#captain renault

[vio-lenceee]

yeah so i watched casablanca (1942) great energy between two of em original post i took the template from

[laziestgirlintown]

(Twt)

[oldshrewsburyian]

Just rewatched Casablanca (for nooo particular reason) and my main takeaway this time was that a good drinking game for Casablanca would be this:

___

-Drink every time claude rains gives humphrey bogart a Horny Look.

___

My question is... would this be too dangerous??

Oh, I think it would be too dangerous (though I applaud your taste in films, coping mechanisms, etc.)

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I don't think we can laaa la la la la laaa our way out of this one, boys.

Captain Renault, before the Mythic Dawn wreck her, probably

[soapkaars]

Based on this sketch, and on the idea of the Casablanca cast getting transported/isekai’d to a fantasy realm, and me wanting an excuse to draw 17th century inspired clothing - voilà

From left to right: Ugarte dressed up nicely with the assasin’s guild emblem next to him, Rick and Sam in their 17th century tuxedos and the emblem of Sam’s café/tavern in between them, Captain Renault as flashy as he deserves to be with the guardsman’s emblem, and Ilsa Lund with her coat of arms. It was a fun drawing this!

[letoscrawls]

Happy Star Wars Day! Here's some star wars related art i made in the past <3

[free-for-all-fics]

Captain Louis Renault Prompt feat. you as Rick’s sister! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! 💄❤️💋

You’re Rick’s much younger sister. While he’s in his mid-to-late 30’s, you’re only in your early or mid-20’s. You may or may not have been an accident. When you still lived in New York City, you used to be an avid reader of The Boston Globe’s “Women’s Pages”, which featured Polly Webster’s column, “War Time Wife”, packed with tips for weathering the hardships of the war years— including how to generate income from home-based businesses. World War II is an important expansion period for women in business as it brings many women into the workforce, filling jobs so men can go off and fight. That same patriotic fervor also inspires many women to consider starting businesses of their own. But neither of you can return to America, and you both left Paris during the Occupation. The reason is a little vague. Yours and Rick's past is shrouded in mystery, so much so that many people have tried to speculate and uncover the truth of the circumstances surrounding your rather sudden and abrupt departure, but all have failed. For all that is revealed, nobody knows exactly why or when both of you left America, nor why neither of you can return.

However, Major Heinrich Strasser and the Nazis know what you did and why you left. Rick was once an anti-fascist Arms Dealer who supported the Abyssinian regime in its war against Italy, and later the leftist coalition in the Spanish Civil War, with the side he backed losing miserably on each occasion. This and various personal failures led to him being exiled, whether by choice or circumstance. As for what you did to get exiled alongside your brother? That’s a secret you thought only you and Rick knew, but apparently the Nazis know too. They’ve compiled dossiers on the both of you and tell you not to worry, they won’t broadcast either of them. When you and Rick read them, your main concern is: Are your eyes really that color?

Unbeknownst to anyone except Rick and Sam, you were born sickly and that chronic sickness has been with you all throughout your life. It was always your brother who had to watch over you to make sure you didn't run too far away or overexert yourself when playing outside. Rick always kept a close eye on you to make sure you didn't get hurt. If you did get sick or hurt, he took care of you and made sure you had everything you needed, including the right medicine. You’ve often been in poor health. By the age of fifteen, you’d already contracted an attack of mumps, chickenpox, and measles. You recovered from all of those maladies, but were bedridden for most of your life and didn’t get out much due to your weakened immune system. The depressing atmosphere at home in New York City made you even more miserable while you were convalescing.

You were once misdiagnosed as having a terminal illness and, believing you were dying, you wanted to see outside of New York while you still had the chance. Your brother took you on a trip to the seaside, hoping the waters and fresh air could act as a sort of cure to improve your health. Your health was improved only a little, but you found comfort in quietly resting and occasionally taking short walks in the garden or on the beach. This improvement was temporary, and your sufferings once again grew sharper, which confined you to your bed again. After more doctors examined you and it was discovered you were misdiagnosed, you and Rick were so relieved.

It’s not easily noticeable to an untrained eye and you can hold yourself together most days, since you found coping mechanisms that worked for you back then and still work for you now. You’re much stronger now as an adult than you were as a child or teenager, but you still have your good days and bad days. On good days, you almost feel normal and are much more active and energetic. Any pain or discomfort you usually feel is manageable, almost numbed down to practically nothing. On bad days, you often feel like your body hates you and is trying to kill you from the inside. You’re usually confined to bedrest until the worst of it passes, which annoys you because you get bored easily. There’s only so many books you can read before your brain goes numb and your eyes become bleary with drowsiness.

You follow a strict regimen where you take multiple medications everyday and sometimes use a cane on days where you're too weak to walk or hold yourself up while standing, but you made a point to disguise this cane as a fashionable statement piece to hide its true purpose. Although your chronic illness isn’t fatal, Rick still hates that you're hurting and suffering. The medication you have to take and strict routine you live by daily seems like a lot for you to carry mentally, emotionally, and physically just so you can remain somewhat functioning, but you’ve gotten used to it by now.

Captain Louis Renault is an officer appointed by Vichy as Prefect of Police in Casablanca. He’s a handsome, middle-aged Frenchman, debonair and gay, but withal a shrewd and alert official. You still remember part of your conversation from back when you and he first met. He made quite the first impression and it’s impossible to forget. That’s putting it nicely.

“I was told you were the most beautiful woman ever to come to Casablanca. That was a gross understatement.”

“And you, Captain Renault, are wasting your flattery.”

“Oh, on the contrary, I believe my flattery to be well-spent. I may be twice your age, my dear, but I can assure you with full confidence that I'm well-endowed.”

The double meaning when he called himself well-endowed was not lost on you. You were many things, but naive wasn’t one of them. You only rolled your eyes and shrugged off his compliments and attempts at flirtation. The nerve and audacity of this man! He was lucky Rick wasn’t around to hear and that you didn’t care enough to relay to him what was said. You wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but you do know they have some sort of agreement or understanding. You know Rick has paid Renault with bribes by letting him win at roulette and, in return, the corrupt official has turned a blind eye and has permitted your establishment to remain open. Another reason is that, although exit visas have been sold here, neither you nor Rick have ever sold one. He and Rick have gone through women faster than cigarettes, and the both of them seem perfectly happy to drink or screw themselves to death without a care for what goes on outside Casablanca.

“How extravagant you are, throwing away women like that. Someday they may be scarce. Now I think I shall pay a call on Yvonne, maybe get her on the rebound.”

When questioned by Renault about his and your backstory, Rick keeps to himself and gives only vague answers concerning yours and his pasts. He doesn’t go into detail. He especially doesn’t tell him anything about your past or your illness. He respects your privacy as much as his own. Your secrets are none of Renault’s business, but if you want to tell him about it, you’ll tell him yourself. To cover for you, he says he came to Casablanca for his health rather than yours.

“I have often speculated on why you don’t return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the romantic in me.”

“It was a combination of all three.”

“And what in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?”

“My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.”

“Waters? What waters? We're in the desert.”

“I was misinformed.”

Rick’s idealistic younger self fought alongside those resisting fascism, but the expansion of Axis authority and being suddenly abandoned by the love of his life made him cynical and apathetic. He doesn't take sides with the Vichy authorities, the Nazis, or the Resistance. Rick is now a jaded and weary man who projects a selfish facade, but you know deep down he's still a romantic and a sentimentalist with noble goals. You obviously weren’t there during his romance with Ilsa, uninterested in being a third wheel. You only met her briefly a handful of times, but she seemed like a lovely young lady. You got along just fine and were very close in age, so maybe you could’ve been friends if you had the chance to get to know her better.

But you remember waiting for Rick and Sam on the train, having already boarded and taken your seat to get out of the heavy rain. You were very concerned that the wet, the cold, and the wind would make you very sick if you stood outside for too long. Rick insisted on waiting for Ilsa but, when the last call was announced, only he and Sam joined you. Sam told you later in secret that Ilsa checked out of her hotel, but gave Rick a note that came for him just after he left. You didn’t see what Ilsa wrote, and Rick wouldn’t tell you what the letter said even if you asked. But he didn’t have to. As a woman yourself, you just knew that your brother must’ve been in love with her and her sudden and abrupt abandonment of him must’ve hurt. Much more than he let on.

Ever since establishing Rick's Café Américain, an expensive and chic nightclub and gambling den, its air of sophistication and intrigue has attracted varied clientele including Vichy French and Nazi German officials, refugees desperate to reach the still neutral United States and those who prey on them. Your saloon is infamous for its rogue types and criminals. You like Casablanca well enough and make a decent living, but it’s dangerous as hell and you still dream of leaving. You know you don’t want to live out the rest of your life and die in Casablanca, but you don’t know where you’d go yet or how you’d get there. You still need to figure that out.

You work as a singer or waitress sometimes, but the regulars and staff all know you’re practically the co-owner and second boss. You may be an unmarried young woman, but they know not to underestimate you or get on your bad side. You get along just splendidly with the staff, especially Sam, who’ll happily wheel over his salmon-colored piano and play your favorite songs for you upon request, and sometimes sing duets with you. Like Rick, you won’t tolerate certain people in your place. You rip up German checks and sign new checks. You have access to the safe in the small, dark room just off the office like your brother does. After all, you’re his right hand and it’s your money too. He’s just made two specific rules when it comes to you:

Rule #1: Don’t date the customers.

Rule #2: Don’t bring your boyfriends here.

He’ll book you a hotel room for that sort of thing, but he strictly prohibits mixing business with pleasure. You’ve always respected his rules, but your past lovers sometimes haven’t. They’d try to gain entry to surprise you at work and Abdul, a large, burly man who stood guard at the door, always stopped them from getting any further when Rick shook his head at them. Your romances were hardly anything serious, often frivolous fancies that fizzled out quickly. You haven’t been very lucky in love and often feel like you’ve been dating boys when what you really want and need is a man.

Rick isn’t faring much better and still exhibits the usual signs of a man that’s suffered a broken heart, and it must be because of her. Why else would he tell Sam never to play “As Time Goes By” or drown his sorrows in alcohol? Why else would he keep up a cold and selfish facade, suddenly refusing to stick his neck out for anybody? He doesn’t drink with customers, he plays solitary chess by either playing against himself or playing an opponent through written correspondence only, etc. He’s told you that his professed neutrality allows him to skirt trouble with every competing faction in Casablanca. On the rare occasion he does take an honest stand, he does so in a low-key way that offers him plausible deniability. While you know that may be true, you also know that, while that’s all very logical, it’s not the only reason.

After a few months, you begin to suspect another reason Captain Renault comes to Rick’s is to see you. His timing can’t be a coincidence. He only seems to come into the saloon whenever you’re performing on stage or otherwise working, as if he loves listening to you sing or wants to spend most of his time with you personally. Renault often sits at a table on the café terrace, watching the evening's performance. You don’t need nor want his money, but still he tries using Emil, Carl, or Sacha to pass you little handwritten notes, all of which you immediately tear up in front of him, making a show of how you’re not going to bother to read them. This does nothing to discourage or dissuade him from pursuing you romantically and sexually, however. He loves a challenge, and he loves you, even if you don’t believe him yet.

He flirts with you and lays on that Frenchman charm of his every chance he gets, but he doesn’t lay it on too thick. Can’t make it too obvious since Rick is always around here somewhere. Whenever he finds you drinking and/or smoking alone, he’ll invite himself to join you and sit next to or across from you. He fills two empty glasses, helping you and himself to a fine glass of brandy, champagne, or French wine. He then flicks open his lighter, giving you and himself a light. You each take a drag of your respective cigarettes. “Well, darling. I’m very pleased with you. Now you’re beginning to live like a Frenchwoman. Oh, Emil. Please, a bottle of your best champagne, and put it on my bill.”

“Very well, sir.”

“No, Captain, please.“

“No. Please, my darling, it is a little game we play. They put it on the bill, I tear the bill up. It is very convenient. But I’ll pay my tab this time because, my dear, I love you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“All right, all right. For you, I’ll shut up, because, my dear, I love you.”

You look at him bitterly before changing the subject, never taking your eyes off him. “That was some going-over your men gave my place this afternoon. We just barely got cleaned up in time to open.”

“Well, I told Strasser he wouldn’t find the letters here. But I told my men to be especially destructive. You know how that impresses Germans?”

You only roll your eyes at his antics. You may be pretty, but you’re not a pretty little fool. You know what kind of man Renault is and hate him with your entire being…or do you? You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and have been so bold as to call him a rascal, a scamp, a rake, an indomitable playboy and more to his face, your voice always laced with venom. You’ve got a fiery personality that sets his heart ablaze. That and your lively spirit are just more qualities he loves about you. You’re a little spitfire, and he’s not going to be the one to extinguish or stamp out the light which shines ever so brightly in your eyes. God help whoever would dare to do such a thing. That hypothetical person would quite possibly find themself at the end of his pistol. He’d never arrest you, but he has teased you by threatening to handcuff you if you continued to be so naughty and resist his advances. He’d call it “resisting arrest”.

Renault is a hedonist and has embraced the corruption and vice that comes with his police uniform. Young Bulgarian newlyweds, the Brandels, try to buy passage to Lisbon from him, but he wants either a very large sum of money or sex with the wife. Renault is willing to take the money, if they do happen to have it, and apparently has always kept his word. But still, you’re disgusted that he’d extort desperate and vulnerable women like that. There is a silence. Annina is very disturbed as she talks to Rick. He quickly goes off, leaving her alone at the table. She remains seated, too demoralized to move. But in the end, Rick helps them to raise the money by cheating to let them win at roulette so they can afford to pay Renault for an exit visa, rather than the young wife having to use an alternative method of payment. Rick has done a beautiful thing, which further shows you that he isn’t as heartless as he claims to be. Renault, seeing that Jan has won, gets up from his table to follow Rick. He playfully prods at Rick’s cynical facade, showing that he doesn’t really buy his friend’s gruff demeanor.

“As I suspected, you’re a rank sentimentalist.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Why do you interfere with my little romances?”

“Put it down as a gesture to love.”

“Well, I’ll forgive you this time. But I’ll be in tomorrow night with a breathtaking blonde, and it’ll make me very happy if she loses.”

Whenever you have an especially bad episode that leaves you bedridden for days at a time, you get to see Rick’s caring disposition as his mask melts away and he becomes Richard, the brother you remember from before the war. He often summons physicians to him every morning and three or four other times during the day, questioning them minutely as to your condition. You’ll want for nothing and won’t miss any medication times while under his watch.

There’s a little platform that’s been built into the saloon as a makeshift stage but, whenever you’re out, the stage remains empty. Musical entertainment is one of the main attractions that pulls customers into the saloon and, while the crowd greatly enjoys Sam’s singing and piano playing, the more days that pass without you making an appearance, the more the crowd misses your voice and guitar playing. In your absence, music still plays and business still does well, but there’s a noticeable dip. The place isn’t as full as it usually is when you’re around, so Rick hires Corinna to fill in for you until you can return. Her presence helps, but it’s not quite the same without you.

One night, you’re so sick and tired of being sick and tired all the damn time that you have way too much to drink in a vain attempt to either numb the physical pain your body is suffering through or to numb your brain from having thoughts of Louis— Renault! Captain Renault! You’ve never called him Louis and it annoys you how much you suddenly want to hear the way his name sounds when it comes from your lips. You sit at the bar, drinking brandy and conversing with Sacha. You glance out of the corner of your eye to covertly watch Renault from afar as he’s sitting at a table, conversing and drinking with his superiors. You turn to look at Sacha and extend your empty glass to him, ordering him to give you another.

Rick interrupts and tells Sacha you’ve had enough. You try to order Sacha to ignore your brother and to fill it up. Sacha loves you, and you pay him just as Rick does, but Rick is older than you and currently sober. His word trumps yours in this situation. You wheel on Rick with drunken fury, telling him you’re sick and tired—, but Rick takes you by the arm, telling you you’re going home because you've had a little too much to drink. You try to fight back. Who does Rick think he is? Your father? How dare he order you around! Renault watches the scene unfold with a worried brow and follows both of you outside as Rick puts your coat over your shoulders, which you object vehemently to.

Renault offers to take you home, claiming it’d be faster than trying to get a taxi at this hour. He has no more commitments for tonight, so he could watch over you until Rick finishes up business here. Rick very much doesn’t want to leave you alone with Louis, but, for whatever reason, he has no other option. Renault helps you into his car, buckling you in. Rick is left standing on the curb, his face completely deadpan as he smokes. He tells Louis in no uncertain terms to call him as soon as he gets in the door so he knows you’re safe, and warns him not to do anything funny. He expects him to get you into bed, but not get you into bed. He doesn’t need to elaborate. He knows Louis knows exactly what he means. He nods and gets in the car, leaving Rick to watch as it pulls away. He has to wait for Ilsa so he can’t come home tonight, but you’ll be fine. Louis wouldn’t do anything to you. You’ll be fine.

You wake up the next morning and immediately regret it. Your head and body are already suffering the consequences of your chronic illness combined with your aggressive hangover. You’ve learned the hard way why doctors always tell you never to mix alcohol with your pills. You don’t remember much of last night or getting home, so you scream when Renault knocks lightly on the door and comes in. You thought he was Rick! Where is Rick? He pours you a glass of water and hands you your medications for both your hangover and your illness before he sits on a chair across from you, keeping a respectable distance. So he knows. Great. You went to such lengths to hide it but circumstances drove Rick to break his promise to himself and to you. He had to finally tell Louis about your illness when the latter called him on the phone after getting you home. You have no one to blame but yourself, really. You made the foolish decision to drink too much and- wait. Hold on. Why do you feel so cold? A quick glance under your covers sends a cold sweat through your body. You’re naked. Why are you naked!? Oh, God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Please tell me, we didn't...”

“Did we ever. Oh, my dear, it was extraordinary! The heat, the gymnastics. I mean, you had moves that made even me blush,” Renault teases you with a suggestive smirk.

“Oh, no. This is bad. Whatever happened last night, don't tell me. I'd rather not know.”

“What, that we didn't go to bed together?” He takes a drink of brandy. He’s helped himself to Rick’s private stock. It was a long night of watching over you and he barely got any sleep, so he needs it. Hopefully his friend won’t mind too much.

“We didn't?” You look at him dumbfounded. Did you hear him correctly? Are you still sleeping and just having a very weird fever dream? Who is this man and what has he done with Captain Renault?

“Nope, I turned you down cold,” Renault confirms, popping the P.

“You, the man who's been trying to get me into his bed since day one, had a chance to sleep with me, and you didn’t...? Why-why am I naked?”

“What, you mean you don't remember the part where you passed out, woke up again, shouted at me, ‘It's too hot in that neon hellhole,’ I believe it was, then tore your clothes off and proceeded to pass out again, forcing me to carry you to your room and tuck you into bed?”

“I do that. Sometimes. When I'm upset. And you would be, too, if you were a woman and in my position! As if the physical pain I live with day in and day out isn’t enough, you just had to keep coming to Rick’s and worm your way into my heart and my thoughts! What a fool I am to fall for a man like you!”

You’d never even consider a romance or sexual relationship with him unless he changed his ways. He’s going to have to prove to you that he can change and, if you do this, you’ll have to be discreet about it. You’ve always respected Rick’s rules but then, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, Captain Renault walked into yours.

You and Louis, as he’s insisted you call him by his first name in private now that you’re dating, have to get creative to keep your love affair a secret from Rick and the rest of your friends and associates. You can’t just use postal acronyms or Morse code! Those would be far too obvious and Rick would be able to decipher them immediately. The little messages he passes to you when you’re at work become red herrings to throw people off the scent. You really keep in contact by passing messages in lipstick tubes, film canisters, lockets, or rings with hidden compartments. When you first go out to the market to buy new makeup, the merchant pretends to offer you rare and one of a kind lipstick colors he claims have been made “especially for you”. The lipstick names are actually code so that you’ll know they’re from Louis. Inside each special lipstick tube is a small compartment underneath the actual lipstick color that holds encrypted messages to you. The first one simply reads, "Do you recognize my handwriting, my dear?"

It’s your cute little way of sending messages with a kiss, and you get free lipstick out of it too. Whenever Louis sees you wearing one of his shades, his blood boils with desire and he has to resist the urge to kiss you in public. If he could, he’d grab you and kiss you so many times and with so much passion that your lipstick would smear or get wiped off. Your and Louis’ relationship is nowhere near perfect and you’ve had your fair share of disagreements and frustrations, usually due to your significant age difference and the stressful situations that inevitably come with living in Casablanca during time of war. Often you’ve rolled your eyes at each other and, during one of your little lovers’ quarrels, Louis even once said to you, "War? You do not yet know war. You are a child who has tasted their first autumn frost and called it winter."

You and Louis face many difficulties, indeed, but you overcome them. You made a mutual decision early on in your relationship to do so. Despite your differences, you both feel like you’re desperately in love with each other. On rare, opportune times when you have the chance to get away in between Rick’s daily checkups on you, you pack some stuff to take with you and sneak out. Louis meets you at a secret halfway point, parking his car far away enough so he can drive you to his place without either of you being seen. He can’t drive or walk you home, but it’s worth it to have these romantic date nights, which often include dinner and sex. Neither of you really want to have sex in Rick’s place. Not only would it be far too risky with the chances of getting caught in the act much higher than either of you are comfortable with, but the very thought of it is an instant mood killer.

Your brother finds one of your secret messages, but nobody has been able to crack the code since it’s one you and Louis created yourselves. Only you and he know it. Rick and Sam ask you about it, but you feign ignorance. Just like Louis and Rick, you’re a talented liar. You know exactly what this particular message means, you know what they all mean. They’re so romantic and sometimes even racy. You’ve kept them private for a reason, too embarrassed to explain what it says or why you understand it.

One night, a middleman passes Louis’ secret message onto you by handing you a film canister. You hear something rattling inside when you shake it. That’s weird. Usually the film canisters contain slips of paper that don’t make much noise, if any. What’s making that sound? When you open it, there’s no film and there’s no note. But there is a ring. Words cannot even begin to describe the great deal of ambivalence that’s overwhelming you in this moment. You feel like your heart is in your throat. It’s beating too fast. Your mouth goes dry and you struggle to swallow or breathe.

You feel like your body is on autopilot as you walk all the way to Louis’ office to confront him. You’re struggling to keep it together. What’s the meaning of this? Your hands are shaking as you hold the film canister up for him to see, the ring still safely inside. Louis takes both of your hands in his own, kissing them. You clutch the canister in your fist as he holds your hands and has you sit down. He helps you breathe as he waits for you to overcome your shock. You’ve never been proposed to before, so you can’t tell if what you’re feeling mentally and emotionally is exacerbating your illness, or if this is just what it’s supposed to feel like when the person you love proposes to you. His hands are so warm. You try to focus on that and the warmth of his brown eyes to keep yourself grounded. Louis already knows that you know very well what him giving you a ring means, so he doesn’t feel the need to respond to your line of questioning. He’s right, you do know what it means. But your brain is still struggling to catch up to your body.

"What... What are you thinking? There's no possible way... No one would allow it!" You’re an adult woman, you know you don’t need Rick’s or anyone else’s permission to marry. The choice is yours and yours alone, but having to make such a life-altering decision where there’s no going back fills you with apprehension. But maybe that’s what you want. No going back. You know what it is to work now, to have a full day, to be tired in a good way. You don’t want to return to your pre-war existence. You want to move forward.

"I know I shouldn't ask this of you, but I can't keep it in any longer. When the war is over, the world won't be the same place as it was when it started. And I'll make something of myself, I promise.”

"I know you will! But, Louis,—”

"Until I met you, I never really knew what love was supposed to be. If we can't be happy here, we must leave for a place that will accept our love.“

“But, Louis, is there such a place? Think... I can't bear to see you hurt."

“If our love has no home, let us spend our lives searching together! Bet on me. And if Ricky casts you off, it won't be forever. He’ll come around. And until he does, I promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness. If I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone. So I beg of you again... My darling, marry me! I promise I will make you happy."

"You...just won't give up, will you? Of all the crazy...stubborn...foolish men..."

"My dear, answer me, please!"

"Louis, I love you. Take me away. Take me to a place where we can be happy.”

[fanfic-she-wrote]

With all of the Renault content lately, I’ve been feeling so spoiled but would it be a bother to ask for more? If you’re up for it, could I request a blurb with 💪🐾 and 💕? Thanks! 😊

Just Married

Captain Renault x reader

Renault finally ties the knot and marries reader. A bit spicey. Nothing graphic though. No swears. Casablanca was also released 80 years ago today! Hope you like it!

💪 Bridal Carry

🐾 Pet names

💕 Kisses

From this prompt list

The sounds of tin cans could be heard dragging behind the car that brought you and Renault to your hotel. You had just been married and were on your way to your honeymoon.

It had been a couple years since the war had ended and Louis found himself in America along with Rick, where he met you. Upon coming to America he thought he would have a bit of fun being the French playboy, but the minute he saw you he knew those days were over. You were the one. Also, you were Rick’s sister/brother and if Louis broke your heart he would have to answer to him which was not something he wanted to do.

You and Renault ran out of the car towards your door laughing all the way. You had put your hand on the doorknob when he suddenly stopped you. “Wait a minute.”

“What?” You asked turning to face him.

“It’s a tradition to carry someone you love over the threshold and I’m not about to break it now.” With that, he picked you up and held you in his arms. “There. Now open the door my sweet!” He exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement any further. He just couldn’t wait to finally get some time alone with you.

As told you twisted the knob and opened the door for him. He was surprisingly strong and carried you like he would carry a leaf. Carefully he placed you down and shut the door, locking it behind him. You barely had a chance to compose yourself before you found his lips pressed against your’s pushing you towards the bed.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” He breathed.

“Whoa, slow down hot stuff…” You said, giving him a slight push. “Let me get ready first.”

He gave you a quick look up and down. “You look fine to me.” He went to kiss you again, but you stopped him.

“I’ll only be a moment.” You assured him with a wink disappearing into the bathroom.

He sat on the bed and waited. Throughout the whole time you dated he did his best to control himself. You were different from anyone else he had been with, which were mostly one night stands. It was torture, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom. His jaw dropped at how unbelievably sexy you were. Not that you weren’t always sexy. In fact, he found himself feeling slightly nervous, why he didn’t know. Which was odd for him. Maybe it was a newly wed thing to be nervous?

“I don’t think I have to ask to know what you think.” You remarked sitting on his lap.

“I think…I’m lucky to have someone like you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He admitted. You smiled and ran your fingers through his hair, making him melt. You hadn’t expected him to say that. You stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I love you, Louis.”

“I love you too.”