#imagine francis valois

[hiatuswhore]

Viper IV

Reputation: The Princess of Conde, said to be a lover of games. Perhaps chess, a game requiring one to think many steps ahead and anticipate your enemies next move. For every missteps brings you closer and closer to defeat.

VIPER III: Versatility

YOU NEVER KNEW FRENCH COURT TO BE SO DULL. The privy council drolling on about issues they will never resolve. No plots or ploys, you settle on a ceasefire allowing the Queen Consort a period of reprieve. You busy yourself with strolls with Sebastian and feigning interest in many high Lord's pursuits of your hand. This does not stop the Queen Mother from focusing on your every movement. Nor are you a fool to the servant in your ranks who reports to her. All information they receive perfectly curated to your liking.

Sitting at your vanity, you huff like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Whispers containing scandals so minuscule you are certain the histories will write you as the first to truly die from boredom.

“Dahlia, any news on the parchment I sent to my brother?” You ask. The shake of your handmaiden’s head garnering another huff. “He wants me to come home, but I have far too much to do here.”

“Princess, you must stop fussing so I can finish your hair,” Dahlia’s silvery voice and gentle touch gaining an apologetic smile. The light tapping of your chamber door stills your handmaiden, your head turning toward the door. Dahlia crosses the room. Opening it, she bows respectfully before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.

“My King,” You rise to your feet, a grin on your lips as you curtsy. Francis chuckles, shaking his head as you ask what you can do for him.

“My wife seems to believe you have a vendetta against her. I am no fool of the deep care you hold for your brother. This afternoon you will invite her on your evening stroll, just the two of you,” Your head tilts to the side, a wide smile taking your features, hiding the thorns beneath rosy-colored petals.

“While I admit I was not very fond, I thought to have clarified my intentions with your wife. Very well, we will have a lovely evening at once,” Clasping your hands in front of you, stepping forward, you peck his cheek. His nose grazes your cheek as he turns to meet your gaze.

“We are not children anymore. You know this is not appropriate,” His words leave him in a breathy whisper. You wet your lips, offering a warm smile.

“I meant nothing untoward, Francis. You are dear to me. I would never have you jeopardize your honor,” Only run it off a cliff, the heat of his skin warming your own at the proximity. His head tilts forward so slightly you nearly miss it as he stiffens. You pull away first, brushing past him with a knowing smirk.

The long corridor from your chambers holds a sea of faces that matter little as you make your way to the kitchens. Fetching to chalices of wine, your smiles large as Mary and Catherine’s eyes land on you. They stand in the throne room, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

“Queen Mother. Her grace. My apologies for the intrusion. I hoped to steal the Queen for a stroll. I even brought us wine,” You say, holding out the chalice. Silence dances between the three of you. Both Catherine and Mary eye the cup in your hand warily, the smile on your lips wicked. She knows she cannot refuse. To do so slights the Princess of Conde--another slight against the De Bourbon family, her kin-in-law.

“Of course, Princess,” Mary swallows thickly, her voice wavering as her fingers brush your own against the cup. She glances at Catherine a final time before joining your side. You wear a kind smile, your airy aura filling the halls. You ramble to Mary just as you do with a dear friend, noting how the chalice in her hands has stayed there.

“What a lovely day. Isn’t it lovely?” Stepping outside, you turn to Mary, her strained smile and stiff posture fueling your amusement. Catherine stands with Francis on the second-floor terrace watching the two of you.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mary mutters, following your toothy smile up the terrace. She’s greeted with differing expressions. Francis wears one of encouragement as Catherine stands as though a guillotine awaits.

“Mary, you are not very good at this game. You went to Francis of your fears, rightful fears, but now here we are. Let me help you understand your particular situation. This is a game of reputation. I very publicly invited you to wine and a stroll. The part the people do not know is that it is at the King's behest. Now imagine if word spreads, you refused my efforts for peace after all you brought upon my brother? What a lecherous cunt,” You scoff, speaking barely above a whisper, shaking your head, a smile painting your lips. Mary’s eyes narrow, her shoulders falling at her side. Stepping into the trap before it was even set.

“I am the Queen. You are my subject in my court!” The ferocity of her tone unlike anything you ever expected of her. You would have commended her in another life, but now your smile falls as you stumble back. Mary’s frown distinct as your eyes well with tears. You shift your gaze down sharply, cowering like a frightened child—the antithesis of your nature.

“My apologies, your grace. Will you excuse me?” You curtsy, wiping the faux tear from your cheek. Mary’s eyes bounce around the open grass field. Ladies and Lords alike lounge around different fixtures watching the exchange. Realization cuts through like a blade to skin, your sorrow not reaching your eyes. Oh, how this game suits you.

“Princess,” Mary breathes out, watching as you fiddle with your fingers. The comely and giving Princess standing before the aggressor, the cruel Queen.

“My apologies, your grace. I know our histories are—” You cry out, the approaching mop of blonde hair arriving with impeccable timing.

“Mary, a word,” The clench of the King’s jaw clear despite the mask of calm he wears. You offer a respectful curtsy heading back toward the castle with your head low. Inside, Catherine greets you with a sneer; taking her hands, you smile.

“I detest you. You wretched girl,” Catherine squeezes your hands tights, to onlookers a warm exchange between family. The Queen Mothers' smile as warm and deceitful as your own.

“Oh, Catherine. To hate me is to hate yourself. I learned all I know from watching you,” You lean forward, kissing both her cheeks. The softening of her glare was not lost on you before excusing yourself. Like wildfire, the word spread of your exchange; invitations of tea and strolls pouring into your chamber like water to a glass.

By noon, you receive word of a private family supper. You naturally assume it to be the workings of Francis but still consider others. While Mary navigates your game as well as a blind man at sea, you await Catherine to guide her hand. You wear a courteous smile as the hundredth invite for tea arrives, your empty promises of soon arranging a meeting becoming almost instinctive.

“(Y/n)!” Your eyes widen at the squeal. Claude rushes down the corridor, her arms wide open. She nearly tackles you to the ground in a hug, squeezing so tight it may very well suffocate you.

“Thank god! This place is so terribly boring,” You exclaim, stepping off to the side. Claude smirks. “I was so upset to learn I had just missed by mere hours the day I arrived.”

“I hear my brother's wife made you cry, and I know for certain that is not the case. You must tell me your machinations at once,” Claude whispers, leaning in close. The two of you stop at the corner, appearing like giddy children.

“That would spoil the fun dear cousin!” You say, crossing your arms and mirroring her smirk.

“The Scottish Queen is doomed then, but that must wait. We have much to catch up on,” Claude hooks her arm in your own. She leads you down the hall, her animated rambling taking the whole of the conversation as you listen intently.

“You slept with Ser Harlin?” You gasp, stopping in your tracks. The French Princess bit her bottom lip, grinning like a madwoman. She spares you not a single detail of her exploits with the pagan warrior, a burly man of few words.

“How have you not? I know, no Lord who looks like him. We must have our fun before our brothers decide to try and marry us off,” Claude says, shrugging your shoulders, your matter-of-fact tone dripped in certainty, “I believe my brother knows if he forces a husband upon me, that poor soul will not make it to our marital bed.”

“Well, if Francis makes me marry, can I count on your diligence in my indoctrination to widowhood?” Claude teases. Nodding your head, you stand straight up with a playfulness to your tone, “I swear this oath to you in perpetuity, my princess.”

“I see you two muck about once more,” Francis greets his sister with a warm hug, his eyes meeting yours with a long pause. Claude’s gaze bounces between the two of you, chuckling shamelessly.

“All these years and nothing changes. Well, you two clearly need a moment. Mother!” Claude calls out, skipping away before either of you can say a word. You bite the inside of your cheek, certain you will not lead this conversation.

“I wish to apologize on behalf of Mary,” Francis says, studying how you render your face expressionless.

“It’s clear the Queen does not seek forgiveness, but who I am to ask that of the Queen. I do not believe she likes me very much. I think I should soon leave,” You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. A huff leaves him, taking the bait as easily as you threw it.

“You will do no such thing. I want you here, so that is where you shall be.” Francis taking your hand in his own, the closeness intoxicating—inviting far too inappropriate for the open hall. You wet your lips, watching his eyes travel to them.

“Of course, my King.” The batting of your lashes and low hum of your voice garnering a deep sigh. Francis closes his eyes, rolling back his shoulders as he releases your hand. “Are you unwell, your grace?”

“You very well know what I am at this given second,” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. Leaning in closer, your pointed stare and lopsided grin doing the young King no favors.

“You are King, Francis. It is well within your right to reach for what you want. Who you want,” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you trail your pointer finger up the side of his neck and back down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“I will not be my father,” Francis says, disappearing into his own mind before you. Your hand travels up to his cheek, pulling him back to the present, testing your limits with your thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“You could never. Far too honorable. Too good,” You draw your words out, the slow whisper and dark eyes evaporating those around you from view. The few who linger in the corridor pretend as though you both are not the center of attention. You lean up, pecking his cheek once more, resting your cheek against his, your breath tickling his ear. Your eyes on the dark mop of hair down the hall, “I am your first love. Mary shall be your last, it seems. Your grace.”

You step back, noting how he stares at you, the adoration clear as day. Curtsying, you brush past him. At the end of the hall, you stop shoulder-to-shoulder with the Scottish Queen. Her glassy staring forward as though someone has commanded it. You do not spare her glance on even turn to address her, your face now one of stone.

“Please, Princess. Ask anything of me, and it is yours.” Mary swallows thickly, her eyes on her husband's back as he continues down the hall. When he turns the corner, she turns to you, your gaze still forward.

“Your demise.”

MASTERLIST

[tisafearfulthingtolovewriting]

Justice (1st Scenario)

Setting: Benjamin's torture chamber.

Jack (your husband) and Marcus are looking for you. It's cloudy and dark outside with little light. Once inside, they start calling your name. They're both expecting Benjamin to smell their scents and rush out to stop them.

Nothing. Not a single sound. The silence is deafening. Making Jack and Marcus feel terribly uneasy.

Marcus: You know her scent better than I do. Is she here?

Jack: She's here.

Curling his lip in discust

Jack: And so is he.

Marcus: I thought he would have shown his face by now. He knows we're here.

Jack: He's waiting for me.

A few moments later. They see you in a room at the end of the hallway. Your back is towards them. You're covered in blood and dirt, kneeling over a black, human-like figure

Jack and Marcus run to where you are. Jack kneels in front of you.

Jack: Y/N?

He then takes a closer look at the dark figure in front of him. It's Benjamin, dead. And then back at you. You meet his eyes.

Jack: Y/N?

You: His first mistake was crossing me.

Pause.

Jack: And his second?

You: He knows damn well what his second mistake was.

[withlove-fanfiction]

Justice (1st Scenario)

Setting: Benjamin's torture chamber.

Jack (your husband) and Marcus are looking for you. It's cloudy and dark outside with little light. Once inside, they start calling your name. They're both expecting Benjamin to smell their scents and rush out to stop them.

Nothing. Not a single sound. The silence is deafening. Making Jack and Marcus feel terribly uneasy.

Marcus: You know her scent better than I do. Is she here?

Jack: She's here.

Curling his lip in discust

Jack: And so is he.

Marcus: I thought he would have shown his face by now. He knows we're here.

Jack: He's waiting for me.

A few moments later. They see you in a room at the end of the hallway. Your back is towards them. You're covered in blood and dirt, kneeling over a black, human-like figure

Jack and Marcus run to where you are. Jack kneels in front of you.

Jack: Y/N?

He then takes a closer look at the dark figure in front of him. It's Benjamin, dead. And then back at you. You meet his eyes.

Jack: Y/N?

You: His first mistake was crossing me.

Pause.

Jack: And his second?

You: He knows damn well what his second mistake was.

[tobyregbocharacterfanfiction]

Cold Case.

TRIGGER WARNING: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, AND INFIDELITY.  DRUNKENNESS. MURDER.

Over a century ago your husband died an agonizing death. Detectives still to this day are floored by the case which has since gone cold. Now with Jack's return and his apparent blood rage. The wheels in your mind start turning as to what truly could have happened. You sit in front of the fireplace going through everything in your mind. Jack walks into the room, you quickly glance at him before talking.

You: The last time I saw my husband, he beat me so bad I lost consciousness. When I woke up the sun had just gone down and he was gone...I assumed he was doing what he always did. Storm out, go to a pub, and talk to other women before bedding them. Except for this time, he didn't come home the next morning.

Jack: (nervously) What happened?

You: Two days later they found his body just outside of town, deep inside the woods. Lying in a pool of blood. His blood. The police detectives told me it looked like he had been savagely attacked by an animal.

Jack stays silent

You: But the thing is my husband died in the middle of winter. Bears were in hibernation and mountain lions don't live in the area of the woods he was found in. And there were no gun or knife wounds on him. They never did figure out what killed him. His case quickly went cold. Now I wonder if it was a vampire that killed him. One with blood rage.

Jack: You think I killed him?

You: Did you?.... I'm not angry Jack, I just want to know the truth.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

Jack: I saw you with him several different times walking down the street.

The way you looked. The way you were around him. I knew something was wrong. One day I followed you home and I saw him slap you across the face before you even walked through the front door. I should have killed him then and there, but I knew I had to wait. That last night I followed him to a pub and then to a woman's house in the country. I waited outside and when he walked out that's when I...afterward I dragged his body into the woods as far as I could go and I left him there.

You: Was Benjamin with you?

Jack: No.

You: And the woman he was with?

Jack: I didn't harm her. She was innocent. She didn't deserve to die.

You're tempted to ask why, but in your heart, you already know. You get up from where you're sitting and put your arms around him. He returns the gesture.

You: (softly) Thank You.

[ladycharles]

It's ready! 💖💖💖

One month until my first full length album drops (well a bit less, March 10th). This has been the culmination of so much hard work over the past few years. I made this album as the ultimate escape from the pandemic, trying to fill it with all sorts of wild, beautiful, silly, and atmospheric songs that you can get lost in when feeling blue and maybe feel better. I never would've guessed when I started that the journey would bring in amazingly talented people like Erin Tonkon and Sarah Register who mixed and mastered it all into something much greater than I imagined. As well as some absolutely dreamy instrumental contributions from amazing players like Greg Alsop (Tokyo Police Club) Iajhi Hampden (Raphaël Saadiq, John Legend), Brian Weinthal (Lavola), my good pals Hamid Ba and Mike Madogan (Valois, Fliss) and Geoff Dignam (great guitarist).

And more!

I have some better promos coming once I am home to edit (I am in Montreal seeing of Montreal) but here is a little clip of the album version of Manic Pixie Dream Boy with new vocals (two years better at singing) and some killer drums by Francesca Prattica (Francy Karema) who knocked it out of the park on the multiple tracks she drums on.

All love all day,

Charles

[imagine-a-fangirl]

Celebration Challenge Day 8

Character: Francis Valois Prompt: “What do you mean, Holland is not a country?”

A/n: Well this turned out quite a bit longer then 1000 words.. it’s 3324 to be exact :) They had warned you about messing up the time space continuum when you started to experiment with time travel. That didn’t mean you took any of those warnings to heart, it wasn’t like you actually thought it would work. And yet here you were thrown in some sort of prison, arrested by some people who looked like they just walked out of a museum. It threw you of a little when the men had started to speak French, luckily you knew enough French to understand and communicate with them. It didn’t prevent them from locking you though, without answering any of your questions. You had a strong feeling that your time travelling device had actually worked and knew you could just get back with the press of a button, but you were too curious. After what felt like hours a man came to see you, he looked like he was around your age and a little like royalty. You were a little unsure if you were supposed to bow or not, so you decided against it. “Where am I?” “France.” The man took a moment to look at you “Why are wearing these odd clothes?” You looked down, that morning you had thrown on a Holland shirt someone got you and a pair of ripped jeans not expecting you’d leave the house any way. “What is Holland?” “You know Holland, the country.” The man started laughing “There is no country called that.” “What do you mean Holland is not a country? It’s like up north of here.” “Are you talking about the Seventeen Provinces?” It was like his mind tried to puzzle the pieces together “Who are you?” “My name is y/n, I’m not from here. But you might have already understood that.” You started to explain yourself “That’s an odd name.” “If I may ask, who are you?” “I’m Francis II, King of France. “

“Oh my god it actually worked, I’m in the 16th century. This is insane.” You were so excited, but when you saw the king his face you remembered how weird this looked. “I am so sorry your Majesty.” You quickly made a bow “This must be seem really odd to you.” “You are from a different time aren’t you?” “I am your majesty.” You hesitated a moment before continuing “But I must ask you not to tell anyone.” “Would you like to stay a couple days?” Francis asked you “I might be overstepping my boundaries but I find you quite intriguing. I would like to hear a little more about this future and I could show you things of my time.” “I would really like to stay and learn, but I’m not sure if I would fit in your Majesty.” Pointing at your outfit. “I’ll arrange something for you.” He assured you, and that’s what he did. Francis showed you quarters you were allowed to use during your stay and brought the most exquisite gowns. “This is too much your Majesty.” “Please call me Francis. If you want you can take a moment to change, then I’ll show you around the castle.” You did as he said and put on the gown that first caught your eye. “What do you think?” you asked him when you got out of the room. “It suits you.” He complimented. Francis offered you his arm and you walked around the castle. It was so alive, so many people and yet they barely payed attention to you. Being in the presence of the king was more than enough to get no questions. Or so you thought, when a somewhat older man walked towards the two of you, you felt Francis grip around arm tighten a bit. “Let me do the talking.” He whispered, before letting go of your arm. “Any news from my mother and brother?” Francis asked the man. “The queen mother will return the day after tomorrow, Sebastian will arrive tonight.” “Good.” “Who is this?” The man asked Francis when his eye fell on you. “I believe we have not yet been introduced.” “This is Lady y/n from the Seventeen Provinces.” Francis easily lied “y/n this is Lord Narcisse, he is part of the Privy council.” You made a small curtsy which he returned. “I had no idea we had allies in the Seventeen Provinces.” The man wondered, a little suspicious of the mystery woman. “I wouldn’t call them allies, but there is a lot of tension in the northern provinces under the reign of Spain. Some say we would benefit more from an alliance with France. ” You thanked the gods for your knowledge of European history “ But I’m here to see Francis and the French court not to talk politics.” “That’s right, now if you’ll excuse us.” Francis told Lord Narcisse “You know a lot about the politics for some one out of her time.” “I always liked to learn about history.” While you continued your tour around the castle Francis told you about his time, there was so much more drama then they told you in school. You told him small things about the future but weighed every word. Before you knew it the day had passed and after dinner Francis brought you back to the quarters you would stay. It was odd to think that you were in a completely different time, but you decided to enjoy the next two days. The next day you had breakfast together with Francis and he introduced you to his little brothers and his older brother who just arrived. The moment they met you the liked you and since Francis had his own duties you spend your day with them. The morning the boys thought you how to use a sword, practicing with small wooden swords. The afternoon you went horse riding with Sebastian and he took you to a near village. Sebastian didn’t ask to much questions about the Seventeen provinces, maybe Francis had told him but you didn’t question it.  It had been a long time since you felt so free and enjoyed every moment. Sebastian and you returned after dark, completely forgotten the time. Francis was already anxiously waiting “Sorry for keeping her so long from you brother. I’ll see tomorrow y/n.” You smiled in return, after he left you noticed the star expression on Francis face “Are you alright?” “I just hoped we could have spend the evening together.” “Well I haven’t had dinner and the evening is still young. I don’t see a reason why we couldn’t.” You grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the kitchen. The two of you spend the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace just talking, until you were interrupted by the Queen Mothers arrival. “Mother I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” Francis got up from his chair to greet her and you quickly did the same. “I’m glad my son missed me so much.” After a short hug her eye fell on you, as you made a bow “I didn’t know we had guests.” “Guest.” Francis corrected her “Mother this is Lady y/n from the Seventeen Provinces, father and I met her and her family years ago and she finally found the time to visit.” “Queen Mother, it’s an honour to finally meet you.” You bowed once more. “It’s my pleasure dear. Francis never told me about a beautiful woman up north.” “I’m sure I mentioned her a couple of times mother.” “Does Mary know about this visit?” She asked when she sat down next to her son. “I haven’t spoken to Mary, so no she doesn’t.” Francis informed his mother “But y/n’s arrival is not a secret.” “Well we have to celebrate your arrival, we’ll have gathering for the occasion next week.” “With all due respect, I’m afraid I will have to leave the day after tomorrow.” You told her. “That’s alright, I am sure we can arrange something for tomorrow.” “You don’t have to go through the trouble, really.” The rest of the night was almost like an interrogation, questions varied from whether you were betrothed to the name of your horse. “I’m so sorry for my mother this evening.” Francis told you when he brought you to your quarters. “Don’t worry about it, she seems nice. A little protective maybe, but which mother isn’t.” When you got to the door you stopped him for a moment “I wanted to thank you for these days, it’s amazing to be apart of all this.” You leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek, but instead he pressed a kiss on your lips catching you by surprise. He brushed his fingers through your hair “Goodnight y/n.” The next morning you spend with Catherine who needed you for a dress fitting and wanted your opinion on almost everything for the evening. After a couple hours Francis joined you and his mother. “How has your day been so far?” He asked “Please tell me you are here to save me.” You whispered to him “I am.” He whispered back “Mother is it alright if I steal y/n away from you?” “Of course.” You hooked your arm in his like you had these past days and walked with him “Any plans or are there still rooms in the castle I haven’t seen?” “Well my little brothers wanted to spend some more time with you and there is a market in a near village. Any interest in going there with them?” “Sounds good.” “Good. After that I have a small surprise for you.” A big grin was stuck on his face, it was clear that he wouldn’t let anything. Bash was already waiting for you with his little brothers and the carriage. When you arrived at the market the youngest brother were out of the carriage before you knew it. And the three of you followed them were they went. Both Francis and Bash told you things about the products and the people you saw and you knew bash knew. “Did Francis tell where I came from?” You asked as you looked between the two men. “He might have mentioned something.” Bash answered honest “That’s okay.” You assured “It just showed, since you’re also not surprised that I don’t know so many things.” “Well….” “y/n! y/n!” Charles interrupted his older brother “Come with me!” He dragged you to his brother who was still stuck at a small stand with stuffed animals. “They seem wonderful, Charles.” “Can we have one y/n?” Henry looked hopeful to you. You quickly turned to look at Francis who nodded. “Which one do you like most?” You kneeled down to their height. It seemed like the most difficult decision in their lives but after some time bash came to help. “You really have to choose now, there is more to see.” “I think they almost got it.” Eventually both boys were satisfied with their choice and you payed the woman a little extra. “Thank you for your patience.” Francis was back with you again after a couple stands and you continued “Will we see you tomorrow?” Henry asked you You kneeled down to their height once more “I am afraid not, but if you hug your animals you can think of me.” Henry pressed the animal closer to him before giving you a hug “Bye y/n” “Bye henry.” Charles looked like he was sunken in his mind “What is it Charles?” “Well first Mary left and now you.” You pulled the little boy into a hug and whispered in his ear “Mary will be back, I promise. Just don’t tell you brothers yet.” His frown turned into a smile and he seemed very satisfied with your answer. “Thank you y/n.” “Will I see you tonight at the party?” You asked Sebastian when he wanted to walk away with his brothers “Of course, now have fun together.” He winked to his brother. The two of you walked outside the castle wall towards the lake, when Francis curiosity kicked in “What did you tell Charles?” “That is our little secret.” You grinned. “Believe me it’s not a big deal, just something to cheer a little boy up.” “Alright, talking secrets. Time to close your eyes.” He covered you eyes and led you a little further before telling you to open them again. There was a small boat which looked hand crafted and Francis looked so proud of it “Wow, I didn’t know kings were allowed to sail.” “They can if their mothers don’t know about it.” Francis helped you into the boat, before pushing it into the water and hopping in himself. When you were far enough on the water the two could speak out completely free and he did just that “Y/n about last night..” Francis hesitated “I know, that was a mistake.” He looked a bit shocked “It wasn’t, maybe it wasn’t fair to you. But it was not a mistake.” “What do you mean?” He took a deep breath “We were never supposed to meet, but we did and that means something.” He brushed his fingers through your hair “I am going to enjoy these last moments together, if you will allow me too.” “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” You enjoyed yourself on the lake until it was time get back to the castle again. “I’ll see you tonight.” He kissed your hand before leaving you on your own.

A maid was send to help you change into the gown, which was an odd feeling. “Francis, I thought you’d wait for me at the party.” “Most people think you are my mistress already, I don’t see why I can’t have you at my arm tonight, especially since it’s our last one together.” He offered you his arm which you gratefully took. “May I tell you, you look beautiful.” “You don’t look so bad yourself.” You told him “Aren’t you worried what Mary will think?” “We haven’t been in a good place lately, problems with here are worried for later. At this moment I’m just worried I’ll miss you when you leave.” You didn’t have an answer to that, you felt the same but it was so wrong. “Lost for words?” “Not necessarily lost for words, more filled with words I can’t say without getting more into this then I already am.” “Then allow me to give you something to get us there either way.” He pulled a small gold necklace from his pocket with a small charm of their family crest. “That way you can at least remember me and my family.” “Thank you Francis.” When you finally arrived at the party the room was filled with people, food, wine and music. Everything you would expect from a royal festivity. “Care to dance?” Francis suggested. You looked nervously at the people who were actually dancing “I don’t really know how.” “Just follow my lead.” Francis took your hand and guided you to the dance floor. “People are watching.” You tried to find an excuse He turned your face to his “Just keep your eyes on me.” Francis guided you over the dancefloor and you started to forget about the people around you. When the song ended people around you started to clap, causing you to blush. But that didn’t stop you from dancing a couple more times. “Are you sure you don’t like to stay a bit longer y/n?” Catherine asked you when you finished dancing and Francis was talking to a bunch of important people “Francis seems to take a liking in you, you could live quite the life as the King’s mistress.” To you it was insane that someone would even consider that thought, yet you remembered it was just the way it was during that time. “As honoured as I would be, it’s best if Francis and I stay friends.” “It’s your choice dear.” She told you. In the corner of your eye you saw Lord Narcisse arriving, who immediately caught Catherine her attention. “Your Higness, Lady y/n.”   You made a small curtsy “Lord Narcisse.” You greeted him “I heard you are leaving our presence tomorrow already?” Lord Narcisse informed “Unfortunately I have to, as I told you there is a lot of tension in the northern provinces.” You quickly tried a way to continue the lie without changing anything “My father gave me permission to travel here for three days but he is always worried when I am away. You know how fathers are about their always worrying about their daughters.” “Yet he allowed you to travel here on your own?” “I convinced him that it would be safer to travel alone, it would be less suspicious.” “But…” Narcisse tried once again. “Please Narcisse, you don’t have to drill the girl.” Catherine stopped him “Instead make yourself useful and dance.” “Of course.” He took her hand “If you excuse us.” And guided her towards the dancefloor. Francis had noticed his mother talking to you “Please tell me she didn’t ask you to be my mistress.” “She did just that.” “I am so sorry about that.” “Don’t be.” You brushed it off “It’s hardly an insult when the former Queen of France asks you to be the Kings mistress.” “Is that still something they do in your time?” He asked curiously You shook your head “No the woman would have her husbands head in most cases. Although not literally since that’s illegal in most places.” “Interesting.” “Before this gets more gruesome.” Bash interrupted  “Would you mind another dance y/n?” “I’d love too.” You took bash hand who guided you to the floor. You danced in silence until halfway through the dance, when bash broke the silence “Francis seems very happy around you.” “I was afraid of that.” “You seem very happy too.” “This was never supposed to happen. “The both of you will be okay.” He tried to assure you “I think you should be grateful to have met, I know Francis is.” “You are probably right.” You bowed when the number was over, before Bash guided you back to Francis. “Y/n it was an honour to meet you.” Bash kissed your hand “I hope life will threat you kind.” “Thank you bash, it was great to meet you too. May I hug you?” Bash nodded and you leaned in “Everything will be alright.” And with that he left, while you an Francis spend the rest of the evening and night in each others company. The next morning Francis surprised you with a picnic by the lake, the both of you knew it would be the last time you’d spend together. After a couple of hours you broke a silence that had fallen. “It’s time for me to leave Francis.” “Are you sure?” “Me being here is already a big risk for altering the timeline, the longer I stay the greater the risk.” You weren’t sure if you tried to make it easier for him or for yourself. “But I want you to “Will I ever see you again?” “I’m afraid not, but if you need me you can always see if you can get me a message by writing on something that will last over time.” It was meant as a joke, but a part of you hoped that he would do just that. “I’ll remember that.” He smiled “You’re quite the woman y/n.” Francis ran his fingers through your hair one last time, already missing you. “I left you something in my quarters so you’ll remember me.” You gave him a small smile. As much as you wanted to stay here, you knew you couldn’t “Goodbye Francis.” After pressing a kiss to his cheek you pressed the button on the bracelet, back to your own time like these days had never happened.

[black-dhalias]

The Two Towers

Francis Valois X Reader 

You lay in the bed you share with Francis, body shielded by the heavy plush duvets. Smooth against your skin, brushing as you shift. He marries her tomorrow, Queen Mary of Scotland will be his wife, and it leaves you in a predicament. As the daughter of an unimportant lord, your place in court is secured only by your long term relationship with Francis. Mary wondered what would happen when he married, would he give you up or would he be like his father? So many questions, and you wondered how the answers would play out. Have a mistress throughout his marriage, and his reign. When you feel the bed shift, you look over at him, who is actually looking over at you. Maybe you won’t admit it to him, look in those blue eyes and say the truth; but even you wondered what would happen after the wedding.

“Do you-“ Your father always said marry for money, but you don’t any rich man would take you. “My dearest Y/N… Will you stay with me, even after tomorrow?” He pauses. “You mean so much to me, I can’t imagine a forever that doesn’t have you in it.” His soft brush against your cheek, the way his fingers are without imperfection.

“I don’t believe that’s a choice I can make.” You are a nothing compared to him… He is the future king of France, and you will always come second to him. If he chooses to keep you in his bed, in his arms—then he’d be keeping scandal close to court. Instead of staying far from the scandal.

The way his lips brush against your temple, your eyes close. “My love, it is a choice ONLY you can make.” Is it though? You really are not sure what it means to make that choice.

When he is at the end of the aisle, it is not Mary in here white he is looking at, but you in your emerald ensemble. Your eyes glittering as you smile at him. Your Francis. He has always been yours, and last night, when faced with the choice of walking away—you really couldn’t leave. Because you are as much his as he is yours. You nod. He can marry for the good of France, but you will stay until you are unable to stay. And even then. You would choose Francis in any lifetime and you cannot imagine a lifetime without him. He will marry for the good of country, for France—but you will love him for his sake, and your own. You love him. You have loved him since he met you in the music room.

When he saw you, your music tutor absolutely infuriated by your inability to pay them any mind, or any attention to the written notes. You sing what you want to sing, and do as you please—you laugh as the tutors cheeks turn red with anger. You smile as you sing another octave higher. To which the tutor responds by stomping off. Francis applauded, you remember that clearly… “Ive never seen him so upset.” “Oh he loathes me.” You laugh again, “I’m Y/N.”

Francis feverishly glances over at you as Mary, his wife, moves towards you rapidly. Not unkempt, just faster than a brisk walk. You were always respectful before the marriage, especially in public; never spoke to him out of turn, never even danced, and never overshadowed Mary. Because it is not your intention to make her feel like Francis prefers you, that’s not fair.

You swallow, but stand your ground and smile before you bow lowly in respect. “Queen Mary.” She smiles, a beautiful smile, one that makes you wonder. Beautiful.

“Lady Y/N! I wanted to ask you a favor…” A favor? You can hardly imagine what good asking you a favor could do, when she’s the Queen of Scotland. But you nod, and take her extended arm.

“Dance with Francis—he’s an absolute bore at these parties, all he does is stare at you and act like he wasn’t staring at you when someone notices.” Your eyes widen, as you truly begin to realize where she is leading you to—who. Francis is so close, you can see the shimmer of lights hitting his golden halo of curls.

“But Mary…”

“No buts… God will need to help us all if he spends another party pouting in the corner.”

“I never meant to…” She slows her walk, looking at you with a soft and kind smile.

“Y/N… You were here years before I was. And you’ll likely far exceed my time here. I always knew it was you.” Your nerves are seemingly melting away as you glance over at her. Hardly able to believe what she is saying, “I married him for country, but he loves you.” She doesn’t stop smiling, beginning to walk through the crowd of movement. “Y/N. I want us to be friends. To work together. A united front.”

The wife and the mistress… A united front of support for the future king, maybe it could be strong, but you worry about the differences. You don’t have a country, or any stake in this without Francis—you will always be able to put him first. Without any thoughts. “But for now—just dance with the lovesick puppy.” You nod, walking in the direction of Francis, beautiful blonde curls that frame his features so perfectly.

“What-?” His expression is one of shock, and a tad worried; he can’t remember the last time you broke your one rule. You always swore you would never overstep, despite his insistence that it is okay. So why now? Why the evening of his wedding did you decide you were okay with not playing pretend. You shush him, and take him by the arm—dragging him towards the center floor.

“Just dance with me, love.” It sounds so easy, and it is—he pulls you in close, the deep black tone of his overcoat clashing with the emerald shade of your dress. The gold adornments standing out against the deep colors. His hand at the small of your back, he holds on tight and takes your hand into his. This is more than just a dance for him, it means the world. It makes the whole world stop, and just like that—you are his bride. He didn’t marry Mary, but instead, it was the wedding of his dreams with you as the center of everyone’s attention.

“I think I can manage that.”

So you dance, and for every look you receive—Francis�� smile only grows. It heals the wounds those stares intend to leave you with, and makes them simply obsolete things in your peripheral. You smile, and he smiles—and you dance until your feet hurt. You love him, and that’s okay. He loves you—you glance at Mary, who is smiling at you both, talking with Lola. He loves you, and that’s okay.

Yet those smiles have almost completely faded over the last few years, as you try to force a smile while you finish your breakfast. Tension thick, and you just keep your gaze on your book… Francis and Mary have always made an effort to take breakfast together, with you sitting to Francis right and them both at the heads of the table. Usually, one or two of Mary’s ladies would join—or Catherine. But this time it is just you, and them.

You take your last bite of biscuit and the last sip of your juice, and close the book you have vainly kept in front of you. Your smile is tense, as you finally glance between the pair and begin to speak: “Well I believe I am going to take my leave now. As I am not qualified to be your marriage counselor.” You stand.

“No Y/N. Sit down.” You sit. Her words are harsh and fiery, and you don’t like it, but you listen because she is your Queen. Maybe they’ll stop, or maybe they will let you leave, but you are stuck for now. Between the feuding royals, and whatever happened between them over the last few weeks.

“Honestly, I really do think I should go…” But it is all in vain, as Francis tries to ignore it all by focusing on his breakfast.

“Tell them how you locked me in a tower.” She hmmms, and you groan—you told Francis that was an idiotic plan when he ran it by you one night. As a hypothetical, but now you know that it was never a hypothetical question. It was a reality for the Queen of Scots, but you just don’t understand why he would do such a rash thing. Francis is usually smarter than that. “How it was for my own good, when the truth is—you were just upset I was going to Scotland.”

It was always her intention to go back to Scotland, and Francis always seemed supportive of that intention. You try to read him, but his expression is even. Unmoving. “Francis-?” He hushes you, his eyes have grown darker than you expected them to be. He’s never like this.

“Mary, did you expect me to let you run off with your lover to Scotland? Wives don’t have the same graces as husbands. And Queens don’t get to runaway just because they’re lonely.”

“You’ve given me no choice, Francis!”

“Mary-?” You don’t even know who to address, and wish you were far away from this conflict.

“No. I am alone in this marriage. I have been from the beginning.” She is seething. “You have always had your Y/N… I needed that, and that was Conde!” That’s why you were here, because you were the center of this fight without ever intending to be. So much for a united front.

“You don’t understand what that means.”

“Oh Francis—I understand perfectly. Y/N-“


“Don’t bring Y/N into this!” You should have just left, but instead you lean back into your chair, feeling smaller than before. Maybe you made the wrong choice that night.

“How can I not? When I don’t get to have what you have.”

“You just can’t-“

“Y/N deserves better. And so do I.”

She is gone, and you are left with Francis in silence. Your throat is tight and you just have to face the silence head on, without worry. But you don’t. You sit there in your chair, looking at the table with disdain.

“Y/N…” You shake your head, eyes misted over as you try to process everything that was said. He locked her in a tower. You have grown to respect Mary, she’s good to have at your side in moments of crisis—especially when your back is pressed against the wall. She’s a survivor.

Maybe you should speak, explain what’s happening in your head, but you can’t. You push up from the table and walk away without another word, you have to find Mary. Or an empty room. Whichever comes first.

Once both women have left the room, Francis leans his head into his palms—chest heaving. He had to do it. That’s what he tells himself, it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded at the moment as he swallows. 

“Well well, your majesty. Quite a feat to piss off the wife and the mistress, all before breakfast.” Narcisse. He hates him, that bastard Lord who has tortured him these last weeks. He has forced him to make decisions that have put incredible distance between him, and the two closest people he has. His Y/N, and his wife. Created a rift that will never heal over the same as before.

“Go away Narcisse.” Francis can hear the smirk, the snide smile of the devil that occupies French Court. He is never far away, but always close and always up to something.

“Mmmmm, now why would I do that? When I need you to do something, for me. I mean, France.” More sneaky lies, that will cost him everything that is good. This has defined what kind of King he will be, and it is not the kind he ever intended to be.

[escapeartistwrites]

Being Mated/Married to Jack.

Jack is very protective of you, especially around people/vampires he doesn't know.

He'll kill Benjamin if he ever comes near you.

Jack is a very loving, affectionate kind of person, so He'll want to hold your hand and cuddle with you a lot.

Jack will always tell you that you're beautiful, even when you're wearing sweats and yoga pants.

He'll share all of his pictures with you, especially the ones he drew of you. Those are his favorite ones.

He'll want you to watch sunsets with him. Sitting on the porch swing with his arm around you.

He'll kiss your forehead a lot, as well as your lips.

He'll trust you with his deepest, darkest secrets.

If he hurt you in any way, it would utterly devastate him. He would never forgive himself.

He's not cocky or selfish. He doesn't have anything to prove to anyone. Unlike other men.

He's a deep thinking, deep feeling person. He loves fiercely and unconditionally, especially you. You're the important person to him.

He's not old fashioned as you would expect, he's not all "women belong in the kitchen" "Cleaning the house is women's work" No, he's a man who will help out weather you want/need him to or not.

[superseal76]

So I’ve come to a conclusion that episode 1x17 of Reign might be Frary’s best episode, (aside from their wedding and 3x05) cause Mary went straight to Francis with her contract issue and he was so supportive (just look at his smile in the last pic he’s like, “Okay I want her to have my children.”) and just really sweet😍 I mean look at them working and plotting together. Ugh so cute😍😭 and Mary telling Catherine that Francis would come with her to Scotland and rule there *HEART CLUTCH* and then the parallels of Mary saying to Francis that she hopes to be a good queen!! It’s all too much they’re so CUTE! And then Francis always wanting to protect her I just love them😍

[iwritecharacterstories]

It's not going to be pretty.

[retvenkos]

we burn just like stars (gone before our time) | f.v.

Reign - Francis Valois x Reader, angst, slight fluff requested

tw: forbidden love, burning imagery

word count: 1.7k

prompt: “lie to me, then.”

Summary: "I can't love you." And that phrase followed (Y/n) and Francis like a phantom they couldn’t shake.

"I can't love you."

And it was the first thing (Y/n) knew. 

From the moment they had been born, (Y/n) and Francis had existed with the knowledge that they would be the other's ruin. It was fated - written in the stars. The Medici family and the (L/n) family had a long history of war, the two in constant battle, always standing at opposing ends of politics and values, each family fighting for moral high ground over the other. For generations, there had been nothing but hatred between the two families - a spitting, bitter rivalry that would only end in bloodshed.

(Y/n) and Francis were groomed from birth, learning to become the other's ruin with a vengeance sticking behind their teeth and a pride igniting in their eyes. Beneath their fingertips lay gunpowder, and within their grins lay daggers. From the moment they met, (Y/n) and Francis were expected to be the other's ruin.

Neither could have guessed how gradual and intimate that devastation would become.

It had started with a laugh - a clear, almost joyful sound that Francis allowed himself when the two were sparring, their blades clashing together and making sparks from steel and air. He had gotten the upper hand and (Y/n) swore lowly, not at the Medici's or the Valois' but God himself. Francis had laughed and pressed forth with more vigor than before. (Y/n) blocked his onslaught with fervor, and sparks ignited, the beginnings of a fire that they would learn to love.

From there, it was the little things: the triumphant smile (Y/n) wore when they won at chess, the way Francis stuck his tongue in his cheek when he was annoyed, the comments that (Y/n) made about the ridiculous nobles at court, the strands of curled hair that got in Francis' eyes, and the way that (Y/n) took a stroll at night, daring to venture the castle after dark just to look at the stars from a proper vantage point. 

"I can't love you."

Francis mulled over those words for years before saying them aloud, fathoming that very distinct thought hundreds of times over before he allowed them to slip out. He almost permitted himself to speak that phrase more times than could count.

Francis almost said it the first time they stared into each other's eyes, on the precipice of something more. He almost said it when (Y/n) rushed to his side after a riding accident put him in the infirmary. He almost said it whenever he found them roaming in the castle, comfortable enough to be content. And, perhaps most damning of all, Francis almost said it every time he and (Y/n) had to feign animosity toward one another when relatives were around, both of them throwing sharp words over their shoulder but softening the blow with a wink that nearly rendered the other speechless.

"I can't love you."

Francis said it the first time they kissed, in the dark of night, their worlds colliding after an attack on the castle left both of them shaken to the core and yearning for something safe. They were in his chambers, sitting on the floor, and (Y/n) was in his arms, their expression more vivid than anything he could have ever imagined.

"I can't love you," and his forehead pressed against theirs, and his eyes looked to the floor, filled with an anguish that could only be described as love.

"I know." and (Y/n) kissed him again, trying to burn away the ire that pooled within them with a feeling much more potent.

It couldn't happen, but it did, and even though they were created to be each other's ruin, (Y/n) and Francis came to crave their demolition, finding something holy in the wreckage.

Over time, the two had learned to hear something more from those bitter words - something about the hurt placed in those syllables that let on the deepest kind of affection. There was an 'I love you,' hidden in those words, tangled amongst the thorns of their reality and nestled amongst heartache. There was a yearning in the utterance of those four words (and that brief but bittersweet response) - the kind of longing that was like a slow-acting poison, tainting them inch by inch.

But it was beautiful, and perhaps that was the worst sin of them all.

"I don't want this to change me," (Y/n) had said one day, hidden in the alcove of a deserted corridor. The sun filtered in at a slanted angle, casting Francis in golden light as he held them close, something soft in his expression. The two had spent the morning together, and through the hours, a pensive feeling had descended upon them - something that made Francis seem more like a king. (Y/n) had pondered him in those hours before the rest of the world bothered them, and something curious settled in their bones.

"I believe it already has," Francis chuckled, an eyebrow raised and his usual smile gracing his features. (Y/n) committed it to memory, knowing that they would always want to remember him like this.

"I mean, I don't want to have hatred poison this." (Y/n) pulled their gaze away from Francis to stare at his jacket, straightening the fabric to preoccupy their mind, as it couldn't fathom all that they were saying. "I don't want to hate Mary for having to wed you, or the rest of the world for putting us here - together but apart. Hate is terrible. You never recover from it."

"Then don't hate anyone," Francis said, his words laced with such conviction that it almost sounded possible. He put a gentle hand to (Y/n)'s cheek and drew their gaze, holding them in his mind's eye with all the care he possessed. "(Y/n), we always knew that this couldn't happen, but it did, and I cannot bring myself to feel sorry about it. You are one of the best things to happen to me, and I..."

And the silence after was uniquely crushing. 

"Say it. Please."

And (Y/n) knew it was corrupt to request such a thing, but they were devastated already.

Francis was tragically beautiful as he stared at them, his torn expression almost angelic - with hair spun from gold and eyes like the clear skies above. A tear hit his cheek, rain falling on sand. He lowered his head slowly, as though gravity weighed on him especially, dragging him downward. He whispered, and every syllable was a knife to his heart. "I cannot love you."

"I know," and tears of their own fell, yet (Y/n) wiped his. "But lie to me, then, if you cannot. Just let me hear it the way I've imagined thousands of times before."

"It would not be a lie."

(Y/n) breathed out, an exhale that was more pained than it ought to be.

(Y/n) took a step away from Francis, pressing their back against the cool stone, and sliding down to the floor. They turned their face to the heavens, and there was little solace in what lay above.

"Can I tell you a lie, then? I know a most beautiful fantasy."

Francis turned to them, and there was a special kind of desolation that gripped him, a ruin that would leave him broken and heaving, but carried a substance - the opposite of the hollowness that threatened to swallow him whole.

Francis slid down the wall, and here, on the ground, he could handle it.

"Lie to me."

And he prayed it would be sweet at the end and not just bitter.

"One day, there will be a grand celebration - a wedding, maybe, and you and I will dance together. Our families will be furious, but I will say that the Valois' are not the Medici's and that at you, no anger will persist."

"And do they agree to your statement?"

"They do - because I will say at that moment that I love you, and I always have. That night we'll go out under the stars, and you will kiss me for all of the heavens to see. We will be favored by the universe, then, and all will work in our favor."

"In this lie, I marry you," Francis spoke - a thickness to his words, as though he struggled to get them out. But he smiled throughout, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears and that same kind of ruinous love. (Y/n) could not look away. "It's a little reception - in the woods where we can take off our shoes and dance in the earth. And we will leave Court behind. We'll be blacksmiths in a small village, where we know everyone and there's only one type of bread."

(Y/n) chuckled, their voice caught between joy and sorrow. Francis stretched out his legs and knocked his against theirs. The feeling of (Y/n) beside him wasn't something he ever wanted to forget, and yet he could already feel it slipping away.

"Are we happy together?" And (Y/n)'s voice was a sweet but corrupted wine that he willingly drank, for fear he might never hear such hope again.

"Yes." Francis smiled, and a wiser man wouldn't have spoken such words because beautiful dreams made for poisoned realities, but this moment was precious, and the divinity in (Y/n)'s eyes was worth all the suffering in the world. "At night, we'll lay down beside each other and talk until we fall asleep, and in the morning, we'll wake up in each other's arms. I'll whisper it against your lips then, and you will know what it tastes like when you are loved."

Tears slipped down the curve of (Y/n)'s cheek, and in the sunlight, they glistened. Francis could not look away from them, and their love was like that of a star - far away and burning, beautiful but unattainable.

"Hold me now, and I will feel it."

Francis surged forward and held them with such a strength that if anyone saw them, they would have wept at how tragic a beautiful thing could be. "I love you." And perhaps it was cruel to say it now, but they were already burning, and there was nothing to be done. Francis had mulled over those words for years, and now he allowed them to slip out.

"I know," (Y/n) breathed, and when their voice allowed for something stronger than a sigh, (Y/n) pressed their forehead against his, their eyes filled with an anguish that could only be described as love. "And Francis Valois, I love you."

Francis kissed them, and together they burned, the ruin they were always meant to be.

-- taglist: @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero​ // message me if you want to be added!

[writewithyoursoul-francis]

The Queen's Lady. Chapter One

Setting: A convent/catholic school for girls. 

Sister Rose: Y/N?....Y/N? Are you up yet?

Walking into the sleeping chambers.

Sister Rose: Some one get that child out of bed.

Claire: Y/N? Y/N? Don't make me light a fire under your bum.

She pulls back the sheets.

Claire: Lovely, just lovely. Sister Rose? 

Sister Rose runs into the room and sure enough you're not in your bed. 

Sister Rose: Not again.

She runs out of the room.

Meanwhile you're running threw a field as fast as you can, hoping no one is following you.

Sister Rose knocks on the head priests door.

Father Mendel: Sister Rose. I didn't expect to see you here today. How are the girls?

Sister Rose: Their all fine Father Mendel, but we do have a slight....matter

Father Mendel: Y/N?

Sister Rose: Yes Father, she's....

Father Mendel: run away again?

Sister Rose puts her head down.

Father Mendel: That child has no respect for this institution. She runs around like a wild animal.

Sister Rose: Father Mendel?

Father Mendel: She speaks more than she listens. The other girls are starting to look up to her. We can't keep allowing this behavior. Find her and then bring her to my office.

Sister Rose: Yes, Father.

[francisvaloiswritings]

Francis and Mistletoe (short version)

You're curiously walking around the castle, watching the servants decorate for Christmas. One decoration in particular catches your eye. Francis starts walking beside you.

You: Francis? Why are the servants hanging herbs everywhere?

Francis: The mistletoes, you mean? My mother's idea.

You: What does a remedy for women's problems have to do with Yuletide?

Francis: As part of the the custom, men are allowed to steal a kiss from any woman caught standing under it and refusing a kiss is bad luck. Another tradition instructs the merrymakers to pluck a single berry from the mistletoe with each kiss, and to stop when all the berries are gone.

You: What a silly tradition

Francis: Yes

You: (softly) But I like silly.

You smile at each other. And carry on walking.

[wheremysoulgoestoescape-writings]

Francis and Mistletoe

It's an enchanting evening at French Court. King Henry is throwing a huge party in honor of Christmas and the winter solstice. Francis suddenly disappears as his father announce his son's wedding to Mary Stuart. You see him rushing out and you follow him.

You: Francis?....Francis?

You find him standing under one of the many mistletoes that the servants have put up. The candle light is just so that it cast an angelic light upon him.

You: Francis.

Francis: We both agree that you being my mistress is not an option. But it's not our only option. I can marry someone I don't love or...

He takes your hand and gets down on one knee. You're overwhelmed with emotions.

Francis: I can marry someone I do.

You: Francis?

Francis: I love you. And I will do anything to be with you. Y/N, Will You Marry Me?

You don't say anything, you just jump into his arms and kiss his lips.

You: Yes Francis. Yes I'll marry you.

[black-dhalias]

Imagine Scenarios Ideas

These imagines are scenarios that Id like to write for, but I’m not sure there’s a demand. These ideas are of my own creation, so I would prefer it if they weren’t taken without asking.

{Can Request}

Ahkmenrah X GN!Reader • You were Ahkmenrah’s promised bride, and accidentally die before the wedding (hint hint : not really an accident). But through a ritual, a priest is able to keep your soul from passing and return it to your body. However, the price is that you will always reincarnate. You are forced to marry Kamunrah after Ahkmenrah dies, and after finding out Ahkmenrah was murdered by the same priest who saved you. You take your own life. However, after centuries of reincarnation—you reunite with Ahkmenrah at the musuem. Despite your doubt, he is able to convince you that it is him.

Sam Uley X Demigod!Reader • Sam had figured he wasn’t going to get an imprint pretty soon after half his pack had imprinted. He nearly expected you to never exist at all, or exist in another world entirely. What he didn’t know is that you were at Camp Half Blood you’re whole life—a daughter of Hephaestus, a fire bender and hero extraordinaire. But that life appealed less to you now, so you moved back home with your mom. To Forks, Washington. You found out about the Cullens pretty quick, almost as fast as they figured you out. So imagine the wolves surprise when you show up at the Newborn training session. Sam imprints and protectively asks Edward why you’re there? “How many of you have fought in a war before?” No answer. You spark flames on your fingers and smile a little, “Brilliant.”

Lord Milori X F!Reader • Milori had figured he was pretty much useless to Pixie Hollow after his wing broke. Useless to the winter fairies, to his season and home. What goes around comes around—because he meets another fairy with a broken wing, but he learns what they went through. The struggle that came with being flightless—how they learned to function and serve. You were a fast flying fairy, that couldn’t fly. However, your ability to manipulate the winds didn’t change and is incredibly useful for creating wintery winds. Life moves on, and slowly, Milori begins to too. That’s when you show him flight can be attained, you just have to make a friend first.

Young!Charles Xavier X GN!Reader • You are Charles long term partner, his most trusted confident in the whole world. You support his dreams, and he supports your adventures. The interesting thing about the two of you is how opposite you are—while his mutation is primarily mental, your mutation is purely physical. You can take any amount of hits and take no damage, but as you absorb that momentum—you’re able to reroute it to your attacker. You think it’s some sort of force shield, and you’re able to manipulate it to do damage too. It makes you useful in situations, where they’re trying to break in or out of somewhere. However, after you’ve put together the first class— while all hanging out, the others make a comment about it. How opposite you are from each other.

Aemond Targaryen X Velaryon!Mixed!Reader • You are ax in your parents agreement, the only trueborn to come from their marriage. A 2nd born girl set to inherit no more than a name and a husband. When Cregan Stark approaches as a suitor, you are pushed into a whirlwind of jealousy and resentment… “To the sibling of the bastards, and daughter of the whore—may the North be as cold as she is.”

Castiel X Shadowhunter!F!Reader • You were Castiel’s mortal lover for a period of time before Dean and Sam. He had a different vessel at that point. However, when you were prepared to run away from the shadow hunter life. You fell in love with him, but as a Lightwood, nothing is simple when it comes to love. So he is forced to leave you wondering. You grew bitter and trained harder, it drained you of life faster than anything else. You became good. You and Alec trained together, and you worked with Clary—you ended up becoming her parabatai. You got caught though, because others slipped up. At the same time, Castiel needs some extra support on a case with Sam and Dean—and so begins the road to a reunion.

[tobyregbocharacterstories]

Setting: There's a phonograph on the table next to you. You're going through old vinyl records, fondly remembering your favorite songs.

Jack enters the room and notices the phonograph.

Jack: I haven't seen one of those since the 40's.

You turn and smile.

You: Neither have I.

You both sit on a couch.

You: I loved the 40s. I would of stayed there forever if I could.

Jack starts going through the vinyl records and reading off the songs.

Jack: "The way you look tonight" Tony Bennett.

You: Where?

He shows you the record.

Jack: There.

You: Aww that was my favorite song. I'd listen to it over and over until the record gave out and then I'd have to go buy another one.

Seeing how happy remembering that song makes you feel. Jack stands up and walks towards the phonograph, puts the record in.

Jack: Would you like to dance?

You: What? Are you serious?

Jack: Of course I'm serious. Would you dance with me?

You: (big smile) Yes.

You make your way over to him and he puts the pin on the record to start the song.

"Someday, when I'm awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow

Just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight......."