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Literature
ItalyXReader - Picture Perfect
The night brought a pleasant breeze that cooled his skin. He inhaled, took in the beauty of the garden, his creation. All laid to waste for one who did not return his feelings of love.
Artistry ran in the family; following closely behind was madness, the lesser-known cousin and the catalyst to disaster. It was a biological fault; a deeper, inhuman yearning for love hard-wired into the blood of the Vargas family. It had brought about the demise of his grandfather, torn apart by his love for his best friend and trusted confidante, and his son, Feliciano's father, beaten mercilessly to death by his and his brother's own mother for his lecherous ways when they were just boys.
He knew; he saw the destruction brought about by the ones who came before him, and yet he did not prepare himself adequately for the trials to come. He saw what obsessive love had done to his own family - two generations of disaster should have hardened him to the horrors of falling too deep in love, and yet he found
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Literature
fem!GermanyXReader - Desire
You had never felt such desire for someone before – previous relationships turned sour had permanently warped your romantic vision and forced you into a life of celibacy. Broken hearts, bruised ribs and a constant, dull pain in your chest seemed to follow you like rainclouds. But then she came along.
It was purely by chance the two of you met, you walking through a park and being tackled by ninety pounds of dirty, excitable German shepherd and being picked up by a hundred and sixty pounds of beautiful, apologetic German muscle. Though her words to her dog were short and stern, you could see the softness in her eyes as she bent down and ruffled the canine's ears as he panted and wagged his tail. You felt your heart involuntarily melt and you slipped away, hoping to cross paths again with this woman and her furry companion.
Fate had let you meet the first time, but you decided to take matters into your own hands after no sight of the mystery woman or her dog after. It was only afte
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Literature
FranceXReader - Royals
"Sir, pardon for the interruption, but her Majesty has requested a private audience with you."
Francis looked up from the documents he was signing and focused on the maid standing in front of his desk in surprise. His candle was nearly burnt out; if the maid hadn't arrived when she had, he would have been sat in the dark with a stack of papers and an entire bottle of ink, but no light to see what he was doing with them.
Still, the maid's presence was unexpected but by no means unwanted, although she did bring with her a request quite unusual. His quill, after looping ink blots in the corners of white parchment, was put back in its place to process the young girl's words.
"A private audience? Did she by any chance mention what purpose this gathering was for?"
Calling on his queen was something he often did; though war had not been declared for more than a decade, maintaining the kingdom’s militia was challenging, to say the least. Though he was more than capable of keeping the sol
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Literature
NorwayXReader - Verdant Grove
Tales had been told throughout history of the guardian deities of the forest, keepers of the life living within and protectors of the trees and rivers. You had long been the core of mystery; the origins of the two spirits and where you came from, your purpose and the source of your immortality. You had also been attributed different names as time crawled forward; gaian, faunus, dryad, gods even. These names and stories were forever irrelevant to the two of you; though this knowledge had long been lost to the mortal races of humanity, you knew yourselves only as Lukas and (Name), living in harmony with the Earth and each other, drawing from her power and restoring life and peace to the nature you surrounded yourselves with.
The two of you were not together through bonds of duty or obligation; there was something different, something deeper linking the two of you - something you could never break, even if you ever wanted to. Under the loving gaze of your shared Mother Earth, you fulfille
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Literature
CanadaXReader - Simple
His hands are rough. Years of an honest day's work, day after day, have left their mark – the life of a lumberjack is not easy, but it is rewarding. You like your little setup in the country: surrounded by nothing but nature for miles, but close enough to nearby towns for necessities. The house is spacious, and you love it. Between the varnished maplewood furniture, handcrafted by Matthew himself, and the bay windows shadowed by linen curtains that do little to keep out harsh Yukon winters but provide a beautiful view of summer sunsets, you feel nothing but calm. Nature brings you peace, and provides an ample, nearly endless workspace for the both of you. His work is all around him, not going anywhere, and as a gardener, you have more than enough time for little breaks of your own here and there. This is one of those moments; a lazy Sunday on an unusually warm March morning. You enjoy days like these, reclining with him in his favourite armchair and feeling his heart beating stro
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Literature
FranceXReader - Beauty
He was in love with beauty. Although you were anything but beautiful.
Your hair was not the longest, or the softest, or the most well-groomed. It did not flow like his did – you rarely even let it flow. There were never any comparisons to luxurious manes or lengths of silk; instead, he would sometimes compare it to a bird's nest or a forest underpath; unclean and unkempt. Mostly, you would just leave it to its own devices and be done with it. But your hair was not what he was in love with.
Your eyes were nothing special; poets often spoke of their lovers' eyes resembling those of jewels, or wild seas, or the lush, rolling hills of country landscapes. He did not follow these trends; your eyes were unremarkable in every way. As Shakespeare once said – My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun. Your eyes were like a murky swamp. Not gems, not orbs, not precious in any way or shape. But your eyes were not what he was in love with.
Your skin was not soft. Not smooth like
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Literature
DenmarkXReader - Dominance
Your back hit the wall as you let out a pleasured groan. His lips felt like fire across your skin, and you pushed him closer to your neck, eager to feel more of his lips on your skin. Mathias pressed his lips to yours before moving down, pushing up your shirt and placing open-mouthed kisses all over your exposed skin.
You hissed through your teeth as he left a hickey right above your navel, and he looked up with a devilish grin on his face – it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate, but he still knew exactly what you liked and just how you liked it. "How does that feel?" He asked, licking the forming bruise.
"Good," you breathed, wishing you could spend more time together like this.
Living with the rest of his brothers usually meant that you and Mathias rarely got to spend any alone time with each other, and you were tired of waiting for the right moment. So, with a little help from Tino, you took matters into your own hands, managing to snag a couple of tickets
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Literature
LiechtensteinXyandere!Reader - Devour
Lili was a blessing disguised as a curse; a nightmare that became your sweetest dream. You were drowning in her love, in your desire. And it would kill you. But not before you took her down.
You hadn't always been the way you were. But she took over your mind and soul until you couldn't bear to be apart from her. You had to have her, had to be near her, had to feel her, had to taste her, had to had to had to. You had to be her. And there was only one way.
Butterflies in her stomach; that was how she described it. You hadn't felt the same, at first. She always smelt of sweet things – you could tell her scent from a mile away. Some sort of syrupy fragrance given to her by her brother or something. It made you sick.
Sick at first. And then you grew sick with love. You couldn't get enough of that saccharine perfume, you never understood why. But you didn't care. Nevertheless, as you grew warmer towards her, she shrunk away, wary of your newfound, intense interest. With her. Only her.
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Literature
AmericaXReader - Patience
It takes a lot of patience and affection to get to the state of companionship you and Alfred have managed to reach. Few could stand to be around him for any length of time purely due to his horrendous eating habits, total lack of filter and general unpredictability.
But he is endearing to you, and although some of the things he does do sometimes raise questions in your mind, he makes up for it with a huge heart and a blind eye to your own shortcomings.
But not always. "(Name)." Your name rolls off his tongue easily, a practiced word that has hung off his lips many times over the years, usually in the same tone of voice, sometimes with a little lilt on the end to capture his current emotion to ward you. Right now, it's questioning.
"Yeah?" You don't look up from the book you're reading.
"There's no milk in the fridge." You furrow your brow. You bought some a few days ago, didn't you? You voice this and his response is immediate – "I drank it all." Wow. All his quirks did take time
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Literature
EnglandXReader - Team of Two
"Look after him. Protect your son..." With the last breath of life evaporating into the air, her eyes closed and her spirit faded out of his world.
Even as (Name) slipped through his fingers, out of his reach, the last thing on her mind was the child. The bloody child, with his screaming despair and his vibrant eyes, so perfectly mirrored with his own... he didn't take after his mother at all. But then, that would mean he took after himself. Arthur shuddered and pulled a hideous face, banishing the thought from his mind.
Good God, I hope he doesn't take after me, he thought. The very idea of his son growing up and becoming a newer version of himself was not a sight he ever wanted to see.
His thoughts were in a jumble as he stared at his son. What was so special about him that the powers that be decided to take the life that gave him his? He shouldn't have been feeling so negative about his own flesh and blood, but he had taken away the love of his life and he was still reeling f
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Literature
2p!fem!FranceXReader - Sugar
She takes her coffee with three sugars, to combat her own bitterness.
Her hands on your hips, your name silent against her lips, the feel of her skin brushing against yours as you pull her closer, tighter. You want this. More than anything, you want her to want this.
She never will. Not in the way you want her to. But she will oblige anyway, just so you will leave her in peace.
She told you she would ruin you. She was right. You rarely spend your nights alone – you always find yourself drawn to her, no matter how many times she tells you to go away. Maybe she's just as hooked as you are. She enjoys her cigarettes, enjoys hot flasks with alcohol-laced coffee within. She doesn't enjoy much else, but maybe she secretly enjoys your company, too.
But then, your presence in her line of vision always hardens her eyes, deepens the scowl on her face, etching in another pair of frown lines that rather accentuate her almost savage beauty. Maybe not.
"I put the kettle on. Do you want some te
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Literature
SwedenXReader - Values
He's here again.
You see him long before you hear him, stepping silently across your floor. You always wondered how such a great man could walk so lightly. His booted feet almost weren't touching the floor as they made their way over to you. He rarely said anything to you, but his nightly visits never failed to heighten your nerves and make your skin blush with the close contact. It was so wrong. But you could never get enough.
It always started the same way: he would nudge your head slightly, tilt it up to connect your lips, before pulling you out of your small, narrow bed and disrobing you with ease. Though you only ever wore one item of clothing at night – your white linen shirt, though you sometimes dared to forgo the cloth during the summer months – he would always take an eternity to actually remove the garment from your body.
Once the physical barrier was out of the way, he would spend minutes at a time just gazing at your body. Not a whisper of muscle visible undern
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Literature
AustriaXReader - Routine
You woke up to an empty bed still warm from its inhabitant's early departure. Even through the warmth of the sheets, your heart was warmer still. You could barely believe that just a little over three years ago, you were heartbroken and on a downward spiral. Yes, he had been the one to send you down that road, but he had also saved you when you went too far, and you couldn't be more grateful.
Even now, you still weren't sure if you let him back into your life because he genuinely regretted the pain he had caused you, or if you just wanted him back. Maybe it was a mix of the two. But it didn't matter anymore. That was all in the past now.
You made your way down to the kitchen, a smile on your own face forming when you caught sight of your lover's upturned lips and a plate piled high with fresh pastries in his hand. You took the plate and set it down on the counter, before planting a kiss full on his lips.
"You spoil me."
"I only want the best for my darling." He kissed you again, before
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Literature
AustriaXReader - Naivete
All things are beautiful, and people are naturally attracted to what they perceive as beauty. However, it's up to people to look for it and to cherish it. But beauty can only go so far. He showed you that. He knew. Roderich Edelstein, Austrian born and raised. You never should have met. You wished you never had. But he showed you things you never could have learned on your own.
Your face, your eyes, your thoughts, the way you carried yourself – all delicate like the buds of a flower opening up in spring. No-one could do you wrong. No-one wanted to do you wrong. A bit childish, a bit too naïve for your own good, maybe. You held your childlike charm close to your chest, and people didn't want to take it away from you. It made people afraid. Afraid that their gaze might linger too long, their hand might brush too hard against you, and you would shatter like a tiny glass ornament.
But he didn't even hesitate once, not like the way all of the others had. Maybe that's why you fell
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Literature
RussiaXReader - Afraid
"Congratulations!"
"Best wishes to the married couple."
"Nice going, Ivan! Try not to let this one get away, too–" that last one was from Alfred, of course. Ivan would've hit him, but of course, Arthur beat him to it. A loud thunk rang out, and an outraged cry followed. He smiled; some of the tension finally leaving his body.
He was so afraid once the two of you had finally gotten married. His younger sister had not been happy. With a worried face, you tugged on his arm to follow you into the car, further away from the well-wishers and the partygoers and away from Natalia.
She was there as the car sped away, if your expression was anything to go by. Naturally, you looked pleased; happiness radiated from your very being. But there were tears in your eyes as you turned to him.
"Do you think we did the right thing? Not just inviting Natalia. Do you think we really should have gotten married so soon? I-I mean, not that I didn't want to marry you, b-but–" you stamm
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Literature
GreeceXReader - Clumsy
He gave you trinkets and you broke them. He gave you ornaments and you smashed them. He couldn't help it. You couldn't help it. He was reckless. You did your best to be careful. But things always ended up getting broken in the process.
Everything about you was endearing. Outwardly, with your unfailing kindness and welcoming nature, with the most pleasant scent about you and a voice that many compared to the music of the gods, you were many people's idols.
Though, that was where the end of your positive features came into play. Inside, you were a bitter storm of spite and self-hatred – mainly at your sole ability to leave a trail of total destruction in your wake. It was a curse you complained of bitterly to anyone who was willing to hear your woes until your breath had completely evaded you, as had the colour in your cheeks.
Pouring rain and getting soaked. Umbrellas not opening. Umbrellas opening up too far and getting flipped inside-out. Accidentally shocking yourself trying to
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the real slim shady
United Kingdom
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HELLO I am Al and how did I get here. Most of the time you should call me Polly or even bologna, I like that stuff!

straight up I'm English but *deep film narrator voice-over* not like you know them. Number one difference being that I'm actually Irish and living as an identity-stealing body double. 100% truth

lmao I feel like I'm an old lady stuck on this dying Hetalia ship. I love Hetalia y'all please save this stupid show
I also like Daily Lives of High School Boys and other stupid school anime as well as rain and thunder and dogs and cats and birds and video games and short movies and spaghetti and fresh bread and hella other things I should make a list

if you're interested you're always welcome to join me in my revelry! I love new friends! it's always a party when I'm online! have fun! eat some cake! enjoy yourself!

hairless cat love stamp by OrangeOsprey stamp - #eggsthetic by manqo-tea STAMP: Dog Lover by zungzwang Stamp | Dreamer by CuteSight Pyjama Days Stamp by Kezzi-Rose Leo Stamp by mylastel Nocturnal Stamp by Toy-Soul Support Boys In Skirts Stamp by catcatdragoo Stamp - Milk Lover by firstfear Rainy Days Stamp by candy-raver
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and I am an ~artiste~. Please. Let me live my tumblr life. Drink some tea. Eat a biscuit. Kill a man. relax cause I ain't ever gonna do anything that even remotely resembles regular story updates

why did I make this journal entry

Activity


The night brought a pleasant breeze that cooled his skin. He inhaled, took in the beauty of the garden, his creation. All laid to waste for one who did not return his feelings of love.

Artistry ran in the family; following closely behind was madness, the lesser-known cousin and the catalyst to disaster. It was a biological fault; a deeper, inhuman yearning for love hard-wired into the blood of the Vargas family. It had brought about the demise of his grandfather, torn apart by his love for his best friend and trusted confidante, and his son, Feliciano's father, beaten mercilessly to death by his and his brother's own mother for his lecherous ways when they were just boys.

He knew; he saw the destruction brought about by the ones who came before him, and yet he did not prepare himself adequately for the trials to come. He saw what obsessive love had done to his own family - two generations of disaster should have hardened him to the horrors of falling too deep in love, and yet he found himself in the same situation that befell his father and his father before him.

Everything he did was done for your sake. You became less of a muse to him and more of a reason to live. Even without your knowledge of his existence he would paint, sculpt and mould every base and canvas into images he was sure would please you.

He had let his insanity engulf him, but he was not without empathy. He would not let his own selfish desires rob you of your own chances at life. Not when you had taken no physical part in his downfall – you hadn't even known of his existence until he had unveiled his largest, greatest and ultimate piece.

So much of his life had gone into this. The garden he had tended to, toiled and treated with the utmost care. It meant everything to him: it was the first time he had ever come into contact with you, though at the time he did not know it would also be his last. You had heard of him, Feliciano Vargas; an up-and-coming artist with an uncanny talent for recreating human likenesses through his many mediums. Although you couldn't say you were his acquaintance or that you'd even heard of him, you knew a friend who did, and after being invited to a private unveiling of what he dubbed his 'greatest creation yet', you couldn't resist seeing what all the fuss was about.

There had been no-one else around; he had really meant it when he said it would be a private show. Feliciano remembered having to take a few moments to compose himself after taking in just how you had dressed up for the occasion, before taking your hand and leading you up a wrought-iron staircase, begging his heart not to stop as he breathed in your aroma and revelled in your presence.

"Now, listen to me, amore. Take in a deep breath now, because I can guarantee that the masterpiece you are about to witness will take your breath away." He stopped at two wooden doors, and took in a deep breath of his own, before pushing them open and ushering you through.

Your own breath caught in your throat as you took in the view laid out in front of you. Whatever you were expecting, it was not this. Where there should have been a wide expanse of flowers blooming in the lush garden underneath the balcony the two of you were standing on, instead were several hundreds of thousands of paper flowers standing to attention, all coming together to create the perfect imitation of your face. Some flowers appeared to be dyed, some painted, others stained, but the final product was the same: it felt like you were looking at an mirrored version of yourself, amplified by a thousand.

You turned to Feliciano, unable to keep the shock off your face. You tried to return the blissful smile he was giving you, but something unsavoury was churning in your gut and your response likely more resembled a grimace.

"Didn't I say you would be– che c'è? Do you not like it?"

Were this any other time, you may have felt bashful; maybe a little prideful. But this was not normal – you barely even knew this man, and here he was, creating recreations of your face in ways your own mother probably could never have recalled so clearly.

"I... I just... Feliciano, I can't imagine how long it took you to make this, but... don't you think this is weird? I mean, I barely even know you, and yet you know so much about me – how?" He had spared no detail; he had even captured a small pockmark on the underside of your lip left from a childhood bout of chickenpox, a feature most would easily overlook. You shook your head and gritted your teeth, tearing your eyes away from the scene that struck more and more fear into your chest the longer you looked at it.

"I'm sorry. I think I should leave." You turned away, and Feliciano felt his heart shatter.

Though the meeting had not ended in a manner satisfactory to him, it was a memory he held dearly in his heart. For in that moment, even if only for a few minutes, he had felt the electricity of your touch, the beat of your heart through your fingers.

One strike of a match. That was all it took, his paper flowers lit ablaze and his magnum opus in flames. He smiled, then, watching from his balcony as he watched the fire consume everything, so similar to the way you had consumed him. Finally, his eyes were open to the true beauty of his masterpiece. He opened his arms wide, knowing he was entering into a different kind of intensity, and dropped from the balcony. He fell into the fire and let it consume him whole.
ItalyXReader - Picture Perfect
this is 1000 words eActly and my heart hurts it took so long to find unnecessary words and weed 'em out so I could feel proud of a pathetic achievement Ayy Lmao Dance  and I am proud. I am proud of what I have done. 1000 is a good number and I'm ballin'

SOMEONE HELP I HAVE EXAMS AND I SHOULD BE STUDYING FOR THEM INSTEAD OF WRITING 1000 WORD FICS
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You had never felt such desire for someone before – previous relationships turned sour had permanently warped your romantic vision and forced you into a life of celibacy. Broken hearts, bruised ribs and a constant, dull pain in your chest seemed to follow you like rainclouds. But then she came along.

It was purely by chance the two of you met, you walking through a park and being tackled by ninety pounds of dirty, excitable German shepherd and being picked up by a hundred and sixty pounds of beautiful, apologetic German muscle. Though her words to her dog were short and stern, you could see the softness in her eyes as she bent down and ruffled the canine's ears as he panted and wagged his tail. You felt your heart involuntarily melt and you slipped away, hoping to cross paths again with this woman and her furry companion.

Fate had let you meet the first time, but you decided to take matters into your own hands after no sight of the mystery woman or her dog after. It was only after purposefully returning to that same park week after week and almost literally throwing yourself into the path of her dog one day as she walked him that you caught her name and number. You found out that same day that she had a male friend who was almost as persistent as you were, yet spoke of him fondly. You were determined to be his equivalent, better in her eyes, more important and closer to her. It was maybe your fourth meeting that you decided you would be perfect together, you and Monika.

You could write a million symphonies on the feel of her name on your tongue alone. Your heart raced with the thought of waking up to her each morning, drinking orange juice together, painting her likeness every day, walking the dogs with her... two dogs. No, three. Her three dogs and a little baby pig of your own. Maybe a few birds, too. You could almost see the marks on the walls, hear the excited noises of your pets, taste the zest of the juice...

"You have that dreamy look in your eyes again, (Name). What are you thinking about?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing..."

She was gruff and she was stern. But she was also persistent and hardworking, with a good heart and a shy smile, and she could make you happy. Monika pushed you to be the very best you could be and made you want to try one more time, even after all seemed lost.

Your future was with her, it was destined to be.
and I am an ~artiste~. Please. Let me live my tumblr life. Drink some tea. Eat a biscuit. Kill a man. relax cause I ain't ever gonna do anything that even remotely resembles regular story updates

why did I make this journal entry
"Sir, pardon for the interruption, but her Majesty has requested a private audience with you."

Francis looked up from the documents he was signing and focused on the maid standing in front of his desk in surprise. His candle was nearly burnt out; if the maid hadn't arrived when she had, he would have been sat in the dark with a stack of papers and an entire bottle of ink, but no light to see what he was doing with them.

Still, the maid's presence was unexpected but by no means unwanted, although she did bring with her a request quite unusual. His quill, after looping ink blots in the corners of white parchment, was put back in its place to process the young girl's words.

"A private audience? Did she by any chance mention what purpose this gathering was for?"

Calling on his queen was something he often did; though war had not been declared for more than a decade, maintaining the kingdom’s militia was challenging, to say the least. Though he was more than capable of keeping the soldiers in line, (Name) would always have an interesting topic or other concerning them – a new battle strategy, if needed, or new ways to revolutionise armour or weapons.

Or if he was feeling lonely and wanted some time alone with her, he would make the necessary arrangements. Though, whenever she was in need of his more... illicit services, she would never take it upon herself to call for him, insisting that it was only proper for an invitation to be issued by gents if wishing to consort with young ladies.

"Sir, indeed she did not. She was very brief with her message, but I daresay Queen (Name) has been of a restless temperament since her return to the courts. It would be wise not to keep her Majesty waiting."

That was expected. If the queen was indeed in need of her paramour, she would under no accounts mention this to a mere maid. However, he had to say his interest was piqued at the mention of her 'restless temperament'. He briefly wondered what brought that on. (Name) was always travelling to various lands to secure foreign trade and maintain friendly relations with her neighbouring countries.

His chest burned slightly at the thought of (Name) without a confidant there with her – though she had all number of servants and officials travelling with her at all times, he still held the selfish desire to accompany her, but of course only her official advisor had the pleasure of her company on trips, and so he remained in the palace with no real purpose until her return. "If that is her desire. I will make my way to her immediately. If you please: send refreshments up to meet us there."

"Very well, General."

Heaving a heavy breath, Francis pushed back his chair and muttered an oath at the painful sensation of stretching his bones back into place; he remembered the first time he had undertaken a similar action in (Name)'s presence, and she had made pleasant jokes in his name about old age for the many weeks that followed after. Small lines crinkled around his eyes at the memory. Though at the time, he was less than amused, looking back he admired her surprising wit and suppressed the deeper feelings that bubbled to the surface.

As her leading general and commander of her troops, he played a single purpose: to stand by her side as a defender of her lands, and that was where his role ended. To do otherwise would be to forgo his duty and betray his country, betray her trust. He rationalised that there was no point in pursuing pointless, boyish fancies, ideals likely also shared by the bulk of his troops, and hoped that his feelings, though insistent, would eventually fade over time as his infatuation passed. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose; deep down he knew the feelings would never truly subside.

"This way, my lord."

Francis smiled, despite the inner unrest. He did not recognise the maid; deeming her a new recruit in the Queen’s employ which made her unaware of the happenings of the palace. "I know the greatroom in which we often assemble, there really is no need to personally take me there yourself."

"Her Majesty bid me take you to a different lounge, sir." At the maid's words, Francis furrowed his brows, but said nothing more.

However, he was not expecting the place the maid eventually led him to. He bowed to the maid, who bobbed a quick curtsy back with a red face, noting that he had been led to and escorted into (Name)'s private drawing-room, complete with a footman waiting to open the doors for him, rather than the stately greatrooms they normally occupied together.

He didn't even need to look up to know that (Name) was nervous. She had been pacing, something she only did when she had troubling thoughts on her mind. He hoped it wasn't war, or at least one that did not directly involve his nation. He did not care to see armies invade his country, and yet he was anxious to put his and (Name)'s combined combat tactics into action. In addition, a real battle would be just what Francis could use to give his newer recruits some firsthand experience.

At the sound of the doors being opened and Francis being ushered in, she looked up and stopped her pacing. She skirted past him, shooing both the maid and the footman away to notify the other staff in the estate to not disturb them until further notice, and shut the grand mahogany doors with a hurried lack of grace, quickly locking them and depositing the key on a low table carrying a polished silver tray with a teapot, cake and two teacups.

Finally noticing his questioning glance and raised eyebrows, her childish grin turned sheepish as she drew her hands behind her back. "A good evening to you, Francis. I need us to be alone for some time."

He decided not to comment any further on her strange actions. Though he was intrigued, was this outburst of forwardness what was making (Name) so uneasy before?

"My queen. As always, a pleasure." This was the first time he had stepped foot in the room; lavishly decorated in red velvet, purple brocade and gold leaf - a sultan’s dream come true.

Her smile was quick to appear on her face, as she kissed his cheeks heartily. Making her way back to the low table and the settee placed next to it, she sat, poured a small amount of tea in the two cups, placed the porcelain pot back in its original position and motioned for him to join her.

"Please, sit. I have much on my mind, and... many matters to discuss." Taking a sip from her cup and offering another to him, she stretched her lips into another smile, although one far more strained.

Francis moved towards her, but avoided the chair she had prepared for him completely, instead placing himself at her feet and slowly pushing up the heavy fabric of her dress, eliciting a long, drawn-out sigh from the woman above him as she relaxed into the furniture.

"I am sure your travels have been taxing. Allow me to release some of that tension."

(Name) placed both cups back on their saucers and took off her gloves, and closed her eyes as she felt some of her pent-up emotion leave her. "Francis, you restore order to my chaotic life! I may have to fire my official advisor; you do her job just as well, only with twice the vigour. Truly, I am blessed to have you by my side. There is no true way to convey my thanks, but I will attempt to do so anyway."

He could think of many ways she could convey her thanks, but none of them ended with her purity intact. He held his tongue and continued to knead the soft flesh of her calves. "So, what is this issue that has been pestering you since my recent arrival? Am I to alert our army? Is there perhaps conflict to be dealt with?"

"Of course. No, we do not have any need to prepare for war. Our allies are strong and our neighbours are still friendly – those that are not still rebuilding, of course. What I have to say is no less important, however," she dropped her smile. "As you are well aware, after the passing of both mother and father, God bless their souls, I ascended to the throne in their place at the tender age of seventeen. However, this was over a half-dozen years ago–"

"Ah, yes, the peak of twenty-four. A grown woman to many, but no less lovely in my eyes." He crooned, and continued to caress her thighs.

She exhaled deeply before continuing. "Yes, and this current position of my age leads us to a slight; I believe that I am now in a rather precarious position; my parents left me but a single sister, who is already married and therefore ineligible for the throne in my place in the event of failure to complete my royal duties. It is for this reason and my status as a young, unmarried queen that I now seek a husband to help me procure and raise an heir, before... before it is too late, I suppose."

(Name)'s words stunned him, and he immediately let go of her legs, but she seemed unaware, and continued to stare ahead with a faraway look in her eyes, as if under a spell. As queen of her country, it was, of course, expected of her to marry and bear children – but he had not expected it. Of course, he had always known he would eventually have to let her go, but he had not realised how soon it would happen – the years had simply flown by him. Gently getting to his feet, he eased himself into the chair (Name) had prepared for him earlier as he waited for her to continue.

"Though I am loath to offer my hand to another king, or any noble for that case, I recognise that at my age, I can no longer put off a royal union any longer if I am to raise a child and live long enough to see them take the throne in my place. My sister has written me many letters informing me of this... situation, and I have finally decided to heed her advice."

Francis pursed his lips. "Indeed we are not overflowing with riches like our neighbouring countries, nor are we producing many materials; you know as well as I that silk is our only major export, but surely this is not the only reason why you refuse to marry another royal. If you want a suitable match close to your own home, you should consider Prince Arthur as a viable option. He has a good head on his shoulders, with a strong bloodline, and you may be able to remain in your palace due to the close proximity of your lands, if you so desire."

(Name) almost laughed out loud. "You must be joking. Artie is my close friend, and I do love him to bits, but by God, he has the personality of a stick insect. He is more devoted to maintaining his gentlemanly image than he ever would be to me."

"Perhaps, but you realise that even if Arthur is unsuitable, he has four other brothers, all eligible bachelors." Francis pointed out.

This time, she did laugh. Very hard. "Not all. Do you remember little Peter? He is still a young babe – I do not think he has yet reached fourteen. I suppose they all have their quirks, but really, all five brothers manifest the same, or at least similar issues related to poor Arthur’s plight. Plus, the eldest, Allistor, has a mighty terrible temper. I should not like to be forced to deal with that daily if I can avoid it."

"Surely it is not so bad as you say."

"Francis. Yes, it is terrible. No woman with any whit of sense would suffer themselves to marry him; not unless they have a temper to match his – even then, still would I worry for their safety."

"Well, then. Who else would you offer your hand to; aside from yourself, of course?" She then laughed again, but her laugh was cut short as she looked like she had only just remembered something, feeling quite uncomfortable. She picked up her teacup, intending to take a sip from it, but decided against it at the last moment, setting the fine china back down again on the tray. Francis couldn’t help but ponder on the root of her discomfort and strange behaviours.

"Francis, you need to hear me now. I have no desire to marry Arthur! I share the same desire to avoid a union with any of his brothers – especially Allistor. None would make me happy, I am sure of it. I also refuse to leave my country or place her in the hands of another; I am loyal to my subjects and I would regret leaving them to the mercy of foreign dignitaries."

Francis leaned over and encased her left hand in his, caressing her soft knuckles with his thumb. "My queen. Marriage cannot be focused on what one party wants; this will not bring about happiness. And I am afraid, in your case, you have more than one person's happiness to worry about: not simply your own, but that of your subjects, as well."

She glanced down quickly at their entwined hands, inhaling sharply as recalled her hand and folded both in her lap, still unable to meet his intense gaze. "I know. But–"

He interrupted her, at this time not caring for societal graces or the differences in station. "Then, pardon my impertinence, but how do you expect to find happiness and comfort if you rebuff any and all potential suitors to take your hand?"

"I– well, I..."

"Speak, (Name). It is unbecoming of a queen to stutter in front of her subjects."

"I wish you would no longer refer to yourself as my subject, Francis! I wish for you to marry me!"

Francis couldn’t believe what he had heard, and by the shocked expression on (Name)'s face that no doubt mirrored his own, she thought the same. The silence that followed stretched to a near unbearable point, but neither party was eager to break it. He didn’t know what to say. (Name) was looking anywhere but at his eyes, the teacup she had once again picked up at some point shaking very slightly in her hands. Moments passed as he chose best how to proceed with his next words, his heart hammering in his chest. But as he opened his mouth to speak, she hushed him with a single gesture.

"That was an outburst I did not intend for you to hear. But please, I beg that you listen to my reasoning before you refuse my proposal, and know that I am coming to you not as your queen or a royal, but simply from the place of a woman entirely infatuated with a man."

Francis' heart leapt at your admission, but he shushed his emotions and allowed you to continue.

"For the better half of a year I have been burdened by my title. The list of nobility eager to take my hand and assert themselves as ruler seems to never end. But I am not blind, Francis. I see their schemes and I know their intentions are less than noble. To them, I am seen purely as a tool to seize power and control from. Some target my treasury, others my titles, and few lecherous others my bedchambers. But you are different, Francis; I know you hold this great nation in high esteem and I know that she would only continue to flourish under your care. I simply cannot marry another with full trust in their motives. I believe this will be the first and only matter in which I can put my heart first and still be confident in the choice I have made."

"My queen–"

"Francis. No more formalities, please. You must know by now that I am utterly and irrevocably in love with you, and now you know my other reasonings. I want us to be on equal standing – I want to hear you call me only by name, not by my title. Please, do your country and her people a favour and accept my offer of marriage. Take my hand, and become my lawful husband and the righteous king of our country."

He thought over his options. Though she was young and inexperienced (in more than one area), she was not naïve – (Name) had a strong head on her shoulders and a heart that beat, first and foremost, to her country and her responsibilities. Francis smiled - she would make for a perfect wife.

"It would be my honour, (Name)."
FranceXReader - Royals
*insert obligatory Lorde lyrics here*

fuckin.... dialogue. so much dialogue. SOOOOOO MUCH DIALOGUE. UGH its so stilted and awkward and I hAte writing it because I'm so bad at it HELP. 4/10 too much dialogue, not enough frickle frackle. I couldn't even keep the old-timey thing going throughout this I'm the worst LOAF INTENSIFIES LOAF INTENSIFIES LOAF INTENSIFIES LOAF INTENSIFIES LOAF INTENSIFIES 

this story is important to me bc two years ago on this exact date (10/05/15) i started writing this so this is a testament to just how damn lazy I am I couldn't finish ~2500 words lmaooooooo

God I'm looking at my old documents folder and Jeez 2015 seems like the year of an obsession I had with royalty for some reason???? lol why

edit: there were so many mistakes in this why didn't y'all say somethin
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GUYS..... DON'T JUST +fav  AND RUN. GIVE ME LLAMAS; LLAMA AND RUN

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:icondancingxghosts:
DancingxGhosts Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Sorry, I was just browsing your page, and whilst reading your bio this sprung out at me...

-->I'm also English! cheerio! toodle-pip! bloody crumpets! Doctor Who!

I died reading that bit haha! 


Apologies for the randomness ^.^
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:iconrussianrevolution:
RussianRevolution Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2015
heh he heh.. this is how the English do it ;)

it's just me poking a bit of fun, there are virtually zero people below the age of 90 who actually use those terms anywhere in Britain. same goes for Doctor Who, it's far more popular across the globe than it is in its native country. embarrassing

thanks for sharing your amusement, though! i do try my best to please Lovely Shoujo (Spy) [V] 
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:icondancingxghosts:
DancingxGhosts Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
We British have a strange sense of humour haha! 

Uuh, I use toodle-pip and cheerio haha! Mainly when i'm being sarcastic though haha!

That's ok, I did enjoy reading through the bio, and that bit in particular tickled me :D 
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:iconrussianrevolution:
RussianRevolution Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2015
that's the British way, and it's what the world loves us for Sunglasses are good 

actually, sometimes I use cheerio, 'guv' and even 'old bean' in speech, but only ever when I'm mimicking the thicker Cockney accents you sometimes hear in the city!! I do often call my friends 'beans', though! Bear Emoji-24 (Laughing) [V1] 
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:iconnaked-toes:
Naked-toes Featured By Owner Jul 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Tagged~ [link]
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:iconrussianrevolution:
RussianRevolution Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2013
wow this is the best day of my life I feel so special
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:iconnaked-toes:
Naked-toes Featured By Owner May 19, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch~ :hug:
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:iconrussianrevolution:
RussianRevolution Featured By Owner May 19, 2013
No problem! :)
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:iconuniversal-stardust:
Universal-Stardust Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2013
Welcome to :iconthe-creative-female:
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:iconrussianrevolution:
RussianRevolution Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2013
Thank you! It's really nice of you to welcome me! I'm glad to be part of this group! :)
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