I'm back with another request for my Nervous Flyer Anon! (I hope your trip went well my friend!) Just something short sweet and fluffy for the wolves, thank you for your request!
WARNINGS: None
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Attila:
Attila would notice how nervous you were as you left for the airport. Your usual chittering about your day vacant as you silently stared out the window, wringing your hands and fidgeting with your fingers. He wouldn't say anything, knowing you would prefer if the others didn't know. Wordlessly, he slips his hand into yours, soothingly running his thumb over your knuckles. He would listen attentively as you pointed out things you noticed during the drive, his arm eventually drifting around your shoulders in order to let you nestle into his side. Feeling the familiar, heavy weight allowed you to relax slightly. He gives you a reassuring smile. A quiet, “I'm here, everything will be just fine.” Slipping past his lips.
He takes your hand to help you step out of the van. “Allow me, love.” He whispers, insisting on handling your luggage for you. “You just let me handle everything, yeah? There's no need for you to be so stressed, my dear.” He whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he drags both suitcases behind him.
Falk:
“What's wrong, Mäuschen?” Falk asks softly, his hand immediately slipping into yours when he notices your unease.
“I'm just a little nervous, I've never flown before.” You explain, watching intently as his long, articulate fingers trace along the outline of your palm.
He lets out a small hum in response, a gentle smile winding across his lips. “I see.” He carefully intertwined his fingers with yours. “Would you like to know a secret?” He leans in close to you, giving your hand a squeeze as he whispers between the two of you. “I'm terrified of heights.” He admits with a chuckle. “If I can make it through I know you can. Plus, I'll be here to hold your hand the entire time.” He winks at you playfully.
Matthew:
Matthew was an expert at dealing with your nerves, often catching early signs of panic way before you did. He watched as your shoulders gradually began to rise as you waited in line for TSA. “Can I take your bag, Schön?” He asks softly. You nod, allowing him to slip the backpack from your shoulders, slinging it over his arm alongside his own. You sigh as his thumbs pressed into your tense muscles. “Just try and relax, I'll handle everything.” He whispers in your ear. He made sure you were well taken care of: holding onto your ID and boarding pass so they wouldn't get lost in your stuff and you wouldn't be anxious about dropping it, he was careful to keep people from bumping into you.
He groans as he stuffs both of your carry ons into the overhead bin. “There we go, safe and sound.” He smiles down at you, patting the now closed door. He slides into the seat next to you, taking your hand in his. “How are you doing?”
“Much better.” he smiles, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Of course, you're my top priority, I have to take good care of you.”
Charles:
You couldn't sleep. Your nerves about your flight in the morning getting the better of you. “What's wrong, honey?” You jump as Charles' sleepy voice suddenly grumbles behind you. Rubbing his eyes with a yawn as he sits up at your side, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “You've been tossing and turning for hours.” He points out gently, knowing you would try to deny anything was wrong so he could get back to sleep.
“It's silly.” You try to argue, he just crushes you against his chest in response, his skin warm as you nestle yourself against him.
“-’s not silly, lovey.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You can talk to me about anything, you know that.”
“I'm just nervous about our flight tomorrow. What if something goes wrong, of we forget something, it I lose my boarding pass, or my phone-”
“I'm not going to let any of that happen.” He stops your racing mind with a soft chuckle, smiling at you reassuringly. He lays down, pulling you back under the covers with him. “I'll take good care of you, meine herz. I promise.”
Roel:
“Are you almost ready? We have to head out to meet the others.” Roel says as he enters into your bedroom, backpack already slung over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I'll be right out, I'm almost ready.” He paused at your glum tone.
“Is everything alright, my love?” He sets down backpack, walking up behind you in order to wrap his arms around your waist. Your hands settle on top of his, relaxing into the feeling of being pressed against him.
“Just a little nervous.” You respond simply.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” You smile at his immediate support.
“Just being with you is already making me feel better.” You respond softly, your arms sliding over his shoulders as you turn to face him.
“Good,” he smiles down at you, “let's keep it that way, yeah?”
Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @vile-moss @beefyqueefy @belnovacaine @obsessed-and-possessed @eentheekipekke @iamsarahsaysso
The Anointing (Matthew Greywolf x Fem! Reader) SMUT
Hello hello this took way longer than I would have liked for me to finish, but, we made it! This is the second installment of The Sacrilege Series, and a request for some more Matthew smut from my dear friend @belnovacaine . This time reader is invited to participate in a ritual to help "alleviate some stress" by Father Matthew. But, reader's feelings are much deeper than a simple one night stand, will Matthew return her feelings?
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT, misuse of religious practices/spaces, mutual feelings, confession, body worship kinda, use of anointing oils, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, lots and lots of praise and pet name's from Matthew, I think that's everything if I missed any please let me know!
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You just needed a break.
You had been running rampant trying to clean up all of Charles' new assistant's mistakes with their scheduling and paperwork. “I told her to call me if she had any questions,” you grumbled to yourself.
“I'm sorry,” Charles apologizes. “I hired her on Roel’s recommendation; I should've known better.” He sighs, leaning against the edge of the desk you were working at.
“Roel needs to stop being so concerned with trying to play matchmaker, especially when his recommendations don't have any clerical experience whatsoever.” You snap back in an annoyed tone.
“Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?” Your scribbling pauses at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice, your grip tightening on your pen. Your heart pounding, you swallow thickly as his shadow stretches across the desk. “Charles is stealing you all for himself, hm?” he asks teasingly.
“Father Matthew, you sound awfully jealous.” You respond with a smirk.
He chuckles, shooting you a flirtatious grin. “Of course I'm jealous. My favorite girl is spending time with another man, my brother nonetheless, how scandalous.” You can't help but giggle as he winks at you. You return to your current task while Charles explains your predicament.
“So now, she's stuck cleaning up her mess before everything falls apart on us.” Charles chuckles, patting you on the back.
A finger is placed under your chin, Matthew gently tilting your face until your eyes can easily meet his. “That's a lot of work for one little rabbit.”
Your cheeks grew warm as his gaze held you firmly in place. “I can manage, don't worry,” you replied.
“After you finish here, I'd like you to come see me, alright?” His eyes slowly trail to your lips.
“Of course, Father. Can I ask why?” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.
“I need some help with a ritual,” he smiles sharply at you. “It's one I think you'll enjoy, especially after such a stressful day.”
“I'll be there,” you grin coyly. “But you need to let me finish my work for that to happen,” you giggle.
“My apologies, Schwester.” He chuckles before straightening up. “I look forward to seeing you later.”
Charles chuckles as his brother disappears down the hallway. “You're certainly in for a fun evening.”
“And how exactly do you know what he has planned?” Your heart thrums in your chest at Charles' amused expression.
“Matthew isn't a complicated man to read once you get to know him. He enjoys expensive alcohol, good quality cigars… and making the woman he's found himself enamored with completely melt in the palm of his hand.” He finishes with a chuckle.
Your cheeks grow warm. "You really think Father Matthew is—” You cut yourself off as you shake your head. Never mind, I don't have time to worry about that now.” Charles smiles down at you, watching you scribble away at the paperwork in front of you.
Hours had passed, and you were still nowhere close to being done. You sat up straight in your chair, rolling your shoulders back with a groan as you stretched. You didn't understand how someone could make such a mess in a single day. You glanced up at the sound of heels quickly hurrying down the hallway. “I heard you got stuck with a pretty big mess.” She smiles.
“Claire, thank God.” You could have cried at the sight of her. She looked over the spread of paperwork in front of you, covered in red cross-outs and arrows, frantic notes written in the corners so you could somehow organize it.
“Wow, I knew Roel was bad at picking assistants, but this is impressive,” she laughs. She bumps you with her hip, pushing you out of your chair. “Get out of here; I'll handle the rest,” she winks.
“Claire, I can't let you—” she says, cutting you off by waving her hand at you.
“Nonsense, this is the first time Falk has taken a vacation in years; you deserve the time off, too. You've already been doing this for hours, so I can finish it. And besides,” she shoots you a devious smirk, “I heard someone is in for a nice little evening with Father Matthew.” You sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting her to bring that up so casually.
“How did you know about that?” You ask with a bashful chuckle.
“You have to call Attila’s office to schedule a time at the mensa,” she whispers in response.
“The mensa?” You ask in shock. She nods slowly, shooting you a knowing grin.
“That’s all I know,” she says in response to your confused expression, holding up her hands to show she was innocent. “But you probably shouldn't keep him waiting,” she smirks.
“I owe you for this.” You thank her as you gather your belongings.
“You can fill me in on your evening tonight over lunch, and we'll call it even; how's that?” She smiles.
“You got it.” You laugh in response before hurrying off to meet Father Matthew.
You knock tentatively against his door, hearing him quietly call you inside. He smiles at the sight of you, rising from his seat as he smoothes his shirt. “You came.” Your heart fluttered in your chest as you fidget nervously with your fingers.
“Of course I did. Do you really think I'd turn down an invitation to spend time with you?” He chuckles, slowly walking around his desk to approach you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his, his finger slipping under your chin to hold you in place.
“I'm glad,” he smiles sharply down at you, “because I plan on taking up a lot of your time tonight, schwester.” Your knees felt weak, your mouth hanging open to speak, but no words managed to find their way out. He slips his hand into yours, studying you carefully. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I'll ever be.” You respond with a nervous giggle. The two of you strolled side by side through the darkening hallways of the Abbey, the late afternoon sun leaving the corridors burning in their warm orange light.
“I don't want you to be nervous,” he says suddenly, feeling the anxiety behind all your excitement. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
You shake your head, making him smile in response. “You're perfect; I just don't know what to expect.”
“I'll be right by your side through every step of the process, and we can stop at any time.” Your cheeks grow warm as his arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you into him slightly as you walk. “If anything, I should be the one who's nervous,” he admits with a chuckle.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” You prod curiously.
“I have to make sure I'm up to your standards.” He responds vaguely with a wink.
Father Matthew holds open the heavy door to the cathedral, allowing you to slip inside ahead of him. It was always a strange experience being in the chapel after hours. You could hear a pin drop in the silence; even your breathing seemed to echo off the room's impossibly high ceilings. You jumped as the door slammed shut behind you. Father Matthew stands at your side, offering you his arm as you begin your procession down the aisle. You pause at the altar's edge, Matthew looking down at you when he senses your hesitation. You look up at him with large doey eyes that could have easily brought him to his knees. “Is it really okay?”
His hand slips into yours, carefully bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I would be honored to have you standing beside me.” He moves on to the first step, waiting for you to decide to join him. You slowly set one foot on the white marble step, taking a deep breath before allowing the other to join. Matthew smiles down at you, delighted by your acceptance of his invitation. He takes a moment to study you as you stand in the middle of the altar: your much smaller hands in his, the way he could see your nerves begin to settle whenever your eyes met his; the sight brought a smile to his face. “Now, for the hard part…” he trails off with a playful smirk. “You're not allowed to lift a finger, understand? He slowly lowers himself to one knee, forcing you to look down at him. “Anything that you need, I will take care of.” Your heart hammered in your chest as your mind raced. The feeling of Matthew’s warm hand slipping into yours snapped you back to reality. His gentle smile and warm brown eyes immediately pushed down the nerves that were bubbling up in your stomach.
“Yes, Father.” Your eyes flickered around his features, everything about him only drawing you closer. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as his fingers trail down the outside of your leg. He places your hand on his shoulder, steadying you as he lifts your foot from the floor. He carefully undoes the buckle of your shoe, easing it off your foot before mirroring the process on your other leg. He stands, neatly placing your shoes to the side. The marble was cold under your feet; you touched your chest only to feel your heart racing under your palm. You let out a startled yelp as he suddenly scoops you in his arms. You can't help but giggle slightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he gently sways you with every step. He sets you on the edge of the mensa, one arm wrapping around your waist as his free hand cups your cheek. He presses his forehead to yours, gazing down at you longingly.
“Matthew?” You state his name softly.
“Yes, Engel?” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours as he speaks.
“Can,” you swallow thickly, your mouth growing dry as you work up the nerve to ask, “Can you kiss me?” He breathes out a soft chuckle.
“Funny, I was about to ask you something similar.” You share a coy smile as his lips carefully slot against yours. Your arms slide over his shoulders, tugging him closer as you memorize what it feels like to kiss him. He tasted faintly of sweet wine and tobacco, his calloused fingers rough against your skin as he slowly pushed up the hem of your dress. You whine softly as he parts from you, making him chuckle. “Patience, Engel. We can't get too far ahead of ourselves.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before separating from you entirely. He skillfully moved around the altar, grabbing everything he would need from memory. You inhaled deeply, making a pleased hum at the sweetly perfumed oil he set at your side. He drapes a deep maroon silk cloth over the mensa, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips capture yours. He cups your face carefully in his hands, his thumbs stroking over the peaks of your cheekbones. “Can I undress you, schwester?”
“Please do.” You respond breathlessly, making him chuckle. His hands squeeze around your thighs, your supple flesh dimpling under his fingertips. He slowly slides up your dress, the palms of his hands memorizing the feeling of your body's curves as he passes over them. You were so soft in his hands; watching goosebumps erupt at his touch was intoxicating.
“Arms up.” He instructs, allowing him to ease the fabric over your head. He allows himself a moment to just drink in the sight of you, a sound akin to a territorial growl bubbling up in his throat. He takes your chin between his fingers, “So pretty, Schwester.” You shiver as his fingers trail down your neck. He smiles as he hesitates over your pulse, feeling how it thrummed under his touch before continuing on his path over your shoulder. He easily undoes the clasp of your bra, guiding the thin straps from your shoulders delicately as if you would shatter at the slightest wrong movement. You press your lips to his; you can feel Matthew smile as he melts into the kiss. His hands slide under the curve of your ass as he effortlessly lifts you from the mensa; your arms fling around his neck as the action causes you to let out a startled yelp that quickly dissolves into a flustered giggle. “Guess I need to remember my own strength.” He chuckles. He wraps an arm securely around you, holding you against him as he works the thin, delicate fabric of your lingerie down your legs. His hands felt hot against your bare skin, massive paws that engulfed the curve of your hips. You felt drunk off the euphoric buzz you were already experiencing, Matthews's attentiveness making your pulse race. He paused momentarily, taking hold of the glistening silk cloth, offering it to cover up while he finished setting it up. You instinctually lean into his muscular chest as he pulls you to him from behind, lips trailing up the sensitive skin of your neck before stopping just below your ear. His hand slides across your stomach, the silk cool against your otherwise bare body. “I'm going to take good care of you, Engel.” You shiver at the feeling of hot breath against the shell of your ear.
Your body jolts slightly as the first drop of oil splatters across your shoulder. The liquid was warm as it dripped down your skin. You let out a soft moan as Matthew’s strong fingers press into your aching muscles. “Good girl.” He whispers. You can't help but squeeze your legs together at his praise; you catch your lip between your teeth as you hear him chuckle, noticing the effect such a simple phrase had on you. He trails a finger across your jaw, turning your head to allow his lips to find yours. “Such a pretty thing you are, Engel.” You catch the sight of the triumphant smirk that had plastered itself across his features, reveling in the way you melted under his touch. Every compliment a praise for giving into your body's need for pleasure, Matthew simply couldn't get enough of the image of you. A sacred Madonna placed upon the altar, of which he was the only one bestowed with the grace of God to lay a finger on her. He vowed to care for you like the divine being you were. The way you arched into his touch, your sweet sounds gradually became louder and more fervent, making it hard to stay in control. He's snapped from his thoughts as you softly call his name, placing yourself on your knees before him. The hardwood of the mensa was hard under your body, your mind too clouded with arousal to acknowledge the discomfort. Matthew stared back at you with blown pupils, his eyes nearly black as he fought against his primal urge to take you right here and now. But he couldn't deny how gorgeous you looked presented before him. The deep red of the satin complimented your soft skin; it cascaded off your body like a crimson waterfall. Your hair is already slightly tousled; your cheeks flush with warmth.
“Schwester,” his husky voice echoes through the empty chapel. “Will you allow me to cleanse your body of sin and anoint you here before the eyes of God?”
“Yes, Father.” You cup his face in your hands, pulling his lips back to yours. Matthew's hands are on you in an instant, lifting you from the mensa with a growl as he guides your legs around his waist. He crushes your body against his, easily able to maneuver you until he has you lying how he wants against the cold wood.
“So beautiful.” He whispers sweet words of praise over you as he dedicates time to massaging each tender muscle. You can't help but let out a soft whine as his hands begin to trail up your thighs. He paused at the edge of the fabric that covered your body. He glances up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. You nod, giving him a soft smile. He leans over you, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “Remember, we can stop at any time, okay?”
You take his face in your hands, smiling softly as you study the sharp contours of his features. “I don't want you to stop.” You whisper against his lips. Matthew freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. The way you looked at him with such fondness, how gently your palms rested against his cheeks.
“I…” he swallowed thickly, warm brown eyes drinking in the sight of yours. “I’m in love with you.” He confesses, his voice trembling with nerves.
You breathe out a laugh, a smile instantly stretching across your features. “I love you too, Matthew.” You let out a delighted squeal as you feel his strong hands wrap around your hips, his lips crushing against yours as he pulls your body closer to his. You let your head fall back, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as Matthew trails wet kisses down your neck. One of his hands slowly slid up the outside of your thigh before it dipped below the cloth that covered your body, trailing over the curve of your hip. He hikes your leg around his waist.
Your fingers tangle into his hair, a strangled gasp escaping you as you feel Matthew’s teeth bite down roughly on your neck. “Just relax, sweetheart; I'm going to take good care of you.” He coos, pressing one more kiss to your lips before letting the satin fall from your body to the floor. He whispers sweet words of praise in your ear as he slowly starts to tease your entrance with his fingers. You fist your hands in his shirt, gasping softly as you feel him ease his long, thick digits inside of you. Your back arches off the hardwood, Matthew’s warm palm immediately pressing into you for support. “I've got you, Engel.” Your mind was already clouded with pleasure; Matthew was an absolute expert in his craft, as he seemed to know exactly where to touch you to drive you insane.
You pull his lips to yours, kissing him feverishly as you hold onto him anywhere your hands could manage to reach. “Please,” you whine against his lips. “Need you.”
He chuckles softly, “My, my, what an impatient girl you are, schwester.” He cups your cheek as he presses another ferocious kiss to your lips. “But I’m happy to comply with such a pretty little thing.” He makes quick work of undoing his belt, haphazardly kicking off his pants as he pulls his shirt over his head. He moved with urgency, easily hoisting himself onto the mensa to pin your smaller form beneath him. His gaze rakes hungrily down your body, drinking in the sight of every curve. You squirmed, feeling your cheeks grow warm under his intense observance. “You are just so perfect, Mein Herz.” He cups your cheek in his hand, peppering your face with kisses as he eases himself inside of you. You cry out, your nails digging deep crescents into his biceps as you grab onto him. He hushes you, “You're doing so good, sweetheart.” He groans, cursing under his breath. You feel every inch of him push inside of you, stretching you to the point you were worried you might break. You whine, your thighs trembling when he finally settles his hips against yours. Matthew lets out a shuddering breath, another curse tumbling from his lips at how tightly you squeezed him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck; the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sends a delicious shiver up your spine.
You let out a loud moan as he slowly rolled his hips. Matthew let out a low growl at the melodic sound, repeating the action, smirking slightly as your loud moans echoed through the empty chapel. He gradually increased his pace, hitting a spot inside you that made your toes curl and the edges of your vision go white with every sharp thrust. “Fuck,” he curses gruffly. He sits himself on his knees, wrapping both hands around your hips. He manages to somehow push even deeper inside of you; you scream his name, Matthew groans at the sound. He grabs your face in his hand, making your eyes meet his. “So fucking pretty.” He growls. You groan as he pushes his thumb past your lips, greedily pulling the digit into your mouth with your tongue. “That's my girl.” He praises you with a smile. He picks up the bottle of oil, tipping it just enough to let a few drops of oil splatter across your stomach. He eases his thumb from your mouth, using his strong hands to massage oil over your bare skin. You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to last, every snap of Matthew's hips sending you closer and closer to the edge.
“Schwester,” Matthew growls, not slowing his pace. He could feel your body start to twitch in his hands, your body moving against his as you raced towards your climax. “Do you give yourself to me before the eyes of God?”
“Yes, Father.” You weren't sure how you managed to push the words past your lips, barely able to form a coherent thought let alone a sentence.
“Do you… fuck,” you both can't help but smile at each other, the seriousness of the ritual long pushed from your mind, completely absorbed in the fact that you were here with each other. “Do you wish to be absolved of your sins in exchange for pleasure?” He purrs, his tone only making the coil in your core wind tighter.
“Yes, Father.” He lets out a hum of approval. He dabs holy oil on his thumb, supporting himself in his forearm as he leans over you. You close your eyes, Matthew’s hand warm against your skin as he marks the sign of the cross on your forehead.
“I absolve you, Schwester.” He says with a sharp smile, his hips beginning to stutter as he struggles not to fall over the edge. His lips crash into yours, making you moan loudly into his mouth. You feel his hand slide down your torso; you cry out as his fingers begin to draw tight, quick circles on your clit.
You moan his name, “I'm close–” You’re cut off by another moan that he effortlessly rips from your lungs.
“Cum for me, Engel.” He whispers against your lips. You felt the pleasure building up inside of you until it finally snapped. You screamed his name, your nails clawing down his back, undoubtedly leaving deep red scratches in their wake. Matthew followed not long after, your name tumbling from his lips mixed with curses in both German and English as his hips stutter to a stop, his member pulsing against your sensitive walls as he releases himself inside of you. He drops his weight on top of you, making you groan. Both of your chests heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.
“You're in love with me, huh?” You smile, Matthew chuckles at your question.
“I am.” He props himself up enough to meet your eyes. “I hope that's not a problem.” He teases.
“I'm just trying to figure out why it took some fantastic sex ritual for you to confess that to me.” You laugh as he litters your face with kisses.
“You are incredibly beautiful,” he kisses your lips softly, “confessing to you through worship seemed like the only right way to tell you.” Your cheeks grow warm at his sweet words.
You carefully press your lips to his, “I'm in love with you too.” He smiles, cradling you in his arms.
“How about I get us cleaned up, and we head back to my room for some dinner.” He offers, gently tucking some hair behind your ear.
You can't help but smile in response, “I'd like that.”
Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @mossmothworld @obsessed-and-possessed @hinkepink @iamsarahsaysso (if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please let me know!)
To Have and To Hold (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) - Part II
Hello and welcome to part 2!!! I'm feeling so soft for this man omfg, have a cute date and some fun times with friends.
WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol, some swearing
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Part I - Part III
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Thank you.” You smile brightly at the waitress as she sets your espresso down in front of you. Falk had taken you to the coziest little cafe you had ever seen. You sat out on the patio at white metal tables, each decorated with a small blue vase with yellow flowers in the middle. The food had been wonderful, the company you found yourself in even better. As the waitress walks away Falk reaches across the table taking your hand in his.
“I’ll make sure to take you out somewhere fancier the next time.” He winks at you.
“I think this was the perfect place to go.” You smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I'm happy I get to spend time with you, to learn more about you, we could be eating greasy burgers in some random parking lot right now.” The two of you share a chuckle.
“I guess I just want to impress you.” He admits bashfully. “I was honestly shocked that you even agreed to come to lunch with me and now we’re even calling this a date… I just feel really under prepared.” He smiles softly, his thumb languidly running over your soft skin.
“You've already done more than enough to impress me.” You giggle, his eyes snap up to look at you, a slightly shocked expression painting his features. “Falk you're an incredible man, I've known that from the start. Over the years that's only become more obvious. You're kind, patient, passionate about what you do, you care so deeply for the people around you… you're also incredibly handsome.” Your cheeks warm, your gaze drifting to the table as you grow flustered from complimenting him.
“Thank you Maus. I'm sure it's no secret that I think you're beautiful… I still just can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that someone so bright and full of life would want to spend their time with, well, me.” He states quietly.
“You're acting like you're a thousand years old.” You giggle.
“I'm still older than you by quite a bit.”
“And that doesn't bother me in the slightest.” His mouth snaps shut at your adamant statement. “I want to be with someone who makes me happy, who's going to be there to help me back up when I stumble, someone who I can see spending the rest of my life with. I don't see why something as silly as age has to be a factor in that.” He breathes out a laugh, a smile slowly creeping across his lips as he nods in response.
“I agree.” He states simply. “But, if you feel like we’re moving too fast you have to tell me. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything.”
“You're the last person I would expect that from.” After that the rest of your time at the cafe dissolved into much less serious conversations. Your feelings being relatively somewhat out in the open made it a lot easier to get to know Falk outside of the holds of work formality. “You know, you still haven't told me what you planned for the rest of the day.” You remark with a teasing smile.
“I would like to offer you a proposition.” He smirks. “We can go with my original plan, which I'm still keeping a surprise. Or, we can head back to the Abbey and enjoy a nice relaxing evening in my quarters continuing this.” He motions in between the two of you.
“I hate making decisions.” You groan, making Falk chuckle in response.
“If you want my opinion on the matter, what I originally had planned might be better for a different day.” He offers some support.
“Relaxing day at home it is.” You giggle. “It’ll give me a chance to change into something comfier.”
“I have some clothes you could borrow… only if you want to.” He rushes to add onto his statement, worried that asking you to get undressed at his quarters might come off the wrong way. “I just figured you wouldn't have to walk all the way to your dorm and all the way across the Abbey to get to my-”
“Falk.” You chuckle, squeezing his hand and snapping him from his rant before he had a chance to get started. “If you don't mind, I think that sounds nice.” He paid for your meals, both of you giddy and somewhat nervous about spending the rest of the afternoon together so casually. The moment you were back at the Abbey and out of the car Falk's hand effortlessly slipped into yours, guiding you through the halls as you talked about whatever came to mind. You stood at his side as he pulled his keys from his pocket. You glanced up at the sound of footsteps, glancing down the hallway only to see Roel, reading through one of the papers in the pile he held, as he slowly ambled in your direction. He glances up slowly, more than likely to check to see if anyone was in his path. His steps paused immediately when his eyes landed on you, Falk completely oblivious to the silent stare off you were having. Roel looked between the two of you, catching sight of Falk fumbling with his keys. His eyes widen before they snap back up to you. Your expression was clearly telling him one single word. Leave. He quickly turns on his heels and hurries off down the hallway just as Falk happened to look in his direction. Your shoulders relaxed as you heard the heavy key finally slot itself into the lock with a loud thunk.
“Sorry if it's a little messy, I wasn't expecting guests.” He chuckles before stepping inside. One thing you always remarked whenever you visited Falk’s quarters was just how comfortable the space was. The main sitting room was decorated with a plus couch, a matching love seat, and two recliners that were positioned in a semi circle in front of his hearth. In front of them a dark mahogany coffee table, a few candles sat in the middle, a relatively large unopened pile of letters on one side that you were beginning to realize represented the mess Falk was talking about. Sun catchers of various colors, sizes, and designs filled the windows, the stained glass making a kaleidoscope of rainbow beams that jutted across the room. “I’ll get some tea started, the dresser next to my bed has all of my lounge clothes in it. Feel free to pick out what you want.” You nod before scampering off to the bedroom, not wanting to make him wait too long. It was easy enough to find exactly what you were looking for, you decided on a faded black T-shirt with a band name you didn't recognize and a pair of gray, plaid fleece pajama pants. You had to roll the pants at the waist, Falk’s monstrous height making them entirely too long for you. You pulled the shirt over your head, the soft fabric clinging to your hips as it accentuates your curves. You fixed your hair as you gave yourself one last look over in the mirror. You softly padded into the kitchen, smiling as you heard Falk humming to himself as he filled the kettle up at the sink. He turns to you when he realizes you had entered the room.
“I hope these are alright, I can always go out then ba-”
“You look incredible.” The words die in your throat at his compliment. He takes a few slow steps closer to you, tentatively resting his hands on your waist. “I'm glad that old shirt still has a use,” he chuckles, “you look very cute in it.”
“Thank you.” You stutter in response, placing your hands on top of his when you couldn't figure out what to do with them. “Are you going to join me or are you planning on staying in slacks and a button down all day?” You ask in a teasing tone. He smirks down at you, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.
“If you wanted to see me strip you should have just asked.” He winks, chuckling as you grow flustered. “Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back.”
You sit down on the couch, looking around at all the pictures, books, and other various knick knacks that littered the room with a fond smile. You nervously fidgeted with your fingers as you couldn't help but glance at the pile of letters on the table. There had to be at least 20 letters all sent in the same cream colored envelope, it was addressed to Falk in neat script written in a deep red fountain pen. You squinted slightly, trying to see who had sent it. You could just barely make out a name, Alaric Schlegel. Your eyes snapped up to see Falk exiting his bedroom, a black T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, a matching pair of sweatpants hanging comfortably from his hips. A smile passes over his lips seeing your guilty expression. He knew what you had been doing without even having to ask. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been snooping.”
“You weren't Maus, don't worry.” He chuckles, collapsing into the cushions at your side with a soft groan. “If it was anything important they would've been put away.”
“Are they from your dad?” You couldn't stop the question from bubbling past your lips. Falk nods, picking up one of the letters in his hand before fidgeting with the edge of it.
“They are, I have some things that I need to take care of eventually… but I’ll tell you all about that when the time comes.” His golden brown eyes glimmered in the low light as he shoots you a bashful, yet excited look. He could see the curious expression on your face as you studied the letter in his hand. Due to the fact that all of the High Clergy rarely ever talked about their families openly he could only imagine the questions you would have. “I don't bite you know,” he chuckles, “if you want to ask me something you can.”
“I just don't want to pry.” You respond.
“It's not like you won't learn about it eventually.” He chuckles.
“Does he do what you do? Your dad?” You ask softly.
“He used to, he had a Parish of his own until he retired and moved to the mountains with my mom.” He explains. “I'm sure you saw, but his name is Alaric, my mother's name is Charlotte.” He scans around the room, making a small sound of approval before he darts up from the couch. He pulls a photo out of the chaotic mix of pictures that filled the small mantel above the fireplace. “This is them.” He hands it over to you, taking his place at your side once again, his arm resting comfortably across your shoulders. You're met with the sight of a slightly younger Falk, his expression drawn and stoic, his body half hidden behind the chair his father sat in. Your brows furrowed slightly as your eyes drifted to the next member in the photo.
“You really look like your mom, huh?” You remark, looking up at him with a warm smile. The woman that stood beside him was tall, slender, an almost effortless elegance to her presence. Her mousy brown hair swept up in an intricate up-do, a few pieces falling out to frame her face. Falk shared her nose, long and slender with a slight hook at the end. Her blue eyes sparkle like sapphires against her pale complexion, despite her lack of smile for the photograph she still radiated warmth. “She’s beautiful.” You remark in awe, causing him to chuckle.
“I'm sure she’ll be flattered, I feel like the two of you would get along really well.” He smiles in response. Falk’s father was at the center of the photo. A burly, barrel chested man with broad shoulders and a thick, dark beard. He looked like the physical embodiment of a bear. His hair swept back, his features held an almost bored expression as he sat tall in his seat. The brass wolf ring on his pointer finger glinted slightly in the light.
“If you don't mind me asking, why wasn't your sister in this picture?” You hand the small object back to him, allowing him to put it back in its proper place.
“She refused to have anything to do with my father’s Parish after she found out that I was going to be the one training under him and not her.” He explains bluntly. “If the time comes for… the festivities of us tying the knot.” He clears his throat, you couldn't miss the way his cheeks flushed slightly at the mention of marrying you. “She’ll show up, I am her brother after all, but she's definitely not going to be happy about it.” You swallowed thickly, your hands growing clammy at the thought of having to deal with somebody who sounded so intensely negative.
“I'm sure she won't be that bad.” You attempted to reassure both of you, but you weren't even sure if you believed yourself.
“Well, we won't need to cross that bridge for a while anyhow.” He smiles warmly at you,making your heart thrum in your chest.
“Yeah, you do have a point.” You giggle. His fingers trail over your cheek, brushing away some hair that had fallen into your face.
“We’ve got all the time in the world Maus, and I plan to enjoy every second of it.” You wanted to melt under his gaze. The gentle smile that adorned his lips as he studied your features caused you to grow flustered. Golden brown irises met yours before they dropped to your lips, quick enough that you almost missed it. You both jumped slightly as the kettle started to sing in the kitchen. “I'll go get that.” He chuckles awkwardly before pushing himself off the couch. He comes back a few moments later with two mugs of tea, yours prepared exactly how he knew you liked it. The two of you sat and talked for a while, growing more comfortable in each other's presence with every passing second. Your eyes darted in the direction of the door when there was a sudden knock outside. Falk glances up at the clock before cursing under his breath. Before he had a chance to answer it the door swung open, Attila trudging into the room.
“I think we’re going to need something a little stronger than tea after the day I've had, my friend.” A heavy glass bottle thuds loudly on the table as he sets it down. He opened his mouth to speak again, freezing when he noticed your small form tucked into Falk’s side. He states your name curiously, your eyes wide due to the fact you didn't know how to respond at the moment.
“This is why you should knock.” Falk jokes before turning his attention back to you. “I'm sorry Maus, I forgot what day it was.”
“We can always reschedule.” Attila suggests.
“No!” You exclaim, hurriedly standing up before Falk had a chance to protest. “If you already had plans, I'll go, I wouldn't want to be-”
“Sit down.” Attila waves you off. “Do you know how to play poker?”
“I'm sorry, sir?”
“Do you know how to play poker?” He asks again with more gustow on the second go around. You shake your head hesitantly, your brows furrowing together as you try to figure out just what the hell was going on here. “I'm sure Falk wouldn't mind teaching you.” He chuckles. You glanced to the side to see Falk wearing a similarly confused expression. “What?”
“You just… you don't seem too confused by the fact that I'm here.”
The words barely had time to escape you before Attila spoke up. “Does this mean he finally asked you out on that date?” Your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing the instant the question flew forward.
“I did, we went to lunch at that cafe…” Falk snaps his fingers as he tries to remember the name, both of them shouting it out in unison as it came to them.
“Well, it's about damn time.” Attila chuckles. “I swear, if I had to listen to you spout the same nonsense about how she was going to think you're gross because you're so old-” he's cut off by the sound of you giggling, a smile quickly stretching across his face at Falk’s annoyed eye roll. “It's true, but I can assume today went pretty well.”
“I guess you could say that.” You smile playfully at Falk, nudging his shoulder.
“Well, as long as you don't mind hanging out with a bunch of old men playing cards, you're more than welcome to stay.” He jokes in response.
“Do you want to stay?” Falk asks softly, making sure his voice was only loud enough for the two of you to hear.
“If you wouldn't mind,” he swallows thickly as your hand slips into his. “I'd hate to cut my time with you short.” He breathes out a laugh, a soft smile spreading across his features. Attila approaches the couch, two crystal glasses swirled with amber liquid.
“Do you drink?” He asks you.
“Sometimes.” He offers you the glass. It's cold against your lips, the dark liquid bitter as you timidly sip it. Your face scrunches up reflexively, causing Attila to chuckle.
“It's not for everyone.” Falk takes your glass from your hand, dumping the contents into his own so fluidly it took you a moment to process what would happen.
“I have some wine in the fridge, I'll grab you a glass.” His warm breath bouncing off your cheek as he whispered to you sent a shiver down your spine. You watch him stride into the kitchen, nervously rubbing the soft fabric of the pants you were wearing in between your fingers. Attila sits in the chair closest to the hearth, stretching his legs out with a groan as he basqued in the fire's warmth.
“I'm glad he finally said something to you, all of us were worried he was never going to ask you on a date at the rate he was going.” He chuckles, you jump slightly as he snaps you from your thoughts.
“I’m glad he did too.” You giggle in response. “I was in a similar boat, I guess him and I were just waltzing around the inevitable.”
“I'm just glad you both seem happy, the two of you have been nothing but smiles since I showed up.” You can't help the bashful grin that crosses your lips as you let your gaze drop to your lap.
“It's hard not to be happy when I'm with him.”
“I only have white wine, I hope that's okay.” Falk beams at you as he reenters the living room. You thank him as he slips the glass into your hand. The three of you grew silent as you heard Matthew’s voice boom in the hall, laughing loudly at something the other voice, who you quickly realized was Charles, had said. The pair pushed into Falk's quarters, arms filled with snacks, each of them carrying a case of beer at their side.
“Well, well, well.” You chuckled at Matthew’s greeting. “If it isn't little miss I-have-to-get-to-my-seat, I see that black dress caught some attention, hm?” He teases, making your cheeks warm. There was a sharp smack as Charles slaps him in the back of the head.
“Stop that.” He barks. “It's wonderful to see you again so soon.” He smiles at you.
“Same to you Father.” You respond with a polite nod.
“You don't need to keep being so formal.” Charles chuckles. “I'm sure you're not here for business.” You shake your head in response.
Roel was the last to arrive, a massive pizza perched on his shoulder, a plastic bag of energy drinks hanging in his free hand. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you sitting at the center of the group. “Now just what the hell is going on here?”
“I'm replacing you.” You state bluntly making Attila chuckle.
“My own assistant,” he clutches his chest in lock pain, “I'm hurt.” You seemed to fall naturally into place amongst the rest of them.
Charles nods in your direction, “you want another?”
You glanced down at the empty bottle of beer in front of you. “Sure, why not, one more wouldn't hurt.” You were currently sitting in Falk’s lap, one of his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His attention switched between your hand and his, helping you analyze your cards while you learned how to play the game. Matthew grabs another bottle from the pack, hooking his ring under the metal cap before cracking it off in one swift motion and handing it over to you.
Falk leans in and whispers in your ear. “Go all in.” He whispers. You lean forward, pushing your decently large pile of chips to the center of the table. Folding your hands neatly in your lap and smiling at the group of shocked expressions before you.
“Gentlemen.” You titter.
“I fold.” Roel pipes up.
“Me too.” Attila follows, throwing his cards down on the table.
“I fold.” Charles groans. Matthew curses under his breath before also tossing his cards into the middle of the table. “Falk?”
“Sorry Maus.” He chuckles before fanning his deck out nearly across the green velvet surface. “Unfortunately I can't pass up a royal flush.” He shrugs with a smirk.
You groan over dramatically. “You're the worst.” He laughs, giving your waist a soft squeeze.”
“Wait, what did you have?” Matthew asks, swatting at your hand as he tries to reach your cards.
“Me? Oh I had jack shit.” You laugh tossing your cards down to reveal that your hand was worth nothing.
“Attila, it looks like we found someone even you can't find a tell on.” Roel chuckles, Attila slaps his shoulder jokingly. “I should probably get heading out.” Roel groans as he stands, his eyes landing on you. “I'm sure you remember, but we have that meeting in the morning-”
“With the church across town, I know.” You smile. There were murmurs and grumbles throughout the group of the various reasons they also had to be on their way, each of them bidding you goodbye until you and Falk were left alone in the room. You began collecting the empty bottles off of the table, Falk’s gaze snapping in your direction at the sound of clinking glass.
“Honey, don't worry about that.” He tries to take the bottles from your hands only for you to pull them out of reach.
“I'm helping, that's final.” A flirtatious smile laces its way across your lips. “You work too hard as it is, I think I can help clean up after a poker game.” You wink. He sighs, shaking his head with a smile of his own as he realizes there's no use in arguing with you. He organizes all the chips back in their proper slots, packing them away, both of you softly managing to clear the clutter from the table. He covers the velvet, the heavy wooden slab back in place, returning the dining room table to its former glory. “I should also get going unfortunately, I have an early morning tomorrow.” You state softly, leaning up against the edge of the counter. Falk walks up to you, one hand landing on your waist, the other wrapping around the granite to cage you in close to him. You grew flustered under his warm gaze.
“I had a wonderful time with you today.” He states in a low tone.
“I did too.” You smile back at him.
“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” He asks with a soft smile, a hopeful glint in his eyes. You nod in response, letting your hand slip into his as you make your way out. You studied the way your hand fit into his. His long, slender fingers wrapped around your much smaller hand like vines. Your thumb stroked over his warm skin, your eyes trailing along the prominent veins that stood out along the back of his hand. “Did you have fun tonight?” You're snapped from your thoughts when he suddenly asks you a question.
“Yeah, I had a great time.” You grin up at him, leaning into his side slightly as you walk. The walk back to your room was much too short for your liking, your door already coming into view as you rounded the corner.
“After you get off work tomorrow, would you want to come to my quarters, I'd like to make you dinner.” He blurts out, as if he didn't get it out right then he would've lost the nerve to ask you.
“You want to make me dinner, hm?” You squeeze his hand. “I love a man who can cook.” You couldn't help but smile as you watched him flush. You paused in front of your door, your hand still comfortably resting in his.
“It's a date then?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, you nod, shooting him a flustered smile. “Goodnight Maus.” He whispers, his warm breath fanning over your skin, causing a shiver to run up your spine.
“Goodnight.” You respond in the same hushed tone. His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. His eyes drop down to your lips, he swallows thickly before his eyes drift back to yours. He smiles, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your cheek as it falls away.
“Until then, meine Maus.” He nods, giving you one final hushed goodbye before he leaves you standing outside your door alone in the darkened hall.
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