i am utterly in love with everything that he said in that speech

anonymous asked:

14 please?

got a little teary writing this one so thanks for that, anon

14. ‘I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss’

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart? You’re a different kinda quiet tonight.”

Hanzo sighs in response, which sends a small shock of anxiety through McCree’s gut. “No,” Hanzo says to the book in his hands. “Not as such. I am just thinking.”

They’ve been lying together in bed for the better part of an hour now, relaxing after a particularly taxing mission, Hanzo with his book and McCree with a tablet as he looks over the news. However, it became apparent early on that Hanzo was distracted by something else, and McCree hasn’t heard a page turn in almost 10 minutes. After 9 months, McCree’s learned to identify Hanzo’s changes in moods, even when he’s attempting to be subtle.

McCree rests the tablet on his stomach, his attention now fully on Hanzo. “About what?”

Hanzo presses his lips into a thin line, the picture of reluctance. However, since he does not outright deny him, McCree patiently waits.

“I have been thinking about some things,” Hanzo says, folding his book in his lap. “Since you were nearly hurt during our mission.”

McCree remembers. He’d very nearly been thrown off the edge of a third-story balcony, caught only just in time by a passing Mercy. He hadn’t actually been hurt, though, other than a couple little bruises, so he hadn’t given it any thought since. “What about it?”

“Well. It is not about that so much as it is about the rest.” Hanzo’s gaze flickers toward McCree, but he looks away again quickly toward the other side of the room. “We live dangerous lives. Before we met, I was not concerned by this. I was alone. And that has changed, in more ways than one.”

He pauses. McCree sits up fully, worried now about what Hanzo has to say. Hanzo continues, “Things are different. And more importantly, you are different. And I could have lost you.”

Hanzo reaches over suddenly, grabbing McCree’s hand and squeezing tight. “And I realized that–there are things I have not said. I could have lost you today, and you would not have known them.”

Hanzo inhales a long, deep breath. Then he looks at McCree directly for the first time since he began speaking. “You are,” he says, with intention, “incredibly important to me. I know I do not express it the way you do, but it remains true. I have spent a long time alone, by my choice and by necessity, and in that time it never even occurred to me that I might find someone like you.”

McCree’s breath leaves him in a rush. Hanzo continues on. “That you are so patient, so kind–despite everything you have experienced, despite who I am and what I have done–astounds me. And I am grateful. You, Jesse McCree, are a marvel, and I am utterly in love with you, and if nothing else, you deserve to know this.”

Hanzo’s face belies no fear, but his hand crushes McCree’s in its grip. He waits, jaw set, for McCree’s response.

McCree has none. Every word he has ever learned in any language is gone from his brain, replaced by the heart-wrenching speech Hanzo just gave. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes forth.

So he foregoes words entirely and pulls Hanzo into a desperate kiss. For a moment, Hanzo is frozen, but then he melts, and McCree gathers him up in his arms and embraces him as tightly as he can. If he has ever been good at words before, he may never be again, so he tries to communicate in his touch: in hard, needy kisses followed by softer touches, in the fingertips dug into Hanzo’s skin, in every stroke of his lips and flicker of his tongue against Hanzo’s, because there is nothing he can say. 

For the first time in years, he is well and truly speechless, and he couldn’t care less.

5x08 review Guillotines Decide

How do you start writing about Guillotines Decide.

Highly anticipated.Murderous.Bittersweet. Emotional.

Some people hated it.Some people got upset.The majority has mixed feelings.

Personally i loved it.

Way too many things happened in only 42 minutes.I felt the episode was 1 hour and a half, not 40+ minutes.All the major ob characters made an appearance and that was lovely. I’m happy to see another female writer getting to tell her story.After 5x05 ( Jenn Engels ) and 5x07( Renée St. Cyr ), 5x08 came with Aisha Porter-Christie .

We’re 2 episodes before the end and 5x08 needed to be the episode that bridges the conclusion of this story with what each character has accomplished so far. Episodes 9 & 10 are gonna be a 2 parter (Graeme confirmed) so Ep 8 was the prelude of the ending.

Guillotines Decide, was more than a farewell to an amazing character. It was an episode about family- the family you choose to be a part of. In the constant battle between  nature and nurture it’s our choices that define who we are and who we want  next to us.

That’s why if i had to pick one quote from this episode that ultimately defines the whole series,it would be this:

We are all mysterious works of chance, of choice, of nature vs. nurture. So, to my galaxy of women, thank you for the nurture.

Fee’s speech was everything.Full of love, support and generosity. His brush  always a doorway through  expression and musing.


It was always about Sarah.His gallery-his own house- full of different versions of her.

She was the key of analyzing how liquidable identity trully is, how the same face can have  multiple personalities and traits, how social labels destroy our own complexity , restraining us from cherishing life the way we want to.

Felix’s art night brought Cosima,Sarah and Alison together as one person.The whole 1 person-multiple personas performance was a brilliant way  of getting the sisters together in one night and watching them happy and more importantly free.

-Alison, carefree, happy to help Fee and trying to wake her inner artistic self. Donnie always with her, supporting her, happy to be a part of this extraordinary family.

-Cosima  back in her own joyous self, more dashing than ever. Laughing,dancing having Delphine with her.

-Sarah, finally realizing that DYAD is going down once and for all, getting to chill and enjoy the night.

It was a well deserved night for them and for us the viewers.After all this angst and pain this joy was much needed and justified.After all, they are so close to freedom.


  • Helena


i loooooved this line, so utterly Helena!

Thank god Gracie didn’t betray Helena again even tho she was that close..

when i saw the gun pointed at G i kinda knew she’s a gonner. So the spoiler source was right 3 persons died in 5x08 indeed.

they’re gonna gag Helena with the Hannibal mask in the next ep jfc

i’m really hoping her character/centric episode will be as intense as Rachel’s was…also her journal and memoirs are gonna be a testimony of courage throughout the next generation of sisters…

  • Rachel

god Rachel Rachel Rachel…i was so scared about the way they’re gonna handle her…i was afraid about her backstabbing S but THANK GOD they did it the right way…

Rachel’s “Be careful” to Siobhan was so broken and authentic, like there was a micro/tiny-possiblity of her subconsiously believing S’s words…

-We do everything we can, each of us in our way

-And we do it for each other.

if you look closely to this scene Rachel is crying in here…jfc she’s a mess of emotions…

… is there a chance for her to be a part of this sisterhood after everything she’s done? Does she really wants to? Will she ever be accepted? Is Siobhan her only hope of ever feeling that she belongs to something??

I haven’t seen Rachel as vulnerable and soft as in 5x08…

and i am DREADING the 2 parter cause after Graeme’s newest interview he confirms that there’s a confrontation coming between Sarah and Rachel…

can you imagine the triumvirate  Sarah,,Helena and Rachel in one scene?

omg IT’S COMING AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUS… i wonder if Helena’s “i’m gonna kill Rachel” is foreshadowing or not…


ok i really wanna set some things straight..

Ferdinand never loved Rachel..neither do i believe that the show is trying to sell us that Fernisshole deeply loved her…i don’t know what the writers have said for him in interviews- and i don’t care tbh , cause from the show itself it’s clear to  me that this isn’t love, it’s just a  game of dominance and nothing more…if the writers wanted to glorify him then he would have helped Rachel bring down DYAD because the only thing she wants is freedom…and Ferdinand never listened to her..

what’s really REALLY sad- and that’s where people should focus- is the fact that poor Rachel thinks that’s real love.

imagine how fucking mentally abused  she was all her life that she believes this is love…can you actually imagine it? How distorted is her image about love because she has never experienced it? And when a human being (let’s pretend F/asshole is human being ) doesn’t betray her then she thinks that’s love…PROTECT RACHEL FUCKIN’ DUNCAN 

the struggling attemp…i read posts saying that Rachel is crying about Ferdinand?

i mean

?????/ whAT???

Rachel hit rock bottom she doesn’t give 2 shits about Ferd

at this point,she just wants so fucking HARD to die that F is literally doing her a favor…and the reason he left her live is because HE KNOWS HOW MUCH SHE WANTS TO DIE…so he punishes her that way…not even giving her the redemption she desperately seeks in death… it’s literally freedom or death for her..jesus Rachel’s story arc is one of the most beautiful things in season 5….

there’s only one thing that trully disturbed me in ep 8 and that was the “who’s your daddy” dialogue… i choose to believe that Rachel was just playing his game, leting him say whatever makes him feel good in order to continue with the plan and set herself free..especially the “go go ahead, daddy”..she really needed him to kill her jfc


at fucking LLLAAAAaaAAAaaast

about bloody time…this episode kept giving and giving i mean?!! I never thought we would have so many Delphine moments jfc

a lot of firsts…first skype call with the ledas…first time that someone openly acknowledged her worth in protecting the ledas in front of others (Ms S in the skypecall)


for YOU, especially you Cos babe..this girl is screaming her love to you for 5 seasons…

she gave everything…her body, her life, her safety,your relationship, EVERYTHING just to keep you safe- is there anything more pure than that?

and not only that even Adele that doesn’t know Delphine at all said it!!

And Delphine, all she did was whatever Siobhan told her too…

However strong and powerful Delphine might seem, in reality she was craving to hear those words and to feel accepted…imagine living in the shadows of doubt and accusations all this time..trying to ignore everyone’s distrust because you fucking love this girl that much..her smile says it all

Cophine was glorious in this episode.And it’s not about the cuteness or fluffiness.What really got me is the sentimentality of their moments. They were finally free.

To talk,to fool around,to stupidly dance  or to do nothing at all.Things that were ruthelessly taken away from them.Things that normal couples do.And now their life together is so palpable they can almost taste it.

-you like it that much?

Cosima darling , after all this time you still don’t have a clue huh?

what really does it for me in this scene, is how Delphine is lost in the painting and her realisation while Cosima’s whole world at this moment is Del..they’re in a crowded place only breathing for each other..at this point i can’t even tell who’s  more in love

and of fucking course she would buy the painting i mean D-U-H

totally loved the

-you own me

joke in regards to the painting.. it’s a too-soon-bad-kind-of-joke aka exactly so utterly Cosima-thing to say

however the ultimate cophine scene for me in 5x08 will be this

unscripted,bittersweet and so very intimate…tears of joy is something that ob doesn’t give us very often and i wanna thank Tatiana for that…i’m in awe with that girl and her performances…she is so.freakingly.good.and.so.devoted.to.her.characters that i have MAD respect for her….and Ebro totally went for it uplifting the scene even more….they are amazing together, their chemistry is magnetic.

imagine for how long did poor Cosima bottled up all those feelings and fears…she didn’t even dare to dream how it would be like to be free..and now it’s happening and she’s not alone, and she gets to share this moment  with the person she needed the most.

Delphine is cocooning her, always the rock and shoulder to cry on.Imagine the sex after this moment (cough COPHINE WRITERS U KNOW WHAT TO DO)



A glorious farewell to a badass character.A bittersweet goodbye to a woman of multiple roles. Warrior, mother, daughter, ally,  the head of the family .The person that glued the Manning household. The invisible pillar.

It fucking broke me that S is dead. But she did it on her terms. Her death was not meaningless.It wasn’t just a “someone had to die” fiasco. Ferdinad needed to die from her hands cause they had unsettled business.I even took pleasure that he died first.Siobhan won in every way possible.She achieved what was the most important task for her : keep Kira safe, her kids alive and bring DYAD down. She did everything she was supposed to do.Killed Ferdinand to get revenge for MK and even gave Rachel a chance to reevaluate her choices/ reengage with her sisters.

S needed to to die cause Sarah needed that final push to transform to the sisterhood’s savior.

Remember episode 4? It was 200% foreshadowing

of what it means to become you.

this is it.That is the moment of Sarah’s transformation. This is how she’s going to take responsibility for everything that’s to come. Her  bonding with S will finally make her realize how is she going to save her sisters and the next generations.

Cause if we go back to s5 ep 1 and Cosima-Sarah’s exchange, Sarah didn’t care about PT or  the implications of his plan to the future generations..she just wanted her family and sisters to be ok…now tho..she knows what’s at stake..she will be stronger,bolder and more ready to fight.She will carry on her mother’s plan.

And i can’t wait to see her arise from her ashes of sorrow and make Beth and Siobhan proud.

Mr. Osterfield / Haz Drabble

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Featuring: Harrison Osterfield

Warning: fluff, angst?, kissing and such. SLIGHT smut

Request - 37 and 50 with Haz xx

37 - “I like it when you look at me like that. Biting your lip and everything.”

50 - “Beg for it.”

Originally posted by hazosterfield

The door shut loudly behind you as you entered the apartment, your face going into a grimace, knowing you probably woke your boyfriend. Creeping along the hallway, you didn’t turn on any lights as you made your way into the kitchen, afraid of disturbing his sleep. Though, when you walked in, there your boyfriend stood. In nothing but his joggers, his hair an unruly mess - you guessed he had just gotten out of bed.

“Harrison?” You asked softly, staring at your boyfriend in confusion. He looked up from the mug he held in his hands, his eyes looked tired.

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Devil's Side

Prompt:  I fucked up. & We’re not talking about this. & Since when have we ever been friends?

Author: Aya-Fay

Fandom: Captain America

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: harmed reader, but nothing lethal.

By @milleniumxhan​ 

Tagging: @multi-villain-imagines @myregardstothereader @socktrollqueen @queencobblefreezestuff @taintedmarker

ASK is open <3


Request are open for now, drabble game is on.

Drabble game is HERE.

And here is my Masterlist. (It’s Up to Date)

New story should be up soon.

Tagging list is HERE if you want to be tagged - let me know.

I do The 100, Gotham and Fantastic Beasts. I also do Bucky Barnes now.

Originally posted by xmidnight-moonlightx

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i can’t wait to marry you

for the lovely @highkeybane  

huge thanks for @hail-andfarewell and @lightshook for editing this for me

Summary: Alec spends the day remembering all his special moments with Magnus, as he prepares himself for to finally marry his best friend. 

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Also on Ao3!

Alec slowly opens his eyes as the sun softly shined in through the curtains. Everything was hazy at first, but after a few seconds, everything went back to normal. He slowly turns around and he smiles so brightly as he sees a figure lying next to him. It’s Magnus, his fiance, and today is the day—the day of their wedding.

Alec looked at his beautiful fiance, and thinks to himself,  how did I get so lucky? He kept looking at Magnus, and he remembered how they have known each other since high school, and had met during freshman year.

It was their first day in school, and Alec was nervous. He didn’t know how to socialize properly, unlike his younger siblings, Izzy, and Jace. After finding his first class without much difficulty, he sat down and pulled out his books, pencil, and eraser and then—

“Pssssst,” Alec hears a voice calling him. He turned around and saw a beautiful Asian boy behind him.

“Yes?” Alec replied feeling utterly confused. Why was this boy talking to him? No one really talks to him.

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You Teach Me How to Live

PIETRO MAXIMOFF x Plus Size Reader

Pietro has a big, elaborate speech. 

Content: Fluff, declarations of love, lots of character mentions

Pietro was always running around the facility, leaving a trail of blue mist in his wake and never pausing for a second. You thought it was fascinating the way he sped through life but still got to see all of it, the way the world moved around him from his point of view. He was here, and then there, all in the span of a nanosecond, but he could tell you exactly what he saw as he moved from space to space. You liked to watch him train, watch him speed past bullets and arrows and knock people off of their feet. 

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breaking down my volleyball squad into thought-sized pieces

In a way, you could treat this as a character analysis. Perhaps even as unpopular headcanon, but here are some of my thoughts on the personalities of my favourite Haikyuu characters, past the first, second and third layer into their depths. Not entirely pulled out of my ass, these are just thoughts I’ve gathered from observing them in both anime and manga. Am I right, or am I wrong? There’s no answer, but you’re free to disagree.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

He’s my absolute favourite, but I’m not above picking at his flaws- one of the biggest reasons why I love this character so much. There’s so little revealed in the anime or manga, usually just as the ‘Captain’ or ‘Rival’ figure, but there’s so much underneath that gets glossed over very easily.

How much strength does it take for someone to pull together (and lead) a team that seems to be a gathering of strange misfits? Through in-game dynamics they seem to flow seamlessly, but if you think about it- the personalities of these people wouldn’t be the type to click together in a classroom or anything. Who binds them all? It’s Kuroo. There’s this solid, grounded feeling to him, when he needs to be. The keyword being need.

I have absolutely no evidence of anything I’m going to say next, but it’s a general feeling. Anyone with such prowess at provoking people, yet managing to admit their mistakes (e.g. pissing off Tsukishima), there’s definitely something. To me, Kuroo feels like the type of character that’s been there. He knows what to say, what parts hurt the most and when he needs to apologize because he’s said all these things to himself a thousand times in his head. He remembers the time when he chose not to apologize, or was too afraid to, and the consequences stung afterwards. He’s not a natural born genius at anything, but he has talent, and he’s honed his personality to fit what he has, over time, come to expect for himself. Kuroo Tetsurou knows what kind of person he doesn’t want to be- not necessarily the person he wishes to be- and he works to avoid it.

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4x05 - The Tinder Box (The 100)

All right. So, I lied.

I’m busy this evening, and tomorrow evening, and all weekend, and next week…soooooooo I’m gonna whizz through a quick-cap of 4x05.

Ultimately, my feelings are mixed, as they were post 4x04. There was good, there was bad. None of the bad was so bad to make me fully angry, but it was frustrating enough that I’m just like whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.



-          I get it. This season only has 13 eps and it’s a fast paced ep, but the way they have handled Octavia’s death and Bellamy’s grief is an actual tragedy. FUN FACT: I hated the prison scene from last week. And while none of the Blake related moments in this episode are inherently bad, the fact that Bellamy finds out the truth almost immediately is SUCH a wasted opportunity. Yes, I appreciate that Bell was smart enough to figure it out. But what was the point? It ends up having literally NO effect on his relationship with Echo. We don’t get to see what Bellamy without Octavia would be. We don’t even get to see him see O alive as the big reveal. WASTED. And they could have done better. They could have shown Bellamy have his lightbulb ‘O must have warned them moment’ but then Kane could have talked him down, in an attempt to correct him in case they were wrong (ie. In case Octavia had made it back in time to warn them, but then died from her wounds – which, PLAUSIBLE). Then Bellamy could have made the decision to rise up and lead despite not knowing if O was dead or alive, which would have lent so much more weight to the decision. It also would have made his interactions with Echo more poignant. Personally, I take issue with Bell being so chill around her even when he knows O is alive. But seeing him trying to reason with her, and putting the needs of all above the death of his sister? HOLY GUACAMOLE GUYS. Admittedly, I can’t figure out any viable reason for Clarke to not immediately clue him in once they were reunited…so the finding out she’s alive when he sees her moment was definitely out, but this alone would have been so much better! UGH

-          As touched upon, I’m struggling with the Bellamy/Echo stuff. I see what they’re doing, and I like it as a concept but the execution is shaky. Bellamy is being used to prop up Echo, and he’s a main character. I see shades of Clarke/Lexa, but also Clarke/Roan here (and I think we are meant to see both) but sadly the writers don’t seem to have learned from their mistake last season with Clarke’s 3A arc. Bellamy’s heavy handed speech to Riley was just UGH. A) We KNOW by now that Bellamy has regrets. Good lord. B) Riley. C) The entire scene is framed around Echo and I just. I just.

-          I think this is the most irritated I have ever been at the writers usage of Bellamy Blake, and yes – I include all of S3 in that statement (I stan S3). And he had some GREAT STUFF, truly. Bob is a superstar. But, UGH.

-          Riley is the actual worst, and I hate the writers for treating us like idiots. If they had just pulled out a random Arkadian for this ep it would have been better. Having all our main characters act like Riley is suddenly relevant is insulting. I hate.

-          I think that is all the stuff I outright hated??? There were some other little bits that bugged…I’ll do a separate section…

Bits that bugged…

-          The last time we saw Niylah and Clarke, Niylah was pissed at her. Ultimately, I loved all of Niylah’s moments with everyone, but the affection was jarring at first.

-          Roan and Clarke’s conversation was ultimately pretty pointless. It wasn’t even that tense. Buuuut I’m glad they are friends again at least.

-          Ilian blowing up the tech was so obvious to me that the moment when they leave him alone to tend to O, I just kind of rolled my eyes. THAT SAID, I buy that the characters were all pretty distracted. So, fine.


-          Everything Raven continues to be great. I mean, it’s HORRIBLE, and IDK how the hell my girl is gonna survive this. BUT YOU GUYS….Raven essentially saying she’ll happily sacrifice herself for the others? Ajhsdbajsbdajhas

-          RAVEN AND ABBY HAVE BEEN SUPER IMPORTANT TO ME SINCE WAY BACK IN 1X02 AND THIS WAS LIKE…THEIR BEST EPISODE SINCE THEN. Did Abby call her baby at one point? AM I MAKING THAT UP? The cute little bit where Raven is all IT’S A TWO SEATER. Abby trying to get her to chill and then Raven echoing Clarke in 3x16 ‘You’ve got to let me go’. ABBY’S DAUGHTERS.

-          NIYTAVIA

Originally posted by evilbjork

-          Ilian continues to be a compelling new character (fuck off Riley). I love the complexity of him blowing Arkadia up, but then helping both the girls. I continue to be intrigued.

-          MONTY THE MVP.

-          Marper are also growing on me, on a truly emotional level.


-          It is utterly ridiculous to me that Octavia was even attempting to walk, and that she apparently has zero broken limbs…HOWEVER, I feel like I need to point out that I have loved everything Octavia this season so there’s that.


-          BELLAMY AND OCTAVIA. GOOD LORD AT THE END. AT THE END. And yeah, okay, they’ve still got shit to go through. But in a moment of trauma Bellamy cradles his baby sister, and O hugs him and cries. Fuck me.

-          The whole end sequence with Arkadia blowing up was perfect. I wish this director had directed the prison scene.


-          But not THAT. Don’t worry. THAT gets its own section.



-          What is a Marcus Kane? Clarke does not know a Marcus Kane.

-          I also j’adored Clarke’s reaction to there being no word from Bellamy or Stephens. Such a S2 throwback. I also hope Bellamy told Clarke to sit down before he revealed Stephens fate, because that’s gonna be traumatic (OH ALSO RE. ECHO…she just casually slit the throat of an Arkadian last week. The writers think we won’t care bc it’s just a rando but GUESS WHAT WRITERS, that rando was one of Bellamy’s PEOPLE and I do not BUY THEM BEING BFFS. MAKE ECHO EARN IT YOU MONSTERS)

-          Clarke maintained her composure for the most part, but it was glorious when Roan called her bluff. And I feel like now is a good time to reveal I have re evaluated 3x15. Back then, I argued that Clarke would – ultimately – have let Bellamy die, as she was going to with Abby. I’m not so sure anymore. These moments weren’t entirely comparable, because here Clarke DID have other options. But there is no doubt Roan knew that Bellamy would break Clarke, and she knew it too.

-          The Roan+Clarke/Echo+Bellamy scene seemed perfectly mirrored, so as much as I’m annoyed by the Echo stuff I’m also not concerned about romance.


-          That final shot of the Blake family IS EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING TO ME. I like that Clarke checked on Niylah, but then the writers had her back with the Blakes. It was SUCH a family shot. And I also really liked that Bellamy was the one on the ground cradling O, while Clarke was the one standing. Mah ship loves to subvert all the things. It’s great.

So yeah. It was a mixed bag. Fingers crossed 4x06 gets this season back on track after a couple of annoyingly flawed episodes. A Bellarkoan roadtrip oughta do it!

Heiress at the Ball - Dick Grayson x Reader

Dick Grayson x Reader: Imagine a soulmate AU in which your OTP gets a step-counter. For each step they take, the number on the counter goes down, marking the moment they meet their soulmate. (Prompt from @otp-imagination)

Jason  Tim

You come from a world of lavish parties, social climbing, and peacockish flaunting of wealth. You were disgusted by it but it was your life and you were required to at least pretend to participate. Your family dragged you to all of the spotlight social events. They were convinced you would be the key to furthering your family’s influence over Gotham to the next level. You were a pawn in their games and they didn’t care about the consequences.

You had a soul mate number ticking on your collarbone but you were under no illusions about your family’s intents. If he wasn’t what your family considered suitable you knew they would do everything in their power to keep you apart. You had a greater role to fill according to them.

When your mother heard second hand gossip that Bruce Wayne’s number is about to hit 0, possibly at the next Wayne gala she sprang into action. Your number was getting low as well and your mother had been scouring the social scene for a potential “suitable” soul mate for you. You explained to her many times that wasn’t how the system worked but she was determined to control fate herself.  You decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with her. You were nearly certain that Bruce Wayne wasn’t yours but if fate would have it, you would still meet your soulmate at the gala.  

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ethan, my baby (i talk loads now)


“Cal!” okay so he’s having a nightmare maybe???? about Cal??? ABOUT GUILT MAYBE??? ALSO if they show his chest and he doesn’t have his scar on it (i mean let’s brush past them forgetting once) i will not be a happy bunny

“Ethan’s grieving-” - charlie to alicia. Damn right he is and damn right if this trailer is anything to go by that’s all we’ll have for the next three months. ethan being v v hurt… so no different from any fanfics then…

they’re holding hands? so everything seems to be going okay between them for the time being but ethan still looks on the verge of tears WOW good on you george rainsford

the rest is in the ‘keep reading’ section because i just realised how annoying this will be to scroll past i am so sorry

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emeraldsage98  asked:

32, RusAme, Russia saying it, please! Have fun :)

32: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

You know just what I love, friend.

Ancient Fortress Thriving

A grain of truth resides in many rumors, no matter how warped it may become. At least, such was the case among the immortal nations in their lives of intrigue, bickering, tactics, reverence, and everything in between. For example, many believed America needed to be the center of everyone’s attention. Truth was laced through such a notion, however it did not touch upon the complex reasons why, the harbored quest for glory, validation, security. But America’s desire to grab everyone’s focus was very much present.

Which was why, as his gestures, voice, and speech worked to make himself as large as possible, America was perturbed to see Russia’s blatant disinterest; it could even be called boredom. Decades ago, it was easy to grab the large country’s attention, hold it, receive a smile. But this recent game of Russia’s, this apparent disregard for America’s grand proclamations, dug right under his skin, rubbed his nerves raw. If he couldn’t make such a powerful adversary pay attention to him, what did that say about America? Weren’t they supposed to be fixated on each other’s moves?

Time flowed ever onward, bricks came crashing down, leadership changed, hands were shook. Tentative conversations started. There were gentle caresses that might have been accidents were it not for just how repeated they were. The touches became lingering, the distance they stood closed. Lips brushed against lips.

Bodies came crashing down. Tangled with each other, with rasping sheets.

But some shadow of that old distance remained. There was a tension in Russia’s shoulders present only when with America, a special brand of discomfort reserved for him, and only him.

America liked being the source of such unease as little as he liked Russia’s bouts of emotional distance.

And he said as much- with as much grace and tact as could be expected from the excitable man.

“Stop looking so constipated.”

Russia’s nose crinkled in obvious distaste, and the forkful of salad that was traveling to his mouth was replaced back onto his plate. “Pardon?”

“Why do you do that?”

“My bowels are perfectly healthy, if you wish to-”

“Why do you sometimes sound so far away? And like you’re looking passed me? Something on your mind?” Apparently not America, that much seemed certain.

Russia frowned. “Many things. We have entire countries to manage.”

“Not what I mean.” Sadness tainted America’s words, a newfound mournfulness that troubled him as much as he felt it. That caught Russia’s attention; he opened his mouth, closed it, licked his lips. Some inner struggle was visible in the violet of his eyes, the whiteness of his knuckles as his fists clenched.

“Do not make something out of nothing, please,” Russia said at last.

America deflated, but no sooner did his shoulders sink than he bristled, filled with a tension of his own winding him tight. “It’s clearly not nothing. Sometimes it feels like you’re always getting ready to just leave. Whatever this is, it’s coming between us.”

Russia rose from his seat, the chair legs screaming against the dining room floor, and oddly no sound better matched the sick twist this evening was taking. “Stop. This.” Each word was dragged out from behind clenched teeth. “I am trying-”

“Trying would mean talking. Hey- where are you going?” America was hot on his heels, already caught up to Russia even as the other grabbed his coat. “Russia! What’s going on? Talk to me- Vanya!”

The slightest pause, before Russia resumed gathering his things with renewed vigor.

“Russia, please talk to me! Is it boss-related?”

“It’s me-related.” His voice was soft as his hand remained frozen on the doorknob. Utterly perplexed, America stepped forward, thinking he’d misheard. And he saw it. Russia’s eyes were staring, unseeing, down at the handle. He looked frightened.

“What…what do you mean?” Though barely above a whisper America’s voice sounded too loud to his own ears, the slightest vibration enough to shatter this moment. Shatter them.

Slowly, as if forcing himself to look into the very sun, Russia’s gaze met his. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

No words passed America’s mouth even as he opened it to speak. For a moment, the world stood still, immortalizing this single stitch in the tapestry of their existence, wove it into something too vast to understand its beauty. Only when Russia’s hand flew to his chest did the world release its collective breath and charge on. Brow furrowed, Russia took a few shallow breaths, likely willing his heart to stay in.

“Russ- Vanya,” America said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. It surprised him how steady his hand felt as he raised it; it did not surprise him to see Russia determinedly stand his ground as tanned fingers caressed his cheek. “Then…let’s be terrified together, beautiful.”

Violet searchlights seemed to probe deep within him, suspicious, always suspicious, knowing how to make everything into something he could calculate, weigh the odds of. But that was a habit born of too many centuries of hardship, inconsistent with the soul of instinct and humanity Russia had been born with. That deep, personal, enduring fortress of the heart was not meant to be impenetrable; it was porous by nature, and while the lungs deal in oxygen, the heart deals in the less quantifiable: trust, compassion, love. It had been awhile since trust had been handed out to anyone but himself, but that was how it was meant to exist: embraced.

Russia nodded.


Thank you so much for the prompt!!!!!!!! I’m honored!!!

Send a number and a ship!


(To celebrate having 100 followers (thank you, lovely followers!), I wrote my take on Sherlock dealing with Molly’s engagement to Tom. Takes place during The Empty Hearse and The Sign of Three, but without Molly helping Sherlock with John’s stag night.)

Sherlock tossed and turned in bed as he tried to get his ever-racing mind to Shut. The. Hell. Up. It was the night of his welcome home party, and images from the gathering kept playing over and over in his head.

Well, certain images. Alright, one image. The image of Molly Hooper, the best pathologist he’d ever met and one of a handful (alright, a large handful) of people who had kept his not-dead secret. Molly Hooper, and the man she had promised to marry.

He looks just like me. How can she say she’s ‘moved on’ when he looks just like me? It’s like I’ve been replaced with a bad knock-off. A pale imitation. A stand-in.

Sherlock’s eyes shot open. A stand-in. An understudy. A seat filler. Temporary. That’s it! She was just keeping him around until I came back. He was there to remind her of what she was missing. Now that I’ve returned, she can send him on his way, if she hasn’t already.

Galvanized, he grabbed his mobile from the nightstand.

1:26a I know what you’re doing, Molly. SH

1:29a No, I really don’t think you do, Sherlock. Molly

1:30a Of course I do – you’re using Tim as a temporary substitute for me. SH

1:33a I’m what? I’m not doing anything of the sort, believe me, and his name is Tom. Molly

Sherlock frowned at the glowing display of his mobile, the only source of light in the room.

1:34a Tim, Tom, what difference does it make? SH

1:37a The difference is that I’m shagging him right now. Molly

Oh… Sherlock didn’t realize until that moment exactly how much a heart could sink.

1:38a My apologies. I won’t bother you again tonight. SH

He turned off his phone and tried again to sleep, deliberately not thinking about Molly shagging her fiancé. Consequentially, he didn’t see her response until the next morning.

2:41a He’s asleep. Sherlock, what the hell was that about? Molly

Not knowing how else to respond, he decided to lie.

10:16a I had too much to drink last night, please forget everything. I already have. SH

Deciding he needed to stay out of Molly and Tim … no, Tom’s way, Sherlock stopped all personal contact with Molly. He only saw her at Bart’s and he kept all conversations there strictly business. No compliments to get her to do what he wanted (though her skin is glowing and very soft-looking these days), no taking her up on her offers to get him coffee (she’s always so thoughtful), no asking her about Tom (What does he have that I don’t?).

That went splendidly (in his eyes) for a week, then Molly cornered him on the first-floor landing of 221 just as he was going down to hail a cab to a crime scene. What surprised Sherlock wasn’t Molly’s presence, as he’d been half-expecting, half-hoping she’d confront him. No, what surprised him was the fact that Molly wasn’t even angry.

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?” she asked softly, her big (beautiful) brown eyes full of concern. “Is it John? The work? Something’s bothering you and I need to know what.”

“You really don’t know?” he asked quietly.

“We’re friends. At least, I thought we were. But you’ve barely said a word to me since…” She trailed off, her eyes widening in realization. “Oh, this is about Tom.”

“I…” I love you. I’ve finally realized it and I’m an idiot, a complete and utter idiot, for letting you get away. “I just want you to be happy, Molly.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Are you happy?”

She gazed back at him in silence for a moment, then shook her head a bit. “Oh, um, yes, I am. Tim and I are very happy.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his amusement. “Tim?”

Molly’s face flushed. “Tom! I meant Tom, of course…” She quickly turned away. “I should go. It was nice seeing you, Sherlock.” She left without another word.

Sherlock spent the next few months pretending everything between him and Molly was just like it was before Reichenbach, but every time he saw Molly and Tom together, he wanted to swoop in, deduce Tom to tears, and ride off with Molly into the proverbial sunset. Thankfully, planning John and Mary’s wedding took up quite a bit of his thoughts.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Sherlock successfully kept Molly out of his thoughts all day, then he saw her and Tom kissing at the reception. He felt his heart sink to his shoes but decided to soldier on for John’s sake.

During his best man’s speech, Sherlock was utterly dumbfounded at Tom, no, Meat Dagger’s response to the “perfect crime.” How can Molly still want to marry such an idiot? He may look like me, vaguely, but otherwise he is nothing like me.

As he played the piece he’d written for John and Mary, he closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to waltz with Molly at their own wedding. After telling the new Mr. and Mrs. Watson their good news and finding no one to dance with, Sherlock decided the best thing to do was leave early.

He donned his Belstaff and was halfway to the parking lot when he heard Molly’s voice.


He turned just as she caught up to him, a cream-colored shawl and her purse in her hands.

“If you’re leaving, then I’m leaving too,” she said.

Sherlock couldn’t believe his ears. “What … what about Tom?”

“Tom who?” she asked, holding up her left hand, the ring finger now bare.

Sherlock couldn’t believe his luck. “Coffee?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“Just what I was going to suggest,” she replied, grinning, as she took it.

AO3, Fanfiction.net

“Sir Thomas. From England” Thomas Sangster Imagine

Kingdoms AU omg

Request: I don’t know if you take these kind of requests, but I was wondering if you would write a TBS imagine where (it’s set in the time of kingdoms) Y/N is a princess and he is one of her possible suitors and he sees her and immediately falls for her so he has to impress her. He tries to be sweet and everything in the beginning, but sees how the other boys are treating her (sexual looks, etc.) and tries to get her that way and she wanted to pleasure him anyway and fluff? Thanks :) 

Warnings: umm. It’s mostly safe I think? there’s just one nsfw scene somewhere close to the end, nothing too graphic

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQUEST SO MUCH bless your soul for this idea, Anon. I really hope my lovely readers will enjoy reading this story as much as i enjoyed writing it! 

“Prince Dylan from the north of Romania, second heir to the throne in the O’Brien kindred” the boy smiles, obviously proud of what he just said. “Excuse my audacity, Princess, but I am truly and utterly impressed by Your beauty. All the pretty words I’ve heard about You were nowhere near Your real-life mesmerizing image”

Cheeky. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard these exact same words from someone else a few months ago, when yet another bunch of your so-called suitors got fully rejected.

You go through this almost every two or three months. A crowd of boys compliment you in hopes to get your dad’s fortune and you have to spend full five days in their company to get to know them. Fun, isn’t it?

Nonetheless, back to this Dylan boy and his well-practiced speech. You wonder do they all go to the same teacher to learn how to flirt with princesses?

Unwillingly you chuckle out loud at your thoughts and earn a nudge from your nanny standing on your right.

“Mais Mademoiselle! C’est rude to laugh at people when they complement Vous” she hisses with her thick French accent.

Your face twitches in light pain and you speak up “It’s nice to meet You, Prince Dylan”

He nods a brief nod and walks towards the group of other princes and lords and dans, stopping in between Prince Ki the third Hong – the last representative of Korean Lee dynasty and Prince William Junior, the youngest member of Scottish royal family of Poulter’s.

Your eyes then focus on the next boy, approaching your throne with an effortlessly light walk.

He’s quite tall, from afar you notice the dirty-blondish color of his hair. He’s dressed in a different manner than everyone over here – more strict and slinky with the amount of plain black color in his whole outfit taking the superiority over the lack of accessories.

Well at least something new in months. For the first time in forever you actually find yourself mildly interested.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty” he venerates. The sound of his odd accent rebounds from the cold walls of the hall as he says “Sir Thomas. From England”

You arch an eyebrow at him as he lets out a brief cough to then speak up again “Sir Thomas the second, son of Lord Mark Sangster from the noble family of Brodie’s in the west of England”

“I didn’t see Your carriage?” you hear your dad scoff, shifting around in his throne. He isn’t really fond of non-princes.

“Oh, that’s not quite the way I prefer traveling, Your Highness. I ride a horse”

“A horse?” the king raises an eyebrow.

“A horse.” the boy confirms. An elegant shadow of a smile creeps on his face “His name is Bike. Your servants kindly promised to take care of him after I arrived”

“Ah yes. Of course” your dad turns to face you, expecting to hear the same old shabby phrase you say to everyone on the first day – ‘nice to meet you’.

You part your lips to talk and the sentence you didn’t mean to pronounce out loud slips from your tongue. 

“I like Your accent”

Realizing what you just spat out, you rush to add something so it doesn’t look like you surprised yourself by voicing that phrase. “It’s truly fascinating”

A smug expression plasters on his face, he knows he’s the first ever suitor you willingly talked to on the first day and didn’t just send him away with a ‘nice to meet you’.

“Well, Princess, it’s rather ironic how You said that. Considering that ‘fascinating’ was the exact one word that crossed my mind as soon as my eyes met Your beauty. However unlike…” he pauses for a split second “…unlike others, I’m not quite sticking to the spilling-out-compliments-on-the-very-first-minute-of-the-very-first-meeting tactics” his glance quickly meets Prince Dylan and he smirks, satisfied with himself. “I admit I do prefer reserving the sweet words for more intimate talks”

A cheeky wink is shot in your direction and you roll your eyes.

“It’s nice to meet You, Sir Thomas” you fake a yawn and cringe, knowing for sure you overacted. It probably looked way too fake from aside. Whatever.

This boy indeed is interesting. You watch him walk towards the little crowd of other five princes and you can’t help but simper at the sight of Dylan giving a dead glance to his new British rival.

The next five days are going to be interesting.

Day one. Let the sweet torture begin.

You look down on your plate of soup, just shuffling the spoon inside it. You know if you look up you’ll meet the hungry gaze of your new six suitors and you aren’t exactly in the mood for that.  

“So” a voice coughs and you sigh, having to tilt your head up. It was Dylan talking. Well of course. “What should we blame for the lack of appetite?”

You blink at him, confusion readable on your face for a split second but then it clicks. You haven’t touched your soup at all.

“I don’t know”

“Well I guess I can dare to try and make my Princess smile” he grins, so happy with himself it’s actually quite annoying.

His hands reach out for the air and come together in a festive clap. Immediately after the gesture, a servant runs into the room with a little wooden box in his skinny hands.

“I, Prince Dylan from the kindred of O’Brien’s, am happy to present my Princess as a matter of fact tiny gift, brought to You all the way from my faraway homeland Romania” he smiles, taking the box in his hands and standing up from his seat.

His figure approaches you within seconds, handing the patterned box to you with a slight bend of his body.

You squint your eyes in hesitation but eventually take the wood and put it on the table in front of you. Your hands carefully open the surprisingly light-weighed cover to reveal a shiny bright golden something inside.

You gasp at the beauty in front of you, taking the rose-shaped gold in your hands.

“This mini-statue made of pure gold is only for Your pretty eyes to witness, I wholeheartedly hope it will make You happy, my Princess”

“I love it” it takes you effort to look away from the rose to Dylan’s eyes and say the words.

“Well, if we’re going there…” you hear a low bass speak up. Prince Nickolay from Russia stands up with something white and puffy in his hands. “This is what we call ‘shuba’ in Mother Russia. I hunted down the polar tiger for this fur coat with my own hands, my Princess, in the vast forests of Siberia” he approaches you with the fluffy fabric on his huge buff arms.

When the boy is close enough, you lift yourself up from your chair a little to let him throw the beautiful coat over your shoulders. It is so warm and pretty, you want to bury your face in it and use it as a pillow.

“This is beautiful” you sigh, running your hands all over the fur on your shoulders “You truly didn’t have to bring me presents. As much as I love them, I find it pretty rude to accept such valuable gifts from young men, when only one of them or maybe even none is going to be the one I choose”

“My Princess” the Scottish Prince Will raises his hand.

You now see different covered-up gifts in front of each of them. Except for Sir Thomas.

“It is pure pleasure to make You happy with these little things, please don’t even think about denying my present, that will be offensive” he smiles for his words not to sound in a harsh way. “I chose these for You myself, I know You’re a big lover”

You take the long weird box from his hands and open it quickly. A pair of… ah! Gloves! A pair of murrey-colored beauties are literally beaming right in front of your eyes.

You have a grand collection of long gloves and these are a perfect addition to it.

“Oh, dear God” you whisper, pulling your own gloves off immediately to feel the cold touch of the silk on your knuckles, as the new clothing is being slid up your sleeves.

You stretch out your hands to admire your new loves, ignoring Will’s shining smug smirk, when another one of the princes starts talking.

“My Princess” Prince Ki Hong has the biggest box in his hands “Allow me to help you open my modest present, as You see it’s a bit bigger than the others in the size”

A proud grin creeps on his face as he opens up the plain wooden box. A puppy-sized little girl is now looking at you right from the inside.

“My porcelain artisans are famous for their golden hands. I ordered the best of them to make this doll for You. It’s fragile but beautiful, just like You” whilst the Korean Prince is talking, you carefully take the doll in your hands, admiring its beauty.

It almost looks real, her brown locks of hair cascading around the distended shoulders of its tiny yet mesmerizingly stunning dress. The blush on her cheeks, her huge blue eyes, long dark eyelashes, it seems like the doll is a sample of a perfect human.

“I see You admire the beauty” prince Dominic from Italy speaks, making you look up to him “My Princess, the doll is indeed pretty and worthy of all the time You can spend admiring it. However, believe me or not, I know another perfect creature on planet Earth and trust me this doll’s beauty is nothing compared to her”

He approaches his gift covered in plain black fabric, settling it right in front of you. 

“Prepare Yourself to see with your own eyes the most perfect creature You will ever find in the world” he proudy annonces and seconds after the fabric is slid away, you see your own eyes looking back at you.

Oh, a mirror. Well that was smooth. You tilt your head to a side, pretty much enjoying the sight of you in a white fur coat with a golden rose in your hand. Cristal white and red precious stones are covering the frame of your new gift and you can’t help but gasp at its shining beauty.

“I suppose we’re done with the presents” Prince Dylan laughs, glancing at Sir Thomas, still sitting calmly, without anything even distantly looking alike a gift.

“Your Majesty” the British boy says stonily, however a tiny smile decorating his words.

As if that was some kind of a password, a pair of servants immediately appears in the hall with something entirely huge in their hands. It, just like the mirror, is covered in a thick black fabric.

The height of the ‘something’ is impressive, approximately 6 feet and maybe 5 inches long and about 3 feet wide, perhaps a little less. It’s very flat, that’s all you can see for now.

“What is this? My Princess isn’t this flat if that’s a statue” Prince Will laughs, everyone in the room expect you and Sir Thomas joining him with simpers.

Without saying a word, Sir Thomas tugs on the black fabric, slowly pulling it off.

The room falls silent for a whole minute as you see a huge square frame with your portrait inside of it.

The fur coat slides down your shoulders as you stand up unwillingly, shoving your chair back with the movement. The golden rose is now on the table with all the other things they gave to you, and your feet, as if controlled by their own brain, make their way straight to the stunning picture.

The bright colors of your dress, the curves and patterns on the large skirt, your long white gloves… this is the clothing you wore yesterday, when you first met them.

“Oh my God” you whisper, your hand immediately reaching out to feel the beauty under your touch.

As your index finger’s tip makes a slight contact with the colorful cloth, trying to make sure that this is not a magic trick, you feel the portrait still alive under your tender dab. It leaves a little vivid blue mark on your new glove. Prince Will shifts around in his seat, discontented.

“Oh no, don’t touch it, Your Highness” the British accent massages your ears.

“It’s still wet” you say, turning around to face the boy.

“I finished it only this morning, it should indeed be wet”

“You drew this?” you ask, stunned.

He nods, venerating. All his movements contain this unexplainable grace, something you’ve never seen before in any of your suitors. 

“This is unreal” you say, unable to contain your mesmerized state.

He smiles at you, as you keep studying the weirdly soothing colors of the painting, wondering how are they so soft yet so bright at the same time.

“I want this on top of my bed, in my room” you finally say, turning around abruptly and walking in the direction of the door “Thank You for the lovely presents, darlings” you do a brief reverence, before leaving the room.

You hear your servants shuffling around, struggling with the size of the painting to move it.

Day two. You go out on hunting with your suitors. God, Prince Nickolay is a pretty impressive hunter.

In the evening you eat the pork he shot for dinner and enjoy Prince Dominic’s smooth language as he tells pretty Italian words intertwined into a soothing rhyme. Although you understand zero, you do admire the prettiness of Italian language, still.

Day Three. The picnic with the boys does go surprisingly well. Oh, Prince Ki Hong carries you around the valley in his strong arms, making you giggle every now and then with his jokes. He woos you all day long, making everyone around very, I repeat very annoyed, but you don’t care. You enjoy his company a lot.

Day Four. The ball! Oh, the ball! This is your absolute favorite part. You give your first dance to Prince Will, circling around on the cold surface of floor with his hand around your waist. You have your eyes closed, enjoying the story he’s telling you. The evening was lovely, indeed.

Day Five. It’s evening. You walk down the stairs in a purple light dress with a wide skirt without the usual supporting metallic thing that made it look volumetric. You simply couldn’t be arsed with that today. The hue of your long pretty gloves matches the lace of your skirt perfectly and you just can’t help the self-satisfied happy little grin on your face.

“Good evening, Your Highness” you suddenly feel a familiar accent say.

“What are You doing here?” you turn around abruptly to face Sir Thomas. He caught you off guard.

The sight of his handsome tiny smile makes your heart sink. You have admitted to yourself on the third day that you like him. For the first time in your entire life you actually do like someone that’s meant to be your husband.

And that scares you. It scares you to death because what if that feeling is deceptive, what if he’s not the one? You’ve only known him for five days after all.

“Nothing in particular, really. Just wandering around, hoping to come across the pretty princess” he winks at you, just like he did on the very first day.

You force out a cough to cover your little gasp and pretend to roll your eyes “I thought You weren’t exactly fond of, I quote ‘spilling out compliments’” your one brow arches at his smirk.

“I said I reserve them for more intimate situations” he takes a step forward, kneeling in front of you “May I?”

You sigh a little too dramatically, pretending to be annoyed, however stretching out your hand in front of his face.

You pray to god you aren’t overacting with the annoyance attitude.

A sudden gasp escapes your throat as you feel him take your hand in his and instead of just kissing it, he starts to pull your glove off.

You gulp, not knowing if you should stop him until it’s too late. The purple fabric is now in his hand and he leans in, pressing his lips against the skin of your knuckles.

Damn it, you like this boy. He’s different from the others. He’s challenging and you find yourself enjoying that.

His lips feel soft and cold against your hand and you close your eyes, imagining how would that touch feel on the other parts of your body.

You gulp again at your thought and open your eyes, pulling your hand away quickly. It’s profoundly weird how a kiss on a hand can make you feel this way.

His eyes are dazed as he looks up at you, still in a kneeled position.

“Come with me” you say suddenly, walking forward with confidence.

With your glove still in his hand, he stands up and follows you silently.

You walk fast and noiselessly, thousands of thoughts spinning around in your head. The decision to take him there came unexpectedly and you went for it straight away, but now when you’re on your way to the place, you feel kind of hesitant.

You’ve only known the boy for a few days but look at you, leading him to the place you promised to yourself that only your real prince will step in.

What were you even thinking about? One tender touch and you want to choose him already? This is stupid! You are stupid!

Anyhow it’s way too late to back up now. You’re standing in front of the door, listening to his loud breathing.

Without any unnecessary talking, you walk into the room and gently close the door after he’s inside too.

“Here. I spent my childhood here with my nanny. She used to read for me French stories about love.. about lucky princesses finding their ‘happy ever after’. She told me that when I find my real prince, I’ll feel it my heart straight away. When I was little I promised to myself that no one except him will step into this room. Ever”

Sir Thomas looks fascinated. His eyes are wide with excitement.

God damn it, y/n! You’re being too darn easy! You’re not supposed to be such an easy target. You were proud to have refused dozens of princes, waiting for the right one and now this British boy with an accent appears out of nowhere and you jump into his embrace, bringing him to a place you shouldn’t have brought a boy you only just met.

You need to test him first. You can’t just choose him right now and right here, it’s not supposed to be this easy.

“Sir Thomas” you say, snapping out of your thoughts “I brought You here for a reason”

He smiles, nodding at you, so you would continue talking.

“Tell me” you start to walk around the room slowly “What do You think of Prince Dylan?”

His face falls immediately, expressing nothing but pure shock and frustration. This is exactly what you were aiming for.

“What?” he asks, not trusting his ears.

“What do You think about Prince Dylan? You know, the handsome tall guy from Romania” you repeat, smirking in victory “I’m thinking to choose him”

He blinks fast a few times before answering “I do not dare to have an opinion on that” he clears his throat in that aristocratic way inherent only in British people “Within these past few days I didn’t get the chance to get to know him”

“Oh, snap it, Thomas!” you say, raising your hand.

He arches an eyebrow, confused.

“I just want a friendly advice. Keep the fancy talking for your homeplace, I got it, you’re cool in that. Now tell me, who do you think is worth choosing?”

“Hmm” he slowly makes a circle around you “You see, y/n” he starts and you sigh at the sound of your own name. All the ‘Mademoiselles’, ‘Your majesties’, ‘Your highnesses’ have really annoyed you by now.

“That Dylan guy. He’s actually nice” he raises his hands. “I’m bettin’ you will love him walkin’ round and acting as if he’s your boss. The William boy’s a nice option, really. Haven’t you seen them dirty looks he was giving you in the morning. Roaahh!” his hands wave around as if he’s hot “Dominic would be a pretty rad pet” his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug “Oh, I like Nickolay! He looks like a great family guy, I reckon you’d have a bunch of kids. 12 is a great number. He might want more though”

You look at him confused, wondering where is he leading.

“But you know what, love” he says, suddenly stepping close to you so that now there’s a tiny gap in between your chests.

His head leans in close with his hands resting on your shoulders. His tongue reaches out for your lobe and you gasp, raising your hand to slap him but he stops you with one easy movement of his muscly arm. 

“None of them can make you feel as good as I can” his rough, husky whisper sends a wave of pleasant vibrations all the way down to your bottoms.

You close your eyes as he leans away.

“If you’re still unsure of your final decision, let me show you something to help you out, darling” the boy presses his hand against the front of your skirt and you let out a moan unwillingly.

You’ve never felt this way before, the tension in the room is pressuring you hard. Some kind of a sick tremble makes your legs feel sloppy.

He smirks, lifting up your glove he still held in his hand and placing it in between your teeth.

“Now we don’t want anyone hearing us, do we?” he asks, simpering and shoving the fabric in deeper.

You squeeze it in your mouth, gulping. Your brain still tries to process the fact that you, Princess Y/N, elder daughter of King Edgar the Third, are letting this boy to do this with you.

He kneels, tugging on the hem of your wide skirt and pulling it up. You notice him smirking before his figure disappears under your huge clothing.

A muted moan rips your throat apart when you feel something wet glide its way up your thighs.

Your breathing is heavy and fast, you desperately gasp for air, knowing that he hasn’t even started, but you’re already losing it.

A little drop of your wetness drips down your leg from your already soaked underwear but he licks it away on his way up to your heat.

His tongue teasingly brushes on top of your underwear’s fabric, only slightly touching it but still enough to make you want to scream and push his face in deeper. Luckily the glove in your mouth subdues your voice.

His both hands are now rested in the inside parts of your thighs as his thumbs massage your skin soothingly. His wet muscle keeps dancing around against your core and you stretch your hands out in hopes to find some kind of a support and lean on it.

The sensation is completely new, your body shudders crankily and you don’t realize how your hands reach out to cup your breasts. You make soothing circles, tugging on your nipples through the silk fabric of your dress to balance the mixed emotions filling you up.

Your dripping wet underwear is now pulled down on the level of your knees and his tongue is toying on your clit, adding on the wave of pleasure.

The wet touch makes its way down back lower as his thumb takes the place of his tongue on your clit. The boy pulls on your skin, vibrating his finger up there and you feel the struggling moan burn down your throat.

Just when you thought you more or less adjusted to the feeling, you feel a finger enter you and your clit twitches under his touch.

You can feel the pleasure building up inside you as your breath pace goes completely cray. Your eyes are shut close, you’re too afraid to make any move.

Two more of his fingers ease in as his hand moves faster and faster and faster, the purple piece of clothing slips out of your graze with the loud echo of his name tearing your vocal cords apart, you scream it out loud and clear, finally taking a deep breath in with your mouth.

The consequences of your climax drip down your legs as you feel him pulling your underwear back up.

His body appears in your sight from under your skirt and you want to say something but the door shoots open with your nanny storming in.

“Mademoiselle!!! Mon Dieu, êtes-Vous alive??” she squeals with her half-French, half-English.

Before you can talk, Thomas stands up on his feet, handling you the glove he picked up from the ground “Dropped this, Your Majesty”

“Jeanétte, I’m okay” you say, still trying to even your breath out.

“Mais are You sure, Mademoiselle? I thought I heard You-”

“No I’m fine” you say with a look that lets her know you want her to leave.

She nods slightly, glancing at Sir Thomas for a second, and walking out of the room.

You have no idea what to say or do, daze has taken over your mind as you just stare goofily into the boy’s eyes.

“Did it feel good, Your Highness?” he asks, venerating again and placing a brief kiss on your hand. The cheeky smile refuses to quite his face.

“Thom- Sir Thomas. I…”

“Wait” he suddenly says, lowering his intonation. “Before you answer I want you to know. I didn’t do that to provoke or manipulate you, y/n. I find our chemistry fascinating. I felt a connection between us and please don’t deny that you did too. I see it” he takes a step forward, taking your hands in his.

The air is filled with heavy oxygen and the awkward kind of silence. Sir Thomas never lets your eye contact break, sweat dripping down his forehead in thin dribbles.

“I am in love with you” he finally says, sucking a deep breath in. “I state that with confidence, you stole my heart, y/n. I’ve never felt this way before. You’re…… You- I don’t know what you do to me. You make me happy. It was the moment i came in, the moment i saw you, i knew you’re different. I knew i want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. You are so beautiful and smart and kind yet strict, that drives me crazy! Look, please y/n, look me in the eye. I love you. Princess, i love you! I love you with this stone heart of mine, I love…”

He gets cut off by the sudden movement of your hands pulling him close to you. Your fingers lock behind his back, grappling him in an embrace.

He still tries to realize what did just happen without even hugging you back when the whisper escapes your lips.

You say it confidently, without hesitation. You know you’re saying the right words to the right person.

“I choose you, Thomas”

  • Find more of my writings here 
True Feelings

Author’s Note: This has been just sitting in my drafts unfinished for so long, finally dug it up and finished it! If you don’t like Edward’s flowery speech, avoid XD

Chivalrous, kindhearted to a fault. Prince of the Roses.

Edward was all of these things. It was a rare thing indeed for Charles’ Crown Prince to lose his composure, but he was not infallible. He was, first and foremost, a man.

And ever since she came to work at the castle, he had been reminded of that fact on a daily basis.

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Jon x Sansa Week: Day Two

II. Direwolf

It isn’t Sansa’s fault. She isn’t certain of much at the moment, but, “It is not my fault.”

And really, wasn’t it just like Jon to get upset over the most trivial of things. She was a highborn lady. She deserved lovely things in her life.

“Sansa,” Jon grumped at her - at her! “How much have you had to drink?”

“Pft, only a little,” Sansa used both hands to wave aside Jon’s concern, measuring out what she was sure would seem a goblet sized amount from Jon’s perspective. She’s not sure she succeeded, because Jon’s face has gone from broodingly concerned to mostly alarmed.

“Sansa,” Jon started again, and Sansa just knew that whatever Jon was going to say next was going to be boring.

“I like for things to be pretty! Is that so wrong?”

“No, Sansa. It’s just that -”

“I like flowers and butterflies, and pretty dresses and pretty songs and pretty words. And it’s not stupid. I know everyone is always saying that it is stupid, that I’m just a stupid little girl…”

“No one is saying that you’re stupid. Sansa -”

“And I’m not! I can be brave and fierce, and I’ve survived and I deserve pretty things. And I deserve to be happy, and pretty things make me happy, and -”

“Sansa, I want you to be happy!”

“- and don’t think that you can make feel bad about this because Ghost wanted to be pretty too!”

And Ghost was pretty. He had such silky white fur, if only Jon would brush him more. And even his red eyes, which Sansa had found unnerving as child, were terrifyingly beautiful.

Jon’s lips were all tilted up in that stupid half smile of his. “He’s the prettiest direwolf in all the land. Now Sansa -”

“Don’t Sansa me! You’re making fun!” Sansa overbalanced as she went to stomp her foot, and her flower crown tipped and her drink spilled, and for a moment everything was awful.

Then Sansa licked at the beaded trail of the sour goat’s milk on her fingers and down her wrist, and somehow Jon had gotten close enough to right her flower crown, and maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

“I thought Ghost would want to feel pretty is all. You don’t need to be so broody and grumpy about it,” Sansa declared, because she was the Queen of Flowers tonight and no King of the North would take that from her like a goblet of - wait. “That’s mine!”

Jon sniffed at his stolen drink, before taking a quick sip. “This is a Free Folk drink.”

“Of course it is. Tormund gave it me,” Really Jon could be so dense.

“Why - why was Tormund giving you -”

“Because I asked him for it!” Honestly.

“Why would you want -”

“I wanted something stronger than wine, and I asked Tormund if he had anything and he did. And he gave me a skin filled with this sour goat’s milk, and I had some and after the first little bit I liked it so I had some more.”

“I thought you were pleased when Manderly brought some good Dornish vintages with him.” Jon just didn’t get it. He was hopeless.

“It’s because people are always giving me things!”

“Yes. Because you’re Sansa and the Lady of Winterfell.”

“Pretty things.”

“… I thought you liked pretty things.”

“I do. Honestly Jon, what does that have to do with anything?”

The look on Jon’s face was sublimely frustrated. Good. “Why does the gift of pretty things make you upset enough to get this drunk?”

“I’m not drunk. I am barely inebriated Jon Snow. Please and thank you,” Sansa said pointedly, and then poked him the chest with her still drink-less hand. “Your Grace.”

“Sansa -” Really, why was he being so stubborn about this?

“They give me stupid things! Stupid and useless pretty things. And they give you food for the larder, and men to fight wars with, and they give me silks and flowers, and -”

“And what, Sansa?” When had Jon gotten close enough to grasp her by the chin, to look straight in her eyes. It was unnerving that he moved so quickly like that, didn’t he know that?

“Don’t do that,” Sansa swatted at his hand, and wasn’t sure why he looked so hurt. She certainly wasn’t strong enough to do that.

“Sansa, you’re not pretty and useless -”

“You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“No! I mean - I mean, Sansa, you’re -” Jon stepped back, raked a hand through his curls and then tossed back the rest of the fermented milk in Sansa’s chalice in one go.

It was impressive. That is to say, Sansa, who had only managed little sips all evening, found it a useful skill that she wished she could acquire herself.

“Sansa, you’re very pretty and the men, they don’t - they don’t think you’re stupid and useless. They think you’re a strong, fine Northern woman and it makes them happy to give you pretty things, because they want to honor you and make you happy and…” Jon was flushed with his haste to reassure her. “And it makes men brave to know that women - that the Lady of Winterfell is dressed like Spring and waiting to greet them with food from her table. It gives them something to believe in, to hope for Sansa.

"These men loved Ned Stark, and you’re his daughter. And they want to honor you and make you happy. Sansa, I want to honor you and make you happy -” It might have been the longest speech she’d ever heard Jon give.

“That’s the most I ever heard you say!” Which might have been a misstep, because Jon stopped talking with an almost audible snap, and something about the clench of his jaw and the way his eyes closed radiated agony. Perhaps he bit his tongue?

“The Knight of Flowers had a cape made out of roses when he rode in Father’s tourney.”

“What?!” Jon’s voice was a bit strangled. Maybe he really did bite his tongue.

“When you came in, before, earlier - you asked why Ghost was covered in flowers. And it’s because the Knight of Flowers placed second in the joust and he was pretty.”

Jon gaped at her, “I don’t think Ghost is going to be jousting anytime soon.”

Sansa turned back to Ghost, who, unlike Jon, had been perfectly behaved and managed to stay perfectly still in respect for the flower crown and cloak she’d woven for him. The flowers she’d braided into his fur might have been a mistake in retrospect; his fur was hardly long enough for it. But he was fierce and oh so pretty, and it made her happy.

“He looks so pretty you can hardly tell he could rip a man’s throat out easy as breathing!” Sansa chirped, bending to give Ghost a kiss on his upturned snout.

“Traitor,” Jon murmured, and Sansa whirled around, frowning.

And through it all, Ghost sat, resplendent in his flowers, utterly still and silent.

Hotter than Hell II Eric/OC II University AU II Part Four


Here it is!! Part Four. I hope you guys are still enjoying. I know I am. Any feed back would be amazing! I’m always looking to improve my writing. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, The Whole Story

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Moriel Fluff/Smut/NSFW

I haven’t blogged on Tumblr in like… four years, but here I am looking for some serious help for my ACOMAF hangover. So I wrote some Moriel stuff because they’re legit killing me and just thought I’d leave it here… I’m nervous, tbh, because I’ve never written stuff like this before, but I have A LOT of feels about the book I want to write out, and yeah, please send help.

- Azriel waiting for Mor to pass by unawares, gliding out behind her quietly, and sweeping her into a dance at random moments of the day because he knows that dancing is her favorite.

- Az coming back from battle and missions completely disheveled only to show up to dinner in Velaris’ finest suit, his skin fresh and clean, his hair cut crisp, just to catch Mor off her guard because he knows it drives her wild to see him dressed up for a change.

- Mor showing up to said dinners in her slinkiest red number because she knows it drives him wild to imagine her curves underneath every inch of that dress.

- She always insists on being there when Az gets dressed. Whether it’s battle armor or formal attire, she wants to be a part of it, to let him know she cares about every aspect of his life, that she’ll be worried while he’s gone, happy when he’s home, and because any excuse to touch him makes the electricity thrum frantically where her fingertips meet his skin.

- She always insists on helping Az undress too, to which, he always eagerly agrees.

- They’re always touching. They hold hands wherever they walk. She sits in his lap after dinner. He runs his fingers up and down her arms, sending shivers down her spine at how light his touch is. When he comes back from a mission, she flies at him until her hands are around his neck and her legs wrapped securely around his waist, certain she’ll never let go.

- He kisses her and pulls away sucking on her bottom lip a few moments too long so that she’s always wanting more.

- He tells her he loves her. He tells her every second of every day so that he’ll never waste another second with her again. The first time he tells her, when he admits everything, comes in the aftermath of battle with the other courts. They both find their way back to the safety of Velaris with the rest of the Night Court squad when Az’s eyes go straight to Mor. He strides swiftly up to her and kisses her as if the battle was right there in the space between their bodies and not up in the skies from where they just came. “I had to do it, just once,” he says when he finally pulls away, his voice throaty and broken, all the fear of the fight where he could have lost her forever raging through him. “I love you, Mor. Even if you don’t feel the same way. I need you to know how completely I love and adore-” Her kiss as she grabs him and tugs him closer, blazing a trail of fire against his lips, drowns out his words. Cassian gives a loud whoop as Rhys and Amren drag him smirking from the room.

- They go slowly the first time letting the burn of their bond consume them one second at a time. He sits on the edge of the bed as Mor approaches with soft moving steps, the bottom of her dress swishing around her feet. Az never takes his eyes off her own as she comes to stand before him. His hands caress her hips and gently move up her back to find the zipper where he hesitates. “Do it,” Mor breathes barely above a whisper and he pulls until the dress is undone and it falls off Mor like butter melting on toast and she is utterly naked before him. His gaze finally dares to go lower and his breathe catches at how beautiful she is, more perfect and reverent than he had ever dreamed in all his years of wondering. Gently, she lifts one leg and then the other until both are on the bed and she’s straddling him. Her hands find his chest and she leans her head forward so that their brows touch, but she doesn’t kiss him. Not yet. Instead, she bites the corner of her lower lip as her hands slowly move down his shirt unfastening it one agonizing button at a time. “Mor,” he chokes, his voice on the verge of sounding unhinged. His fingers start dragging lazy lines up and down her back, but the pressure in his fingertips on her skin increases with each button. “Shh,” she smiles, whispering into his ear. “Not yet.” Finally, she pulls the shirt off of him, his hands instantly finding her hips the second his arms are free of the shirt, as if he couldn’t bare not to touch her for even a second as the shirt came off. Sensing the wildness growing inside of him, Mor smirks and pushes him until he’s lying back on the bed, no longer able to reach her. Az watches confused as Mor scoots lower on the bed, away from him, and then groans when no other part of her body touches him as she uses her teeth to unbutton the fasten on his pants. The bulge beneath is immediately apparent. Mor smirks even wider and pulls his pants off and everything underneath so that the full glory of him is revealed. “Mor,” he gasps again needing to touch her, be inside her before he bursts with the agony of waiting, but she holds a finger up and shakes her head, still smirking. “Not yet.” She starts at the base of his legs and slowly makes her way up his body kissing every few inches. “I want you to know,” Mor says in between kisses, “That i have always seen you.” Kiss. “That I have always cared for you…” Kiss. “That even when I was blind…” Kiss. “When I was pretending not to notice…” Kiss. “When you were with other women and it drove me mad.” Kiss. “That I have always adored you.” Her speech pauses as she kisses the base of his cock, teasing the length of him as he fails to say her name between panted breaths. But Mor keeps kissing higher onto his stomach. “And I want you to know…” Kiss. “How sorry I am that it took me so long…” Kiss. “To work out just how much…” Kiss. “I always have…” She reaches the crook of his neck and gives him her tenderest kiss yet right below his chin, her lips still the only portion of her body connecting with his until she pulls back and looks into his eyes. “And always will love you. Forever.” A tiny splash of water falls and Az’s thumb reaches carefully up to wipe it away from her cheek and this time, Mor doesn’t tell him not to touch her. “Now can I make love to you?” Az asks, the smile already consuming his face, he’s never been so happy nor had his heart so full. “Now,” Mor says closing her eyes with her most radiant smile and together, they become a tangled mess of bodies and sweat. His hands roam every where giving in to her every whim and pleasure. He worships every inch of her skin, giving extra attention at each spot that makes her moan and her back arch as the wetness builds between her legs. And she gives in to him in kind, her hands making a return trip down his body from tangling themselves in his hair, to skimming the tops of his wings that make his body twitch uncontrollably, to fulfilling the promises her teasing left around his cock earlier. And when they’re both burning so bright and long that they can’t stand it anymore, Az pushes forward and enters her with a self-satisfied moan that his body’s been waiting so long to utter. He moves slowly, too slow, giving back every tease she gave him just to rile her up. And with each thrust, he can see the desire building on her face, feel it in the way her body tenses as he holds her, her chest rising and falling more and more rapidly. When he can’t stand to hold back any longer, he moves with a speed and grace to give her exactly what she needs. Her hands fly to his neck and press in, she’s desperate to go over the edge. And when she finally comes, she doesn’t yell. She doesn’t scream. She simply whispers, “Az,” her mouth trembling, his name on her lips like a prayer she’s needed answered for too long and he’s the only solution. And it. Completely. Undoes him. He lifts her up so that she’s just barely off the bed and thrusts as deeply as he can as if to say he loves her too, that he isn’t going anywhere and never will, shuddering as he finishes with her. They collapse in a heap of sweat against the sheets. Az pulls her against him and she tucks herself willingly into the folds of his arms. His hand runs through her hair, now thick with sweat, until his fingers find her chin so that he can lift her face to look at him. “Now?” she says with a smile so full of joy from their love making. “Now,” Azriel says, “And forever.” Mor’s chuckle escapes as a sigh, relief flooding them both as forever begins.

Royals (Loki Laufeyson x Reader)

So I was looking through my dashboard and i found this blog @imagine–loki and I saw one of their imagines (link below) and I fell in love with the Idea so for Valentine’s day I decided to do something nice.

  • Words:  1.607
  • Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader
  • Warnings: Pure fluff
  • Author notes: (Y/N) is your name, Inspiration

From a very young age you were introduced by your mother to the world of being one of the queen’s maidens; your mother was one and she and your father raised you to become one too. You were one of the queen Frigga’s favorite girl and she always kept you very close to whatever need she had.
“(Y/N)?” She called. You walked quickly to her side, while she combed her hair in front of the boudoir “Should I wear flowers today?” She tried some dried flowers on her blond hair.
“My queen, but didn’t you wear flowers just yesterday? You politely asked.
"Indeed” She said with a sigh, still looking at her reflection on the mirror “Perhaps I shall wear them tomorrow” She left the flowers in the wooden table “Thank you (Y/N); kind and accurate as usual” She turned around to finally face you.
“Mother?” A male voice called from the door “Mother are you here?”
“Yes, darling” She welcomed the man.
You looked at the man and suddenly became all nervous. The man in question was Loki, Frigga’s son and subsequently, prince of Asgard. Since you were little you found him quite charming and perhaps it was because of his ability with tricks that he may have had play a trick on you, but something about him was so captivating that you couldn’t help to get all coy around him.
“M-my prince” You made a little reverence to him and he smiled at you “I will leave; my queen, I will be in my bedchamber if there’s anything else I can do for you” You smiled at the woman and you felt like she gave you a perceptively smile.
You walked through the palace trying to keep your mind off of Loki, but it was impossible; the gracefulness of his walk, the soft, yet deep voice he had, those emerald eyes in which you longed to get lost in, his slim figure that could be easily underestimated but-
“Lady (Y/N)” Thor’s voice called form very near to you. Actually, he was holding you from your arms as he looked at you with a preoccupied expression “Is everything alright?”
“Y-yes, my prince” You hurried to answer, trying to free yourself from his touch “I am deeply sorry; I was not looking at the way”
“I figured out a thing of the sort” He smiled “Is there anything that bothers you that I can be helpful with?”
“No, my prince” You slightly bowed your head “But I truly appreciate your concern”
“Were you heading to your dormitory?” You nodded nervously “May I walk with you? Do you remember when you and I used to give long walks?” He laughed.
The next days, you tried to keep as normal as you could whenever Loki was around Frigga; that wasn’t exactly the hard part, but her smiles and comments on how charming he was, and how much he needed a woman that was first approved by her. Also, the comments on you, not having a man to be your husband made you quite uncomfortable.
Queen Frigga usually left you alone passed lunch; she said it was completely fine for you to wander around one of the libraries in the palace. It was one of your favorite places to be; the quietness and smell of books was the only thing that could keep Loki away from your thoughts.
Unfortunately, you were not the only one getting lost in between the tall shelves. The God of Mischief was also there and he noticed your presence immediately; taking some steps closer to you, he reached out his hand to hold and kiss yours. Your cheeks became rosy and he smiled at your reaction.
His soft lips on your skin sent shivers down your spine and you trembled a little, thinking about how they would feel against yours instead. You felt your mouth slowly opening as his bright green eyes looked into yours. You hand was still in his and he caressed your palm making you smile at the tickling.
“Forgive me, my prince” You said bowing your head, not wanting to break the contact of your hands but reluctantly doing it anyway “I wasn’t aware that you were here”
“Oh, no” He said with that mischievous and playful grin you happened to like so very much “This is not a private place, you have as much right as I do of being here”
“No, lady (Y/N)” Your name sounded so different in his voice “Wait a second… is there a problem?”
“At all” You shook your head, but something in your expression must have had betrayed you as he gave you a concerned look, but decided not to ask further; for him, privacy was an essential thing in his life, and so he respected everyone’s.
“I don’t know if anyone has told you this but… You look certainly magnificent with that dress” He used another one of those playful smirks that had you head over heels.
“My prince…” You muttered, with your heart pounding fast inside your chest and your cheeks, red as they could be.
“And that blush on your cheeks give you such an innocent look. I don’t know how come no one has fallen to your feet” He said. You didn’t want anybody to do that; you wanted him to be as utterly in love with you as you were with him “I’m sure there will come the perfect man for you. I must leave now, lady (Y/N). As usual, it was a delight meeting you here” Now he bowed his head and kissed your hand again, sending jolts throughout your skin.
It was unbearable. He was unbearable.
You had to do something and it had to be done as hurriedly as it was possible, and the only person who could help you was Queen Frigga. Yes, you were finally going to confess your feelings about her son.
You asked some of the maidens where she could be and they said she was still in her bedroom. You knocked at the golden doors twice and presented yourself. Frigga welcomed you from her place at the boudoir and she was definitely not surprised to see you; it was like she patiently waited for you.
“Queen Frigga, may I have a word with you?” You asked, bowing your head in a respectful manner “It is important for me”
“Then it is important for me too” She stood up from her chair and walked to you “Do you want to have a walk through the gardens?”
“Only if it’s safe that we will be alone in there, my Queen” You replied nervously “For this is a very important matter”
You followed her to the balcony; and with a perfect view of the realm you started your speech.
“My queen, there is something that has been quite hard for me to bear in my chest. I have feelings for your son, Prince Loki. He is the man of my dreams not because he is a prince, but because I think I see more of him than any other woman will do. I know I am not the first option to marry, for I am nothing but a maiden, but my love for him has grown immeasurably throughout this years. I know you already know this because no one can fool you, and I never wanted to do such thing. It is evident by my face that I get very anxious whenever he is around”
While you looked at Frigga, she paid special attention to your words. No need to tell that she already knew it, but her heart felt warm at the kind words that came directly from yours. You were so absorbed only thinking about him that you didn’t notice that the object of your fascination was inside his mother’s bedchamber, listening to every word came out of your mouth.
“I know” Loki’s silky voice sounded from behind you two. Frigga smiled at you and sweetly caressed your shoulder as she left you and him alone “Lady (Y/N), I know”
“I’m sorry, my prince” You shakily said; bowing your head “I was speaking to your mother and you-”
“Stop” He said, walking closer to you and taking your hands in his “For a minute stop apologizing and just listen to my words” You nodded, trying hard not to apologize for the hundredth time “You are by far the most eye-catching woman I have ever met. You are not only gorgeous; your intelligence and kindness is beyond limits. It’s no wonder that a lot of men are in love with you; me among them” Your breath hitched as his body came closer; now your chests were almost pressed against the other “If you just give me the chance to prove that I’m the man you should be with, then I will make you the happiest woman in the entire vastness of the universe” His right hand left its place and roamed your arm all the way up to cup your face in it “Let me make you happy” You nodded nervously as you closed your eyes.
Hi landed his lips against yours; moving them sweetly, softly. He wasn’t untruthful about his words, and his hand that rested on your waist made enough of a proof for you. As the gentleman he was; he courted you only with the permission of yours and his parents. He loved you and to you, that was more than enough to live a happy life together. There was no need to fall in love in the process as you two were profoundly in love with the other.