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[mostly-romance]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 (2024)

PEN AND COLIN

3.05

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(almost) every penelope featherington scenes (177/???)

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Paolo Sebastian 'A Lover's Kiss' fall 2024 couture "A Lover’s Kiss draws inspiration from the great love stories of old. The fearless passion of Romeo and Juliet; star-crossed lovers doomed to meet their fate. The divine worship of Dante and Beatrice; her infinite grace guiding him to ascension. The eternal devotion of Cupid and Psyche; relentless in their pursuit to reunite. With these tales and countless more we are reminded that whether through strength or sacrifice, romance or revelation, true love is a power unto itself."

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Of Kings and Queens (F!Reader)

What is it like to be wife of the kings of Middle Earth, you ask?

Théoden

✧ You are his rock, reassuring him that the best thing he could give you is his heart, the very thing you have held for years. Still he has the best of everything he can have made for you and surprises you with trails of wildflowers just as he did when you were young and first in love, all to show his unending gratitude.

✧ A man in every sense, Théoden lives to ease your days, offering you his arm for the warmth, safety and stability of a walk. Any time your joined steps decline to a staircase or any other obstacle, your husband has a hand at the ready, the other resting gently against your hip. At the first sign of danger his arm will be outstretched across you, placing himself between you and the threat.

✧ He remembers the day he first took you to the stables, the way you extended a hand toward his horse hesitantly only for your eyes to light up like fabled fireworks when you made contact with him, creations a unity of new and old yet all magic. You were happy to follow Théoden's lead, wrapping your arms tightly around him as he guided your shared mount in a trot over green fields and toward the hills, air rushing through helmet and hair with speed gained. The sound of it paling in comparison to the music of your laugh, joyful freedom ringing out into the sunlit air.

✧ Always whispering praises between kisses, his breath tickling your shoulder, neck, right along the shell of your ear as he travels, telling you a different attribute, quality, or even part of your body he loves until he has praised all of you. Théoden realizes he does not always speak his feelings, share enough of his most vulnerable thoughts, but alone as he nuzzles against your skin he breaks down and the words tumble from him like a waterfall.

✧ Never will you bear a burden alone; not only is Théoden’s shoulder forever yours to lean on, but your husband, your king, insists on carrying the heaviest things for you. Even after a simple day on the market, he takes the basket from your hands. Even if you giggle and tell him you can take it, your heart warms every time, knowing he truly does not wish to see you struggle.

Aragorn

✧ Beyond all the rich things he could give you simply by means, Aragorn looks to your heart in all matters. His gifts to you will only be of fine shining things if that is what you wish, but if you, like him, value sentiment and a hint of practicality, you will find everything at your disposal toward the pursuits you love and the memories you hold dearest.

✧ Cannot get enough of the feeling of your skin upon his. Affectionately brushes his hand along the curve of your cheekbone, reaches a hand out to take yours, and breaks into a wide smile when he feels your leg hook his beneath a table. Trailing his touch up and down its surface absentmindedly. When you stroll side by side, it will be with Aragorn’s arm about your waist or hand in yours.

✧ There need not be any more than your simple presence for him to be happy. The sight of you beckoning him from your chaise, your smile as he complies, crossing the room to recline at your side, enjoy the music of your giggle as he runs a hand softly over your hair and inquires as to your thoughts in this beautiful moment.

✧ Nary makes a decision without weighing your words among all others. His love for you extends to your mind, the heart you have for those around you, all the qualities that make you an excellent queen as well as wife. Firm is Aragorn's belief that a queen is far more than an accessory to the king, but a ruler in her own right whom he would trust with his kingdom in any time of strife. His actions alongside his words of trust and praise remind you of this truth each and every day of your shared reign.

✧ Aragorn is always behind you to lace your dress and shoes, his hands so gentle as they work the ties and brush against your skin, caressing your hair or cheek as he finishes.

Thranduil

✧ Even beyond the feeling that he must grant you kingly gifts, he desires it greatly- both for the pleasure of seeing you dripping with silver that shines almost as bright as your eyes and also as any small token, for you deserve the stars themselves and Thranduil would gift you those if he could.

✧ Guides you with a hand about your waist whenever you walk together, not for any lack of trust but simply the way he can revel in your presence. Show you off. You are the most beautiful accessory he could ask for and so much more. A gem in far more respects than those of the earth.

✧ Thranduil takes interest in anything that you do, throwing himself into your passions with nearly as much fervor as your own. Be it writing, sewing, blacksmithing, pottery, the crafting of fine accessories, you say the word. At the king’s word, you will have a desk, workbench, wheel, or forge set up in your name, all the ink or steel or fabrics or clay you could desire, and of course your husband will be there at your side. Whether years of some royal training have already made an expert of him or his hands are virgin to your craft, Thranduil insists on lessons from you and the chance for your hands to come together as one just as your hearts, creating a thing of beauty together.

✧ Defends any slight or insult directed your way with such venom, it as as though the words address him. Which they do, as Thranduil professes to you afterward- the safety of your body, your heart, your mind, weigh upon him just as much as, if not more than, those of his own. You are the greatest sum, the greatest part of his whole. Just as he tells you, Thranduil proudly tells all.

✧ It had been an offhand comment, just a note of a day whose heat had ballooned your stress and ached your muscles. Continuing your tasks, you all but forgot you had even spoken it until Thranduil led you by the hand to your special little hollow where he had drawn a bath. Dripping fine oils into the water to send fragrance spiraling into the steamy haze, rings drifting out from each droplet and faintly disturbing the flowers floating on the water’s surface. So beautiful and all for you, he reminds you as he helps you undress and lower into the water with him.

Thorin

✧ No improvements can be made to the divine gift that is your body, the eyes that look upon Thorin with such love and devotion, and yet his heart swells whenever he sees you clad in the finery of his people, silken threads he commissioned just for you and jewels to symbolize every memory and passion you share: a secret language just for you two.

✧ Reserved as he is with his touches in public, keeping a hand in yours or gently upon your shoulder in times of needed protection or comfort, Thorin worships your form when only your eyes are upon him, yours and the stars and perhaps the Valar, who he suspects would even envy the way his hands trace over your warm, heavenly curves.

✧ At first he is reluctant to let you into the forges, the heat and smiths' sweat and harsh strikes of hammers falling upon steel. But was your position not a testament to your resilience, the love you showed an imperfect king day after day not a sign or strength untold, and did glimpses of you on the battlefield that Thorin would hold in his mind for eternity not capture your will? Soon you are his smithing apprentice, your smile at his side worth any risk it could serve to you.

✧ His favorite tales to tell young ones are those of you, the moment he realized you were his One, recounting times that his life was saved by you, of how his stubbornest of hearts was touched by love even more headstrong and open. Thorin is always there in your most vulnerable moments, wiping your tears, caressing your cheek and resting his forehead against yours as he whispers the perfect antidote to the poisons of your mind or others' words.

✧ Thorin listened intently when you lamented your favorite necklace breaking, how you thought it was going to last longer. He said little, did not offer a replacement, anything. Not three days later your prized jewelry lay upon your armoire, strong as if new again.

Bard

✧ He hadn’t wanted to be king. Not at first. You yourself had all but laughed at the prospect of being a queen, yet that was what suited you so well to the role. Over the years, Bard has felt the shift, the changing from practical gifts like the new apron he’d had made for you to things he’d once believed to be outside of your means. Things he always felt you deserved, but now can give you. Pretty necklaces befitting the queen you always were in your husband’s eyes.

✧ Bard’s hand upon you is often protective, the grip of your fingers being tightly woven into his to keep you close in a crowd or a hand resting gently against your shoulder when he, as if with a sixth sense, detects a spike of anxiety threatening to pierce your chest. He will be your shield as often as he can be, your comfort as his thumb gently draws circles on the back of your hand or along your shoulder blade.

✧ Forever it will be one of your memories the way your husband took you out one day upon the lake, paddling you out beneath the night sky, candles lit in jars he had cleaned and a meal packed in your basket. How Bard had managed to keep the soup so warm beneath the lake's winds you did not know nor question, not when your mug of it felt so warm beneath your hands and your husband's gleaming brown eyes fixed upon you so, encouraging you to join him in a kiss over the steam and beneath the canopy of the Valar's glittering blessings to your sky.

✧ Straight as his arrows did your husband’s words fly. Your virtues are as facts to him, stated as things beyond question.

✧ Sometimes it seems that Bard could fix anything. Be his feats replacing corset boning or tightening wardrobe knobs, you rarely go without with Bard by your side. For too long, after all, did his own family endure such. The one gratitude Bard feels in that being the ingenuity he has developed, the way he can silently aid his loved ones and make things last.

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[mostly-romance]

Stephen Strange x Female Reader (diner waitress)

(a little something I’ve been working on, inspired by the moodboard and blurb created by @burnthoneymint​ - and she’s been kind enough to indulge me as I attempt to continue. currently untitled. please go read her blurb…and all the other lovely–very often deliciously smutty–writings!)

the story continues:

Stephen stood on the sidewalk outside the diner and took several deep breaths, attempting to clear his mind and calm the surprising jitters that had come upon him as he had neared his destination. He had continued to tell himself that he was only doing this because he wanted to make sure you were alright. Since finding you in the Sanctum’s black marble scrying bowl, that image of you in your little apartment (barely more than a studio)…that image of you curled up despondently on your side, with crumpled tissues littering the floor and sofa cushions all around you…seemed to have been seared behind his closed lids. It was inescapable, and the feeling that he was the cause of your misery had settled deep into his bones—so deeply that he needed to know for sure if that was the case. Needed to know—and if his hunch was true, Stephen needed to do something about it. More for your sake, then for his own.

Unlike during his midnight visits, all the booths were filled and at least three-quarters of the tables were taken. It made him hesitate–how could he even be sure he’d be sitting at one of your tables? But then he spotted you behind the counter and knew how to proceed, quickly taking a seat and grabbing one of the menus that was wedged between a napkin holder and a bottle of ketchup. Stephen ducked his face behind it, appearing to study it intently–even though he pretty much knew it by heart—and settled in to wait.

But he didn’t look up, not even when he felt you approach. Although he had mostly convinced himself this was just a way of checking up on your welfare, it suddenly felt as though a kaleidoscope of butterflies had been set loose in his chest and stomach.

Keep reading

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Can you feel this magic in the air?

It must have been the way you kissed me.

Fell in love when I saw you standing there;

It must have been the way

Today was a fairytale ✨

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i want a soft connection. i want to be asked how my day went and if i need anything. i want forehead kisses. i want the back of my hand kissed at red lights. i want to be asked how i’m mentally feeling. i want to hold hands everywhere we go. i want romantic gestures. i want my hair played in at the most unexpected moments. i want silent eye connections that lead to smiles. i want to take random walks.

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D. H. Lawrence, from The Complete Works; “The Rainbow,” written c. 1919

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Kiss me like you don’t need air. Hold me like you can’t let go. Love me like you’d die without me.

Sarah Doughty

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For I am the daughter of Elrond. I shall not go with him when he departs to the Havens: for mine is the choice of Lúthien, and as she so have I chosen, both the sweet and the bitter.

THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY (2001 - 2003) dir. Peter Jackson

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"She didn't need to search far"

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It's canon that Molly is the one person other than Mary who can see through Sherlock's bullshit. This can be applied to the ily scene in that she knew the first time was forced, and that he meant it the second time.

I'm still in the camp that Molly has known since TEH that Sherlock feels something at least a little bit beyond platonic for her.

LOOK AT THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER MY GOD

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Transport

He’s letting himself in but she’s already at the door.

Stumbling, soaked. Head ducked, unsteady on his feet- He’s been running for 48 hours straight but now the case is done, the case is done and what is he supposed to do but come home to his Molly?

“Nothing else to do,” he mutters as she pulls him inside. “Nothing to do but see you, honeybee…”

And he hears her snort. Glances down at her. She looks somewhere between amused and exasperated and he can’t help it: he grins. Presses a kiss to her cheek. Then her lips. The tip of her nose. “My honeybee,” he murmurs, breathing in the scent of her, the heat of her, and she laughs.

“Git,” she says fondly, but she’s pulling him further into her flat. Sliding his coat off. His shirt. She grabs a towel from the rack and starts rubbing his hair, sending drops flying-

“You’re soaked to the skin, Sherlock,” she whispers, sounding cross, and it’s the best thing, the best thing ever, to hear her worry about him. To know she’ll take care of him. Him, the machine. Him, the rudest man in London.

When she treats him like this, his transport- his body- feels like a home and not merely a means to an end.

“Best get me out of these wet clothes, then,” he mutters, kissing her. “Honeybee.”

And then she’s pulling him close. She’s kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. He’s so wet that he manages to soak the front of her pyjamas, but she doesn’t seem to care so neither will he. Rather she wraps her arms around him and kisses him until he can’t breathe.

“Love you,” he mumbles against her lips. “Love you so much…”

He lets Molly walk him back to her bedroom. Lets her strip him, and dry him, lets her press him back into her bed and steal his breath. (She already has his heart). “Love you too,” she whispers and, “you’re mine,” she whispers.

This time when he shivers, Sherlock knows it has nothing to do with the rain.

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sheets~

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heres the whole mirror scene without music 🤭