cardcaptor sakura gif challenge

favourite key / wand


They look at each other, their burdens lifted slightly, their pain not gone but mellowing. Words unsaid. - The Prom script | They both smile. Two old soldiers. - The Yoko Factor script | They are both pained and comforted by the powerful bond between them. - Forever script |

FrUk-ing Elevator

Francis heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that the elevator was empty. The meeting seemed to have dragged on and he wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl in to bed. He was tired, ignoring Arthur took all his energy. His nights were plagued with the Englishman, whispering to him, fingers lightly touching his neck, brushing the hair from his brow, trailing down his face… He dreamed of a world where he could curl his hands around Arthur’s tie and pull him in to a feverish kiss. He wondered what Arthur would feel like against him, what he would taste like. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime, he would breath in to the kiss. T'es l'amour de ma vie.

Just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand shot in between them, springing them open again.

Arthur slid in to the elevator, nodding at Francis in acknowledgment. He straightened his sport coat with a forceful tug. Non, non, non. This can not be happening.

As soon as the elevator started to move, Arthur turned to face Francis and stepped closer to him, reaching out to finger the hem of the Frenchman’s suit jacket. He cocked his head and smirked up at Francis, continuing to close the gap between the two men.

“What…?” Francis choked, startled. He took a step back only to have Arthur step with him until Francis’ back was firmly up against the wall of the elevator. The fingers on the hem of Francis’ jacket moved to walk up his abdomen, chest, then skirt up his neck, and finally came to rest just under his jaw. His other hand pushed into Francis’ chest, further pinning him. And, mon dieu, Arthur’s knee slid between his legs.

Arthur tilted Francis’ head up, exposing his neck and he leaned in. Francis swallowed hard, biting his lips together for fear his heart would jump out of his chest, up his throat, and right out of his mouth. He could practically feel Arthur smirking, his blood in a battle over which direction it should flow: to deepen the blush rising in his cheeks, or…

Arthur tapped his fingers on Francis’ chin and danced up his face and into the Frenchman’s hair, probing until it found the ribbon that tied his hair back. Francis felt it tug and give, his hair falling free.

And then the elevator stopped moving, Arthur pushed himself away from Francis, dangling his ribbon in front of his cocky smile. The doors opened and Arthur adjusted his coat, pocketing the ribbon, and calmly exited.

Francis clutched at his chest, his heart racing. He stood for a moment unable to quite process what had just happened. He continued to stand in shock as the elevator doors closed, leaving him in silent solitude.