#messianique

       “ hmm. ” the sound may be noncommittal, but Gellert’s feet cease their dangling from his ( improper but decidedly pleasant ) high-perch on the wooden table. he leans in, weight shifting forward, fingers lacing together into a loose web. watches as Albus moves about like a restless bee. it is the very image of domesticity, a picture which provides Gellert with a great deal of amusement. there is something to be said about a(n exceptionally) brilliant mind being put on the shelf to tend to such menial tasks. 

but here they are. 

Gellert doesn’t move to help. instead, he observes. sneaking in through the window, the golden hour sunlight burns Albus’s hair with shades of auburn and polished bronze; it’s magnificent. Gellert’s eyes become transfixed as if by the will of a sticking charm.

            ‘ the king has charged me with escorting you to orkney. ‘ which actually meant a lot of arthur asking, lancelot trying to talk him out of it, lancelot trying to distract him with kisses, and then lancelot doing what arthur asked. just like they both knew he would. the new queen’s sister. he was curious, yes, but he hadn’t been curious enough for this. what would prompt a sister to go to such lengths?

@messianique​ sent: ✉ for LANCELOT!

deleted  ≫ LANCE: do you hate me for some reason? i could have sworn you looked like you wanted to push me into the water the whole time. 

deleted  ≫ LANCE: i hate to tell you this but the dogs were a test. good news is you passed

deleted  ≫ LANCE: god, i keep having the weirdest dreams about you and art. and me. 

deleted  ≫ LANCE: i never expected to fall in love with you. not like this. i wish i knew what to do about it. 

deleted  ≫ LANCE: i don’t want to be away from you, but everything hurts and i’m so confused and

sent  ≫ LANCE: i miss you

What was that, again? About focus? Harry looks up from his reading.

“      Professor?    ——-     Can I ask you something?     ”

@messianique​ (ARTHUR!) said: “can i kiss you?” to GUINEVERE!

          she laughs! how can she help it? though it is not at him, but at those words, those unexpected words, seeking her permission for something so expected. but that laughter is only the outward expression of a strange sort of curiosity already welling up: what sort of man have i married? for he is a man of great renown, a high king, and he is asking if he can kiss his wife. (his wife of scant hours, perhaps, and yet wife nonetheless.) they have been blessed and closed up in this room together, and they have never been so much alone, and yet she does not feel the anxiety she thought she would. she does not know just what she feels, though perhaps that strange curiosity from before could sum it up. her fingers touch his face, explore it, and though the feeling that will come later is not there just yet, she smiles as her smooth fingers pass across the roughness of his beard. her fingers pause upon his lips, and she bites her own lip at the mix of gentleness and boldness. “i would be disappointed, if you did not,” she says, lets her hand fall to his chest as she looks up at him.

        had it really only been a week since they’d last had one of their girls’ nights? it felt far longer than that. not that they didn’t hang out during the week as well but nothing compared to getting together at one of their places, watching movies and dishing out all the GOSSIP they’d heard since their last sleepover until they physically couldn’t stay awake anymore. the very definition of the perfect girls’ night, and the brunch that followed the next morning is always an absolute delight. sansa practically f l o a t e d around the room, her excitement serving as wings, as she put the last batch of baked goods on a plate and left them on the living room table. only seconds later the doorbell RANG.