All I have to say is that I did not write this. All of the credit goes to PerfectTempest on quizilla.com . She is REALLY awesome, and writes the best teste results. If you would like to take this teste go to
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When Arthur stormed into the house, you knew something was wrong. Moody to begin with, the Brit seemed even mais worked up than usual as you slinked over to him. Yanking at his hair, he failed to perceive your approach as you draped your arms around his shoulders. “Hello, love!” You greeted, beijar his cheek warmly.
Shrieking, Arthur exclaimed, “Gah! Space, space!”
Pouting, you replied, “Don’t get your panties in a bunch! Sheesh!” You took a assento seguinte to him and noticed that he looked ‘off his rocker’, as he would say. “What’s wrong, Arthur?” You stroked his cheek gently. “Did something happen at the World Meeting?”
“Ugh, just those gits, America and France! Argh!” Arthur fumed.
“Tell me what happened?” You ran your fingers through his messy blonde hair.
“They drive me crazy! They kept teasing me,” he mumbled.
Almost amused, you raised an eyebrow, but carefully kept your tone concerned. “Teasing you? About what, hun?” Though he cast you a woeful glare, as if you were supposed to know, you continued watching him, letting him vent as he needed.
“I just…well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time…”
Blinking, you had to make sure you had heard that one correctly. “Something you’ve meaning to tell me?” He nodded sheepishly, red as could be, and you wondered what it was. Of course, he wouldn’t give anything away and seemed to become mais difficult—if that was possible. Your impossible Brit dealt with you, though, so patience could be prescribed to any situation, especially at his expense.
“What do you think it is?” Arthur snapped. “I just—everyone knows!”
Inkling of hope burgeoning, you wondered if he was trying to propose to you.
“And it’s not fair because they always ask me when I will!”
You smiled oh-so knowingly; he was trying to propose to you!
“For months now, I’ve been trying, but it’s hard!”
This was too adorable and you grew mais confident.
“Just please, promise me you won’t laugh!”
Gently, you leaned progressivo, para a frente and kissed Arthur, shutting him up. Listening to him drive himself insane was cute, but you didn’t want his pride to be damaged permanently. When his lips pressed eagerly into yours, you wished for him to be all yours. Determined to have this wish granted, you calmly and playfully replied, “Chances are, I will probably say yes, so why don’t you ask?”
Groaning and grimacing, Arthur launched himself to his feet, muttering, “Just a minute,” and stormed to the other room. Sitting on the couch, waiting for his return, you couldn’t help but smile as he arrived cradling rosas in one arm, carrying chocolates in one hand, an intricately decorated box in the other. Readying himself, clearing his throat, Arthur dithered and then fell to one knee before you.
So romantic and sweet was this man that your coração raced uncontrollably.
“My love,” Arthur’s green eyes were smoldering as he stared up at you, “marry me, won’t you?”
Ring box opening with a small pop to reflect your expression, you found yourself completely unprepared for the gorgeous ring mirroring you a thousand times over. Slipping the ring onto your finger and marveling at how perfectly it fit, just as you and Arthur fitted together, you tried to respond. Eyes watering, you looked at Arthur to find him smiling confidently. You were too choked up to speak.
“A-Arthur,” you were beyond touched, “of course I will! Yes! Yes!”
“Good,” he grinned, inviting you closer for a kiss, “because I’ve wanted to call you Mrs. Kirkland for a long, long time.”
Throwing your arms around him, carelessly knocking the chocolates and flores onto the floor, you kissed your messy-haired, green-eyed fiancé until he flipped you onto your back. Even then, neither of you could stop beijar the other, but Arthur had something he wanted to say. Respecting his wishes, you halted your affections briefly. Straddling you, Arthur put a finger to your lips.
“Say it,” he quietly demanded, eyelids fluttering, “I want you to say it.”
“Say what?” You were confused. What had you been talking about?
“That you amor me,” Arthur bluntly supplied, “I want to hear it.”
Laughing lightly, you pulled him close to you, lips eagerly brushing against his ear, “I amor you, Arthur Kirkland. I want you to be mine, forever.” Before he could say it was so, you pushed your lips against his, claiming him eternally. “I amor you,” you repeated between kisses, “and if I’m not saying it with kisses, then you shall hear it until the dia you die.”
Arthur moved his lips sensually against yours. “I’m going to hold you to that, Mrs. Kirkland.”
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When Arthur stormed into the house, you knew something was wrong. Moody to begin with, the Brit seemed even mais worked up than usual as you slinked over to him. Yanking at his hair, he failed to perceive your approach as you draped your arms around his shoulders. “Hello, love!” You greeted, beijar his cheek warmly.
Shrieking, Arthur exclaimed, “Gah! Space, space!”
Pouting, you replied, “Don’t get your panties in a bunch! Sheesh!” You took a assento seguinte to him and noticed that he looked ‘off his rocker’, as he would say. “What’s wrong, Arthur?” You stroked his cheek gently. “Did something happen at the World Meeting?”
“Ugh, just those gits, America and France! Argh!” Arthur fumed.
“Tell me what happened?” You ran your fingers through his messy blonde hair.
“They drive me crazy! They kept teasing me,” he mumbled.
Almost amused, you raised an eyebrow, but carefully kept your tone concerned. “Teasing you? About what, hun?” Though he cast you a woeful glare, as if you were supposed to know, you continued watching him, letting him vent as he needed.
“I just…well, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time…”
Blinking, you had to make sure you had heard that one correctly. “Something you’ve meaning to tell me?” He nodded sheepishly, red as could be, and you wondered what it was. Of course, he wouldn’t give anything away and seemed to become mais difficult—if that was possible. Your impossible Brit dealt with you, though, so patience could be prescribed to any situation, especially at his expense.
“What do you think it is?” Arthur snapped. “I just—everyone knows!”
Inkling of hope burgeoning, you wondered if he was trying to propose to you.
“And it’s not fair because they always ask me when I will!”
You smiled oh-so knowingly; he was trying to propose to you!
“For months now, I’ve been trying, but it’s hard!”
This was too adorable and you grew mais confident.
“Just please, promise me you won’t laugh!”
Gently, you leaned progressivo, para a frente and kissed Arthur, shutting him up. Listening to him drive himself insane was cute, but you didn’t want his pride to be damaged permanently. When his lips pressed eagerly into yours, you wished for him to be all yours. Determined to have this wish granted, you calmly and playfully replied, “Chances are, I will probably say yes, so why don’t you ask?”
Groaning and grimacing, Arthur launched himself to his feet, muttering, “Just a minute,” and stormed to the other room. Sitting on the couch, waiting for his return, you couldn’t help but smile as he arrived cradling rosas in one arm, carrying chocolates in one hand, an intricately decorated box in the other. Readying himself, clearing his throat, Arthur dithered and then fell to one knee before you.
So romantic and sweet was this man that your coração raced uncontrollably.
“My love,” Arthur’s green eyes were smoldering as he stared up at you, “marry me, won’t you?”
Ring box opening with a small pop to reflect your expression, you found yourself completely unprepared for the gorgeous ring mirroring you a thousand times over. Slipping the ring onto your finger and marveling at how perfectly it fit, just as you and Arthur fitted together, you tried to respond. Eyes watering, you looked at Arthur to find him smiling confidently. You were too choked up to speak.
“A-Arthur,” you were beyond touched, “of course I will! Yes! Yes!”
“Good,” he grinned, inviting you closer for a kiss, “because I’ve wanted to call you Mrs. Kirkland for a long, long time.”
Throwing your arms around him, carelessly knocking the chocolates and flores onto the floor, you kissed your messy-haired, green-eyed fiancé until he flipped you onto your back. Even then, neither of you could stop beijar the other, but Arthur had something he wanted to say. Respecting his wishes, you halted your affections briefly. Straddling you, Arthur put a finger to your lips.
“Say it,” he quietly demanded, eyelids fluttering, “I want you to say it.”
“Say what?” You were confused. What had you been talking about?
“That you amor me,” Arthur bluntly supplied, “I want to hear it.”
Laughing lightly, you pulled him close to you, lips eagerly brushing against his ear, “I amor you, Arthur Kirkland. I want you to be mine, forever.” Before he could say it was so, you pushed your lips against his, claiming him eternally. “I amor you,” you repeated between kisses, “and if I’m not saying it with kisses, then you shall hear it until the dia you die.”
Arthur moved his lips sensually against yours. “I’m going to hold you to that, Mrs. Kirkland.”
