#;harry

well. it had come to this. as uncomfortable as it made him, ambrose needed to talk to harry. he was tired of dodging the other–avoiding a person was certainly exhausting, not including his lack of sleep. so to harry’s he went and presented the servant with his calling card, as ridiculous as it was. they all knew his name by now, and normally he might not even bother considering how close the two were, but it was only right to give harry a proper warning about what he might be inviting in. 

it didn’t matter if he secretly thought byron deserved to be hit for how he’d been treating bella–byron was still his brother, unfortunately. byron’s honor was his honor, and most importantly, emmaline’s honor, even if he’d done his part to squander that away . . . it was far easier to focus on his friendship than his family members at that exact moment, so that’s what ambrose did. 

he waited for the servant to invite him in and anxiously paced about the foyer, a hand combing through his hair. maybe harry would simply send him away.

There was a subtlety about the way they moved in relation to each other that you would miss if you didn’t know them. 

Rosie knew, of course. How could she not? It was obvious to everyone but them. If Harry picked up his hand, she’d mirror it. If she took a sip of her wine, he’d do the same a split second after she did. Sometimes it was even simultaneous. They were symmetry in the most beautiful way. 

Their awkward encounter had come and gone, and she felt like he expected something of her. Like her mum, she hated people expecting things of her. There were too many variables in making long term decisions in the matter of seconds. She knew what he wanted, or so she thought. How could she not? They spent years dancing around each other, not daring to reach out and grasp for what they wanted.

What did she want? Drugs? Wine? Money? She didn’t know anymore. He made her feel like maybe there was something more to life than day drinking with Rosie on the beach. Maybe she could be something. It scared her--and quite frankly angered her--that she felt that way about anyone. Why should she need to rely on someone else to better herself? Surely she was better than that.

Harry was home, that much she couldn’t deny. There was something about him that settled her stomach better than a potion ever could--and she hated it.

They were in Spain now, deciding what they were going to do with their life. She was day drinking constantly, unsure of whether she had the energy to move on to a professional career. 

She had decided to take a walk on the beach to clear her head. Iván was being an insufferable twat as he was “entering his destiny in politics” and Rosie was just giving her looks every so often. 

The urge to reach out to him, to grab him and be close to him was almost too much. The point of no return scared her. She needed space and some time to breathe. 

Being fitted for a suit. How ridiculous. He had been in England for a a day and here they were suiting him up because a Kingsman shouldn’t be without a suit. He rolled his eyes a little at that, not caring. Things were ran differently in his branch.

Liam: what does a dick taste like

Liam: does it have a taste or is it gross

                     O moreno respirou fundo, um tanto chateado por ter que fazer aquilo, e encarou a pessoa atrás de si. “Escuta, você tá me seguindo tem mais de meia hora. Dá pra parar ou pelo menos explicar por quê está fazendo isso? Porque eu tenho outras coisas pra fazer.”