martyrshot·:
She laughs a little at his question – he always seems so taken aback when she showers him with her affections, and it only makes her want to love him more. She wonders how much she needs to tell him her feelings, grasp his hands, throw her arms about him – before he’ll realise that she’s serious, that she needs no reason other than her love for him.
‘ No reason, ’ she muses, her expression soft, her gaze cherishing. ‘ – do I need one to tell you that I have feelings for you? I want to tell you every day … ’ She squeezes his hand. ‘ Maybe even more often than that. ’
And he laughs with her a gentle beating in his heart. He's not used to it, such softeness and warmth in someone. He's always had such coldness in his life. It's foreign, she's foreign. But he wants to collide with that warmth.
His heart is thumping against his chest and the only thing his body knows to do is to look away. But his heart doesn't, he keeps green eyes on her beautiful ones.
" I want to tell it to you too. " he squeezes back and leans in, " I'm sorry I shouldn't be acting so surprised anymore. You're just --- " warm, everything he's ever needed, a light in all this war and all the death he's caused, everything.
" Stunning me is all . "








