wide eyes. “I only saw that your car was black - thought it was a cab.”

Harry snorts, but keeps smiling. “I’d say you’re in for a rather more exciting ride than that, tonight.”

“What is this?” he murmurs, squinting at the buttons in the dash and the little screen embedded there. “This ain’t no standard model-”

“The 2014 Jaguar F-type - with some customizations,” Harry tilts his head. “Sexy little thing, isn’t she?”

The young man’s face splits into a grin, and he leans over towards the center console to look in the rear-view mirror. The yellow Impreza is far behind them, and with another quick series of turns is lost in the maze of London’s streets. Harry hums to himself, pleased; there’s rarely an excuse to do any proper stunt-driving in London, and as unusual as the night has been, his unexpected companion is rather - endearing.

He brings the Jag to an idle at a quiet intersection, looking over to meet his his passenger’s eyes for the first time. He’s young indeed - but handsome, with eyes bright from excitement and amusement, strong jaw set confidently as he smiles back at Harry.

“Now, Mr -”

“Eggsy,” the young man supplies, reaching over to offer his hand to Harry, which he shakes with a firm, warm grip.

“Harry Hart,” Harry says, and before he can open his mouth again Eggsy interrupts him.

“I can’t - I mean, you didn’t have to do that. We’re probably fuck-all near where you were going, aye? Let me make it up to you.”

There’s an earnest eagerness in his eyes that makes Harry pause, makes him stop from just brushing off the deed as a kindness that is in no need of repaying. Harry has little time for ideas like love at first sight - or, indeed, love when you bodily ran into my car and we made a spontaneous getaway - but there’s something about this young man he’s strangely drawn to.

“Eggsy,” Harry repeats, and returns his hand to the gear-shift, the heat lingering in his hand. What a remarkable young man. “I realize it’s rather late, but I’m going to wager it would be wise for you to stay away from that pub for a while.”

Eggsy’s eyes narrow as he waits for Harry to continue, lips thin with a half-smile.

Harry shrugs, plowing on. “How do you feel about chips? I know of a place that’s still open.”

Eggsy grins, and gestures to the open road in front of them. “Drive on.”

anonymous asked:

24. "You’re the only one I trust to do this." fenhawke (girlhawke)

I cannot write short things. I suck at writing short things.

Fenris x Kestrel Hawke

Sitting with his back to Kestrel, Fenris took a deep breath to settle the raging worry which raced around his mind and turned his skin cold.

He felt a sense of fear and anger holding tight to him. Anger at himself, for getting hurt, anger at Kestrel for being a mage. And a fear of her magic, what she could do to him. He was trusting her far more than he felt she should have.

"Stay still." She instructed from behind him, sitting on the bench.

He felt the warmth of her magic tremble up over his back, making his hair stand on end and his flesh rise in goose bumps. The soft hum of healing should have made him relax but it made him feel sick to his stomach to know he was having magic used on him in such a way. He could feel his skin knitting together, the wound he had sustained and refused to have tended finally healing at an accelerated rate.

The itching of infection left him, the burning around the puckered skin which had driven him insane for the last week. He would no longer scratch it raw or make it bleed with meaning to when he tried to alleviate the pain. Because there would be no pain to contend with. No pain, no irritation.

"You know you could have gone to Anders for this." Kestrel hold him, "he’s a more accomplished healer than I am."

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My life is entirely too busy to be writing, but I had a mighty need. Here’s a little post confession ficlet to add to the other awesome ones that have already been written…

His barely contained tears began to spill onto his cheeks as he feels her lips begin to tremble under his, a few lifetimes worth of emotion forcing their way to the surface. He holds her tighter, kissing her deeper, memorizing every word she is saying to him with the slide of her fingers through his hair and the heat of her palm on his chest.

A gentle sob escapes her lips and he moves his lips to her cheek, kissing her tears from her skin before leaning back to look at her. Her jade eyes are rimmed with red, watery and still wide with incredulousness that he could truly love her as he does. He vows to himself that if the fates allow her to stay in his life that he will endeavor to love the lost girl from her soul for good.

He feels her fingers tighten in his hair as she moves forward, her hand wrapping around his neck as she leans her head to his chest. The wool of her coat is rough under his hands as he holds her close, her hair soft against his cheek. He allows a few more tears to fall now that she cannot see. The gentle rise and fall of her chest against his begins the calming, her grip on his back loosening as she relaxes.

Not wanting to, he knows they must go, leave this den of darkness before his enemy is back and the demons in his heart claw to the surface again. His lips brush the side of her head softly as he pulls back, her hand stilling him as she threads her fingers through his with a strength he has only ever seen in her when she is saving the ones she loves. Her gaze is strong and steady when he looks up, her tears gone and a look of determination shining back at him. As he has grown accustomed, her words are not necessary. He can read her like the open book that she is.

You won’t lose me, Killian. You’re my happy ending, too.

dear Amanda,

The red on your lips makes me think
Of hawaiian punch and murder;
sweet and harsh, like sour berries.

The lines of black soot on your eyes
remind me of screaming on a hillside
and onyx blades,
piercing into the heart
of the core
of me.

Your passion burns
like panic in my chest,
and your protection
is better
than the corner of a bus,
or arms around my knees.

—  a poem about amanda hellbats; literature class; 3/27/15

anonymous asked:

"Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?" Korrasami.

Send me a pairing and a line of dialogue and I’ll write a thing

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” Asami said over Korra’s loud guffawing.

“Not a chance! This is perfect blackmail material.”


“Right right! Sorry,” Korra replied in an entirely not sorry tone. “Actually, it’s kind of sweet. Totally hilarious and embarrassing on your part, but sweet.”

Asami’s face was beet red, which was a rather satisfying (satisfying to Korra’s smug little heart, that is) change from the woman’s normally calm and collected demeanor. However, at Korra’s words, Asami chanced a look up at her girlfriend’s smirking face — and the two of them promptly fell over together, clutching their sides in laughter.

“Just… just to clarify…” Korra said as she tried catch her breath. “You actually had a dream about me the night after we first met?”

Asami’s face, if it was possible, turned a shade darker red. She buried her face in her hands, letting out a muffled shut up.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I mean I am the Avatar,” Korra went on, her tone one of mock arrogance. “I mean, who can resist this?” She threw her arms up and flexed her muscles before dissolving into yet another wave of laughter.

Asami glared daggers at Korra, which of course did nothing to discourage Korra’s teasing glances and sniggering.

“What was the dream even about?” Korra said, once she had managed to calm herself (or at least, once she was no longer in danger of falling into hysterical laughter once more).

Korra felt the change in the atmosphere a few seconds too slow. First, the blush faded from Asami’s cheeks. Second, a glint of mischief lit up Asami’s eyes. Third, a smirk that could rival Korra’s best smug expression settled across other woman’s face. Korra’s brain muddled, but she instinctively knew she was defeated before it even happened.

Asami tackled her into the grass of the meadow, and the two fell into a heavy kiss. Korra’s heart was beating so fast she thought it might fly out of her chest, but if it did she probably wouldn’t register it anyway. With the way Asami was biting Korra’s bottom lip, Korra thought that if touches could kill then this would not be such a bad way to go.

Just as the kiss was starting to get more heated and Korra was being pulled into a trance, Asami pulled away. Korra chased her lips for a moment, almost letting out a groan of disappointment at the abrupt end.

Asami had a smug smile on her face as she got to her feet. Spirits. Korra could face down a death ray with barely a flinch, but this woman always managed to make her pulse race and her limbs turn to jelly.

“The dream went a little bit like that, Avatar.”

“Maybe this can just stay between us.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”


Here’s just a little fluffy baby bit I wrote for my favorite birthday girl Alet, hiseyestellnolies. Happy birthday again, my love!! <333 

(based upon this gif)

She takes his hand and smiles over at him while he already is excitedly telling her about this secret spot he found. It’s in a secluded part of Storybrooke, tucked away behind trees, and under the cover of night, it feels all the more theirs in this moment than anything really ever has.

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Happy Birthday James

-On his eleventh birthday, James Potter got a Hogwarts letter, a new wand and some smashing pranking advice from his dad

On his twelfth birthday, James Potter got three brilliant new best friends and a big bag of Bertie Botts with all the good flavours already eaten (those twits)

On his thirteenth birthday, James Potter got a glare from the tiny redhead whose hair he’d pulled and a Fanged Frisbee from Sirius 

On his fourteenth birthday, James Potter got a brand new copy of Playwizard and detention for setting McGonagall’s hair on fire 

On his fifteenth birthday, James Potter got to be a fucking stag for the first time and a tight hug from Moony

On his sixteenth birthday, James Potter got a bag of illicit Gillyweed from Wormtail and a letter from his mum 

On his seventeenth birthday, James Potter got an honest-to-Merlin smile from Evans and Twelve Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches from the lads (those gits)

On his eighteenth birthday, James Potter got a thorough snogging from said Evans and a minor concussion 

On his nineteenth birthday, James Potter got a beautiful (although violent) wife and pack of novelty condoms (those darn twats)

On his twentieth birthday, James Potter got a heavily pregnant (and highly reluctant) Lily Evans to slow dance with him in the cluttered living room of their cottage in Godric’s Hollow

On his twenty-first birthday, James Potter got a rather wet raspberry on his nose from Harry Potter and a smuggled bottle of Ogden’s best (he was starting to miss the idiots)

On his twenty-second birthday, James Potter was no longer alive

These are my stars.
I have cried under them a thousand times and they know my prayers by heart.

When I was lost, and you were gone, they showed me the way in the blackness of night.
When I was reaching and fell short, they built me a ladder out of dust and silver and string.
When I was friendless, they watched over me, staying true to their courses like tiny, bright-eyes promises.
When I was tired, they shared with me lullabies.
When I was afraid, they taught me to laugh.
When I was lonely, they came to me one by one from behind their veils of shadow, telling me stories of how brave light can be in the darkness, of how one hope is enough to save you from a thousand fears.

These are my stars.
It doesn’t matter where I go.
It doesn’t matter how I change.
And it doesn’t matter who I am looking at them with.
I wish it was you.
But these are my stars.
And by God, they’ll shine no matter.

—  my stars, my stars | j.m.

anonymous asked:

Okay but Eggsy getting pretty beat up on a mission and Harry feels so bad about his Eggsy getting hurt that he gives him a /full body/ massage and Eggsy can't help but moan throughout like all of it and Harry gets turned on and smut ensues omg

Eggsy is undoubtedly a moaner.  With everything.  He’s the kind of person you side-eye at a restaurant because they’re making disturbingly sexual noises over their dessert.

So when Eggsy somehow manages to put his back out on a mission and Harry offers to give him a massage, he isn’t necessarily surprised at the noises Eggsy makes, but he isn’t exactly prepared for them either.

“Is that entirely unavoidable, Eggsy?”

“Is, ohh, what unavoidable?”

That.  The moaning.”

“Can’t, mmm, help it.  Feels good.”

“Christ.” Harry mutters, adjusting himself in his trousers before he digs his thumbs back into Eggsy’s muscles, drawing out an even deeper moan from him.

But, it’s when Eggsy starts moaning out things like “oh yes, that’s the spot. Right there! More!”  That Harry absolutely can not deal with it any longer.  He flips Eggsy over on the bed and climbs on top of him, realizing Eggsy has just the biggest grin on his face.  Instead of actually voicing what a little shit he is, Harry just kisses the grin off his face and grinds their hips together.

turning page (13/?)

summary: au; the kingdom of misthaven’s prince killian jones is on the hunt for a bride. enter emma swan, and a whole slew of women from all over the land, in a massive dating game in the middle of building turmoil with the dark one and evil queen. captain swan. (loosely based on the selection by kiera cass)

word count: ~3600

rating: T

also on: ff.net

catch up here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve


“Emma, you look beautiful this morning,” Queen Snow smiles as they walk into her study. 

A blush fills her cheeks and she finds herself walking on edge with the queen, knowing that she’s about to die. It really shouldn’t have this much of an effect on her, but it does. The queen herself walks with a broad smile, seemingly at peace with her current situation, and it just hurts her all the more.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Emma’s lips curl at the ends. “But I think you’re far more beautiful.”

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it was hidden in the fall (waiting on love to call) 
part one

a/n: for bellamlyblake ; late congrats on 1.6k allie! special thanks to clarkeskyeprincess for being my beta; love you saakshi ♥  inspired by this post

wc: 645

Bellamy Blake hates Clarke Griffin.

Okay, so it’s not so much hate as it is deep abhorrence for her, since all she’s done ever since she’s landed this job at the Ark as a barista is ask him to cover her shifts.

(So maybe it’s more like 3-4 shifts every two weeks, but for a struggling history major living on instant ramen, it feels like an eternity.)

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