#harryhart

[nuggets-and-french-fries]

~Eggsy Unwin: Medi Exam.

Note: This is a scheduled post.

Enjoy!

===

Three weeks, two days, three hours, ten minutes and four seconds was how long Eggsy had been home sick and by this point, he was itching to return to work but before he could do that, it was mandatory he receive a medical exam. It wasn’t something that Eggsy was concerned or nervous about at first but when he was told that his crush would be the one preforming it, that’s when he felt his world stop.

Ever since joining Kingsman, Eggsy had taken a liking to Merlin and eventually that liking grew into a full-blown crush. Eggsy was good at keeping his feelings to himself but now that he would be with Merlin in a small room, his heart began to race, and his palms grow sweaty. Not good if you’re trying to convince everyone that you were feeling better.

Of course Merlin knew about this crush of Eggsy’s and decided to use this opportunity to make a move and get the younger man to confess. Hell, Harry had even made a bet with him that Eggsy wouldn’t crack under pressure, but Merlin was sure that Eggsy would. It was only a matter of time.

“Right lad, strip.” Merlin said with seriousness as he let his eyes slowly trail down Eggsy’s clothed body.

Eggsy wanted to shiver at the intense gaze Merlin held but he knew better than that. Roxy had told him of the bet, and he was determined to not let Merlin get to him.

“Gotta buy me a drink first.” Eggsy quipped through a slight smirk.

Merlin rolled his eyes but waited for Eggsy’s next move, but Eggsy stood still.

“Have it your way.” Merlin said as he stepped forward and removed Eggsy’s clothes faster than he could blink. Eggsy was impressed but felt embarrassed to say the least.

He heard Merlin’s breath hitch, and he knew that Merlin had seen the nasty scars left behind from a beating Dean had given him.

“Good, now bend over.” Merlin instructed. Eggsy felt very self conscience at this point and just wanted this to be over now.

Eggsy did do as he was told and took a few deep breaths as Merlin explained that he was going to use the thermometer, the only catch was the thermometer was going into his backside. Why this was necessary, Eggsy didn’t know. Perhaps Merlin was just teasing him and was seeing how long Eggsy could deal with the teasing or perhaps this was part of the new protocol. Who really knew.

“Good.” Merlin announced as he went about the room collecting other instruments, giving Eggsy time to gather his thoughts.

“Everything looks good. I’d say that you are safe to return to work.” Merlin said and Eggsy nodded.

“Can I get dressed now?” Eggsy asked, wanting to cover up.

“Not yet lad, there is one more thing I need.” Merlin said, handing Eggsy a sample cup.

“A urine sample?” Eggsy asked and Merlin shook his head.

“A sperm sample.” Merlin replied.

Eggsy felt his throat constrict. Now he really knew that Merlin was just doing this to taunt him which was good because this was the perfect time to taunt him back.

Eggsy cleared his throat and nodded.

“Alright but I think I might need a hand.” Eggsy said, examining the cup.

Merlin looked at Eggsy with surprise.

“What?” Merlin asked, needing confirmation.

“A mouth might actually work better.” Eggsy spoke, now looking Merlin right in the eye. It was Merlin’s turn to feel self conscience.

“What’s the matter? You were so hands on a few minutes ago.” Eggsy questioned as a look of knowing flashed in his eyes.

“Who told you?” Merlin spoke.

“Roxy. She overheard and then told me. Wanted me to be prepared.” Eggsy admitted.

“Damn.” Merlin hissed lowly.

“Next time make sure Roxy isn’t around or better yet just talk to me.” Eggsy told Merlin, who simply nodded.

“I admit that I do like ye lad, but the protocol now calls for a sperm sample and for the thermometer to go-“ Merlin explained.

“Up the ass.” Eggsy concluded for Merlin.

“Yes.” Merlin agreed.

“Well, we better not keep protocol waiting then.” Eggsy said, stepping forward to press his lips to Merlin’s in a fiery kiss.

=

“You owe me money miss Morton.” Harry said as he looked at the woman with triumph.

Roxy huffed and pulled out the $100 she had bet. She slapped it into Harry’s hand, and he chuckled at the annoyance on her face.

“Count your stars Hart, next time you’re going down.” Roxy said.

“I believe Merlin has me on that one.” Harry said as he and Roxy grimaced seeing Merlin on his knees in front of Eggsy as Eggsy’s body quivered in pleasure.

“Tea?” Harry asked.

“No, I need something stronger than that. My brain is scarred.” Roxy said as she hurried after Harry.

===

Tag List: @geo-winchester @elizami11s @stilessbaseballbat

[rmoonstoner]

Yn: *Opens dresser drawer to grab socks. All the socks have been replaced with lace stockings.* Harry! Where did my socks go!?

Harry: *smug grin as he shrugs*

Eggsy: *walking by, sporting your stolen socks* Hey, thanks for the socks, Harry!

Yn: ... Wait... Are those my socks?

Harry: Oh dear. Eggsy, we have to go now... *grabs Eggsy and runs*

[thatone-brightstar]

hi! i'm the recs anon :) thank you so much your the recs!! i will definitely be reading some carmy fic these days! personally i enjoyed a lot learning in public by ohcaptains here on tumblr, and on ao3 I found one that it's called "all the quiet nights you bear" by harryhart, both are incredible fics i can't recommend them enough

Hii i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this!

But yeah, Learning in public had me foaming at the mouth LMAO and "all the quiet nights you bear" was so cute with the whole dreamsharing idea!!!

[barbie-nightmare-house]

ive read the lost dog series too!!! it's sooo good she is such a good writer! i also read the creeping woods on ao3 by am7f which is incredibly good too and it goes through all the rust eras. another one I enjoyed an awful LOT was something in the night by harryhart on ao3 as well! I think we are really getting some good stuff with this true detective renaissance. i hope you post your fic id love to read it!

ooooooo I will add those to the list, thank you! I gotta consume some content because this man is so hard to write.

Anyway, I plan to post tomorrow! <3 I appreciate the support bub

[ao3feed-midnightmass]

peccatum

by harryhart God never answers to his prayers. He answers to mine. Words: 5550, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Midnight Mass (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Original Female Character(s), Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt Relationships: Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt/Original Female Character(s), Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt/Reader Additional Tags: Religion, Uncertain Period Setting, Obsession, Convent Life, Nynphomaniac Character (Kinda), Goes back and forth in time, Forbidden Love, Guilt, Angst, Sacrilege, alternative universe, Light Smut, POV Original Character October 01, 2022 at 01:26AM Read it on Ao3 » https://archiveofourown.org/works/42052020 ✞ Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to let the author know you enjoyed their work ✞

[mintmerlot]

I really miss Colin so I drew him 🥺

[fuckyeahharryhart]

THE ART OF SEDUCTION Reader Insert

After working months at his side, whether it be in the field, during training, debriefing in his office, or simply occupying the same space in quieter moments- reading in the lounge with a cup of tea, enjoying a few precious moments of peace, you were no closer at deciphering the gorgeous mystery that was Harry Hart. Your time with him merely reinforced what you already knew. And what you knew had, much to your chagrin, become increasingly and disconcertingly distracting with every moment you shared space with him. Harry was beautiful, obviously. You determined that the moment you saw him. Even from a distance, he cut a striking figure. But it was the understated way he acknowledged his own appearance, knew that it was pleasing and accepted it with grace, dignity and a matter-of-factness, that only made him more attractive.

Harry Hart’s appeal wasn’t just based on his good looks. There were other men who had more classically balanced features. It was significantly more than good genes or the symmetry of bone structure. Not that his purely physical attributes were lacking in any regard. You had already committed to memory every aspect of his form and figure, from his hair, with a distinguished flurry of silver, all the way down to his feet in their gleaming oxfords. No doubt polished with every wearing; they carried him with purposeful movement and long measured strides.

Harry Hart was a tall man. Often folding his legs as gracefully as possible under tables and desks that were just a breath too short to accommodate a man of his stature. He carried himself differently. Always with a posture, walk, a gait, that had a purpose.  Never rushed unnecessarily, he possessed the ease of someone in full control of his physical body. His movements were light, sharp, and kinetic. When he was still, he held himself straight and tall, without strain. In more casual moments, his weight would shift to one side or the other, or he might lean against a support, breaking up the long, precise lines of his full height.

Mostly, this had to do with a hyper awareness of his environment and his place in it. If Harry needed to calm a new recruit, he might stand with authority, but tuck his hands in his pockets, conveying a sense of ease and familiarity. When confronting an adversary, his stature seemed to grow as he pulled himself to his full height.  In those rare moments where he was free from personal and professional obligations responsibilities, as much as he could ever be, his figure would take on smooth curves and relaxed angles. The space he occupied was his to claim, mould, and manipulate. And Harry Hart did so with his body, his voice, his gaze, his way of dress.

Surprisingly, you discovered that Harry was a man who often communicated through physical touch. As a man of few words, who often guarded his privacy and personal life, you expected him to be even more reserved with his body language, to be even more wary of close physical contact. Quite the contrary, he was often more generous with a hand on the shoulder or a gentle pat on the back as a form of approval or encouragement. Sometimes, he would place his hand over yours as gesture of support and understanding. Harry was more demonstrative with contact and touch than he was with using words of praise or comfort. Even his proximity, whether it be as a figure in the distance or his physical closeness, could affect the energy of the room.

Rolling it over in your mind, you realised that it made sense that Harry would be comfortable communicating through touch. In some regards, he was a very tactile man, a sensual man, if not overtly so. He was a man that celebrated the senses.

In his office, though minimalist by Kingsman standards, austere even, there were touches of extravagance not influenced by tradition. All the furniture, as well as being beautifully made, focused on designs that were hospitable as well as functional. The chairs were comfortable. The lounge was upholstered in a dark, rich leather, well oiled and worn smooth by years of use. It was masculine, but also soft and inviting, a piece that you could relax and sink into.  A sumptuous throw. Pillows covered in dark velvet that were actually soft, not just decorative.

The items that did adorn his office were obviously selected thoughtfully and with care. The enticingly smooth curves of a vase, seemingly out of place, brilliant jade against the subdued tones of hunter green, tartans and plaid and the deep tones of polished wood and leather. The delicate lines and breathtaking color of a framed butterfly.  A small, sterling silver paperweight in the shape of a terrier. A cut crystal decanter, with matching tumblers, no doubt holding an insanely old and very expensive scotch.

There was an emphasis, not on the prestige or price of an object, but on its, color, texture, lines that were pleasing or challenging to the eye. Not as a flaunting of wealth, but a source of pleasure. It wasn’t an ostentatious display of the rich, it was the luxury of selection and taste. Any piece of clothing or fabric that touched his body directly was often luxurious, as well, scarfs, gloves, fine cashmere or calfskin leather. Though you had no way of knowing, you assumed his sheets would be of the highest thread count.

Harry’s manner of dress was immaculate and as precise as the polished, clipped tones of his aristocratic accent. He presented himself as a man who was self-assured with his appearance. Whatever he wore, he wore with confidence. He wore it well, without vanity, pretension, ego or conceit. Not that he needed the help of his wardrobe to face the world. His manner of dress seemed to highlight, magnify his innate sense of self.  He was not a flashy man, but he appreciated the expert craftsmanship that went into a finely cut suit. That good clean lines, quality materials, understated but interesting details could be the final polish on an already finely honed presentation.   

His clothing was the other area where he allowed himself some extravagance. A firm believer in the principle that if one’s self and surroundings are not only presentable, but impeccable, then one will always be prepared for what surprises life may decide to throw in one’s direction. In his line of work, unpredictability was as predictable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. His wardrobe countered the erratic nature of life as an agent.  Thus, his was a look of man who had his life in order.

Harry Hart was a man of consistency. His tie was an unfailing full Windsor, tucked under the spread collar of a pristine white shirt. An equally crisp pocket square, folded neatly, peeked from his breast pocket. French cuffs were secured with custom gold links, bearing the Kingsman insignia. His suits were mostly double breasted, in classic shades of black, charcoal, navy and grey and cut in a wool that was appropriate for the occasion, whether solid, pinstriped, or woven with a pattern such as herringbone, or houndstooth. After years as a Kingsman agent, he had amassed a considerable and varied wardrobe that consisted of classic suits, formal wear, overcoats, ties, scarves, for any occasion or any type of mission. Each Kingsman agent also wore a gold signet ring on the pinky of their dominant hand. Harry wore the ring on his right.

Kingsman suits were cut close to the body, but designed with allowances made to accommodate weapons, ensure maneuvrability and flexibility in all types of action. They were also bulletproof. It was a feature created after decades of experimenting with different textiles and weaves and exploring processes and techniques that would result in a material that could withstand the velocity and impact of of a bullet shot at close range. The lightweight, flexible lining was sewn into every Kingsman suit and many times proved to be a lifesaver.

Shoulder harnesses were used for carrying. Not belt clips. Belts constricted the body whereas a harness allowed freedom of movement. They were also easily and quickly detachable in case they needed to be removed. Belts, on the other hand, though they had their uses, could also cost valuable seconds when needed to be taken off. The carry position prevented printing and maintained the lines of Kingsman’s suits.

The fine, bespoke tailoring emphasized Harry’s height and build. Trousers were slim cut, long and hemmed with a perfect mid break. He preferred the simple Oxford rather than brogues. He styled his hair in a classic, handsome cut, and was always clean shaven, (unless in the field where there was no opportunity for a straight razor shave). His aftershave and cologne were unobtrusive but memorable. Rather than preceding him, the warm and masculine sent of woods and spices, with hints of cardamon, bergamot, the tactile sensuality of rich leather and suede, would linger after his departure, like a layer of warm dark velvet. Even his hands were beautiful. Beautiful but not delicate. Large wide palms, long elegant fingers, his nails were neat and clipped. They sometimes bore the marks of time spent in the field. They were strong and capable.

Overall, Harry Hart had the appearance of a man who embraced classics, honoured tradition, but defined his look with his own individual aesthetic personality and sense of style.

In quieter moments, when you had the opportunity to watch him without being too obvious or call attention to yourself, you allowed your curiosity to wonder over all the small details and mannerism that were unique to Harry. How his fingertips would gently find the arm of his glasses and rest lightly there, when he was thoughtful or pondering a question, as if it helped him focus or think.  The automatic gesture probably developed after years of transmitting information through the eyeglasses, which also functioned as communication devices.  Through your experience in human psychology, you recognised this as a self soothing gesture. Finding the comfort of something familiar. You were fairly sure that Harry was aware of this gesture and allowed himself some habits, that were, not particularly productive but, helpful nonetheless. Rubbing his thumb along the band of his signet ring. The way he would always shoot his cuffs when rising from his seat. Or run the palm of his hand along the back of his head, smoothing down the already polished hair.

Never had you met someone who had the ability to asses and evaluate any given situation as throughly and unerringly as Harry. Whether it entailed clearing a room, identifying a mark, or even just something as simple as slowing his pace when you walked along side him so you wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and deconstructing what needed to happen to make the environment more pleasing, the conversation more engaging, the meeting more productive, the mission more likely to succeed. He was nothing if not thoughtful. Thus, when you walked with him, he always slowed and allowed you to maintain your own graceful stride.

His physical appearance, his exacting nature, his precise moments, his carefully maintained wardrobe, his formal patterns of speech, his refined accent, not to mention his good looks could intimidate even the most confident agent, let alone a green one.  That was until the person in question realised that this outward perfection was merely the layer that he presented to the world.

It would seem impossible for man to be blessed with so many gifts, but Harry Hart proved to be the exception to the rule, for he was as charming and gracious as he was handsome. His quick wit, his clever way with words, as well as his dry, incisive sense of humor could enthrall even the most unwilling participant.

He could placate the most difficult handler, assuage the most reluctant agent, enchant the most reserved target, or ingratiate himself into the most inhospitable of circumstances. When Harry turned on the full force of his charm, the people he met, let alone the men and women who worked with him, frequently found themselves elevated in his presence, their own experience heightened by his vitality and charisma. They left the experience a little breathless, a little awestruck, a little seduced by Harry Hart. You were no exception. And you had been spending a lot of time with him.

————

You found yourselves alone one evening at the manor. In the lounge, when you both happened to desire a drink at the same time. Most of the Kingsman had already departed for the shop if they were returning to the city. The rest had dispersed to their own private quarters, or were participating in whatever activity they had planned for the evening. The lounge was quiet. They way he liked it. Apparently, it was the way you preferred it as well.

Harry spotted you the same moment you lifted your gaze at the new arrival. Your eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure at the sight of him. You gave him a small, but welcoming smile. The musical clink of crystal against glass as he poured a scotch from the fully stocked bar was the only sound aside from the cracking logs in the grand fireplace.

The club was a vast space with a vaulted ceiling. The stately fireplace stood on the far wall. Like most of the manor, it was dressed in masculine shades of dark brown and hunter greens, tartan and plaids. Polished hardwood furniture, mostly antique, and historical paintings, displaying the rich history of Kingsman, whispered class and wealth. In the center was an arrangement to accommodate a more substantial group with larger sofas and chaises surrounding a massive polished low wooden table.

Around the room were smaller clusters of tables and leather club chairs tucked into alcoves for smaller gatherings or intimate conversations. 

It was at one these clusters that he found you, tucked in a quiet corner near the fireplace.

In the most relaxed arrangement Harry allowed himself while still on Kingsman property, he had his coat draped over his arm. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, tie and shoulder holster, tumbler in hand, he approached you, also with a pleasant but small smile. Pleased that you were the one that was sharing this space with him.

You were dressed quite differently from how Harry first remembered you. Well, your clothes hadn’t been memorable, but you had been. Since you were not a knighted agent, they weren’t quite sure how to classify you yet, you took the freedom to dress beyond the Kingsman uniform. Though always appropriate and surprisingly on brand, you were not quite regulation. If you were out in the field, you were in tactical, or the women’s version of the kingsman suits. You even had the shop tailor some custom pieces so you could have more diversity. When you were at Kingsman HQ or at the shop in support, you dressed appropriately, but in your own style. There were handfuls of fashionable men at Kingsman. You couldn’t turn around and not run into a gentleman turned out in Kingsman’s finest. But an attractive, stylish woman was a rarer sight. Even Harry noticed the heads that turned when you walked by.

Walking toward you, Harry took the time to observe your appearance, he told himself as spies always did out of habit. Today, you remained on the property. Without the need for being in the field, this would be your most proper look. You were dressed in a way that was very elegant, but sexy at the same time. Or, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to look sexy. Harry set that observation aside. Not the time nor the place, he thought to himself.

You were dressed in a slim, knee length pencil skirt in a very deep shade of oxblood red. It was velvet he noted when he saw the sheen of the fabric as you shifted your knees in his direction. A matching tailored jacket, that, like him, you had removed and draped over the back of your chair. Topped with a delicate, almost sheer silk blouse the color of sun bleached bone. It had tiny pearl buttons down the front, and lace detailing at the collar, cuffs and similar detailing along the button placket. A narrow dark brown leather belt circled your waist with a gold clasp rather than a prong buckle.  Dark brown suede court shoes with a tall, but reasonable heel. Your makeup was minimal and natural. You looked like you had just somehow heightened your features, but in no discernible way he could describe.

As Harry got closer, he was able to notice even smaller details. Your beautiful hair, was twisted up and away from your face and secured in some secret way women have where it would stay perfectly in place by means he could never quite see. Your accessories were feminine and understated. Small gold earrings in the shape of teardrops, a simple gold cuff around your wrist, a Kingsman issue watch on the other. A signet ring on your own pinkie. Your nails were trimmed short and clean, either no polish or something bare. A thin gold chain around your neck with a small solid gold version of the Kingsman pendant.

Harry didn’t know what he wanted a woman to look like until he first saw you. The first time, on that first chaotic night, he had the same thought. He could give you a basic description of what you were wearing, but he could describe every feature of your face. The way you looked when you were reflective. The line of your jaw when you were determined.

And then, for the very first time he saw you, dressed, properly, walking down the long marble corridor of the HQ manor, when you had the opportunity to present yourself on your own terms. Harry thought, this is what I want a woman to look like. It wasn’t that you were model beautiful, or that your features were perfect. In London, on the streets, you could see plenty of models. They were beautiful, no doubt, and pleasing to look at, but once you were done, you were able to go about your day without a second thought. 

Your beauty had substance. The fact that Harry knew what your skill set included, to know what you had overcome to be where you were, to be the person you were, made your beauty a real tangible thing, regardless of what you were wearing. Perhaps it was that, whatever you wore, you made it part of you. It wasn’t just a pretty skirt or a flattering blouse, it was the way you wore it that made him notice you. You could have looked completely different, with completely opposite features. Harry would have still have felt the same. And he would still say, this is what I want a woman to look like.

You posessed the capacity to stir his heart. Something that had been quiet and still for a very long time. Even something that Harry thought no longer had the desire to be moved. It was certainly not something he was seeking. He, long ago, had accepted the fact that the life of agent isn’t one that fosters lasting relationships. Relationships were based on communication and he had far too many secrets as a Kingsman.

Harry was beyond the time in his life for these kinds of thoughts. He knew he had been handsome in his youth. He had his fair share of relationships and much more than his fair share of sexual encounters. He was aware that his looks had carried him quite well as he got older and that if he wanted, there were women, very desirable ones, that would be more than willing to engage in a casual relationship. Harry was by no means vanilla. It wasn’t that he was prudish in the least, or one to deny himself physical pleasure. If you were not exactly who you were, then he would have most likely allowed himself to pursue you and enjoyed whatever that relationship had to offer. The crux of it was, that he would not be as attracted to you, or charmed by you if you weren’t exactly who you were. He would not want your as much as he did if you were any different. 

——

Harry set these thoughts aside as he approached you. Even though it was obvious you were alone, Kingsman manners never failed. Never ask a lady directly if she’d like your company. Give her a polite way to refuse without making her say no. She will indicate if your presence if desired.

“Excuse me, miss.” he opened. “Is this seat taken?”

You awarded him with an amused smile. You always enjoyed his little game of manners.

You nodded toward the chair. Please.

Draping his coat on the back of his chair, just as you did, He adjusted his slacks so he could sit down comfortably and gracefully. The club chairs were low and designed to sink back into. Harry took his seat, adjusted a little until he, too, was settled in.

Since both of you were now relatively stuck in your respective positions, where you couldn’t move without significant effort, Harry simply raised his glass in your direction. You followed suit.

You were pleased when he was comfortable enough to sit in silence with you. It was one of the first tells you would look for in asset or mark. Did they have enough self assurance to be silent? Were they uncomfortable, awkward, fidgety? Did they try to fill the silence? Most often, if they lacked confidence, you would notice these tells immediately. One of your favourite activities was to sit in silence.

It was also one of your favourite activities to look at Harry Hart. The fact that he was handsome was no surprise. When you initially started at Kingsman, this was simply an objective observation, like masterful way he handled weaponry. Or the fact that he was right handed.  The more you were partnered in the field, the closer you became, both in proximity and as colleagues, his physical attributes began to affect you in ways that continued to make you increasingly uncomfortable.

You were aware his body was that of a man that you admired and looked up to. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped. Strong, driven, powerful. You became aware of all the things that his body could do. You had the opportunity to observe him every time you were in the field, in combat, in action.

But you also began to discern a softness, a gentleness that he could convey when he gathered you up after a surprising blast had knocked you off your feet. Hands that smoothed back your hair from your forehead upon waking up in medical after a particularly dangerous mission. A warm hand on your shoulder as you successfully accomplished a challenging task. 

You were aware that as your mentor, Harry had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship. But with escalating frequency, you imagined how it would feel to have him pressed up against you, to feel his body, purposeful and confident. 

————

The evening was relaxed. Both of you, without the urgency of an upcoming mission to prepare, took the opportunity to simply rest and unwind. A seldom occasion. Feeling more and more at ease when both of you were together, you allowed yourself a little space to test the waters. When engaging targets, if they seemed comfortable sitting in silence in your company, would they make direct eye contact? You took another small sip of your drink, savoured it for a moment, and swallowed.

Hmmm. You were very curious about HarryHart and you were feeling surprisingly playful. You wanted to try something. Let’s say an experiment in tradecraft. You waited until you caught his eye. Harry seemed amused and matched your eye contact with equal directness. You were pleased that he made eye contact and even more pleased when he maintained it. But he was a spy, after all. Making and maintaining eye contact would be elementary for him.

With a little cheekiness on your part, you raised your glass to your lips again and took a small sip. He did not waver. His eyes even took on a little bit of curious amusement. You held the scotch on your tongue, pulled it to the back of your mouth, rolled the scotch around a little bit longer than necessary, before you swallowed.

Neither of you would look away first. You gave him a half smile, half smirk, crinkled your eyes a bit in amusement. You seemed to be saying. Ok. Your turn.

Harry had never seen your in this kind of playful mood and he suddenly found himself enjoying this little match immensely.

He could more than participate in this game. He, literally, had decades more experience than you. An agent may be able to seduce. But a gentleman agent was a master at the art of seduction. And Harry Hart was the consummate gentleman agent. One did not get to where he was in life without knowing how to pleasure a woman. He was often told he had beautiful and talented hands. That may have been years ago, but those kinds of skills, they stayed with a man.

A quick raise of his brow. Darling, challenge accepted.

Holding your eyes with his, he lowered his glass just enough to where it was in your sight line, but slightly off to the side, at the edge of your peripheral vision. You would still be able to hold eye contact, but would have to make an effort not to glance down at his glass. Especially, when you saw what he was going to do with it.

Harry held your gaze suddenly with an intense focus you were unprepared for. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was holding his glass, cupping it in the palm of one hand. He began to simply roll it around gently, as one would while enjoying a proper scotch. He rolled it around harmlessly, in a slow, lazy, rhythmic pattern.

You had to concentrate a little harder not to look away, but you kept his gaze. If you were uncomfortable, you didn’t show it. You hoped your gaze held a similar intensity as Harry’s. His felt, well, piercing, for lack of a more appropriate word.

This was certainly turning out to be an interesting evening, Harry thought. You seemed determined to stick this through. He would be required to dial his technique up a notch. He nested the heavy base in the center of his palm and let it rest there for awhile without moving. Then, once again, he started rolling the glass in his hand, not to stir the liquid, but to feel the surface of glass itself. He bounced the glass, lightly, as if testing the weight and feeling the heaviness.

The movement was subtle, slow, and sensuous. He let his hand explore the texture of the smooth surface. The base of his thumb pressed against the glass in slow, languid circles, sometimes rolling on to the pad of his thumb, sometimes to his finger tip. But he did this as if he were doing it unconsciously, because he was staring at you with a focus and intensity that said you were the only woman on earth, and that he wanted you.

There was truth to the term, the male gaze. It was not looking at something through a man’s eyes, it was seeing into something as a man. There was a reason why they called this particular look penetrating. It was a gaze of desire, a singularly male want and need. If done properly, it was a way to make love to a woman without touching her. It was far beyond physical contact. It wasn’t hard for him to harness his essential masculine energy. Harry had done it for years on countless honey traps in his younger days with the agency.  He hadn’t thrown the full force of himself to seduce in quite awhile and found that he was enjoying a little flex of his muscle.  If desire had a name, at that moment, it would be called Harry Hart. He let his desire roll off of him in waves.

What you didn’t quite understand, was that the game you were playing with him, wasn’t about who could keep eye contact the longest. It was a question of who was going to be seduced and who was going to be the seducer. You were approaching what you thought was a staring contest as a battle of the wills, which was why you were going to fail. Making eye contact may be a test of power and confidence, but that was a quick, brief test. A simple meeting or a darting of the eyes. It was very easy to find out who was going to be able to make and hold contact. However, eye contact for a prolonged period of time, especially between a man and a woman? It became something quite different. It was a game of seduction. It wasn’t a test of power. It was a test of control. Control of two things in this case, the seducer’s own desire, and the desire of the other person. Could the seducer harness his own desire to control the seduced.

You had not faltered yet. He raised to single brow. Would you like me to keep going?

You narrowed your gaze. Please, do.

The expression on his face all but said out loud. “You asked for it.”

Harry saw the flush in your cheeks when you noticed what he was doing with his glass. Your breathing intensified. Your pupils dilated and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

They were very small movements, but very deliberate movements. He cupped the bottom of the glass in one palm, fingers spread as if he were holding up a small tray. Using only his middle finger, the rest of his hand now cupping the base, he began to stroke the center of the glass. Like he was using his finger to say, come here. In very slow, very deliberate, beyond suggestive movements. His other hand simply rested on the top rim of the glass. Gently holding it in place while he moved his bottom hand. He did this without twitching another muscle in his body, as if nothing had changed.

Your eyes widened. Holy fuck, you thought. With very exact and explicit movements of his hands, Harry was not just implying, but overtly demonstrating how he used them to give pleasure to a woman. The shock of seeing him within the frame of something so blatantly sexual, all the while looking at you the entire time? It was intensely arousing.

Harry was not only looking at you, he was positively devouring you with his gaze. You could feel him, his energy in pulses of heat. This wasn’t merely eye contact. This was something unexpected and you were not prepared for it. Harry was suddenly changed, maybe not changed, but different. He was harder, stronger, more demanding. He was more of everything. The polite, honorable, considerate gentleman was still there,  but now he added an aspect of himself that you had never seen or experienced before. The man was still Harry Hart, but it was also as if a part of him had been unleashed, whatever primal energy that was held in check by the handsome suits and the manners and the chivalry, had been released.

You fought to maintain your composure. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands moved expertly, and with ease. His gaze, became even more intense, if that was even possible.

Harry continued to play and to tease as he held the glass in his palm. You knew where he had his hand. You could feel the exact placement as if it were on your own body. The base of his palm would cup your center, with the rest of his fingers spreading between your legs. His middle finger was still moving in achingly slow circles, one direction, then slowly moving in the other direction. He curled his finger under, using his knuckle, rolling it in tiny circles. Not even really moving just shifting the pressure moving from one side to the other, from top to bottom.

You saw in his eyes, that he knew, that you were not only being affected by his movements, but you were feeling sensations as if he were touching you directly.

It was the most erotic experience of your life.

Here was this beautiful man, still dressed as properly as ever in his dress shirt and tie, his shoulder holster with his side arm. His perfect hair, his perfect face. With all his dignity and respect, relaxing comfortably back into his chair, his legs spread wide, an ankle crossed over his knee, one elbow resting casually on the arm of his leather chair. Radiating such a profound sexual energy, that without even touching you, had the ability to control your body with only his eyes and the the way he moved a glass in his hand. He was so confident in his movements. His expression said, however brief this moment, that he owned you, that you were his, and he knows that you wants it that way. He can see it all over your face. He can see it in your eyes.

——

Harry wasn’t even close to being done.

He took his other hand, laying his palm over the glass, as if it was resting there. On the other side of the glass, where his thumb fell, he began to roll it around in very explicit, very familiar circles.

He felt himself harden as his own arousal grew. He didn’t try to stop it. Instead of letting it distract him, he channeled that energy through him and into you. Allowing you to witness the physical evidence of his own desire would strengthen his hold. Never underestimate the power of the imagination. You would see it. Your mind would do the rest.

Harry saw your lips part, even the slightest bit. Your chest rising and falling under your ladylike blouse as your breath quickened. Your knees pressed tightly together. He watched your face very, very carefully and intently, watching the subtle changes in your expressions as he shifted the movements of his hands, knowing that you were feeling his movements in your body. Every time your brow would furrow, or you took a sharp intake of breath, or would clench your pretty hands, as he moved his own, he knew you were feeling pleasure. And that he was the source of that pleasure.

Harry knew that there were men who were turned on by violence. For him, however, there was nothing more erotic than the sight of a woman experiencing the pleasure that you were giving her. So, he was especially aroused when he was free to look at the nuances of your face and body freely and openly. Your pleasure had reached a constant as you moved almost imperceptibly to the consistent rhythm of his hand.

And you still did not drop your gaze. Harry knew, now that you were fully aroused, you would not break eye contact. You probably couldn’t at this point if you tried. For, half of your pleasure was a result of seeing the man who was controlling your pleasure. And seeing that you pleased him, that he was also sexually aroused, intensified your pleasure. And you wanted to offer that to him, very willingly. Harry was finding out much about you in these few moments. Things that he wasn’t even sure you knew about yourself. Very few women would have been comfortable enough with their sexuality to be purely on the receiving end of pleasure. In the intimacy of their own bedroom in a committed relationship. Let alone in an extremely public and therefore vulnerable way. With a man who may be, slightly off limits. Which, in fact, probably added to your pleasure.

To see just how much you were under his thumb, pun aside, Harry paused for a moment. He kept his hand, his fingers in the exact same place. He just stilled. And watched you. After a few moments he could see the tiniest furrow of your brow. When he continued to remain still, he saw the movement he waiting for. You probably didn’t even know you had made it. It was the slightest lifting and rolling of your hips. He didn’t realize he could be more turned on, but he felt himself grow harder. It was the motion every woman made, in his experience, when they wanted more, when they were asking for more, and when they were begging for more.  The ability to actively listen and comprehend another person was the most profound influencing tactic one could hone in communication, and therefore seduction.  Which is exactly what he was doing. In a very non verbal, very physical way.

Harry began his movements again, with more intensity and purpose. He let his finger, for the first time, slide all the way up the side of the glass, even letting it lift with the upward movement of his palm. He saw your body move as if you were receiving him.

He knew you were experiencing waves of intense pleasure. He could tell you wanted to close your eyes and tip your head back. As Harry witnessed your need, he went in for his last movements. His palm pressing up into the base of the glass, his thumb rolling in small firm circles and his entire middle finger along the entire length of the glass, the tip almost reaching the top of the rim.  As if his finger were deep inside you, he made deliberate strokes while pressing into the glass, slow, but then gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

Harry knew, that you knew, the exact two parts he was pleasuring.

You lips parted, your breathing grew heavier. You had no idea what was going to happen next, all you felt were waves of pleasure. The only thing you could concentrate on was not losing eye contact with the man in front of you.

Harry knew at this point, he had let what was a silly, flirtatious game, go too far. He also knew this began as a challenge, and Harry Hart was never one to back down from a challenge. He also knew that he never purposely lost a game. If it took climaxing for you to break eye contact, then so be it.

Harry also knew he was mesmerized by the sight of you. He didn’t know if he could stop. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t want to. This moment had to hit the list of the top most erotic experiences of his life. Both fully clothed, siting in separate chairs, more than six feet apart. With only eye contact between you. He didn’t know if he’d experienced something more intensely arousing, knowing that he was the one you were feeling when you made yourself come.

Harry began to see the tell tale tremors, the quickening breath, your lips parting with cries that you desperately wanted to make that you would not let yourself, and still, you were trying to hold on. Psychologically you were making it harder for yourself, denying your own release would only make it that much more physically intense when you had to give in.

It was at that moment, that a door banged within the manor and someone appeared at the large entrance of the club room.

“Harry. That you?”

Damn it. It was Eggsy.

“Just headin’ out.” Eggsy called over. “What’s up? Looks like you two’re having a staring contest. Whose winning?”

“It’s a tie” Harry replied.

Eggsy held up his hand in a quick wave and left.

Harry gave you a quick glance, where you were still trying to maintain eye contact, wait no, you were just staring into the space behind him, concentrating on something he could not see.

——

You knew you had to stop staring at Harry, so you looked past his shoulder into the empty space behind him. At this point, even the sight of him might set you off. You were still right at the cusp of your climax and your body was still so aroused you were afraid that any movement could push your over the edge. You wanted to tell Harry to leave, but you couldn’t think of a way without embarrassing or offending one or both of you. All you could do at the moment was sit quietly. So that’s what you did. You were waiting for your body to catch up with the rest of you and settle down. Harry was waiting patiently until you were ready to move or speak.

After a bit of time, you glanced over at him, made sure it was safe. It was, and you began to relax a little, though your body still felt like a flame that was ready to ignite with any hint of friction. You just needed to stay still for awhile.

You saw Harry watching you, his face both concerned and amused.

He broke the silence.

 “And that, my darling,” Harry said pointedly. “Is how one create’s an effective honey trap.”

In an attempt to further diffuse the situation, he wanted to be frank and direct with you and not to brush what just happened under the rug. That would be awkward for both of you.  He did not want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with him or what had happened. The best way was to be as blunt as possible. He pushed down on his palms and rose out of his chair with minimal effort.

“My dear, I’ve been in the spy business for over 30 years. One does not get this far without knowing how to pleasure a woman.”

He winked at you.

“Not to worry, you’ll get there.”

Harry reached behind him for his coat, draped it over his arm, but not before you clearly noticed his own erection. Which before had just been a suggestion in the shadows. He’s hard.

The thought made you flame all over again.

“I need to take my leave. Will you be alright, here?”

All you could do is nod. You didn’t trust your voice yet.

Always the gentleman, he leaned over and brushed his lips against the top of your hair.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.”

You still couldn’t look directly at him so you turned your head slightly to the side and gave him a small nod. With a quick squeeze of your arm, you heard his departing footsteps. He was heading to the tunnels. He was going back into the city, He wouldn’t be staying at he manor. You didn’t know if you were glad or disappointed.

You were grateful to him for providing at least a somewhat graceful way to exit the situation, referring to the seduction technique that ALL agents are trained in. Harry was letting you chalk it up to a learning experience.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You tried again.

“Fuck.”

It was the first word that you had said all evening.

——

“Fuck.”

Harry thought as he boarded the train back into the city. He had actually planned on staying at the manor, but with what just happened with you, he wasn’t sure if that would be the best course of action. It took all of his self control to remove himself from any temptation by leaving the place entirely. Making it impossible for him to act in a way that was inappropriate. Not that what had just happened would qualify as appropriate. At least it had the veil of a lesson on seduction. He wasn’t sure it would convince judges, but he found it a weak, but passable excuse.

No, the problem for the moment was that all Harry could see was your face as he pleasured you. How your lips parted, your breasts underneath your blouse, the flush of your cheeks. He wanted to hear what your cries would’ve sounded like. He wanted to be the one to make you cry out. His sex drive, always healthy, may have had a prolonged dormant period in recent times. But now it was raging like a fire that he unleashed and now he couldn’t put out. By letting the full force of it out this evening, it was fully awake and needed something to do. Harry had feared that if he had stayed at the manor even a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and would’ve taken you and had you right there.

If he could do that to you with his eyes and just the suggestion of his hands, he couldn’t imaging what it would be like pleasuring you with his entire body. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he took care of himself, and when he did, he would allow himself the sight of your trembling, responsive, body underneath his own as he gave you the pleasure he knew you so desperately wanted, joined together as he felt your body shudder around him when you climaxed, feeling his own release as he heard you cry out his name in pleasure.

[sibsteria]

still the same to me [harry hart]

prompts: ''it was you the whole time'', ''I'm not going anywhere'', ''people are staring'', ''first second I saw you, I couldn't get over how beautiful you were''

summary: on a mission, you have to seduce your target into a secluded room, Harry doesn't like this but has to go along with it

a/n: I refuse to write about Merlin's death unless it's for angst, so in my mind, he's alive and well.

''Y/n, your mark is approaching, I hope you have prepared an opening line.'' Merlin's thick accent funnelled into my ear via comm.

''Well shall I thank my slag of a date for our crossed paths or yours?'' I smiled at him, trying to convey a sultry vibe.

''I should be urged to say both?'' He raised an eyebrow, ordering a malt whiskey, classic and boring.

''And for you miss?'' He wants to buy me a drink, cute, unlike what he did a month ago.

''A martini, gin not vodka, obviously. Stirred for ten seconds while glancing at an unopened bottle of vermouth. Thank you.'' I winked at the bartender, crossing my legs slowly and seductively.

''So, what has you down, pretty lady?'' I could gag at his flimsy attempt at flirting.

''Date gone bad, I had arranged a meeting with an estranged ex and well, you can take a guess.'' I sighed, bringing my head into my hands, all part of the plan.

''Well, he did you wrong honey, not at men can be proper gentlemen.'' If only I could see my Harry's face as he proposed himself as a gentlemen, I could hear the steam rolling off him.

''Yes well, like you say, not all men. So what brings you here?'' I was curious as to the excuse he would pull.

''Ah, same as you my dear-'' I heard a slight kerfuffle in my comm, must be Harry, ''broken heart.'' I gave him a 'smile of empathy' ha, please.

I almost infringed my cover as I heard Harry from my ear piece ''What a fucking disgrace.'' Damn.

''Well I suggest we right how we've been wronged, you see that back stock room over there? Empty. What do you say?'' His hand slid up my thigh, if only my skin was made of cyanide.

I had to stop my eye from twitching as I answered him, ''Sure, see you there in five.'' I winked to cover a twitch, hopefully he didn't suspect anything.

''You hear that Galahad? Take the back exit, there's some stacked boxes on your right as you enter. Y/n be sure to make some noise on my command so Harry can slip inside.'' I heard Merlin inform Harry, he mumbled something along the lines of 'he'd better not try to slip inside her' before Merlin told me he was on his way.

''I'll be surprised if the guy will still be able to walk after this.'' Merlin sighed, a jealous Harry Hart is a dangerous sight.

I took a deep breath before turning the knob to which the patron of disgust stood. He hummed as he took me by the waist, edging me towards the wall. I felt him kiss up my neck, I pray to god that Merlin signals soon.

By the time he reached my jaw I heard him, ''Y/n, noise, now.'' I did what I knew to do. Flipping us over I slammed him against the wall, kicking over some boxes in the process, I really hope Harry got in.

''Wow, a girl who knows what she wants, sexy.'' I could throw up right now.

The plan was to stay silent and take him down, apparently Harry didn't get the memo.

''You're a fucking disgrace you know that?'' Harry shot up from the darkness.

''Harry, oh no, no no.'' I heard my ear piece.

''Who are you? Some perv? Wanna watch, I'm sure she won't mind.'' I headbutted him with all the strength I had before turning him round pinning him against the wall. His face slammed against the wall, I pulled his arm around to his back, feeling a crack. I've broken his arm, good.

''You fucking crazy bitch!-'' I cut him off.

''Oh shut up.'' Before reaching for my garter pulling out my small handgun, I slam his head with the butt of the weapon, this didn't bring him down.

''I think it's about time I teach you some manners, young man. Especially on how to treat a lady.''

You can guess what happens next.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''Harry, I admire you for defending me but-'' I tried to reason with him.

''No buts, I'm happy I did what I did.'' He spat, ''Fucking deserved it. You didn't enjoy it did you? Being tossed around like bread dough?'' He narrows his eyes at me.

I look at him, heartbroken, ''How could you say that Harry Hart?! I fucking love you, not anyone else. Even when I first started here, it was always you, it was you the whole time. How dare you say nor even think that? We're done here, people are staring.'' I mumbled in a rage, storming off, I need to cool down.

''Shit.'' I heard Harry say. Yes, shit indeed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He entered our shared room at the new compound later that evening.

''I hope you're not done with me, after all this time.'' I heard a solemn voice from the doorway.

''Done with you? Never. Mad at you? Extremely.'' I looed at him with sadness in my eyes.

''You know, the first second I saw you, I couldn't get over how beautiful you were. A strong, smart agent who knows what's best for her? Of course I fell for you.'' It wasn't my plan to give into his charm so quickly but I couldn't help it.

''Just so you know, Mr. Hart? I'm not going anywhere, you're not getting rid of me, ever.'' I told him, approaching a sentimental yet light approach.

''So I'm Mr. Hart now?'' My Harry was back, sweet, gentle and fucking annoying teasing little shit Harry Hart.

''Only if I get to be Mrs. Hart.'' I knew this was a risk, oh well.

''Darling, you were Mrs. Hart when you first walked through the door.'' I ran to him, nearly toppling us over when I pulled him into a thick and loving embrace.

''You're not getting rid of me now, I'm telling you, I can be one hell of a stalker.'' I bantered, pressing small kisses all over his face.

''I would tell you the same, my dear.'' He hummed, as we backed up towards our bed, he fell on top of me

''Harry!'' I whined, laughing, guess I'm stuck here now.

''Marry me.'' I took a pause, to kiss him, obviously.

''You didn't even have to ask Harry.'' I whispered with sincerity.

''Next week, marry me, I can't wait any longer.'' You're a fucking character Mr. Hart.

''My answer remains the same.'' I took his face in my hand, my thumb brushing over where his left eye once was. I didn't care what he looked like, I just wanted him.

''You don't have to pretend you still like to look at me.'' He sighs.

''I'm not pretending. You're still as handsome as you were the day I met you.'' I kissed the scar, then I kissed him, locking my hands in his hair. He sighs into the kiss, it was a happy sigh, I could tell.

''Get some rest, you're getting married next week.'' He winked, or rather, blinked at me.

''I love you.''

''I love you, Mrs. Hart.''

[geekspointru]

Good Smile Company открыла предзаказ на фигурку Гарри Харт по фильму "Kingsman: Золотое кольцо".

[knightthart]

La Vie en Rose (Hartwin)

You can also read it on AO3

Eggsy's smile held the sun in his curves and was able to put away all the darkness and coldness of a cloudy life. That's what Harry felt every time he looked at his husband while he was unaware of Harry's attention. In Harry's opinion, Eggsy's true beauty shone brighter while he was distracted in his own little world.

Just like now. Eggsy was sitting in the armchair close to the window, he was writing a report while listening to music, probably a song that Harry never heard before. He was relaxed, sometimes he would smile or hum with the song, other times he would bite his lips or frown. It was all little gestures, nothing more than mundane and, yet, they felt enormous to Harry. Bigger than life itself.

That man mindlessly sat in front of him was the love of his life, and even though he was aware of Harry's love towards him, he would never understand the true deepness of it. He would never understand his capacity of making Harry's heart burst with happiness just because he existed in the world. He would never understand how he was able to make Harry look at the world and see something more than just a miserable place full of miserable people.

Harry could live without him if he had to, he had lived a whole life without Eggsy in it before the other man invaded it with all his warmth and charm just to undone Harry until he lost track of himself. But, God, how life would be pale and numb without Eggsy by his side. Harry remembered the days where he lived alone in that house, the days without music and arguments and worries and laughters and movies and all the little things that knocked on your door to say "You are here and you are alive". He didn't want to go back to live in a house that wasn't a home.

It scared Harry how fragile this thing was, almost like a rose that can fall about if you clench it too hard. Life, love, death are uncontrollable entities. They can give, fade and take as easily as Harry was able to breathe. However, Harry didn't think about it most of the time, you don't have time to think about it when you are living. He didn't think about it when Eggsy was telling him a story about his sister, nor did he think about it when they were having dinner, or holding hands, or watching a movie or making love or just existing in the same time and space without talking, like in that moment. Usually, Harry thought about it when Eggsy was away on a mission because Eggsy's absence was a reminder of what he could lose.

But now, while he was looking at Eggsy, all that Harry could think was about how thankful he was. He didn't know if God existed or even if he would care for a person such as him, and even with that on mind he was thankful. If given a chance, Harry would make a toast to the universe ridiculous as it sounds. 

Harry let a little laugh escape from his chest. It was all a bit ridiculous, he supposed, to be at his age and feel like he was tasting love for the first time, maybe it was. There were a lot of times in the past where he felt like he was unable to love and every time he fell for someone it felt like he was forcing his feelings just because it would be normal to feel. With Eggsy, love was a natural phenomenon just like the rain that started falling outside.

The light in the room trembled because of a thunder and then went off when a lightning fell. Eggsy, notebook shutted down as well.

"Fuck," he screamed, trying to turn it on. "I think it stopped working for good," he moaned. "I will have to start my report all over again, fucking great."

He looked up at Harry, just to see Harry watching him with a silly little smile on his face. Eggsy raised a brow and it made Harry chuckle again. "Why are you laughing?" Eggsy asked suspiciously.

"Maybe someday I'll tell you, darling," he said while getting up, then he offered his hand to Eggsy that picked it up just to be pulled into Harry's arms. Harry breathed while holding Eggsy still just for a minute.

"Are you okay?" Eggsy murmured softly into his ear, almost worried.

"Yes," Harry replied, kissing his temple. "I just want a dance. Maybe it was rude of me not ask first, but it seems you don't have anything else to occupy yourself with since your notebook died and I didn't think you would mind entertaining your old husband," he explained while guiding Eggsy into a slow dance.

Eggsy grinned and all that Harry could think was "Oh, we have light again."

"We don't even have music," Eggsy pointed out.

"I think you can take care of that for us, my dear. After all, you have a marvelous voice," Harry replied.

"Oh," Eggsy said, looking at Harry fondly. "Any requests?"

"How is your French?" Harry asked back, looking as fondly at Eggsy. Instead of replying, Eggsy put his head on Harry's shoulder.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens. Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche. Voilà le portrait sans retouche. De l'homme auquel j'appartiens," Eggsy start to sing tenderly, making Harry close his eyes. "Quand il me prend dans ses bras. Il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d'amour. Des mots de tous les jours. Et ça me fait quelque chose…"

"Yes, indeed," Harry thought. "La Vie en Rose."

[pinballwitxh]

the mentees - part 1 (eggsy unwin x oc)

summary: a seasoned kingsman agent witnesses eggsy’s last test and sends him off with some advice. budding feelings between the two are even more intense as both witness the death of harry hart and turn to each other for comfort.

warnings: just a sh*t ton of violence and cussing cause, ya know, this is kingsman.

honestly i’m not sure how this will turn out but i love the church scene so much and i love eggsy so this will be my experiment phase with writing for him! def into harry hart as daddy too soooooo that will def be coming up in my master list soon. enjoy! also I super apologize for weird spacing and shit cause idk tumblr is weird w the phone sometimes.

The agent stared down at the computer screen with brows furrowed and hands gripping the armrests, “Come on, Eggsy, it’s just a blank. . .”

The recruit held his stance in front of JB, his beloved pug, gun pointed and ready. She could see the struggle in his eyes and it made her so frustrated that he wouldn’t just do it. The dogs had become close companions to the recruits, that was part of the idea behind owning a dog in the agency. This was probably one of the hardest tests out of them all, she had decided after passing it herself.

On the other monitor stood Roxy before her own poodle, gun aimed and ready.

She pulled the trigger and visibly the tension in her shoulders released. Merlin was congratulating her with a pat on the back, whereas Eggsy was still rigid and aiming. Arthur was growing very obviously impatient and she knew that Eggsy would not be able to do it.

In the end, he had the biggest heart of them all.

This proved to be true as he handed the gun back to Arthur, head down and ashamed. She watched as he scooped JB up into his arms and left the room quietly. Immediately she was running out of the room and met Eggsy at the bottom of the grand staircase.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” he snapped, “What a bullshit place this is-”

“Why would you even say that? You trained so hard, Eggsy, and you gave it all up for-”

“My fucking dog? Yeah, I did so why don’t you just leave me the hell alone and go back to your posh suits and fancy cars and forget all about me?”

‘I’d never want to forget about you, Eggsy Unwin.’

For a moment she was silent and shocked, the two had become such good friends and she would be lying if she said those words had not hurt. Agents were not supposed to have any romantic relationships, even close friendships like the one they had was hard to navigate in the agency. Eggsy pulled JB protectively close to his chest and looked down at his feet.

“That isn’t what I meant, Eggsy, you could be so great here,” she paused and placed a tender hand on his arm, “I think you might change your mind if you talk to Harry.”

The feeling of his warm skin beneath her hand felt like electricity. She had felt this way around Eggsy several times leading up to this moment, but it was so intense.

“I’m packin’ my things and goin’ home, ain’t nowhere else for me to go and I am not talking to that fucker.”

She shoved him, “Don’t talk about Harry like that, he got you here!”

“And I obviously wasn’t meant for it, so I’m not going to disappoint ‘im any more,” he began to walk away but before exiting, he turned back to her, “Y’know, you ain’t so bad,”

She crossed her arms, “Well thanks,”

He smirked, “Maybe I’ll see ya ‘round, luv?”

“That’s up to you, Eggsy.”

‘Please don’t leave.’

He nodded once more and turned to leave, reluctantly, and her heart plummeted. Once his figure disappeared from the sunlight she sighed and headed back towards the office. Merlin greeted her with a pained look on his face, he knew Eggsy hadn’t passed and it had disappointed him somewhat, as well. Though, he would never admit it, the boy had grown on him.

She was going to miss that cheeky bastard, no doubt. They’d shared some not-so-subtle glances and flirty comments with one another during his time there.

There were the secret winks he’d shoot her way, the way his eyes roamed her body when she wore a skirt, his smug smiles when she praised his work, but most of all the way he listened to her and drank in every word. In the end Eggsy would have to admit that her advice had turned out to be some of the best he’d received during his time at Kingsman.

She smiled at Merlin, “Roxy will do wonderful here, Merlin.”

He nodded, “I think she will too, good to get some females in the agency.”

She laughed, “Now I have someone to gossip and have lunch with that I can really tolerate!”

“Oh, come on now, I’m always down for a good gossipin’ sesh, yeah?”

“Considering your job allows you to attain private information, your gossip is the absolute best, Merlin.”

A few hours later Merlin received a call from Harry to reroute the Kingsman cab that Eggsy had stolen (which caused her to roll her eyes so far that it hurt.) She stood behind the computer-genius as he directed the cab to lock Eggsy in and drive itself to Harry’s house. Eggsy was obviously very mad, “Come on, bruv! He hit my fucking mum!”

She gasped quietly to herself and turned to Merlin, “Anything we can do about that?”

“I’m sure we can take care of it once Harry has talked some sense into him,”

For another hour Eggsy and Harry discussed everything and to say Eggsy felt horribly embarrassed was an understatement. She had been right, talking to Harry made everything come to light and make sense. Mr. Pickle seemed to bore holes into the side of his head the entire time, reminding him of what he had failed to do.

A high-pitched beep interrupted the two agents as they sat in the office, breaking the silence. Merlin leaned forward and beckoned her over on the other office chair, “Got a signal coming from. . .Kentucky?”

“Valentine’s?”

“Sure is,” he paused and hit another button to dial Harry’s contact, “Harry, listen to this. Valentine’s at last saying something of note.”

The four agents listened in separately to the conversation between Valentine and Gazelle. A location was discovered and immediately Harry was on his feet and ready to come back to headquarters. She briefly caught a glimpse of Eggsy through Harry’s glasses and smiled to herself, he had definitely calmed down and profusely apologized to Harry as he gathered his things.

“Harry, I’m so sorry and I’m gonna do everything-”

“You should be,” she smiled at Harry’s blunt retort, “You just stay right there, I’ll sort this mess out when we get back.”

“We’ll meet you at the air-strip, Galahad,” Merlin said before he hung up.

“Agent Percival, gather your things together as well,” Harry said before abruptly hanging up.

Her heart jumped at the mention of her going out into the field, it always did when she was asked to go. Especially since Harry had been her mentor, and still was, she enjoyed working with him.

Soon they were enroute to Kentucky via the private jet the agency owned. Merlin debriefed both of them once again on the information they had. While they were unsure about Valentine’s intentions, Harry reiterated that it was necessary they be on guard and ready to fight.

Agent Percival made sure that all of her hidden weapons and gadgets were working and ready before exiting the plane. Once on their way to the church, Harry went over the plan they had discussed once more. She was ready to figure out Valentine’s motives and put an end to whatever he was planning on doing.

“How is Eggsy?”

Harry quirked a brow at her, “It will take some time, but I think he’ll come back around and be joining us.”

She smiled, “He’d do so well with us, Harry, and I know you know that.”

“Of course I do, he’s just like his father,” he turned to her, “Don’t forget the rules, Agent Percival.”

Her face heated up and she turned to him, “What on earth do you mean by that?”

“You know very well what I mean by that,” he said as he placed his hands on his knee, “There’s certainly no secrets between you two and the rest of the agency.”

She looked down and tried to hide her tinted cheeks, “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

There was a silence before Harry chuckled, “He’s very loyal, you know?”

She smiled to herself, “Good quality of a qualified Kingsman,”

“Indeed,” Harry hummed to himself.

Just before they arrived she turned to him, “Thanks for teaching me everything, Galahad.”

He nodded, “You haven’t let me down, Percival, although I never doubted you or your abilities.”

It was silent then as they approached, churchgoers entering the sermon five minutes before it was scheduled to start. Stepping out of the car she smoothed down her blazer and tailored pants before taking Harry’s arm on the other side. They entered the church together and looked around for empty seats.

Unfortunately they had to sit on opposite sides of the pew since it was so full already. Soon after they sat down a small worship service began which soon turned into a rather nasty and bigoted sermon from the preacher. Percival tried not to show the disgust on her face and instead played with the buttons of her purple blazer.

“Charming sermon, can you see Valentine anywhere?” Merlin’s voice echoed in her ears.

From the corner of her eye she saw Harry’s gaze focused somewhere in the corner of the small church. Indeed, there was a small camera placed above them.

The sermon dragged on and honestly, she was bored. Valentine wasn’t showing up and nothing was happening, it seemed like a useless mission. Harry seemed to think the same thing as he sent her a quick nod from his seat.

Harry stood to leave, Percival deciding to wait about two more minutes before she also left so as not to cause a big distraction.

However, a woman next to Harry was rather peeved that he was ready to leave.

“Hey, what’s your problem?”

Every eye turned to Harry and the preacher paused in his sermon, eyeing Harry with hate.

Percival had to contain her laughter as Harry turned back to the woman and curtly responded, “I’m a Catholic whore currently enjoying congress out of wedlock with my black, Jewish boyfriend who works in a military abortion clinic. So, hail Satan, and have a lovely afternoon, madam.”

The look of pure shock on her face made Percival want to laugh even harder, so she turned back to the front of the church and regained composure in her seat.

Just before Harry reached the door the woman cried out, “Just leave this church! You just leave this church like the infidel you are!”

Percival twitched a little, a high-pitched ringing filling her ears for a split moment. She shook her head to clear the sharp pain out of her head and once her eyes refocused, something was very different.

“Satan cannot save you now! You will eat your babies! You will drown in the blood of the Lord! He will not save you!”

The entirety of the congregation was standing with fists clenched and glared at Harry. Percival stood as well in order to blend in, but she couldn’t shake the slight ringing that was still in her ears.

She ducked her head out into the aisle, “We need to leave, now,” she whispered to Merlin and Harry through her comm.

Something else made her twitch again and without any control, she began to see red and was absolutely angry. Her fingers curled around the gun inside her blazer pocket and hooked onto the trigger.

She turned just in time to see Harry shoot the woman point-blank in the head. Hell was unleashed upon all of them, then.

Before the person next to her could strike her down she whipped around and shot a bullet into their head. Blood spattered and stained her dress clothes but she wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

For what felt like hours, her head was in a blur of blood and combat. Anyone who crossed her path was dead and every person around her was savagely doing the same thing. Being trained in combat by the Kingsman has given her the ultimate upper hand.

The number of innocent people had dwindled and after being thrown against a splintered pew she met Harry’s eyes. He charged her and she fought back with all the strength she could muster.

While fighting each other they managed to kill the last remaining people as well. She took hold of a broken candlestick and charged at her mentor, who easily blocked her. They pushed and shoved, punched each other mercilessly and attempted to take one another out.

“STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL EACH OTHER!”

They ignored Merlin’s pleas and finally Harry had her in a headlock. She growled and slipped out of his hold, elbowing him sharply in the nose. She smiled at the loud cry he made and the feeling of the bone crunching under her elbow. Just as she turned to finish him off he blindsided her with a pipe from the organ.

Everything went black and she fell to the ground with a painful thud.

Harry stood over his agent and trembled with confusion, the frenzy in his mind was gone and all he could remember was the pure desire he had to kill every single person in that room. As quick as it was there it was suddenly gone. The girl beneath him groaned quietly and sat up slowly, the left side of her face blackened with a nasty gash running through her cheek.

Her voice trembled, “W-what happened?”

Harry quickly helped her up and ordered her to stay low, pulling her towards the back of the church and under some fallen pews.

“I need you to stay here, I’m going to secure the area outside.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” she responded as she tried to stand, dizziness taking her over immediately.

“That’s an order, Percival,” he said as he pushed her back to the ground. His eyes were kind and she knew he had good intentions by keeping her there, but she felt utterly useless.

Harry stepped outside and once the doors slammed shut, she hesitantly made her way over the absolutely mangled and bloodied bodies to the front of the church. Peering out a broken window she watched the confrontation between Valentine and her mentor. She couldn’t quite hear what they were saying as focusing seemed to increase her migraine even more.

She didn’t miss when Valentine whipped out a gun and shot Harry without warning.

She clamped her hand over her mouth and sank back against the wall, tears streaming down her face and screams threatening to come out. He had just been shot point-blank in the face.

The world was silent for what felt like infinity before Merlin’s voice came into her ears, “You need to leave right now, out the back behind the dumpster-“

“And we’re just going to fucking leave Harry’s body? Absolutely-“

“There is no time, Percival!”

In her attempt to stand she fell back to the floor, broken glass piercing her palms. With what little strength she had left, she crawled outside the doors and limped to Harry’s side.

She sobbed over his body and could not bring herself to look him in the eyes, well, the one that was left. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her torso and she struggled against their hold.

Merlin flipped her so he was cradling her to his chest. She beat into him mercilessly and attempted to turn him around to at least retrieve his body, but to no avail.

Eggsy leaned back in Harry’s chair, tears streaming down his face and pure hatred growing inside his chest.

To see her so broken like that, to see the closest thing to a father he ever had shot dead, to sit in that empty house knowing he would not return killed him inside.

THE MASTERLIST | GO TO PART 2

[rmoonstoner]

WIP update on my Harry Hart drawing. I am starting to like it.

[knight-of-ren-cosplay]

This is not the end, this is not even the beginning of the end, but merely the end of the beginning

[bennyhendrix]

“Manners maketh man”

[marlasomething]

#adventcalendar is ALMOST done (the last two pictures are in another collage, they didn't fit) #awholenewworld (from the #atwistedtale #disney collection), which was surprisingly good, by #elizabethjbraswell Ftw #harryhart bcs I love both the #aladdin universe and the #kingsman one #book #funkopop https://www.instagram.com/p/B6Y7iRbC9LZ/?igshid=1swgp1cflkl7o

[mintmerlot]

Kingsman The Genderbending Edition. Can’t decide between milf or teen Harriet Hart 😚