When he finally comes home to you the last sweet thing he probably is going to have as a soldier. And he is absolutely smug and gone for you.
Hello friendos ✨✨ I know pip is not the most popular character. And I rarely see stuff of him since Alucard (my first love 😮💨😮💨) is so all consuming. But I thought I try to make something very Pip coded with a fluffy vibe even with this little French note 👀. Sooooo when you like Pip, here you go fangirlies 💅🏻💅🏻✨✨💖
Wordcount: 1,1k
Warnings: fluff, just tiny bit suggestive nothing heavy
He can just be with you. A rare state, just lay there in your lap. Breathing in the fresh air of an early fall.
Sun beams that cast a dimly golden glow in his natural red auburn hair. He was smug, mostly.
A cocky bastard, all fun and jokes until the job needs to be done.
And he had jobs. He always had jobs. But currently you were the only job he wanted to do.
Pip Bernadotte, a busy, tall man.
But you, oh, you were his anchor. The first thought he has when he wakes up and the last when he goes to bed. And not just in that romantic way. Like, yeah, he loves you; he adores you. But it's that kind of obsession that comes with a bitterness of being a soldier.
You possibly always could be the last truly sweet thing he saw. Always reminding himself of the form of your eyes and nose, the contour of your cheekbones. The way your lips brightened into a smile every time he came back.
Just like now. When he walked through that door, just to be totally smug about it. "Told you I'd be back, cherie, no?" speaking with that French accent. What was so satisfying to hear, especially with the smirk in his voice, was the trouble it caused. "You always say that, but I need to make sure you're whole." You laughed at him before you felt how his strong arm wrapped around your waist. The other joined in too, pulling your body closer with a reference that made clear he missed you. Pip is more the guy to let his feelings speak through physical touch. Drawing you closer, stroking the apples of your cheeks. Tilting up your chin or even when he just massaged some circles in your soft thighs. All ways that spoke a little "Je t'aime" (I love you).
"Oui, wohle? Do I look like I'm missing a limb?" he asked you before grinning down at your smaller frame. When you laid your hands on his broad shoulders. "Let me test that myself, Romeo," you said with that teasing tone and the little glint in your eyes, before your hands felt up my arms.
Feeling some tense but warm muscles through the layer of his coat. "When you continue like that, ma belle, I'm not quite sure if I really don't want to lose a limb," he murmurs, the tone just a little softer. Flirty and cocky, but he meant it and not just in the way that, he said he wanted you in his bed.
Watching how your delicate fingers traced his frame. You were glad he was back, maybe not for long, but he was. And he was yours, as you were his. And this was what mattered.
"Lose a limb and you can learn to make your favorite drink yourself," talking back with a drawn-up eyebrow. Before he then grabbed your waist and picked you up just to twirl you around the room, but of course you're not so easily off the hook, are you?
Not with Pip Bernadotte. "Wrap your legs around me, cherie. And give your man a smooch; I earned it," before he grabbed the back of your thighs.
Holding your weight up as if this were nothing. He just wanted to feel his pretty girl in his hands after that time. He showered; you could tell it. Just so you would not see the sprinkles of blood or smell the metallic note of guns. Pip smelled like sandalwood and, somehow, cinnamon. Just so you buried your face against his neck. Red hair tickling your skin. How you missed it, this feeling. This warmth.
"A smooch? How should I not when this man here went showering before coming here?" You chuckled before lifting your head, and then his lips were on yours.
A kiss with him was like an autumn breeze, warm and prickly, making you have a chill down your spine in a good way. With that longing he first tried to suppress. But rough lips are growing needier. A groan came out of his mouth. So touch-starved when away from you, just so in love when feeling you so close pressed against him.
Your arms crossed behind his neck as he held you like this. Lips smacking together, and his breath caressed your cheek. Just one second when you both needed air before his tongue traced your bottom lip. And as soon as you let him...his tongue tangled with yours.
"You are too good to me, cherie. I love to come home to this. To you," mumbling against your lips before he started walking. Safe steps in the direction from the kitchen counter. Before placing you down there.
"Babe, we can't make a mess in the kitchen again. Wait at least until we go upstairs." You giggled before, and with a last greedy smooch, he let go of your lips. Kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. "I learned from my past mistakes. I am here for my welcome home drink. You said you will make it, ma belle," flirty and teasingly with his calloused hands on your thighs, right by the counter next to the fridge. "I said you can make it yourself when you lose a limb," you corrected him.
"Oh, I heard what you said. But I didn't lose a limb, no? So let me have a drink made with the pretty hands of my woman. And then just exist in your lap. You do that for me, ma petite?" His voice was rough, but you heard how masked it was. That man, with his eye patch and his sarcastic remarks, missed you. Just wanting to have a moment of peace with you.
"I see, sooo your usual Vieux Carré? Although I really don't understand what you have with this drink," you meant then before hopping down the counter and getting the stuff for that cocktail with the French influence of Cognac.
That drink always reminded you of his hair, that color, even when it shone a little gold, but somehow it framed the vibe of this man perfectly. That eyepatch and the hat? This long auburn hair, the ruffled coat used on the edges. The smell of gunpowder and smoke. That was him. And yet the tenderness that was layered underneath...
So this is how it came to this, his head in your lap, your fingers running through his soft hair. His eye closed, smiling as if nothing in this world could hurt him. Sipping his drink and having you humming. "This is just what I needed. Perhaps I should think about an early retirement. Just so I can be around you. Have your warmth against me. Sun shining down. When life actually feels good," he spoke this as if he really saw the vision in his head. Probably because he did. Because with you that soldier actually felt at ease without the need to prove anything....
I believe that Vladcard should be the shortest of all of his forms besides girly card. Mainly, it's just because I find the idea funny as hell. Plus, it's historically accurate! Vlad the Impaler would have been around 5'6".
So, in my aus and other stuff, I usually make him 5'6.
My personal order for heights would probably be
Alucard/Bondagecard at 6'8" (Ngl, I hc Anderson as 6'9/6'10).
