It may take days, weeks, months, years, but it will happen.

It may happen suddenly; one sunny Summer Sunday, when the sky's bluer than blue, the grass green as can be, and the sun beats down upon us, you'll be lying on your back on our picnic blanket, and you'll look over at me, my face in profile, glass in one hand, half-eaten pork pie in the other, and as I prattle on about something completely inconsequential, you'll realise, with a warm jolt deep in your stomach, that you love me.

It may happen slowly, gradually, in increments, until one day, much like the frog in the frying pan, it's all you know, and it's all-consuming; you'll catch yourself thinking about me when daydreaming idly, or you'll find yourself wondering if I'd like something you're eating, or you'll spot something when you're out and about, and make a mental note to tell me because you know I'd love it. I will have wended my way into your heart, settled into my own little nook in there, and be irretrievably part of it forevermore.

I will have loved you long before this, though; I will have loved you almost from the moment we met- for, as I will have told you many a time, I love swiftly, completely, and without question. I will accept you, both parts known and unknown, and love you wholesale. I will love your smile, your laugh; I will love your tears, your anger, your pain. I will love your body, mind, heart, and soul, with every fibre of my being.

Ours will be a love for the ages, fit for myths and legends; centuries from now, our names will be spoken in the same breaths as those of yore; Westley and Buttercup, for example. But unlike most reference- Romeo and Juliet, for example- ours will not be a tale of woe, nor tragedy. Ours will be a success.

But how can you love me, or I you, when we know nothing of one another? There are no facts presented here- at least, none that tell you anything about me. Nothing to tell you of my likes, dislikes, ears, hopes, dreams, loves, or anything, anything at all. And that's intentional. I don't want to bare too much of myself before I know that you might be the one to take this heart of mine, and give it a purpose once more.

But, in the interest of fairness, I leave you with one single, simple fact; in time, you will love me.

Of that you can be sure.

As an idea, this isn't particularly dpp material, probably, but...romance can be dirty, right? And really fucking sexy.
So maybe one of you lovely people have an idea you'd like to use this with. Hit me with your ideas, gang.