#“I must have flowers always and always.”
Text
deal - cl16 (30/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: The Leclerc family dinner is something else.
Warnings: this is just cute, mentions of injuries (due to Monopoly), alcohol consumption, Arthur Leclerc
Word Count: 3.8k
series masterlist
previous part
A/N: happy birthday to the lovely anon from yesterday! this is not smutty, but I hope you'll still like it! feedback is appreciated!
When Charles brings the rickety Renault to a halt and pulls the handbrake, you can hardly believe your eyes.
The car is parked in front of a large, white house that is surrounded by green ivy on one corner. The black roof perfectly matches the black shutters leaning against the wall of the house, giving you a glimpse of the interior. Above the double doors of the entrance is a small balcony with a black metal fence and small flower boxes in which beautiful, colorful flowers are sure to bloom in summer.
It looks like a painting.
You stare open-mouthed through the windshield. "It's gorgeous."
Your friend smiles. "My mother had it renovated last year. The façade was crumbling a bit and the windows were no longer in good shape." He shrugs his shoulders. "But otherwise it's stayed the same. I grew up here."
You can hardly take your eyes off it as you get out of the car. "It's beautiful. It must have been great growing up here."
"It was." He rounds the hood and stands next to you. "Unfortunately, I was always on the road because of karting and the older I got, the less time I spent here. But this house holds so many memories." He exhales deeply. "This is my home."
You turn your head in his direction before reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "Thank you for taking me with you."
Charles smiles gently at you and pulls you a little closer so that you can feel his warm breath on your face. "Don't get too excited. You haven't met my brothers yet."
You tilt your head a little. "Are they that bad?"
"The worst," he whispers and leans forward a little. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips. Your heart leaps a little. "But I'm the worst."
"Shouldn't I stay away from you then?" you ask him. He's so close to you that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "Good girls should keep their distance from bad boys, shouldn't they?"
Charles releases his hand from yours and gently places it on your neck, leaving you no choice but to look at him. His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you all the way against him. Chest to chest, he looks down at you before licking his lips. You can feel the arousal pooling in your panties. "Are you a good girl, mon amour?"
As one of the front doors opens, he disengages from you with a smooth movement, as if nothing had ever happened and as if it wasn't running through your mind how you would have loved to get down on your knees for him right there. As he walks towards the house, you can see his back muscles dancing under his shirt. How you wish you could scratch him with your fingernails and -
"Maman. It's so good to see you," he greets his mother, who kisses him left and right on the cheek, snapping you out of your super non-platonic daydream. Which maybe isn't the worst thing, Charles is your friend after all.
"Yes yes, it's nice to see you too," she replies, before pushing past him and coming towards you. "Chérie, I'm so glad you're here!" The woman hugs you tightly before also kissing you left and right.
"It's nice to see you again too, Pascale," you smile. "Thank you so much for inviting me. The house is gorgeous."
"Thank you, chérie," she replies and reaches for your hands. "Come on, come on. Let me show you the house." Before you can say anything back, she pulls you towards the house, past Charles and through the door. "Charles! Your brothers will be here soon. You can set the table," she calls to him over her shoulder.
"Of course, Maman," he replies and when you look back at him, he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.
"And please take the good china! We want to make a good impression."
"Of course, Maman." Charles, who has followed you into the house, closes the front door behind him.
The inside of the house looks like it's from another world. Large, white tiles adorn the floor, the furniture is kept simple, but still looks luxurious and so expensive that you'd be worried about scratching the surfaces with your car keys if you put them down. The lower floor is open plan, with a large kitchen with a kitchen island, a glass dining table and the living room. There's a soft-looking sofa in front of the fireplace, where you can definitely warm up on cold days. There are countless pictures on the walls - a mixture of art and personal photos.
"Would you like something to drink, chérie?" asks Pascale as you stop in the kitchen and she lets go of your hand. She opens the fridge and starts rummaging around in it. "We have water, orange juice, spritz, wine and cola."
"I don't need anything, thank you," you reply with a smile. You're a little overwhelmed that she's being so nice to you. You're not used to parents being so sweet and kind. Yours certainly weren't when you lived with them.
"All right, then. If you need anything, just take it. Make yourself at home." She squeezes your shoulder briefly before scurrying past you. "Charles! The table!"
"I'm on it," his voice comes from another corner of the room before he steps back into your field of vision. He is holding expensive-looking tableware in his hands, which he carefully spreads out on various coasters on the glass table. "Could you please take the cutlery from the top drawer there? There must be six of us. Enzo wanted to bring his wife Charlotte."
You take the cutlery from the drawer and count it off before joining him at the table and distributing the items. "I'm a bit nervous," you confess quietly. As you place a fork next to one of the plates, Charles grabs your hand.
"We can leave if that's too much for you," he suggests. " I'm sorry. My brothers aren't that bad. They're nice and funny and I think you'll get along fine." He strokes the inside of his wrist lovingly with his thumb. "You really don't need to worry. But if you want to leave, I can understand that."
You shake your head slightly. "It's all good. Your mother cooked dinner especially for me and it would be rude to leave now." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want to make a good impression."
Charles takes the rest of the cutlery from your hand before interlacing his fingers with yours. "You really don't have to worry about that, mon amour. She already loves you."
You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "And how do you know that? Did she tell you that?"
"She didn't need to," he replies with a smile. "When I introduced her to Annika back then, she reacted differently. No kisses, no dinner to get to know each other better. And she definitely didn't ask her to feel at home here," he explains, placing his free hand on your cheek. "She has good intuition and the fact that she took you to her heart within minutes just shows me that I made a good catch with you."
"Excuse me! There are children here!" a male voice shouts across the room. You would have liked to take three steps back to put some distance between you and Charles, but he keeps you in place.
"I don't see any children," replies the man in front of you, glancing over your head towards the kitchen. When you turn around, a young man is standing there, grinning and leaning against the kitchen island. "All I see is an annoying little brother who doesn't know when to hold back."
Playfully hurt, the stranger puts his hand on his chest. "Ouch. I'm not the one who can't seem to just pull through ." Before you can say anything back, he takes the few steps towards you and stops in front of Charles. The two stare at each other for a moment before a wide smile spreads across the shorter man's face. "Good to see you, big brother."
Charles releases his hand from yours so that he can embrace his baby brother. "You too." With a smile, he hugs him before gently pushing him away. He turns to you. "This is my little brother Arthur."
"It's nice to meet you," he replies and - in true Pascale style - gives you a little kiss on each cheek before winking at you. "Maman has already told me about you, but she didn't tell me how beautiful you are."
"'Keep your hands off, Arthur,' your roommate warns his brother, but he just waves it off.
"Don't worry, Charles. I'm not here to take your girlfriend away." You raise your hand and open your mouth to correct him, but he turns on his heel and walks back towards the fridge. "I'm here because I was promised good food. And maybe a game of Monopoly?" He waggles his eyebrows in anticipation.
Charles shakes his head vigorously. "Absolutely not. Last time Enzo nearly lost a finger because you thought he was cheating the bank."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "The whole thing would be unfunny without a bit of violence." His gaze shifts from his big brother to you. "What about you? Do you like Monopoly?"
"Monopoly? Maybe we should look for the first aid kit first," laughs the young woman who has just joined you. With her long blonde hair and wide, pearly-white smile, she looks so beautiful that it almost takes your breath away. Without giving the guys in the room a glance, she walks straight up to you and hugs you tightly. "Hi, I'm Charlotte. Enzo's wife." She gives you a quick hug before pulling away from you. "I like your top."
You introduce yourself to her as well before thanking her for the compliment. "Is Monopoly really that crazy in this family?" you ask quietly, watching Charles and Arthur tease each other in the kitchen.
"When it comes to winning, the men behave like animals," she explains, putting her slender arm around your shoulder. "That's why it's all the better that you're here now. Maybe they're acting a bit more grown-up this time then."
"Everyone here is an adult," another person defends themselves. The black-haired man tries to get Arthur out of Charles' headlock. "My little brothers might be a bit wild, but we're all old enough to behave reasonably." As he separates the two bickering men, he stands between them with his arms outstretched.
Arthur points his finger at the eldest of the three brothers. "You once knocked over the whole board because you had no more money to pay Charles."
Charles briefly runs his fingers through his tousled hair to get it into style. "And you once kicked us out of your apartment because you didn't have a hotel to take out a mortgage."
Before you know it, Enzo grabs his little brothers and tucks them under his arms, but Charles is quicker. With an elegant twist, he wriggles out of his brother's tight grip and twists his arm a little so that he can't get hold of him again, while Arthur tries with all his might to free himself.
"I told you," Charlotte whispers to you. "Like animals."
"Are you out of your minds?" Pascale's voice drowns out the boys, who abruptly move away from each other and blink at their mother. Arthur's face is red, while Enzo tugs his shirt right. Charles throws you a grin and a wink. "I'm cooking for everyone here and you're acting like children! Come on now! You know what you have to do!" she nags her sons, who quietly apologize to her and then scurry back and forth to put the rest of the things on the table.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" you ask the young woman next to you, but before she can answer you, Pascale is standing in front of you.
"Please take a seat. You're our special guest today and if I even see you lift a finger…" She gives you a stern, loving look before pulling one of the chairs from the table. With a nod, she tells you to sit down. Her look leaves no room for discussion.
"Would you like a glass of wine? I've brought a lovely sweet Riesling," Charlotte asks as she takes two wine glasses from one of the cupboards in the kitchen.
"Yes, please."
As she sets your glass down in front of you, the men also sit down at the table while Pascale places various bowls in front of you. When Charles tries to sit on the chair opposite you, his mother promptly stops him.
"The chair is broken, chéri. I'm afraid you'll have to use that stool there," she says, pointing to the small stool in the corner of the room.
Without hesitation, Charles swaps the pieces of furniture, but when he sits down, he grimaces. "My goodness, that's uncomfortable. It's sure to give me a backache."
"Maybe your lovely girlfriend can give you a back massage later," Arthur suggests, wiggling his eyebrows. Before he can react, your friend has reached into one of the bowls in front of you and thrown a piece of bread at his little brother. "Ouch, what the hell? I didn't say anything! It only becomes ambiguous when you make it ambiguous."
"Boys, pull yourselves together, otherwise it'll be the last time I invite you all here for dinner," Pascale scolds her sons, but you can tell she's not serious. She sits down at the table in front of them. "Now eat before the food gets cold."
-
"How did you two meet?" asks Enzo, popping a spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth.
The pasta that Pascale cooked especially for you tasted absolutely fantastic. While you ate together, you talked about all sorts of things. About Enzo's work, Charlotte's recent seminar, new recipes that Pascale really wants to try out and your photography. At the beginning you were worried that you wouldn't be able to join in as you didn't know anyone from this family, but there was never a moment when you felt left out. It feels nice to be part of a family again - even if it's not your own.
Charles, who stretches his back briefly, looks at you across the table. "That's a funny story. Would you like to tell it?"
As all eyes turn to you, you have to swallow. You weren't expecting the attention. But Charles looks at you so gently and his smile is so warm. He makes you feel like you're not in the wrong place.
"He surprised me when I came out of the shower half-naked," you grin back. All you hear from the corner where Arthur is sitting is a whistle.
"Hey, that's not quite true," your roommate defends himself. "You were living in my second apartment without me knowing! Joris rented you the apartment and didn't tell me. And when I turned up there, you came out of the shower. It's not my fault." He raises his hands. "And you wanted to beat me up with a magazine!"
You reach for your wine glass and take a sip. "You were a stranger who suddenly appeared in my apartment. How else could I have reacted? You were so close to calling the police."
"You were standing half-naked in my apartment. It could have been that you were a crazy fan and somehow found out the address."
Charlotte looks up from her bowl of ice cream at you. "Didn't you know who he was?" As you shake your head, she claps her hands several times in delight. "Oh how cute! Just like in the fanfictions you can read on the internet! That's awesome!"
Her husband gives her a puzzled look. "You read fanfictions about my brother?"
Charlotte rolls her eyes. "Are you crazy? Of course not! But every now and then I just hear about it."
"And you've just decided to share the apartment," says Arthur as he scrapes two more scoops of ice cream out of the ice cream container.
"Yep. Just like that," Charles explains, and you smile gratefully at him. You're glad you don't have to explain that you're unemployed. Especially since everyone at this table is pursuing promising careers. Your friend smiles back affectionately before arching his back. "And it would also be the best decision I've ever made if I didn't have to sit on this stupid stool all evening. My spine feels like pebbles."
"Don't be like that," his mother grumbles at him. "You're still young. Your back pain can't be that bad."
"Arthur is younger than me. Shouldn't he be sitting in this chair then?" Charles tries to get out of it, but he falls silent when Pascale gives him a dirty look.
"But I don't have a girlfriend who can rub my back later," grins the youngest Leclerc. "I'm sure she won't mind."
"Arthur!" Pascale reprimands him. Her gaze shifts to you. "I'm so sorry. I thought I'd brought her up better." She puts her head in her hands.
"Oh, Maman." Charles gets up from his uncomfortable stool and you can tell by the way he looks that his back is actually hurting. He stands behind his mother and puts his hands on her shoulders. "We know you did your best. And we actually turned out well." He can barely suppress his grin. "Except for Arthur."
"Hey!" Arthur jumps up from his chair so quickly that you fear he's going to fall over backwards, but Charlotte just manages to catch it. Arthur chases his big brother around the room while Enzo stacks up the ice cream bowls to take them to the kitchen.
"Wait, I'll help you," you offer, reaching for the cutlery that has been left behind, but Pascale's hand on yours stops you in your tracks.
"If you lift a finger, the same thing will happen to it as with Enzo's fingers at Monopoly," she threatens lovingly and gets up to clear away the rest of the things herself.
You look at Charlotte uncertainly and she waves you off. "Don't worry about it. She doesn't mean any harm. She just wants you to feel comfortable here and make sure you have everything you need. You'll get used to it over time."
"Thank you," you reply with a smile. "I think if you weren't so nice to me, I'd be really scared of you."
The blonde has to laugh. "Unfortunately, I hear that a lot. But I know what it's like to be new to this family. It can be quite nerve-wracking and overwhelming. But they're all lovely people. You don't need to worry about that." She puts her hand on yours briefly before rising and joining her husband in the kitchen.
A short time later, you feel two large hands on your shoulders. "Are you all right?" Charles asks as you lean your head back to look at him. "My family didn't scare you off, did they? Or are you sick of it and don't want anything to do with me anymore?"
"A terrible family," you reply and feel his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. You feel warm.
"I can understand," he nods and leans down towards you so that the tips of your noses touch. "So that's the last time we'll see everyone. I definitely prefer your company to that of the others."
You have to stifle a giggle. "You're only saying that because you're hoping to get a back massage from me as soon as we get home." Your mouth goes dry at the thought of running your hands over his muscular back and feeling the soft skin under your fingertips.
"You're right about that," he admits. "Shall we go? I've had to share you with my family long enough."
"You want to leave already?" asks Pascale, who has rejoined you at the table. You didn't even realize she was back until she started talking.
"Yes, maman. My back really hurts and we have a lot to do tomorrow," he apologizes. It's news to you that you have plans. But maybe it's just an excuse so that you can be alone again more quickly. And you definitely have no objections to that.
Friends, sure.
"All right." She puts her hands on her hips. "But I'll expect you both back here at Christmas. I'll prepare your old room so you can spend the night here." Her smile is warm and heartfelt. As you get up from your chair to say goodbye to her, she wraps you tightly in her arms. "It's so nice that you're part of our family now. I'm already looking forward to having you back here at Christmas. It's only a few more days until then."
"Thank you for your invitation." You return her hug. "I haven't felt like part of a family for a long time."
Apparently she sees something in your gaze, something sad, because she has to swallow before she starts speaking again. "We've been through a lot as a family - and I think you have too. You're always welcome here. No matter what happens. Even if you need someone to be there for you in the middle of the night. The doors of this house are always open to you." She blinks away a few tears and you briefly consider hugging her again.
Which you finally do. "Your family is wonderful. You've raised three great sons. If your husband was anywhere near as kind-hearted as they turned out to be, then he must have been the most lovable person in the world," you whisper to her.
"He would have loved you. I'm sure of it." As she breaks away from you, she wipes her eyes once. "Thank you for looking after my son. There's no denying how good you are for him."
As if on cue, Charles stands next to you and puts his arm around your waist to pull you close. You feel his body heat, the pressure of his fingers on your skin.
After this morning, you had been unsure whether you would ever be so close again despite the misstep, or whether you would keep your distance because the situation would be awkward for people who are actually just friends. But Charles' smile is genuine, his gaze gentle and his lips soft as he presses them lovingly to your forehead.
"She's the absolute best thing that could have happened to me."
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc prompt#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc cute#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 smut#charles leclerc x yn#charles leclerc x female reader
568 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cowboy!141 x Noble's Daughter!Reader (My Version of the AU)
(How you meet them)
Synopsis: Being the daughter of a noble is a jarring task as you must be always able to keep up appearances, so what exactly happens when your family hires 4 men? Men who seem dangerous yet you know nothing about, all happening to be part of the same group of people. What happens if they take an interest in you? Someone unattainable, forbidden yet also undoubtedly tempting..
Hi lovelies! Lia here again, apologies for the delay and inactivity, I had exams, projects and the recent release of part one of Bridgerton season 3. Speaking of the series, this was inspired by that and RDR2 (none of the elements are historically accurate, I think?), I genuinely hope this does well because this account has not been doing well as of late. With my mutuals leaving Tumblr and some friends are currently ignoring me, I genuinely don't know what to do anymore. From what I know, @ghouljams was the first one who created content in the cowboy!CoD AU but mine is a lot different? So please don't kill me 😭
This will result in headcanons for the next few posts because my brain is attached to this AU so you will be seeing more Cowboy!Outlaw!141.
(Really FEM!Reader, maybe also Plus-size!(Chubby??)Reader?? I don't even know anymore)
More content: My CoD Masterlist
Bless your noble mother's heart, although your was seen as this very respectable and intellectual man of nobility, your mother had this heart of gold having no idea that these rugged men he has newly hired were outlaws, criminals.. murderers?
Yet your father did, something about him felt sinister, well all noble money comes from not so noble cause.
Although your mother wanted you to get to know and be familiar with the newest staff members who would do all the gnarly, energy consuming and physically challenging tasks, she did not want her daughter interacting with men who would be considered improper like seemingly mysterious men who happened to be from a far town looking for a living.
Well without your father's or mother's knowledge, that rule was thrown out the window the moment you saw one of them carrying over some of the crates that contain given by some men to your father for his services and connections, particularly drawn to the one who never seemed to take off the cloth on his face.
Something about the way he stared at you, not seeing the rest of his face, depriving you of clues as to how he felt upon seeing the only lady of the house. You gave him a warm smile, for a moment you thought you saw his lips through the mask perk up, before walking off to the lounging hall for your tutoring on language.
It was odd, you observed them from afar a lot, your personal garden was your sanctuary and you can't help but do so when they talked so loudly, no sign of inside voices.
They called each other names.. Price, Gaz, Soap and Ghost. The man you encountered was named Ghost? Surely it's some alias. Well that wasn't something you should fixate on anyway so you leave for your tasks.
You find yourself feeling a little out of it after your lessons, hoping that a little stroll through the stables behind your family's estate would either help the information sink in or keep it shun out of your mind. Either way you'd find yourself in tranquil, you heard a thud behind you and turn to find so called "Ghost" behind you.
He had dropped a crate, one filled with weapons and uncharacteristically hastily picked up all of them without paying much attention. Such an action caused him to unknowingly cut his finger on one of the blades that fell out of it's sheath.
Your eyes filled with concern as you rush over to take his hand in yours before he tried to brush off the cut and get back to his duties. You knew it was dumb to be worried over something so small that the grown man doesn't even flinch and yet there you were, practically cradling his hand in yours.
A white handkerchief that was embroidered with your favorite flowers by your own mother, something you held dear and kept pristine.. using it on his finger to keep the blood from further gushing and wipe off whatever of the red residue was left on his hand.
As the blood stopped to your relief, you brought his finger and spontaneously pressed a feather-like kiss on the wound. You were so used to doing that for your little cousins, nieces and nephews that it was just a force of habit, your face flushed the very moment you looked up to meet his gaze, what possessed you to do that?
You placed the handkerchief in his hand and composed yourself, you told him to keep it and to bring the wound to the physician to get some antiseptics before running off to god knows where.
A few days after that incident, you meet another one of them except..
You couldn't help but rush, you were late for this supposedly short promenade your family has spontaneously planned. Your favourite gloves are no where to be found and with the three sisters you have, you checked room to room, seeing who might've borrowed the lacey white fabric with the sewn in bows.
Without looking your body slams into a wall, is it a wall? You softly groan, your delicate fingers brushing on your forehead that felt like it would bruise later on. Your eyes remained closed for a few seconds as the impact caused you to feel shaken, light headed.
You open your eyes to one of the outlaws, you blink up as your vision adjusted a bit, his dark skin against the light from the window really did something..
"Are you hurt, my lady?" He asked, his deep voice was smooth and rich, almost velvety. He held you up from falling.
"N-no.. Thank you, uhh..."
"Kyle, her ladyship can call me Kyle. Although I hope it's not too informal to your status, my lady." You smiled at his words, certainly a respectful fellow despite him and his group's reputation.
You felt warmth on your sides, his palms against the fabric that separates his skin on yours, he was only being kind for steadying you after you almost fell from the earlier impact but his touch felt addicting, too much as it continued to linger.
"Kyle, it is then" You said softly, suddenly a bit more aware of your surroundings.
Fuck. He was sure he felt something just by hearing the way his name fell from your lips. Normally he'd give people, employers only and only his last name. He was so used to having been called by "Garrick", he had no idea his name would sound different, so sweet coming from a pretty maiden's lips.
He stutters for a moment, realizing that his hands are touching a lady inappropriately, something only someone she's married to would have the privilege of doing. He swiftly removed his hands from your waist and formally excused himself from your presence with the excuse of his duties.
The next time you met one of them was through your mother's ball, she was always the first to throw one to bless the upcoming season of hopes that you, your sisters and brothers shall wed soon.
You had no taste for it after having a lord step on your feet at least 20 times and not even bother to apologize with how high of a pedestal he puts himself in, you found yourself escaping through the back of your estate to the gazebo in the center of your beloved garden.
You took your tight, restricting shoes off and felt the grass on your feet as you walked toward the gazebo, now close enough to see that you weren't alone but you still continued, your feet against the cooling marble platform. You sigh as you prop yourself to sit on the stone railing next to the stranger who was currently taking a puff of his cigar.
You turned your head away, you were thrown into a fit of coughs from the strong scent of the smoke while you swatch some of it away. You tried not to heave for actual air to breathe while the man next to you chuckles, making you feel irritable.
"M'sorry love.." his gruff voice whispers which make you turn towards him, the man offering you a comforting smile.
"Shouldn't you be in there with your family, miss?" Price asked. To which you hum, "I wanted some "fresh air" and silence" you answered. Moments of silence have passed, nothing but the sound of wind that rattled the trees a bit and each other's breaths.
You look towards the light of windows of your home, the ballroom filled with laughter and talk of celebration. You sighed, knowing you must return as your parents would come looking for you, also not wanting for them to punish you for sticking around unchaperoned with their new hires.
He knew you were about to leave, it would be rude for a gentleman to leave a lady without help, hmm? He wasn't a gentleman though, an outlaw, one of the worst titles one can ever bestow a man. He was considered to be of low honor but who cares?
He kneels down on one knee in front of you, gently taking your leg in his huge hand using his thigh as leverage so he can gently slip on you shoes. For a moment you felt his forehead on your knee before he pulls away and offers you his hand..
You took it hesitantly as he helped you off the railing, you look up at him meeting his eyes. Something about them burned, making your stomach churn but not in a manner of discomfort.
You watched his back as he walked away, his footsteps on the cold marble the only thing to be heard as the noise died down..
The morning after, you've barely had enough sleep, was it the events of the previous night? Nevermind, at least you had a day or two for yourself after conducting a proposition to your parents. Free time was worth it for the sore feet you had to endure.
Not really in the mood to change into anything tight or itchy, you remain in your night clothes. Finally, some well deserved time alone, comfortable and flipping pages of a book was your type of thing.
Sure, socializing has it's benefits however nothing beats your time alone or so you thought you were alone..
A table and a few chairs were set up by the servants to your request at the gazebo, giving you the perfect view of the greenery that you have planted the seeds of.
You had your head comfortably leaned onto lounge as you continued reading. Buts something was just so distracting, a few minutes of the constant snipping and twigs breaking, you look up wanting to see who was there tending to the garden.
Your eyes widened a bit, it was improper for a lady to stare a man who has very less clothing. Nothing but his jeans, belt and hat keeping his face shielded from the heat is toned, muscular and tanned torso and arms exposed.
A little later, you hear a grunt coming from the man, Soap was it? You can't quite remember much from the night you eavesdropped on them. You heard his footsteps on the grass nearing the gazebo but you didn't bother to look up, not until..
"Ma'am? May I stay 'ere a moment? Afraid the heat is getting to me" You look up from your book and sit up to see the same man breathless. You nodded and watched as he sat on the stairs, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
"Excuse me.." You said, loud enough to hear and catch his attention, he looks back from his position. You moved one of the chairs to face your lounge, "Please invite yourself here, I can only think of how uncomfortable the floor might be, especially when you are working at a weather like this one" Signaling him to take a seat on the chair you adjusted.
He gets up yet reluctantly makes himself comfortable on the seat, you pick a drinking glass on display from the silver tray and poured some of the cold lemonade into it, you place it down on the table and slide it to him, offering a warm smile. Your fingers on the base of the drinking glass slightly brushing against his as he takes it.
He thanks you for it and you both enjoyed the tranquil and peace.. yet you can't go back to your book, asking questions and being further interested by the man each minute passes.
The way he talked was something else, it was alluring, comforting and oddly lively, he's told you about his "past" and how he used to be a child.
"Was quite the troublemaker you see, though my family was poor and food was scarce, I found a way to feed the street animals I adore—"
You look at him, so invested on what he was about to say next, it was refreshing to have someone to converse with who isn't interrogating you and practically forcing their ideals of how many babies they want you to birth for them, practically wanting you to die for them.
"I used to steal bread from my neighbor, not a very nice man, selfish really. So I'd often sneak into his shack, leftovers, scraps and anything light enough for me to carry. I'd bring it to Lassie, my favorite stray dog. You remind me a lot of her Bonnie" He said.
"I remind you of a dog?" You weren't so sure if that's a compliment, then again he just called you "Bonnie", what exactly does that mean?
"Home, you remind me of home. Can't say I have felt this comfortable in years, friends and I are usually reserved yet you bring this side out of me, Bonnie. So what spell or witchcraft did you use?" He joked raising a brow at you, for a moment his attention falters as he looks down at the soft mounds of skin exposed on your chest.
"Eyes up here, Johnny."
You warned as you laugh at his question, you notice one of the servants coming out from the estate and into the garden, Johnny smiles and tips his hat to you to excuse himself so that he could get back to work.
Well this is interesting.. isn't it?
Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @snowdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo
#cod x reader#aethelwyne lia writes#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#price x reader#141 x you#cowboy!au#cowboy!141#soap x you#john soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz x you#kyle gaz garrick x you#gaz x reader#john price x reader#captain price x you#price x you#john soap mctavish x you#john soap x reader#kyle garrick x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x plus size reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#tf141 x you
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
MHA S7 ED Analysis of the Official Music Video Part 2 [Part 1]
[Warning: manga spoilers]
You were always acting funny to hide your pain
This part is so sad! The boy in blue (Izuku's actor) is curled up and scared while all these hands are reaching for him- probably to represent the pressure of being the ninth/final holder and having to be the one face off against shigaraki + afo. It's a little hard to tell, but I played it back and I'm pretty sure there are exactly eight hands reaching toward him.
I was too dumb to realize it
And then it cuts to the boy in orange picking the green cape from the ground and blinking in confusion before looking back and forth across the field to see where the other boy went 🥺🥺🥺
I'm the one who made you wear that "strongness"
Y'all... I... I... 🥹🥹🥹
So are we all agreed this is about Katsuki bullying Izuku and his guilt for branding him with the name "Deku", later inspiring Izuku's reckless lack of concern for his own well being in order to prove that he isn't "useless" anymore? Cuz literally what else could this be about. It's so sad, there's a flashback to the boy in orange happily tying the green cape around the other boy's neck. The guilt and angst is on another level. Just... just... 😭😭😭
Searching for words to make the buds start to bloom
Y'all 🥹🥹🥹
The warmness you have continuously given me
Just... damn. It must be said again, the angst is on another level. The boy in blue runs away from the scary room he was in with the hands attacking him from what is probably a closet (👀👀👀) and goes back to one of their old hangout places to rebuild the dummy villain the boys destroyed earlier when they were playing. The boy in orange walks in and sees him and the stare at each other in surprise.
It planted seeds in my heart
Oh, Mr. Kacchan Bakugou, everyone but Izuku already knows!!
What's heartbreaking though, is the boy in blue turns around and lifts his arms up defensively over the dummy. Like he's afraid the boy in orange will destroy it. The boy in orange looks surprised but takes a small step closer without hesitation
Those flowers cannot bloom without you
Did I meant the angst hits HARD?!?! Because it's about to hit harder...
No matter what we do, we will never become one
We live each other's lives with different minds
Bakugou thinks that too many misunderstandings and conflicts have happened between them for him and Izuku to ever be close like they were before. He thinks he's hurt him too much in the past and irreparably mangled their relationship.
Nevertheless, my heart is crying with your pain
This reminds me so much of certain events in chapter 403 where a certain someone whose about to unintentionally explode his own heart from a quirk awakening thinks to himself about how the all the pain his body is going through is because he is now walking the same path a certain childhood friend of his had to walk when he was learning how to use OFA
Can I at least be by your side, even if we cannot understand each other
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
Hoping that flowers will bloom side by side in the future
Ajejdjjdjdjsjjsjdj I feel like this just perfectly captures all of the "Izuku's" Katsuki says in his last moments (and even after resurrecting) and the yearning and how it's finally revealed he held onto the All Might card they won together even get all this time
My flower buds will never give up on the present
Ok there were just too many flashing scenes in this montage and I couldn't get all of them but here's one
Then it goes back to the two boys facing off in the shed and a close up of their faces. The boy in orange reaches out to the boy in blue
And then it cuts back to the band for a second before the video ends.
And now you too, can devolve into madness with me 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠
88 notes
·
View notes
Note
i sent this request to someone else about a year and a half ago and i went back to look at it but they never made it into a fic so i thought it’d ask you instead while also making some small changes to my old request
Eloise bridgerton x fem!royalty!reader where two women can get married as long as one of them is rich enough to support the both of them
reader has to soon take over the throne because she is an only child but she has to first get married so she goes to London to find a wife or a husband and Eloise accidentally makes reader laugh (like that one scene w queen charlotte) which makes Eloise catch readers eye and she tries to court Eloise but Eloise being herself decides to be stubborn and act as if she has no feelings for the reader
readers mother strictly reminds her that she has little time left to find a match which forces reader to move on and try to find someone else who’s more willing to marry
of course Eloise gets jealous which makes her realize her mistake and it end’s with Eloise confessing right before the day reader is about to propose to another girl saying something along the lines of “dont marry her”
happy ending pleaseeee
Eloise being courted by fem! royalty! reader
note -> I absolutely love this idea! I made this into HCs and a scenario since I dont have any idea how to make it into a fic, sorry :[
warnings -> none.
content includes -> fluff/angst, smitten reader, jealousy.
You didnt want to get married, but you had to, as you knew your father was at the brink of death and you would soon need to ascend the throne, forcing you to marry
You disliked the girls this season, they only liked you for your power and money, you wanted someone who would genuienly love you
The moment your eyes layed on Eloise Bridgerton you knew you were smitten, and the way she talks and jokes always make you laugh
You tried to court her, always sending her, her mother and her sisters flowers and gifts, dancing with her at balls, reading and talking about her favorite books, even becoming close friends with some of her brothers
But Eloise did not want you, or at least she acted like it, so your mother forced you to find someone else
The girl wasn't too bad, but she wasn't Eloise, and you knew you could never love her, even if you tried, but she was the best choice from the ton, so you asked her father for her hand, which he agreed
You didnt understand why Eloise was so upset that you were courting another, she didn't want you, after all, but she proved you wrong the day before you were going to propose
"You cannot marry her! I wouldnt allow it!" Eloise said as she grabbed your arm, her eyes filled with guilt and jealousy.
"Why not? I wanted you, Eloise, but you made it quite clear you did not want me, and I must marry if I were to ascend the throne." you said as you looked back at her, you loved her, but she did not love you, so you have to marry another.
You freed your arm from her grip and you turned away to leave, until you heard her say-
"But I want you! I was wrong, i was stuborn, I want you and I do not wish to see you marry another!" she said, a tear running down her cheek, stopping you dead in your tracks.
You turned back to her, losing your breath, she wanted you? All along she wanted you?
"Are you certian you want me?" you asked her and she nodded, looking back up at you.
"I have loved you ever since you started courting me, but I was too stuborn to admit it, i have only realised it when you started courting another, please, i cant see you marry another." her voice broke as she spoke, her eyes begging and pleading for you.
"I could never imagine choosing another over you, especially now that I know you return my undying love." you said as you bringed her closer, pulling her in a kiss which she gladly returned.
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
Forever And A Day
Title: Forever And A Day
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: Geralt x Black!OFC
Word Count: 1.9K
Summary: Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.
Warnings: pining, soft!Geralt, oral sex (f receiving), attempted oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids
A/N: I used a prompt from this post by @creativepromptsforwriting: “I told you we would see each other again.” Found inspiration from this post from a tag game on tumblr. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by: @saradika-graphics
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
My Masterlist
Her hickory-colored eyes stay on his mind for days leading up to when he will get to visit her. Along the path, there aren’t many moments to look forward to. But to see the look on her face after all this time? That moment is worth all the orens on the continent.
Geralt takes notice of himself more intently. He bathes in a lake, ridding himself of the scent of horses and the remnants of the Fleder that he killed earlier. As he washes his hair, the water around him goes from crystal clear to opaque. He carefully washes his skin, every scar on display, rinsing off the suds from the soap he bought in the last town.
The strong aroma of rosemary and lavender calms his nerves as it clings to his skin. He thinks of how different he must look after the last time they were together. Fresh marks litter his skin at different stages of healing. His hair is a bit longer, enough to warrant him tying it up on most days.
After dressing in fresh clothes, he hefts on his boots. Stuffing his soiled clothing within the pack that Roach wears, he lifts a leg to put his foot in the stirrup. Roach huffs and moves just out of reach. Geralt raises a brow, moving closer to Roach and lifting his leg again. The chestnut mare groans and steps away from him again.
“What has gotten into you?” Geralt asks, scratching behind her ear. Roach thrusts her snout in his direction, snorting as she takes in his new scent. He smiles, his large hand moving to stroke her muzzle gently. “Don’t worry, Roach. When we get to her cottage, I’m sure Lavinia will take her time pampering you. She always does. Brushing you, putting flowers in your hair, and she may even have a treat or two for you.” Roach nickers and allows Geralt to climb atop the saddle again for the tail end of the journey.
Less than two hours later, they reach the road that leads to her homestead. With his keen eyes, he can already see her. She tends her garden, kneeling to pick the ripened vegetables and herbs that grow thanks to her green thumb. The crunching of pebbles and dirt under boots and hooves alerts her to their approach.
Brown eyes meet yellow, and the rest of the world vanishes.
Lavinia looks away, placing the wicker basket full of nature’s bounty on the ground before standing to her full height. She dusts off her apron, moving an errant curl from her face. By the time she looks up, she is face-to-chest with the man she thought she would never get to see again.
Geralt uses a hand to lift her chin, delicately stroking his thumb against her jaw. He inhales her scent, a heady perfume of sweet honeysuckle, and the kindling fire burning between her thighs. He growls lowly, his body reacting to her arousal. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against hers as her hands clutch the front of his chemise.
Closing the gap between them, her lips graze his tentatively, as if unsure that the kiss is wanted. His answering groan of satisfaction is all the incentive she needs. Tilting her head, she captures his lips, swallowing his hum of approval. She welcomes his endeavor to take over the kiss when his tongue prods at the seam of her lips.
As she allows his tongue entry, his hand tangles in her hair while his other hand snakes around her waist to bring her impossibly closer. He tastes the berries she ate earlier¾tart yet sweet. Devouring her moans, he can hear her heart beating faster inside her ribcage. Her slippery tongue against his is almost too much, as his growing arousal presses against her.
He slows the kiss to a lazy meeting of their lips, only slightly less intense than their previous activity. She reaches up to cradle his face as she breaks the kiss. They stand there in the garden, breathing each other’s air for but a moment, when a low nicker comes from the ignored chestnut mare.
“She missed you as well,” he laughs, looking at Roach.
Breaking away from Geralt, Lavinia turns to smile at the horse. “My dear sweet Roach, has he been treating you well?” She bends to reach into her basket for an apple, feeding it to his trusted companion.
It brings warmth to his heart as he watches their interaction. Roach happily snorts as she receives attention. He could get used to hearing Lavinia’s laughter as it echoed in the wind around them. Grabbing Roach by the reigns, she walks toward the small stable behind her cottage.
“Let’s get her settled. Bring that basket along with you,” she calls over her shoulder.
Geralt smiles, watching the two of them in the stable. Lavinia takes her time brushing Roach’s coat. Combing out her mane, she braids in some wildflowers. Adding a ribbon at the end, she smiles at her handiwork before glancing at Geralt. Giving Roach one last scratch behind the ear, she walks over to him and tucks a strand of milk-white hair behind his ear.
Geralt looks down at her, and his lips twist in a sinister smile. She yelps as he bends quickly to lift her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. He grabs the basket on his way out of the stable and walks into the warm, cozy cottage. Setting the basket on the dining table, he continues on his way to her bedroom.
Letting her down, he walks her backward until the backs of her knees meet the edge of the bed. Pushing gently on her chest, he helps her lay back. He kneels on the floor between her spread legs to remove her boots. Smoothing his hands over her stockings, he hooks his fingers in the top of them, guiding them down her toned thighs and calves, letting them pool on the floor.
Wrapping a hand around her foot, he lifts it to kiss her from ankle to thigh. Mirroring the action on the other side, he continues to kiss higher and higher up her leg until his mouth hovers over her apex. His warm breath ghosting over her mound sends a shiver up her spine, making her hips raise slightly.
“Please, Geralt. I need you,” she whispers, her breasts heaving with her erratic breathing.
Leaning in, he licks a stripe between her outer labia, his tongue splitting her in two as it gathers her nectar. Swirling around her engorged nub, he sucks it between his lips. She attempts to enclose his head between her thighs, but he grips her flesh and holds her open to him. When her folds open, he dives in headfirst to lap up the slick that escapes her.
He turns his attention back to her pearl as he begins to use a single finger to tease at her opening. Listening to the sounds she makes, he knows that she is so close. Sliding his finger inside her, he sets an excruciatingly slow pace. Twisting and turning his digit inside her, he feels for her inner bundle of nerves.
Once he finds it, he inserts another finger. Rubbing small circles into her spongy center, he presses in harder until her walls clamp down around him. He continues to flick his tongue against her sweet spot as she moans and gasps through her climax. When she has calmed down, he removes his fingers and sucks them into his mouth.
He stands, climbing between her legs and pulling his chemise over his head. As he does so, she sits up. She runs her hands over his scarred skin, his yellow eyes following her movement as her hands lower to the hem of his pants. She makes quick work of the buttons and is rewarded when his girthy member springs up in front of her.
She wraps a small hand around him, finding she needs to use both to encircle him. She strokes him slowly, her eyes widening as pre-cum leaks from his thick tip. Using a thumb, she gathers his seed and swirls it around his mushroom head. She leans in, licking a stripe over the underside of his length, earning a low growl from him.
He removes himself from her hands, knowing he won’t last if she uses her hot mouth on him. He kisses the frown off her face, covering her body with his own. “As much as I would love to feel your mouth on me, the urge to be inside you in a different way is much too appealing to ignore,” he hums, using one hand to tease her petals with his erection.
Gathering her wetness, he taps the tip against her sweet spot, then slides between her lower lips. Once sheathed inside her, they hissed in unison. Her, at the feeling of fullness. Him, at the tight fit of her warmth. He sits there, allowing her to get used to his tumescence.
As her legs wrap around his hips, she tilts her pelvis just slightly, and he knows she is ready for him. He retracts his hips until just the head remains inside then thrusts in fully. He does it again and again, setting a punishing pace.
The sounds of her moans and his grunts mixed with the slapping of slick flesh, fill the air. The intoxicating smell of their pheromones blends into a spicy, sweet bouquet. As his hips piston inside her walls, he kisses her yet again, feasting on her lips and taking her breath away.
He breaks the kiss, nibbling her jaw and licking at her sweat-slicked neck. She turns her head to give him better access, whimpering as he sucks a hickey into her flesh. His tongue soothes the tender skin as he feels her depths begin to quiver around him.
He snakes a hand between them to toy with her swollen button. The pad of his thumb brings her to her second orgasm of the night. He picks up the pace as he journeys toward his release. His hips stutter soon enough as he thrusts deep inside her to bury himself to the hilt. He fills her, painting her walls with enough spend that it begins to leak past his softening thickness.
He presses a kiss on her throat before moving to lay next to her once he slips from her folds. He opens his arm, and she rests her head on his chest. Throwing a leg over his, she tangles a hand in his chest hair.
“I’m so glad you made it back to me, Geralt,” she beams, idly drawing patterns across his skin.
“I told you we would see each other again. No one, man or monster, could keep me away from my love for long,” he reassures, closing his eyes. He hears her heartbeat quicken and smiles to himself.
She lifts her head to look at him, bringing a hand to his face. Raising his head, he meets her lips in an unhurried kiss. He tangles his tongue with hers until he takes the lead. He reaches down to grasp her leg, maneuvering her to be on top as he sits up.
She wraps her arms around his neck, breaking the kiss to rest their foreheads together. “I love you, Geralt.”
He looks into her eyes, seeing their future together in those dark orbs. Savoring this moment, a slow smile spreads across his face. “I love you, Lavinia. Forever and a day.”
“Forever and a day,” she murmurs.
A/N: This is the first time I have written Geralt. I hope I did him justice. He’s my comfort character, after all. This particular Geralt is a mix of the videogame version, the book version, and the Netflix version of him. This version of him smiles and can be soft while still able to use a sword one-handed to take down a foe. *swoon*
**Tag List**
@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25
@kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily
@titty-teetee @princessaxoxo @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102
@toooldforobsessions @carrie80reads @mayloma @mollymal @posiemax
@identity2212 @alwayzmsbehavn
Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁If your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you.
#henry cavill#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill characters#henry cavill smut#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fic#ellethespaceunicorn fanfic#forever and a day#geralt of rivia#geralt z rivii#witcher geralt#the witcher#witcher fanfiction#witcher fic#witcher netflix#geralt of rivia x ofc#geralt of rivia x black!ofc#geralt of rivia x black ofc#witcher#geralt x ofc#geralt x black!ofc#geralt x black ofc
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thou Shalt Not Covet // 12: Mercy
Contents | Part 11 | First Person Version [AO3]
Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) Adapting to your new normal comes with some disappointments. But you can always count on your priest to lift your spirits.
Word Count: 5.7K
Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, religious imagery & desecration, explicit sexual content including oral sex (giving). Readers must be 18+
A/N: Thank you all so much for your patience, I'm so happy to be posting again. I'm not entirely happy with the writing in this chapter, it's definitely not my strongest work so I apologise in advance if anyone notices a drop in quality. I'll be back on top form in the next one (I hope).
This part includes a little nod to Fleabag S2, the original inspiration for this story.
His kiss was like a bruise, an aching reminder of a heady collision. And much like a bruise, you couldn't help but touch it; poking and prodding with fascination at the memory of an impact just beneath your skin.
The evening sun gleamed golden through the cloudy bus window as you rested your elbow against it, running the tips of your fingers across your lips, keeping him close to the surface. You hadn't wanted to leave the church. You weren't sure he wanted you to leave either; the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the wall of that quiet, narrow corridor like he wanted to keep you there forever. And you probably would have let him.
The bus shuddered and jerked over the uneven road, the windows rattling, passengers swaying in a lazy unison. It was all so mundane, so normal and unremarkable, yet somehow these were the places that felt strange now; existing somewhere that didn't hold the weight of your sins.
You almost missed your stop, fumbling to press the bell and staggering down the aisle as the driver came to an abrupt halt. The air outside was cooler, a gentle breeze providing relief from the mid-spring warmth. You thought of rain as you walked home, breathed slow as you pictured it hammering the roads and gathering in murky puddles; angry grey skies and fierce winds that carried the scent of salt and earth.
There were new decorations in the front garden of your mother's house. Small lights lining the path, a bird feeder and ornaments shaped like squirrels and rabbits tucked amongst the flower beds. You ducked to avoid a new hanging basket over the front door, letting yourself inside and checking your reflection in the mirror on the wall as you kicked off your shoes. You leaned in closer, examining yourself for a moment, trying to figure out what it was he found so irresistible about you.
"Is that you, Ellis?" your mother called.
"Yeah it's me," you replied, following her voice into the dining room.
She was sitting at the table surrounded by artificial flowers, plastic leaves and Baby's Breath. Her glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose as she fiddled with a roll of wire, cable ties hanging from her mouth and a pair of scissors in her hand.
"What are you doing?" you asked.
"Making a wreath f'th front door," she mumbled, the ties still between her teeth.
"You're a few months late..."
"A spring wreath." She rolled her eyes, taking the ties out of her mouth. "There's dinner for you in the kitchen. Didn't realise you wouldn't be back in time."
"Oh, yeah sorry I should've told you I'd be late."
"Work?"
"No, the er... I was at the... church."
She pushed her glasses onto her head, looking up at you with pursed lips.
"What?" you asked with a nervous laugh. "I just... I like helping out there."
"I didn't say anything.," she replied, holding her hands up in surrender. "I don't care what you believe in, as long as you don't get involved in one of those cults. I can't be doing with ending up on the news."
You laughed again - a breathier, more genuine laugh - and sat down beside her, watching as she tucked flowers into loops of wire, arranging them until they looked just right.
"I think he's good for you," she said.
"Who?"
"Your priest friend. He's a good person to have in your life. I think you need it; someone virtuous, moral."
Moral. You thought back to the night in the rectory, the things he'd whispered in your ear as he parted your legs, how his hands seemed most comfortable on your neck. You thought about the scuffs on his knuckles after he punched Alfie in the face for daring to come close to you, his fantasy of you kneeling before him at mass, the 'fuck it' he'd growled before kissing you not even an hour ago.
"And I'm not saying you're not those things," she continued. "But it's just... I suppose it's nice to know you've got a friend who's such a good influence, you know."
"Wow, and suddenly I feel ten years old again," you muttered sarcastically.
She tutted and elbowed you gently, pulling her glasses back down again.
You stood up and made your way into the kitchen where a plate sat alone on the tidy counter. You peeled back the foil on top to reveal a lukewarm dinner, not bothering to heat it up before returning to your seat in the dining room.
"Have you spoken to your estate agent friend yet?" your mother asked as she snipped the stem of an artificial sunflower.
"Mm," you began, trying to speak through a mouthful of food. You swallowed it quickly and continued. "I told you, he works in sales. Big stuff, you know, like multimillion pound stuff. I'd have more luck on Rightmove."
"And have you?"
"Nope. I've been checking constantly. Zoopla too, and On The Market and Prime Location and-"
"Okay, alright, I get the point."
"Are you in a rush to get rid of me or something?"
"What? No, no of course not. I just- I worry. You're my youngest, you know I worry."
"I know." You sighed, pushing your fork around the plate.
"It's funny you haven't found anything though. I'm always seeing signs on places to let, especially near the town centre."
"Oh no, I've found a couple of flats that'd be perfect. I just can't afford them. I mean, you're talking deposit, rent upfront, fees, furnishings... I haven't even managed to pay my phone bill this month, it's going to take me ages to save up."
She let out a long, deflated sigh. "I wish I could help."
"You can help with the phone bill if you want?" you joked.
She chuckled, holding up the half-finished wreath to examine her work.
The next week passed in a bland, monotonous blur. Each day a repetition of the last; go to work, waste the morning scrolling on real estate websites, eat the sandwich your mother packed for you, fix your posture whenever Dawn walked past your office. Then you'd get the bus home, accidentally head butt the hanging basket on your way into the house, eat dinner at the dining table and disappear into your childhood bedroom for the rest of the night.
You were lying beneath your Care Bear bedsheets, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, remembering how you used to pick out patterns in them whenever you couldn't sleep. You loved Friday nights; going to bed knowing you wouldn't have to wake to the blare of an alarm, the buzz of your phone against the bedside table, to know you didn't have to look at any more baby pictures until Monday. No more tiny humans stuffed into wicker baskets, pudgy cheeks and scarily bendy limbs.
Moonlight melted through a gap in the closed curtains, the lilac material swaying gently in the breeze seeping through the open window. You rolled onto your side, the small single bed creaking as you moved, and for a moment you found your mind wandering to the bed you'd left behind at Gina's house; wondered if they'd ever slept together beneath your sheets.
No one had been there when you went to collect your belongings, but still your father stood watch like a bouncer as you slogged box after box down the stairs. It was all in storage now. Everything you owned sitting in your father's garage, biding its time, waiting for a place to belong. Much like you; tucked away, collecting dust.
You reached for your phone, squinting as the screen came to life in the dark. You opened a new message and began to type before deleting it, then typing, then deleting, then typing. The cursor blinked as you stared at the blank text bubble, like it was waiting for you, ticking like a clock or the tapping of an impatient foot.
So what exactly do priests text about? you finally wrote, pressing send and putting the phone face down on the nightstand.
There was a buzz soon after. You grabbed it immediately.
I see you finally paid your bill, the message read.
You smiled.
How did you know it was me? you sent.
Educated guess.
You began to type, but you paused when you saw he was typing too. Then he stopped, then kept writing, then stopped again. You wondered what he was so hesitant to say, what thought he couldn't find the words for.
Do you need any help at church this weekend? you wrote.
Ok now I'm not so sure this is actually Ellis..
Hey, I'm just trying to get back in the Lord's good books.
Were you ever in his good books to start with?
You giggled, fingers absentmindedly finding your lips and running softly back and forth over them, searching for an ache, the tingle of a kiss that was beginning to fade.
A breeze carried the faint sound of music across the church grounds, the evening sun still bright and warm as you walked across the plush grass. Your hands were planted firmly on your backside, holding down the bottom of your summer dress as the wind tried to lift it.
There was a signboard outside the entrance to the function hall: Parish Singles Mixer This Way. You held back the urge to laugh, taking a moment to compose yourself before walking inside where June's eyes immediately trailed the length of you.
"Hello," you said awkwardly.
"It started at seven, you know," she said, glancing down at her watch.
"What time is it now?"
"Half past."
"Oh. Sorry. Well I suppose it could be worse; at least I'm sober." You breathed out a laugh.
June's face remained sullen. You cleared your throat.
"I'll just... see you inside," you said.
You walked past her and stopped in the doorway, pressing your lips together as you took in the sight of the decorated hall, the round tables covered with paper tablecloths and sprinklings of shiny confetti.
Music played from a large speaker at the back of the room. A church volunteer named Keith was sat beside it with a laptop, like a DJ who'd forgotten his equipment. Men and women filled the space, dressed in their best shirts and loveliest dresses with name tags on their chests. Some talked in pairs, others gathered in large same-sex groups like nervous teenagers.
You didn't realise your mouth had opened, gawping slightly at the wonderfully pitiful scene before you. You'd never been to a single's night before, but you were certain they weren't supposed to look like this.
You turned to a table beside you where a stack of blank name tags and a box of markers sat neatly. You took one and wrote your name, sticking it to your left breast with a crude slap.
"This started half an hour ago, you know." Father Benedict's voice was like silk in your ear, so smooth you didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance behind you.
You turned and looked up at him. "You religious folk are weirdly concerned with punctuality."
He smiled, eyes flitting down to your chest then back up to your face. "Why've you put a name tag on?"
"Isn't that what they're there for?"
"Yes, for the singles."
"I'm single..."
There was a long silence. You watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, eyes closing with a slow blink and a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth.
"Catholic singles," he said.
"Ah, so that's why it feels like a high school prom in here." You paused. "Actually no, it doesn't. People got so drunk at my prom they were throwing up outside, and I know of at least four girls who got fingered in the toilets."
"Were you one of them?"
You hit him hard on the arm. He chuckled, pulling at the white collar around his neck, his gaze staying on you for slightly too long.
It was like you'd been holding tension in your joints all week and they'd finally loosened in his presence. Like his desire was a salve that provided relief, a lingering stare that could soothe any ache.
"Hi, by the way," he said.
"Hi."
"I wasn't sure you'd actually show."
"Are you joking? And miss this inevitable disaster?"
He smiled. "I'll have you know I held one of these events at my last parish and it was a huge success."
"Oh, you fingered someone in the toilets?"
He rolled his eyes.
"You got fingered...?"
"Stop saying fingered," he whispered, holding back a laugh.
"Sorry." You lowered your gaze apologetically, before looking back up at him with a slight smirk.
His chest expanded with a slow, deep inhale, his eyes fixed on yours, switching focus from left to right as though searching for something behind them. Eventually he cleared his throat, straightening his posture and slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
"I need to get this mixer actually mixing," he said. "Would you mind manning the drinks table for a bit?"
You nodded with a quiet laugh. "Sure."
He wandered off through the hall, stopping to talk with people, shaking hands and breaking ice. It was captivating to watch someone navigate a crowd with such ease; to charm even the most shy people out of their shells and have them willingly follow.
The drinks table was a sad affair; a stack of plastic cups and two pitchers of lukewarm, watered down juice. You pulled up a chair and sat down behind it, scanning the room, your gaze falling on a couple who seemed to be hitting it off. She laughed at something he said, reached out and touched his arm. He ran a hand through his hair, the blush of his cheeks so pink you could see it from across the room.
"Excuse me, would you mind if I got myself a drink?"
You looked up to see a man pointing to the cups. You shook your head and gestured for him to go ahead. He was wearing a bowtie, the sleeves of his shirt slightly too short for his long arms as he reached for one of the pitchers. He appeared around your age, but his sheepish demeanour made him seem younger. You narrowed your eyes to read his name tag - Abel - you laughed.
He shifted uncomfortably. "D-did I do something funny?"
"No, sorry." You waved your hand. "It's just... Abel. My brother's name is Cain. Y'know, Cain and Abel."
"Ah." His laugh was laced with relief. "He's not here is he? I'd have to run and hide."
"Oh no, he's dead."
There was an awkward silence, his eyes widening as he struggled to find an appropriate response.
"Oh, you were making a bible joke," you said. "Sorry, I just got it."
He relaxed again, exhaling a weak laugh and taking a large chug of juice.
You glanced over at Father Benedict as he tried desperately to introduce people to one another, your eyes trailing down to his backside.
"So are you a volunteer or a... single?" asked Abel, snapping you out of your lecherous daze.
You shrugged. "Both, I suppose."
"Oh, cool." He hovered at the table for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing."
"By the looks of it, no one does."
He laughed. "It's a bit embarrassing really, isn't it; needing a special event just to meet someone."
"Church people, they're a picky bunch."
He laughed again, more heartily this time.
"Hi guys," said Father Benedict as he approached the table, ducking down to count the bottles of juice near your feet. "How's your evening going?"
"It's alright," said Abel, gesturing towards you with a smile. "Better now I've met Ellis here."
You smiled back politely.
Father Benedict straightened to his full height, hand finding the back of your chair with a tight grip as he looked down at you. "Oh really?"
You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, surprised to find flecks of jealousy in the lines of his face.
"That's nice," he said, back teeth pressed firmly together. "But I actually need to borrow you for a second if that's alright?"
You turned back to Abel. "Sorry."
"Oh, yeah no it's- no problem. We can chat in a bit."
You nodded, watching as he wandered off awkwardly through the crowd.
"What's up?" you asked, turning your attention back to Father Benedict.
"Could you refill these jugs?" He lifted a large bottle of cordial onto the table. "What's that about?"
"What's what about?"
"Him."
"Oh, his name's Abel. He seems nice."
"No, I know who he is, he works at the school. I meant what were you doing talking to him?"
You narrowed your eyes. "Are you jealous, Father?"
He glanced over his shoulder at him, then back to you. "Nah, he's not my type."
You scoffed quietly and stood up, wrapping your fingers around the bottle lid and attempting to turn it. It was tight, stiff, making the palm of your hand ache as you tried to force it open.
"I think he's nervous," you said. "Says something when I'm the most approachable person here."
"Or maybe he just fancies you," he replied, taking the bottle from you and opening it with an easy twist.
"Maybe." You paused. "Would that bother you? If he did?"
He pressed the tip of his tongue to his top lip, the corner of his mouth curling with a slight smile.
"I can't control who fancies you, Ellis. I just hope you remember the promise you made..."
"No one touches me unless they're worthy?"
"That's the one."
"Including you?"
He looked down at you, throat bobbing with a slow swallow. "Including me."
"So... That kiss last week..."
"Oh, that wasn't because I think I'm worthy. That was because I have no self control."
You exhaled a laugh through your nose. "How's your self control doing tonight?"
"It's hanging on... By a thread."
"It's the dress, isn't it."
He bowed his head, chuckling quietly as he walked away.
And as quickly as it had dissipated, the tension returned again. But this time it wasn't in your joints. It was in your chest, your core, in the swelling heat between your legs. You licked your lips and sat back down.
Abel was talking but you couldn't hear a word, chewing on the rim of your plastic cup as you stared past him, eyes fixed on your priest and the woman he'd been chatting to for far too long.
"Ellis?"
"Hm?"
"I asked you a question," Abel laughed.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked when your last relationship was."
"Oh, er, it was recent."
He nodded with interest. "How recent?"
"Like... recent recent. He cheated on me, it was a whole thing."
"Oh, wow, I-I'm sorry to hear that."
The night had crept up slowly, darkness turning the windows to glossy, black mirrors as the coloured lights inside the hall glittered against them. The atmosphere had relaxed; the room buzzing with joy and laughter as connections formed and inhibitions melted away. You wondered how many weddings would come from this evening, how many love stories you'd witnessed the birth of.
The woman reached out, brushing something off Father Benedict's shoulder, smiling and continuing to talk as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world. You bit the inside of your cheek.
"Ellis? You've disappeared again," Abel laughed.
"Sorry. Sorry, I- I'll just be a minute, I have to..." you trailed off, standing up before he could even respond and walking quickly across the hall.
You tapped Father Benedict on the shoulder and the woman stopped talking, turning her head slowly to look at you.
"Sorry for interrupting," you said.
"No need to apologise," he replied, placing a hand on your back as though he'd forgotten where he was. "Ellis, this is Meg, she just passed her training to become a lay minister."
"Oh, congratulations," you said.
She gave a wry smile.
"Meg, Ellis is a... friend of the church."
"Acquaintance, really," you said. "Friend is a bit strong."
He rolled his eyes, prodding his fingers firmly into your back.
"It's nice to meet you, Ellis," she said.
You nodded before turning to look up at Father Benedict. "I was just wondering if you wanted me to go around and clean up the empty cups?"
"That'd be great."
You allowed your gaze to linger on him for a moment before conceding and walking away, listening to Meg talk again, as though you'd never interrupted them.
The bin bag was making your palm sweat, the shiny, black plastic sticking to your leg whenever you moved. You groaned and kicked it away again, reaching for a collection of used cups rimmed with lipstick. You threw them in the bag and moved to the next table, catching the eye of a man who flashed you a hopeful smile. You smiled back politely and kept walking, peeling the name tag from your chest, crumpling it in your fist and throwing it away.
You threw another few cups in the bag and peered over at the spot where Father Benedict and Meg had been standing, but instead of the tall, dark priest, a young woman stood in his place. You furrowed your brow, scanning the room for him. He was gone.
You felt something cold on your foot, looking down to find a quickening stream of juice dripping from the bag. You swore under your breath, grimacing as you marched it at arm's length out of the hall and into a small, quiet stock room. You shoved the bag into a bin in the corner and grabbed a roll of tissue, unravelling more than you needed and bending down to wipe away the sweet, sticky mess trickling down the side of your shoe.
The door opened suddenly, making you jump in fright, losing your balance and falling back onto the floor. Father Benedict's deep, throaty laugh thrummed into the quiet space. He made his way over to you and reached out his hand.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."
You blew out a breath and took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. "The bag split."
"Ugh, are you alright?"
"I think I'll survive."
He took a step back towards the door, leaning against the frame as he listened to the muffled noise seeping out of the hall.
"Tonight's going well, don't you think?" he said proudly.
"Mhm, I see at least one person's getting fingered in the toilets," you replied sarcastically.
His brows came together over confused eyes. He thought for a moment, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to you.
"Wh- Meg?"
"Yeah, you seemed to really be hitting it off in there."
He pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to grin. "She's moving to my old parish next month, wants me to recommend her to the minister there. That's all."
"Oh. Good luck to her."
"Now who's the jealous one," he teased.
You rummaged through a cupboard near the bin, pulling out a roll of fresh bags. He cocked his head as he watched you, analysing you.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
You blew out a puff of air, lifting a stray lock of hair out of your face. "Well, considering I'm a grown woman who lives with her mum, my capacity for 'okay' only stretches so far."
"Fair enough," he laughed. "And you haven't had any more trouble from what's-his-face, have you?"
"No, I think he's scared of me since you gave him that nose job."
He covered his eyes with his hand, dragging it slowly down his face. "I still can't believe I did that. I don't know what got into me-"
"It's okay. I found it quite sexy."
"Why am I not the least bit surprised?"
You smiled, bowing your head as you tried to tear a bag from the roll.
"Here," he said as he walked over to you.
You watched his hands as they gripped the plastic, ripping it apart with a forceful pull. He handed a bag to you and tossed the rest aside.
"Thanks," you said, clearing your throat as you looked up at him.
The last time you were this close, he had just kissed you; his breath ragged, eyes burning with a heat you could feel beneath your skin. You'd spent every moment since wondering what might have happened if you'd stayed, if that single thread of self control had torn under the weight of his desire.
He swallowed, eyes flitting down to your lips, and in that moment you knew he'd been wondering the exact same thing. You shivered as his hand settled tentatively on your hip, your breath shaking as his fingertips moved to graze your thigh beneath the hem of your dress.
"You took your name tag off" he said quietly.
"Yeah," you replied, barely whispering. "You were right, I shouldn't have been wearing it."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't come for the mixer..."
"Then why did you come?" He shifted closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face, the tickle of his touch travelling further beneath your dress.
You could feel goosebumps puckering down your arms, desire blooming deep in your core. You welcomed his caress, leaning into it, granting him access to your body like a gift. You gazed up at him with heavy lids, breaths turning shallow as he leaned forward, bringing his lips inches from yours.
"Why?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble in the base of his throat.
"Probably the same reason you keep inviting me back," you whispered.
Your lips met in a slow, heavy kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth without any hesitation. You sighed against him, eyes closing, losing yourself in a taste you'd come to crave. It didn't matter that beyond the door was a hall full of people, that if anyone saw you it would mean the end; not just for him, but for you too. In this moment, all you cared about was the feeling of his hands on your skin, the groan that escaped him when you gently sucked on his bottom lip.
"Hi June, I'm looking for Ellis," Abel's voice echoed from the foyer. "About this tall, she's wearing a dress with flowers on?"
You pulled apart quickly, foreheads resting against each other.
"Fucking hell," you hissed.
"Another holy intervention," Father Benedict muttered.
"No, just a man in a bow tie," you sighed.
You were crouched behind the drinks table. Partly because you had to pack everything away, but mostly because you were hiding.
Abel was nice. Funny, well-intentioned, handsome if not slightly gawky. And maybe in another world, you could have given him a chance; gone for coffee, held hands as he walked you home, kissed goodnight on the doorstep. But in this world, there was a priest.
You peered over the table, watching as the singles sat in groups around the room, cards stuck to their foreheads and pens in their hands. Abel was sat amongst them, playing opposite a shy, giggly woman, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears. You smiled and sank back down behind the table, breathing out a sigh of relief before packing up the last few cups into a large cardboard box.
You walked out of the hall and down the path towards the church, the box obscuring your view as you lugged it in your arms. The night air was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass through the air. You'd always preferred the colder months, but there was something about the air when spring turned to summer - the way it smelled, how it sat on the skin like a gentle embrace - that always reminded you to breathe, to fill your lungs to the brim and savour the feeling.
You pushed through the side door of the church with your hip, letting it swing closed behind you as you stepped inside. You walked down the quiet corridor, the air still close and suffocating from the day's heat, and with a tired huff, you dumped the box on the floor inside Father Benedict's office.
"Father?" you called out, met with nothing but silence.
You couldn't help but wander down to the chapel, the dark, echoey space so still and serene that even your exhales felt out of place. You paused to bask in the solitude; the smells you'd come to find comfort in, the feel of the carpet beneath the soles of your shoes. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, when a sudden shiver rolled down your back at the sound of footsteps behind you.
You turned around, eyes settling on a tall, dark frame emerging from the corridor. He stopped just beyond the threshold, standing with his hands in his pockets, the flash of white around his neck still visible even in the dim light.
"I couldn't remember where you said to put the stuff so I threw it in your office," you said.
"Threw it?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"If you want the job done well, pay me."
He chuckled before looking around at the empty pews, the darkness beyond the stained glass windows. You watched as he made his way to the altar, walking leisurely, hands still in his pockets. He turned on his heels to face you, gesturing with his head for you to come to him.
You didn't question it, doing as he instructed like an obedient servant, following orders without a single word. Your heart began to race as you stood before him, the fluttering in your chest mirrored by a rippling deep in your stomach the moment your eyes met.
"Kneel," he said calmly.
You hesitated, eyes flitting around the church.
"It's just us," he said.
"And him..." you replied, nodding to the statue of Christ behind him.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't concede. You swallowed hard, lowering yourself slowly to your knees, ignoring the burn of the rough carpet against your skin.
You reached up, each action careful and considerate, like you feared you'd startle him back to sense if you made any sudden movements. He kept his eyes on you, gazing down as your fingers found the buttons of his trousers, releasing each one with a gentle pop. He placed a hand on your face, thumb pressing to your bottom lip and dragging it down to reveal your tongue. You stuck it out willingly, watching shadows form in the angles of his face as he pushed it into your mouth. His eyelids fluttered slightly as you sucked on it, and you held back the urge to smile.
You parted his fly and slipped your hand beneath the fabric of his underwear, gripping the base of his cock and releasing it eagerly. He was hard, rigid and pulsing with even the lightest graze of your fingers, but he remained calm, unwavering in his composure, only the slight quiver of his breath giving him away. This was his fantasy - he'd already told you - and you'd wanted so desperately to make it come true.
You flattened your tongue and dragged it up the underside of his length, drawing a deep groan from his throat as he moved his hand back to the side of your face. You'd never much cared for giving blow jobs; finding them boring, awkward, an unsexy act that left you with an aching jaw and numb lips. But the arousal pooling between your legs was undeniable, the tingle of your hardening nipples making you shudder with excitement. You slid him into your mouth, sinking halfway before pulling back and glancing up at him, seeking approval, wanting to be led.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, letting his head fall back as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it before taking it back into your mouth. You moved at a steady pace, drawing him deeper each time until you were struggling to breathe. He took your hair in fistfuls, guiding you gently, his rich moans pouring over you like warm, sweet honey.
You felt a hard prod at the back of your throat, the sensation making you gag, choking back a cough as you pushed his hips back to catch your breath. He buckled at the sound, swearing under his breath as he struggled to stay upright. He liked it; the sound of you gagging, the rush of thick saliva coating his cock.
You reached up and took both of his wrists, moving his grip to the back of your head before dropping your hands behind your back. He groaned in delicious realisation, the silent permission to use your mouth unlocking a forcefulness that took you by surprise.
His fingers tangled in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. You held your breath as he sank deep, pulling back and repeating the action with a quiet growl. You fought the urge to move your hands and take back control, keeping your fingers clasped tightly behind your back, trusting him not to push you too far.
Your eyes were watering, nose running, spit escaping from the corners of your mouth. You were certain it was the most unattractive you'd ever looked, yet there was a thrill in letting go; the veneer of uncertainty shattering with every snap of his hips.
A string of incoherent whispers spilled out of him as he came, cock throbbing against your tongue and coating your throat with his rapture. You gasped when he slid out of your mouth, as if he'd been holding your head below water and had finally brought you up for air.
He cupped your face, staring down at you in awe. You wiped your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you gazed up at him, your breathing still rapid and uneven, swollen lips parted in awe of his beauty. He tucked himself back into his trousers, not bothering to button them before kneeling with you and running his thumbs under your eyes, swiping at the smudges of tears and mascara that had pooled there. You reached up instinctively to hold his forearms, balancing yourself, as he continued to wipe away the mess he'd created, his movements so gentle and considered it was hard to believe he was capable of anything other than tenderness.
"Stay with me tonight," he said softly.
You nodded, unsure how you would ever be able to leave him again.
*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @veryladyqueen @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen
*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here
#benedict cumberbatch#benedict cumberbatch imagine#benedict cumberbatch smut#benedict cumberbatch fanfic#benedict cumberbatch fanfiction#priest!benedict#priest kink#hot priest#fanfic smut#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfic writing#smut writing#smut fanfiction#smut#eventual smut#lemon#benedict cumberbatch x reader#benedict cumberbatch x you#benedict x reader#benedict x you#fanfic series#sherlock smut
55 notes
·
View notes
Note
Writing prompt - Gale surprises Tav with a bunch of red roses and a candlelit dinner.
The Rose of Reithwin
Pairing: Gale x gn Tav - SFW
Word Count: 2k
You must have sensed i'm struck in a rut! Here you go, my lovely anon. I got a bit carried away. I hope you enjoy <3
Tav ached all the way down to their bones. The lack of sunlight, breeze, and even the stagnation of time itself was a burden which they could feel cloying in their veins. Tav dreamed of flowers and sunlight, of food that wasn’t dried out and looted from long-rotted barrels or the backpacks of fallen soldiers. Tav ached for comfort in a land which still throbbed with ongoing pain.
After a long needed wash in whatever water they could find amongst the shadows, Tav headed back to camp, hoping to find some solace in Gale’s warm words and strong arms. It had been a couple of nights since they had spent their first, proper night together. Just the memory of it was enough to spark a small flame of comfort, but Tav needed to be in his company for it to fan into a heat warm enough to melt away the icy shards of the shadow curse.
To Tav’s surprise, Karlach was hovering outside Gale’s tent, excitement evident in the sparks and flickers glowing from her engine. She couldn’t stay still, practically vibrating with energy. She was dressed... unusually.
“You’re wearing a bow tie?”
“I know!” Karlach’s ability to light up with even the slightest taste of joy was enough to keep even the darkest shadows at bay. “I found it on a corpse!!” She added with unbound enthusiasm.
“Oh, well... well done?”
“Thanks! Oh, wait a minute.” She rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper covered in elegant writing, along with a single, slightly flattened, rose. “Sorry, it looked better before I sat on it.”
Tav took the paper, perplexed. “This... is a menu.” They read over the intricate, swirling script in total confusion.
“Yeah! Gale asked if I would help him, and well... he said I may have gone a bit too far with everything, but I thought I could help! He, um, said the Simulacrum freaked you out a bit last time.” She mimicked the jaunty pose that Gale’s mirror image had performed a few nights ago, and Tav tried their best not to laugh at the impression. “And he was busy concentrating on other magicky, wizard stuff, so I told him to leave it with me.”
“So... here I am, my liege.” She bowed dramatically. “Mr. Dekarios awaits the pleasure of your incom... incom... incompra...” She suddenly unfurled another, smaller note from her top pocket and scanned over it, mouthing the words soundlessly. “Fuck it, his handwriting is awful. Gale is waiting for you at the Waning Moon.”
The abandoned pub was not far from where they had set up camp, and Karlach pointed to a trail of floating lanterns illuminating a path for Tav to follow. They glowed with gentle magic, and Tav grinned to themselves, amused by the wizard's flair for the dramatic. Gale was always one to create a sense of wonder, and it seemed like whatever he had planned for the evening would be no exception.
When Tav reached the building and pushed open the doors, they could not believe the view.
In the centre of the room stood Gale, his hands aglow with arcane energy as he conducted a symphony of magic. With a wave of his hand, ribbons of light twisted and twirled, weaving themselves into elaborate decorations. Flowers bloomed from thin air, their petals unfolding in bursts of colour to settle upon various neglect-scarred surfaces.
“You’re here!” Gale said, his voice filled with warmth and excitement. “I’m almost finished.”
Tav watched in awe as Gale orchestrated the magic around them, bringing the abandoned building to life with his spellcraft. Tables appeared, draped in luxurious fabrics and adorned with silver candelabras that flickered with ethereal flames. Chairs formed from wisps of mist solidified under their touch, their cushions embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer. The cracked wooden floorboards were mended, and gleamed under the soft glow of floating candles. The grimy, stained walls had brightened, and were now streaked with vines of ivy that bloomed with small, colourful flowers.
In the centre, a table for two stood, set with fine china, crystal goblets, and a centrepiece of roses that flitted between various shades of rich red in the candlelight. The once dingy bar was now a haven in a hellscape.
“You… you did all this? For me?”
Gale made his way over to hold Tav’s hand, and the contact immediately relieved a tight coil within their chest. “I meant what I said. If we had more time… well...” He gestured to the scene around him. “I would do it all better.”
Music spilled from an unknown source, soft and comforting. It had been so long since Tav had heard music, since the air around them had been filled with anything other than death and shadow. The song was familiar, warm...
Gale seemed to pick up on their thoughts. “You may not remember, but... it's a song Alfira played at the party with the Tieflings.” He blushed slightly, the pink in his cheeks glowing in the soft candlelight. “It was playing just after our conversation, after I told you to go enjoy your evening.”
Tav let a smirk play at their lips, recalling their attempt at propositioning the wizard. The heady mixture of joy and wine had urged them toward Gale, to flirt with the man with the disarming smile, who had very gallantly turned them down.
“So… you did want me that evening?”
“Oh, I wanted you.” All hint of self-consciousness dropped from his expression, leaving only raw sincerity. “This song was playing when I realised I was falling in love with you.”
Tav’s heart fluttered. The music made the air feel lighter. For a moment, they were not soldiers in a battle-scarred town but two lovers in the bliss-filled infancy of a new relationship. Where possibilities crackled with lively potential. Where each touch and loving word was a promise heavy with pure, unfiltered intention.
“I remember that night,” Tav said softly. “I remember wishing for more moments we could just be us for a little while.”
Gale’s eyes were a mixture of hope and regret. “Maybe we can still have those moments. Maybe we can find a way.”
Tav squeezed his hand. “Maybe you already have.”
“I hope so.” He kissed Tav’s poor, battle-worn fingers. “I am torn between wishing you had never had to endure any of this horror, to being extraordinarily grateful to have met you.” He was suddenly aching with sadness. “It is a heartbreaking realisation, to know the person you love is in your life due to a tragedy you wish had never befallen them.” He cupped the face of his love, and stroked his thumb along fresh scars and the fading stain of bruises which lurked just under their skin. “No-one should ever have to learn how brave they can be.”
He leant forward then, and brushed his lips against theirs. Chaste and gentlemanlike, the kind of kiss one would expect from a gallant partner on a first date, and Tav couldn’t help but think of the heavy, moaned kisses which Gale had lain across every inch of their body just a few nights prior. He really was doing everything backwards.
Tav decided they would play along with the honourable behaviour, for now, and instead turned their attention to the beautiful display of roses.
“A very traditional choice, Mr.Dekarios.”
“‘Rose is a term of endearment in Waterdeep. To refer to one’s beloved.” His eyes were soft and shimmered in the light. “I thought they would be fitting.”
Tav picked up one of the roses and admired the velvet of its petals, the rich, wine-like scent, and the sharp bite of thorns.
“I hope you do not think the thorns are due to any slip in my arcane proficiency. I know it’s just illusionary, but.. I wanted to make the whole thing as.. human as possible. The old ways, if you will. Thorns and all.”
“Well, whatever you’ve done - the food smells incredible.” The savoury scent of roasting meat mingled with the earthy, buttery smell of cooked vegetables and fresh herbs enveloped Tav in much-needed comfort.
“That is no illusion, my rose.” He pulled out one of the chairs, and motioned for Tav to sit and with a click of his fingers two mage hands appeared with plates of fresh, steaming food. “That is the dedicated endeavour of a man with exceptional culinary skill and limited resources.”
“How on earth did you find all this?!”
“Well, I may have used some of my charm and resorted to a bit of bribery.”
“You’re rubbish at bribery!
“Yes, okay, that’s true. But Astarion isn’t, and for a small fee, he was able to get me what I needed.” Gale raised his hands at Tav’s indignant expression. “I did not ask too many questions, and he gave no answers—so, for all intents and purposes, this food has been legitimately acquired and therefore should be enjoyed guilt-free.” He smiled his lazy, heart-melting smile and tucked into the meal.
The food was delicious, the wine full and rich, the company unrivalled.
Tav thought how full of life this little pub in Reithwin must have been all those years ago. How locals would come through the doors after a day's hard graft. How mason’s would grip pint glasses with dusty hands and let the cold beer soothe their calloused fingers.
This place must have been filled with wine-fuelled singing, drinking games and endless, mindless, repetitive stories of the residents of Reithwin. A place for midday companionship, and late night solitude. This little heart of Reithwin town would have beat with stories and laughter of those lost to shadow.
And for a little while, in the long-dead town of Reithwin, life returned. The glow that enveloped Gale and Tav outshone that of even the moon’s blessing. There was light enough here to cast out curses, just for a little while. Just for two lovers in that hopeful, crack of a dawning relationship, where the impossible danced and shone, and took no notice of lurking shadows.
As they ate and laughed and shared stories of times before tadpoles and curses and nautiloids, Tav took in the unrivalled beauty of the setting Gale had conjured with awe.
“I’ve never seen illusionary magic like this.” Tav ran their finger through one of the flames from a candle, and felt the heat bite their skin.
“That's because this is no ordinary illusion.” He reached over to hold Tav’s hand across the table, stroking them gently with his thumb.
“This is a promise of things to come. This is an illusion that I intend to make into reality, and the magic is all the stronger for it.”
There were no words, conjurations, or illusions powerful enough for Gale to express his gratitude, or his genuine intention. He knew that promises and declarations would not be enough, that these conjured roses were just saplings in the entire sun-filled garden he wanted to grow for Tav. It would take time, it would take nerve and messy, mortal dedication. But he would do it.
He would plant seeds, feed them with water pulled from the deepest well . He would sweat and toil under the relentless summer sun, remaining vigilant through the bleak winters. With human hands, he would grow flowers, watching patiently as the slow spell of time brought life and beauty from nothing. He would wait, earning each soft-petaled rose, cherishing the joy they would bring, ribbon-tied and wine-scented, to his brave love. He would place them in crystal vases, where light would dance through and spill colour throughout their home.
And, when the inevitable happened, when the petals curled and dipped and eventually fell like feathers. It will have been worth it. All the toil and grief and mortal determination of it all will have been worth it, just to remind his love of the promise made in that hopeful night in Reithwin.
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Scherzo (a Barón Tovar Takes a Wife one-shot)
3.1K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader
Scherzo - a short composition – sometimes a movement from a larger work such as a symphony or a sonata
Summary: Your husband takes care of you when you get hurt during your travels.
Warnings: None! All fluff, though reader gets cheeky with her husband cause I mean, it's Pero? Protective!Pero, Soft Husband!Pero (I NEED HIM). A little bit of violence is described where reader gets physically hurt, nothing graphic.
A/N: This was written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge; please see #jettsflora&faunachallenge for all the other amazing works by some wonderful authors (I didn't do much with the meanings of the flowers, was just going for ✨vibes✨ - hope it's okay!). I tend to always miss my babies after I complete their series, and can't help but write little one-shots for them to see what they're up to. This is our Regency couple from Barón Tovar Takes a Wife, but you don't need to read it (although it would be cool if you did - I'm kind of proud of this one 😭) - just know our happy Barón and Baronesa are doing what they love the most, which is travelling on the high seas together.
Beautiful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰
Truth be told, Naples is not one of Pero’s favourite places to visit in Italy; the Barón much preferred the rolling vineyards of Tuscany or the cultural diversity of Milan. At least it will be a short stay, too short to even arrange for lodging in the city; it was much easier for everyone on the ship to remain staying in their onboard quarters while he oversaw some Royal fleet business with the Italians. It would be just three short weeks before they're set to raise the sails again, this time charting a course up the western Italian coast to the Civitavecchia Port of Rome. He realizes the last time the two of you were in Rome had been when you said your final goodbyes in his youth, parting ways and not meeting again for over ten years; Pero looks forward to strolling the cobblestone streets together once more, this time with you as his bride.
In the meantime, he would try to expedite the matter before him – if the Italian dignitary sitting across from him would acquiesce, perhaps he can still save enough of the day to take you to do some sightseeing before nightfall. Just as the stout man’s mustache twitches at something he’s read on the document Pero gave him, someone bursts into the office, violently banging open the door.
Recognizing one of his trusted footmen, Pero exclaims, “Miguel, could this wait? Signor Romano and I are in the middle of something.”
“No!” cries Miguel, alarmingly, “My apologies, Barón! It is the Baronesa...”
Pero reacts with blinding speed, his chair knocked to the ground from the force with which he stands, “What has happened?!”
“There was a commotion in the square, my lord. Your wife was hur-”
Pero is already out the door, running as fast as he can towards the city square where he knows you and your lady's maid, Lucia, had planned to do some exploring while he was away at meetings. Wind rushing past his ears, he can hear behind him the faint thundering footsteps of Miguel the footman trying to keep up with his master.
When he gets to the square, Pero is stunned to find it in a mild state of chaos – several shops have been vandalized and an overwhelming number people seem to be in a state of mild panic, crying. He scans the crowd and when he finally spots you, he nearly falls to his knees. You’re sitting on the ground next to Lucia who is crying loudly, comforting her the best you can; and while Lucia is clearly emotionally distraught, she appears to be physically unharmed - the same cannot be said for you. Your dress is torn in several places and covered in blood; whose blood Pero does not know, but he realizes, stomach dropping, that some of it at least must be yours when he sees the long bleeding cut down your left forearm. Your beautiful face has at least one messy scrape across your cheek that he can see even at this distance and your lip looks like it’s starting to discolour and swell.
You spot Pero when he is a but few steps away and instantly feel a wave of relief wash over you at the sight of your strong, handsome husband (though you do hate to see the look of panic and terror on his face). Dropping down to your side, Pero immediately cups your face in his warm, bear paw hands, careful not to disturb any of your injuries, “Dulce! How are you?”
You don’t want to tell Pero that your heart is still beating fast from how scared you had felt during the stampede, or how the cuts on your arm and face sting and that your sides and back have started to ache. You know that doing so will only make him feel worse - but you’ve never lied to your husband in all the years you’ve known him so you simply say, truthfully, “Better now that you’re here, Pero.” Melting into the soft tender kiss he presses to your mouth, you try not wince when his soft lips meet your bruised ones but fail miserably. Trying not to shatter in front of you when he hears your pained whimper, Pero wills himself to pull back with a silent reminder to handle you with more care; as he starts to check over your injuries, he asks delicately, “What happened, mi amor?”
One of the sailors who had joined the footmen in accompanying you and Lucia starts to explain before he’s silenced by a glowering look from your husband; Baronesa Tovar is not a woman who needs others to speak for her.
You give the poor sailor a reassuring smile before drawing Pero’s attention back to you and recount for him what happened in the square earlier. Noticing that the Barón's hands have been cold in the mornings as of late, you had headed out today with a mission to purchase your husband some gloves made with the fine leather craftsmanship that the Italians are known for. While admiring the buttery softness of a pair of large leather gloves handed to you by a lovely stall merchant, a fight had broken out across the square between a mob of over twenty large and angry Italian men. The fighting horde continued their bout while moving across the square, barreling into families and unsuspecting people just trying to go about their day. Caught unawares, the pedestrians scattered and ran panicked in an effort to get out the way of the oncoming melee. The fleeing crowd had ran in your direction and you and Lucia could not get out of the way fast enough – pushed down to the ground, in your attempt to shield Lucia as the two of you tried to crawl to the side of the street and away from the mob, your dress had been torn by the flurry of feet as runners stampeded, your body kicked more than once. At one point, someone had produced a pistol and shot at several buildings; and while that effectively ended the fight, several windows had shattered and some of the errant glass had fallen and cut your arm.
Pero feels absolutely sick at the picture his mind conjures of you being physically pushed and kicked, imagining how scared you must have been; he wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and comfort you, but without knowing the extent of your injuries, he settles for pressing his forehead to yours and whispering that everything will be okay now. You believe him.
With some difficulty, Pero helps you stand and brings you back to the ship; both of you agreeing that when the doctor is called, it should be to the safety and comfort of your own quarters. Though ever gentle with you, the fearsome scowl on Pero’s face clears a path from the square down to the docks – the deep furrow of his brow accentuating the faded scar over his left eye, as if to challenge anyone who would get between his wife and her safe haven. Calling out for medical supplies and hot water as soon as he’s onboard, Pero leads you to your chambers and sits you on your shared bed before falling to his knees in front of you. Slumping, tension in his strong frame finally dissolving, Pero lays his head in your lap and lets a few tears fall at the relief of finally getting you back home, safe. You stroke your husband’s soft curls lovingly, understanding all of him and letting his devotion wash over you - it brings you a calm that you haven’t felt for several hours now.
In silence, you let Pero tend to your cuts and scrapes, eyes never leaving his handsome face as you watch him concentrate on being gentle with his big, sometimes clumsy hands. Pero washes your face and hands, wiping away all evidence of the time you spent on the hard stone streets of the square, then takes care to thoroughly clean your injuries. When you hiss at the sting from the salve he applies to the cut on your arm, Pero murmurs, “Be good for me, Baronesa,” and distracts you momentarily from the pain with that sweet smile of his that he knows makes you melt.
Finally comes the point that Pero has been dreading; he undresses you carefully to tend to the injuries on your body, hoping none will be too serious. Once he has you stripped to the barest of your undergarments, he takes in the bruising that’s starting to show on your legs, hips and back and thinks he might cry again; his beautiful wife, so brave and strong – he cannot believe you sustained these injuries and still allowed him to move you about as he has without complaint. As if reading his mind, you run a finger through your husband’s scruff that you love so much and try to lighten his mood; nodding towards your discarded dress on the floor, you joke, “I do not think I will be wearing that dress again.”
Half serious, Pero replies, “I think I will bring it to the Polizia tomorrow, when I demand answers for how they allowed what happened in the square to transpire.”
“Pero.”
“Or we throw it over the side of the ship,” he shrugs, a little bit a light returning back to his eyes when he sees your good humour is unscathed; permitting himself to hold you close, Pero breathes his first calm breath since Miguel interrupted his meeting, inhaling your soft perfume. Seeing Pero in a better mood instantly lifts your spirits, and while in the safety of his loving arms, you give him a playful little wiggle and press your barely clad body to his.
“Dulce,” he warns, voice dipping low at your giggles. To show him it’s just a little bit of teasing, you straighten up immediately and allow Pero to run the warm cloth over your body and finish cleaning you up before dressing in your most modest nightgown without any more shenanigans.
The doctor who is called leaves a short while later, declaring that both you and Lucia will be fine and that a few weeks of lightened activity and rest should heal your injuries without issue. It’s not something you’re looking forward to, but you agree with Pero that for the remainder of your time in Naples, it would be better if you recovered from the safety of the ship.
For the first few days, you enjoy the calm and quiet of your vessel, many of the sailors and staff taking the opportunity to enjoy some leave while docked. But as the days go on, with Pero away for most of the day on business, you find yourself getting restless. You read your books and write your letters. You play your piano and even entreat Lucia and whomever remains onboard to play cards with you. From the ship’s deck you can still see much of the city, and even though you have no particular wish to return on this trip (your experience in the square still too fresh), it unfairly beckons to you like a siren. You’re bored. And despite loving your ship, you’re starting to feel cooped up.
Pero does his best each day to finish up his work as quickly as possible so he can return to you, enjoying the warmth of your company and checking for himself that you’re recovering properly. The Barón brings home delicious treats and pretty trinkets for his wife everyday, leaving no doubt that you’re ever on his mind even when apart. And while you love your husband dearly for his thoughtfulness, you cannot help, while enjoying his gifts from within the boundaries of a ship that once represented freedom to you, feeling a bit envious at being unable to go out and procure them for yourself. Pero can tell that you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, not your usual cheerful self; he so hates to see the wings of his pretty dove clipped – it saddens him just as much to see you try to hide your melancholy from him. And although he cannot agree to lift the current restrictions on your movements, he deeply wishes for a way to make your so-called confinement as pleasant as possible.
The morning that marks the start of your last week in Naples, you wake to an absolute ruckus coming from the ship deck; for a moment you feel a stab of fear, unused to such loud noises and voices without having been given some forewarning. You must still be feeling some effects of your recent scare, you think; upon listening a bit more carefully, you relax to the realization that the voices are primarily instructive and even calm. But it’s still much too early for this level of activity from the deck – the footsteps and voices you hear must be from at least double the amount of people you would normally expect to be up at this time of day. Also unusual is that you’ve woken up to an empty bed; every day following the incident in the square, you’ve woken up to your husband curled around you, arms and legs thrown over your body like protective amour. You don’t think you particularly like today’s change, but it makes sense – you can’t imagine whatever is going on outside to be taking place without your Pero’s permission. Not especially looking forward to another day of doing the same things again within the same confines of the ship, you lay in bed for a while longer, at least until the noises start to die down and your curiosity gets the better of you.
The sight that greets you as you open the door to the deck nearly knocks you off your feet. Somehow, it’s not a wooden ship’s deck that you’re now gazing upon, but a colourful and enchantingly idyllic scene, something that could have been painted by a great master of the arts. For a moment, you have to pinch yourself, is this a dream?
You step through the doorway from the ship’s hold into an ethereal garden – blooming flowers have overtaken every inch of the ship’s deck: thick braided garlands of roses, violets, and peonies wrap wondrously around every one of the ship’s railings, big bright pots of lilacs, azaleas and irises line the sides of the ship and surround a makeshift sitting area where some garden furniture you’ve never seen before has been arranged. Even the mast has been decorated to look like a spring maypole, intertwining vines of clematis and jasmine crisscross all the way down from the crow’s nest so tightly you can barely see any of the dark wood that normally centres your great vessel. Every bow is positively dripping with wisterias, reminding you for a moment of your beloved Bridgerton House. You walk slowly through the dreamlike scene, weaving between the lush plants and the fresh, bold flowers. Brushing your hand over the railing as you meander, your fingertips flutter at the soft feel of the blooming petals and your eyes brighten at the rainbow hues that paint every perimeter inch of the ship. Your nose breathes in the sweet and intoxicating floral scent that now dances lightly in the air. You close your eyes and inhale. Your eyes open again with a soft exhale. Repeat.
You’re turning around slowly, trying to take in the entirety of your magical surroundings when your eyes land on your beaming husband, standing like a handsome faerie king holding an exquisite bouquet of your favourite peonies in his hand, waiting for his pretty queen to take in all his hard work. Despite the residual pain you still feel a bit in your sides, you launch yourself into Pero’s arms, throwing your own around his neck and passionately press your lips to his. Mouth opening, you let Pero lick in and explore, before pulling yourself up onto your toes and suck on his tongue eagerly. Pero pulls you in tightly and when he feels your tongue stroke behind his teeth, lets loose a deep vibrating hum of want that reverberates through you, straight to your core. With a quick nibble to your bottom lip and a few chasing flutter kisses, Pero reluctantly pulls away; he’s sure there are curious eyes all over the ship deck, even if they are currently concealed by the splendid greenery that’s overtaken the space.
When he steps back look at you, the expression on your face almost gives Pero enough reason to throw modesty and decorum out the window, grab at your enticing curves and throw you down amidst the lush fauna he’s brought onto the ship to have his way with you. Almost. Your eyes shine bright and twinkle, there’s a fresh glow to your cheeks, and your smile is the widest that he’s seen in weeks: you’re alive again.
“Pero,” you cry in bliss, “what is all this?”
The Barón gently cradles your head in his hand and reverently strokes the soft hair of his beloved Baronesa, “Mi amor, I could tell that staying confined to the ship has not been agreeing with you. If you cannot go out to explore and play in the wide world, then I will do my best to bring the wide world to you. Now, instead of a cold, dreary ship deck, I hope you will enjoy the remainder of the week before we set sail in your own private garden.”
You could cry – what did you ever do to deserve the love and devotion of your perfect husband? He forever thinks of your comfort and the wellness of your heart – but he does so much more than just take care of you or do things that make you happy, he’s the reason for your joy, for your very being. You cannot stop murmuring, Thank you thank you thank you, into his chest as he holds you close, not only to him but for him.
The flowers last a week which is precisely how long you need them to last. During those final days before your fleet sets sail, you find yourself soothed every time you enter or sit in your personal secret garden; second, by the tranquility and peacefulness of your botanical hideaway, and first, by the knowledge that you have the love of the kindest, sweetest man on earth.
Leaning now along the once again bare wood railing, with the salty sea wind blowing through your hair, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. The patchy facial hair of your husband tickles your cheek as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple and whispers in your ear, “Happy to be on our way, Dulce?”
Turning in his arms, you snuggle into his safe hold; tucking yourself under his chin, you sigh into Pero’s neck, “Just happy, mi amor.”
#jettsflora&faunachallenge#pero tovar#regency!pero tovar#pero tovar fic#pero tovar fanfiction#bridgerton au#pero tovar series#pero tovar x you#pero tovar x f!reader#pero tovar x reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#no y/n
47 notes
·
View notes
Note
A large mocha latte for here. Kindly put Matsukawa Issei on the cup, please and thank you! 🌲
Celebrating An Anniversary With Your Husband
word count: 774 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.
pairing: post-time skip husband!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader
genre: suggestive fluff
warnings: mdni, nsfw
____________________________________________
“Are they closed?“
“Yes!“, you laughed, feeling your husband‘s hand on the small of your back guiding you forward.
“Still closed?“
“Yes!“
“Okay, there is a step here, babe. - That‘s it. Almost there.“
“I swear, if you prank me somehow…“
Issei‘s smile turned to indignation - you didn‘t need to open your eyes, you heard the pout in his voice, “When have I ever-“
“Choose a different wording.“, you scoffed.
“You know what?“ In the next moment you felt yourself being lifted off your feet and thrown over his shoulder. “You asked for it.“
“Ah, set me down before you hurt yourself!“
“Never.“
“Issei!“
“Ahem… Good evening!“, he called to someone you couldn‘t see, then he chuckled nervously, “Thi-this is not what it looks like!“, adding quietly, “Honey, please confirm I‘m not kidnapping you against your will.“
“I‘m fine! We‘re married! - Happily!“, you announced loudly, probably rather unconvincingly the way you hung blindfolded over his shoulder but Issei let out a sigh of relief and kept moving, eventually setting you carefully down again, holding your chubby waist to keep you steady.
“Can I take it off now? - Oh my god, Issei, the blindfold, stop unzipping my dress!“
He chuckled and returned the zipper to the top, helping you take off the eye mask.
You had no idea where you were. It looked like a rather rundown living room of an abandoned house but Issei had clearly put a lot of effort into making it cozy. Electric candles flickered all around the large space, surrounding a picnic blanket in the middle of a massive amount of snuggly pillows. A bottle stuck out of an ice bucket next to a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a delicious smell wafted over from a basket right next to it.
“Oh, honey… This is beautiful!“
Issei grinned and hugged you from behind.
“Do you recognize it?“
“Uhm… surprisingly enough, I feel like this particular run down house slipped my mind.“, you said apologetically.
He let go and pouted again, “You mean you don‘t remember?“
“Remember what…?“
Your husband pointed to a cluster of candles somewhere off to the left, “It was right there. I confessed to you.“
Your face brightened, finally catching up.
“Oh my god!“ You recalled how nervous he had been and how he had offered a little roughly picked bouquet of wildflowers to you. At first you were convinced he was joking. There was no way the tall, handsome volleyball player actually meant it when he promised not to leave your side as long as you‘d let him. But well, it was ten years later and he had kept his promise. Back then, the house was newly abandoned and frequently used by students sneaking around.
“It’s on the market.“, he noted and walked excitedly over to a door hanging off its hinges, “Look, this room could be your office. It‘s nice and spacious and has a view of the backyard and over here-“, three long strides took him to what looked to have been the kitchen, “we can even put an island and right there“, a few more steps past you led to a double door, “is the master bedroom. There is enough space in the front yard to plant a cherry tree like you always wanted and-“
You joined him and pulled him down by his tie for a kiss.
When you parted, he continued, “The landlord said he‘d fix it up for us and it would even be within our budget and-“, another pull on his tie and this time you deepened the kiss.
“So is that a yes?“, he asked with an unsure squinty sort of smile.
“We can look at it again in the daylight.“, you laughed and he beamed, leaning down to kiss you some more.
“Who did we talk to earlier?“
“Possibly our new neighbors.“, he snickered and the thought of the memorable first impression you must have left made you snort.
Taking your hand he pulled you over to the picnic blanket and once you got comfortable, got started on pouring you each a glass of wine.
He laid down on his side next to you while you sat cross legged with a pillow in your lap.
“You know what else we did here?“, you smirked.
“Well, I know what we definitely didn‘t do here.“
“Because you were too chicken to even go near my bra.“
“Keep joking, wifey, see where that gets ya.“
He opened the picnic basket and revealed what appeared to be a fruit platter at first but was actually just a bunch of colorful condoms arranged like fruit slices. And you burst out laughing.
____________________________________________
a/n: ngl I snorted while writing that last bit 😅 thank you for the request! Please enjoy 🌟
#sunnys cozy cafe#matsukawa issei x chubby reader#matsukawa x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#chubby reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#matsukawa issei x reader#mattsun x chubby reader#mattsun#issei matsukawa#matsukawa smut#matsukawa fluff#hq matsukawa#matsukawa x reader#haikyuu matsukawa#matsukawa issei
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
MERAAA AHH YOUR WINTER WOES !!! And I thought I was devout to Azul.. 🛐
Okay; Let me start thinking how I can articulate and express my feelings about this fic.
#1 The dialogue. You HAVE to understand, I was kicking my feet up, giggling so much. The way you incorporated Jade's down bad behavior into his thoughts which slightly differs from his dialogue- AH ┻┻︵ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ︵┻┻ I LOVE IT !!!!
#2 Deception. YOU REALLY CAPTURED JADE'S PERSONA HERE. His mildly hidden deception > < ) Oh the chokehold he has on me rn cause of ur fic!!! Bro was lying straight from his gaping serrated maw 🫶 And it was perfect! I was jumping up and down every time I saw the contrast in his thoughts and words, I can not STRESS the fact that I ended up laughing so heartily on that scene where he straight up lied to MC about the possible pregnancy; You're way of story telling and build up is so 👌✨ *chef's kiss*
#3 The interaction. Between Y/N and Jade is so 😩👉👈💗💓💘 Surprisingly, this is one of your most gentlest Jade in the Jade multiverse and it was certainly a treat. I feel like I was just fed a full course meal for free. Definitely an unforgettable experience (๑♡⌓♡๑) I mean, as IF Jade would ever let you forget about what happened. THE BANTER ?!?! The banter. Golden. MC's genuine concern vs Jade's hornybrained desperation (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡ Yummy !
#4 Jade. Of course. GOSH, I wanna sit here and yap to you all about how startling soft and sappy this made me. Which really shows how amazing your writing issss!!! Who else can spread Jade propaganda like this but you 😔 Azul Nation stay strong ! ୧( ˵ ° ~ ° ˵ )୨
Anws I'm scared of absolutely bombing ur inbox so I'll stop it here > < ) Like Jade, I also still have some self control. Take care of urself <333 Ty for the fic !
- I can't choose an emoji; A garden flower.
( ≧ᗜ≦) AAAAAA THANK YOU SO SO MUCH, GARDEN FLOWER!!!!! Please never be scared of bombing my inbox!!! You can yap as much as you want!! I'll always be grateful to read your words!!!!! <3
I'm so happy all of those aspects of the fic were enjoyable!! I wanted to try my hand at writing another version of Jade who is soft and sweet. Writing from his pov is so fun, especially when he's in his mating season and is so very desperate and down bad. >:D as someone who is also very dedicated to Azul Nation, I fear Jade is trying to creep his way into my heart...... more than Azul!!!! >_< truly, we must all remain strong for tako!!!!!!
I really can't thank you enough for your kind words!!! I loved writing this type of Jade, and I think his relationship with the reader is very cute. Reader who is genuinely concerned for him contrasted with Jade's own one-track horny brain. I had fun writing all of his moray behaviors!! The gaping maw and the need to hunt an absurd amount of food for you in order to provide for mate. orz aaaaa his rizz is questionable, but his heart is in the right place (mostly ;;;; he's still lying about a few things, but that won't matter once you're knocked up).
I think a Jade who is vulnerable like this is very wonderful. He plays submissive just to better manipulate you, but it's difficult to tell where the line between act and truth is. <3 what a menace...... orz
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
Yandere! Jonathan Joestar concept?????
Honestly, He's definitely one of my favorites in the series. He's probably one of the least dangerous Joestar yanderes imo. Very tame gentleman, lol.
Yandere! Jonathan Joestar Concept
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Slight manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Clingy behavior, Slight jealousy, Slight violence, Slight submissive yandere, Delusional behavior, Blood mention, Brief mentions of marriage, Dubious companionship/relationship
I honestly feel like Jonathan would be one of the tamer yanderes in his bloodline.
He wouldn't want to force his darling into anything and is always very polite.
I can also see him being very affectionate and protective of the one he adores.
After all, one of his goals is to be a "true gentleman".
He aspires to be that with his darling.
Jonathan actually doesn't have many friends in his youth.
His fellow boys ostracized him because of his wealthy status which often left him isolated.
So he no doubt met you in his youth and befriended you, like a childhood friend.
He's kind and full of courage, often wanting to support you and make you happy.
Honestly, If Jonathan could give you the world, he probably would.
Jonathan lives for the happiness of his obsession.
No matter the cost.
He's always respectful and often considered the epitome of good and honorable
Even his darker side is rather subtle and not that intense.
He may come off as manipulative by accident, but quickly corrects himself.
His own obsessive desires confuse him and he isn't sure if he likes it.
He's not possessive but he finds himself slightly jealous when you have other friends.
However, Jonathan knows he must suffocate such emotions for you.
After all, if he truly cares for you and loves you, you should have your space.
Jonathan is another yandere who you could get into a relationship with and not see any of his darker tendencies.
He isn't like Dio, the definition of cunning and trickery, but he does have some darkness in him.
No one's truly pure, right?
His dark behavior is usually things like being clingy and slightly jealous.
But for the most part he seems fine.
Barely any red flags.
He seems like the perfect boyfriend material, that's how hidden his obsessive behavior is.
Although, like most yanderes, you're always on his mind.
Jonathan would want everything between you to be perfect.
Everything from little hangouts, to his confession, to even dates.
His obsession would start platonic, but transition to romantic.
He notices his feelings change when he wants to impress you and protect you more often.
Speaking of protection, Jonathan would beat up those who messed with you.
He's both a protective guardian for you yet also an affectionate teddy bear.
He's a gentle giant, essentially.
He just wants to make you happy in every way.
As I said before, he'd even make his confession perfect.
Things like flowers and in your favorite spot, all with formal clothing and a smile on his face.
You don't make a fuss about his status and treat him as a human being.
Now, he wants to be yours, now and forever.
I feel Jonathan could fit into the submissive yandere category.
You could ask him to get you anything and he'd do it.
Any gift or action, he just wants you happy and in his arms.
It could confuse him greatly if you said you didn't like him or were scared of him.
Why?
He isn't trying to hurt you, if he did hurt anyone, it was no doubt to protect you!
If you expressed some sort of discomfort towards him, he'd do his best to correct himself.
You can bet Dio isn't getting anywhere near you.
Jonathan is somewhat judging of those around you.
He wants to make sure no one harms you, if anyone did then he wants you to come running to him.
The only reason Jonathan bloodies his knuckles and clothes is to protect you.
It isn't for any nefarious reason, he genuinely just wants you safe and happy.
He won't beat up others out of jealousy.
No, if he's jealous he finds a healthier way to vent.
You deserve to have friends, he should be happy anyways.
Once he has the position of your boyfriend, then he won't have to worry.
When you're together he may show a bit more of his darker behavior.
Such as his clingy nature when giving you affection.
He tries his best to be gentle, but he could squish you with his hugs.
He's very gentle when it comes to handling you, kissing you softly and always asking if you're okay.
He isn't one to force you into anything.
If you reject his confession, he's fine with just being your best friend until you're ready.
If you aren't up to kissing or hugs, that's okay too!
Point is, he'd never be a yandere to kidnap you.
He may manipulate you into marriage and keep you in the house, but even then it's relying on your consent.
He wouldn't even murder unless he was back into a corner.
He prefers to just teach people a lesson and let them live their life.
So, compared to most yanderes, he's a keeper.
He listens to your consent and protects you from harm.
He'd spoil you and be forever loyal.
He'd marry you, make you his forever partner, and keep you happy.
Sure, sometimes he's jealous and may nudge you in the right direction.
But Jonathan would never want to hurt you or make you upset.
Eventually he'll have you in his arms, he just has to be patient and you'll come to him.
30 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Ah yes, taking all event long to make some ““concept art”“ for a piece I’ll make LONG after Days of Bloom ends. I can never finish anything on time. ;_;
Yet, these “swatch concept arts” as I call them are really fun to do and help me figure out which marker colors to use! Kidde, my beloved little goddess, is the fluttering light butterfly, while ChaiChai (tulip), BiBiJi (Wisteria), and Sissyin (Cherry B.) all represent the flowers of the event! ^0^
#sky children of the light#thatskygame#sky kid#sky cotl#✧ MOTHGODDESS WORKS.#✧ CONCEPT WORKS.#✧ THE PRIMORDIAL MOTH (KIDDE/TEFLOSO).#✧HYPERACTIVE PINK FLOWER (SISSYIN).#✧ ECCENTRIC LITTLE DRUMMER (BIBIJI).#✧ HER CHERISHED MORTAL FRIENDS (OTHERS).#COMMENTS: BiBiJi is somewhat cursed because NOTHING IS ON THEIR HEAD#it's the wisteria teapot but I couldn't fit that in WWWW#BibiJi must ALWAYS have smething on their head
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
i don't understand why everyone thinks you have to be one thing.
#you have to like cats or dogs.#you have to like hot or cold weather.#you have to be male or female.#you have to like men or women.#you have to be feminine or masculine.#you like to be kind? obviously you're some little naive flower. no you can't swear. no you can't get angry.#you like animation? you must only like little kid things. oh god we put on a violent movie - cover your delicate baby eyes.#you don't drink alcohol? you must be boring and hate fun#you're gay - why the hell would you enjoy a romance story between men and women?#you bought a skirt? finally! you can start being the woman we'd always hoped you'd be#you love your family right? that means you'll agree with everything we think right?#i'm just so tired#i'm so sick of being shoved into little fucking boxes or being forced to wear as many different masks as i can#to make other people more comfortable or to be more palpable for others to consume
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Graduation bouquet 💐💫
I must have flowers, always, and always.
#flowers#I must always have flowers#always always always#graduation flower#I must have flowers always and always
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
❁ ( towards any of your zelda muses − hylia and the three godesses, mainly, but also botw & totk link / zelda / ganondorf if you feel compelled...!! )
Send me a ❁ for the type of flower my muse would give to yours // Accepting!
Hylia's answer comes, sharp and slow like a blade pulled uncutting against thought, a cool not-metal against the inner heat of mind. ━ the same as sky, not in the way of wind but in the way of open space, of nothing at all, of atmosphere pressing in from out against your throat. Almost frozen, almost frigid, but without the effort in coldness, in willful ignoring, of brushing one off : cold as in cold is the absence of heat. No, Iroha receives an answer. Stale pollen and bright, blinding knowledge. ━━━ she was not made to create the way the Goddesses were, and yet, the flowers bloom at their feet regardless : perhaps they should consider themselves special.
━ bachelor button, hydrangea, bittersweet, lavender heather, white poppy, blue violet, mixed yellow & red zinnia, white hyacinth, rose leaf, & buried beneath the rest; spider flower.
( 'You are not of my domain, I am indifferent to you. However, I respect your devotion. I sympathize, perhaps, with your situation. One day, perhaps, there will something other for you. One day, perhaps, you will make one.' )
the Goddesses' response is a ancient one. months hung above the stratosphere, dangling, dangling, waiting to be lowered. Months upon months upon months, the flower of the seasons dripping into the horizon in a haze of days and nights and days again: They were intricate, and slow, and often unknowable at all. how patient, you are, for Them. How kind, to wait, for Them. They reward Iroha with answer in time, in the humid shivering haze of early morning, a wave of such love of all Iroha does, of the endless sorrow They beheld upon their duty, arriving like quartz lining their throat ━ blooms growing from 'pon their fingertips, 'cross their knuckles. a gift, a gift, how merry to be known & seen, how terrifying by They to listen & answer in turn ━ how horrible, horrible to think you had been forgotten...
━ bachelor button, maidenhair fern, red carnation, dead leaf, purple hyacinth, dark crimson rose, pine, acorn, fern, fir, white heather, iris, lily of the valley, tea rose, palm leaf.
( 'We love you, We are sorry, your faith is not unseen by Us, for This to be your undertaking, borne as chains & key. Such is Our terrible, terrible doing. Such is Our apology. We hope, perhaps, one day the selves can exist without the other or in one without smothering, smothering light. We hope, perhaps, one day you are allowed to live; a role unshackled, unlocking Thy own binds. Chains & key. Chains & key. Freedom unmade for you, and yet, still hoping to grasp it.' )
Link & Zelda come as though offering memorial, bundles of blooms and sprigs tucked in their arms as they hurry past stream and grove ( "watch your feet, 'stream made the ground soft" "ah, thank you, I believe I'll be alright-!" ) to find the place where the Blupees haunched on hind legs and watched them with startling, ruby eyes. The one Link had gone before, a familiar forest in the heavy overhang of branches & leaves. a bowl is filled with fruit steadily throughout the day beneath a great cherry tree, pink petals like silk beneath the sun.
a final act of care comes as sunset threatens to burn the sky alive when, on a brief journey back to a stable for a briefer meal, they're caught in a fleeting conversation of flora & the hearts beneath their stalks ( "Oh, you're going all the way up to Satori mountain? Hey, if you're going through all the effort, I've heard people bring flowers up there sometimes, you know, offerings and the like. Some people bring flowers, symbolizing what the 'Lord of the Mountain' protector means to them. Maybe it'd be worth your time?" )
( "That sound's like a nice idea, I think!" "I think so, yes, but what would I even bring...?" ) ━━━ they in bundles, at last, arrive. Hurried up, past the stream, to find the tree again. Zelda hesitates, an offering of silent princess clasped between delicate fingers ━ "Would it be considered disrespectful to place it at the dish...? Maybe I shouldn't..." ━ before Link, calloused hands delicate, maneuver their hands to set it down along the rest, petals bright; bright in the clear sky.
━ bittersweet, bluebell, pink camellia, iris, cattleya orchid, magnolia, evening primrose, flax, rose leaf, forsythia, fern, lavender rose, bells of ireland, azalea, sweet pea, mixed zinnea.
( 'I think you're kind, and charming, and though I rarely see you, I hope you are well. I hope to change that fleetingness, if you'll let me? I think you might like Zelda, you might have more in common than you think.' / 'I've heard of you, but never seen you, all good things. I hope one day to meet, you seem good. Perhaps lonely. I might like you, if you gave me the chance, but I'd understand if you don't like me. I hope your future is a kind one, whatever kind of future it is. I don't know you well enough, even in stories, to tell.' )
Somewhere, there is a valley tucked neatly behind the ridges of hills, in the lowered groove 'twixt them where the land sinks ginger under the long grass and the wild flower of the knolls; as though gently swept down, as though the soft lowering of a stomach, ribs high against the soft tension of smooth skin in earth, as though the rounded edges of hands where the knuckles stood war-like as the gentle palm sinks; ball of the hand softer than the upper of the palm, the upper of the palm softer than the fingers, the fingers softer than the nails, the nails softer than the bones inside them all.
Somewhere, there is a valley of tender, shivering silver. plush moss lining the ground like bolster turned cloudy like rain, muted but beautiful in variation, white paint blending with greys in the fiber that wasn't fiber, the tissue that was. A place no one knew. a place one did. flowers split, forbearing as though shifting only between the folds, and reeds rose in the bed. A place that never died, flowers like chanting; the same message, 'hundred times over, 'thousand more. ━ Somewhere, you know this place. Somewhere, no one else knows at all. Somewhere, it tells you something. Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere...
━ lotus, cherry blossom, chrysanthemum.
( 'how much would it take to stop grieving yourself, and choose to live? how long?' )
#hi. so. i couldn't choose BHKGTRBGKHTRBKH#i just did all of them and WHOUGH BOY i hope u like it <333#i kinda assumed a General vague preexisting dynamic for some of them. most ?? being Link but since it Is a thing ingame i figured like??#it Works and like!!! it feels more genuine like this ig!!#also there's a lot of meaning imo of the individual flowers' symbolism and how they tie together and interconnect to form the 'sentence'#and it says a lot bc its kinda like looking at the words someone uses And the general thing they're trying to communicate#so its in the source if u'd like to look at it more thoroughly!!#fun details abt my interps of hylia n the Three btw: Hylia has an. INTERESTING. relationship with being able to Feel emotions bc of her#connection to her domain (light and truth) which often results in her feeling apathetic or indifferent which isn't Entirely wrong.#she functions a lot off of 'duty' and domain which is part of why she concerns herself with mortals bc like. part of her duty is protecting#the goddesses also speak as one entity Kinda they're kinda inseperable from eachother though they as individuals do have diff attitudes#and diff views and shit but their sentences bleed into eachother so effortlessly that they often speak as though constantly picking up on#the same mind and thoughts. they r consumed by love by their creations (including iroha!) and chained to it as a result where love becomes#a prison for them. they love them so much it consumed. they love them so much it rebirths. they create ppl with terrible fates because they#must but always are they the grieving mother wardening their children to a lonely existence. they love so deeply it is consuming; and yet#obligation warrants it. it must be; lest they lose them all. damned if they do; damned if they didn't; damned regardless; deserving of it#IM RAMBLIMG IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG AS IT IS BKHGNTRBK#i hope you like it!!!!!!!! <33#━ ♔ cardinals with snow-brushed wings : asks.#lunaright#MUSE / Hero of the Wild#MUSE / Zelda#MUSE / Ganondorf#MUSE / Din & Nayru & Faroe#MUSE / Hylia#━ ♔ you sing but only the pavement listens : ic.#should i tag this as study..?? it kinda feels like one.......#......#STUDY / Hylia#STUDY / Din & Nayru & Faroe
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
I must have flowers, always, and always.
― Claude Monet
This art print can be purchased at Minimalist Art Shop or Etsy.
19 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
foodblogalert
Just another food blog.
mikoshiba
im a freak cuz im always freaked out
walefubigem
Untitled
mikoshiba
im a freak cuz im always freaked out
siam-longings
Siam Longings