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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 7 months

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Hello there, my friend! 😊

After thinking very long about what to request (I couldn't decide), I finally made it into your ask box. 😁

What do you think about a Will Ransome story? Perhaps he falls in love with someone he shouldn't fall in love with? Someone who works with him at the church? I'll leave the rest open to you. 😊

"Thief of Hearts" A Will Ransome x F!Reader Oneshot

With his pending nuptials sending his heart into doubt, Reverend Ransome seeks to distract his mind by saving a the soul of a wandering thief...until she begins to alter the course of his life instead.

Pairing: Will Ransome x F!Reader Genre: Forbidden Love; sad ending Word Count: 3k Content Warning: I guess if you count an engaged vicar having thots a trigger

Ten weeks until Midsummer night. Ten weeks until the Reverend of Aldwinter married. Ten long, yet instantaneous weeks.

Will stood on the open threshold of his church early that warm April morning, sweeping the stoop casually, alone with the Lord and his own thoughts.

It had been a difficult winter for him. Being hardly twenty-two and fresh from seminary, it took even the gentle Will Ransome some time to gain the trust of the small hamlet in rural England. Of course, God always provided, and a particularly bad snow storm the previous December had nearly paralyzed the village, and perhaps it would have ended in disaster had Will, along with a few of the town’s more physically-adept men, to bring supplies from another town miles away, taking them nearly a week on foot with minimal support to make the journey. The rescue efforts had been a success, saving the people from disease and starvation at a crucial hour.

Of course, not only did this act of heroism persuade the village to accept the youthful, gangly vicar, but it had another, less-foreseen side effect: the women of Aldwinter suddenly became needy for him, which had really thrown the sincere young pastor for a loop.

Normally, seeing the uptick in church attendance was a welcome sight, but Will was no fool. Aldwinter didn;t have a large population, but it surely seemed like the spinsters and young maidens of the town doubled in number overnight. They lingered after service, waiting at strategic points in the reception line, each so as not to be overshadowed by her predecessor. Each had a different tactic to gain the man's attention, and most failed.

The only one who was able to keep his eye for more than a moment had been Stella, who was far and away the most quiet and virtuous of the girls in Aldwinter. Fair-haired and gentle, she moved with natural grace and humility, and of course, the whisperings among the congregation were that of all the ladies, Stella would make the most appropriate bride for a man of God.

She exuded patience, virtue, purity, a love for children and God, and a servant’s heart.

So Will decided that pretty Stella, lovely and true, indeed would be the perfect little wife for him. Not only would a courtship finally quell the unwanted advances of the town’s more boisterous virgins, but perhaps it was time for Will to adhere to God’s commandment to be fruitful and multiply. So, Will asked Stella’s father for permission to formally court her with the intent of marriage by the following summer.

The artifice of such an arranged courtship was not lost on Ransome, however, and as winter melted into spring, he somehow both became more and less convinced that marrying at this time was the right idea.

Perhaps he was merely using Stella, who certainly deserved better? He was very fond of her in earnest, and he did find her beautiful both inside and out. He knew she would make him a happy husband, and that he would devote his life to her own comfort. After all, that was what God commanded husbands and wives to do.

Stella kept assuring him how happy she was, how thrilled she was to be starting her married life with him, and how soon she wanted to begin having children (although Will found himself often reminding her that it was up to the Lord to decide on the timing of their future children).

So many doubts flooded his mind. He was constantly about either the church or town, if not making wedding plans, visiting the villagers and tending to their spiritual needs, so this rare moment to sweep the porch of his sanctuary was welcome. He could speak to God in his mind and ask for the advice he so desperately needed.

This bright, unseasonably-warm April morning had a different feeling to it. Something uncertain was hanging in the air about the reverend, making the hair on his neck stand.

“Something is coming…” he found himself muttering, though he rarely spoke to himself outside of prayer.

As if on a cue, a young girl of about ten came rushing over the hill on which the same church house sat, yelling for the pastor. “VICAR! COME QUICK!”

“Child, what is it? Is someone hurt?” he asked with sudden concern.

“Some vagabond got caught stealing from Mr. Miller! No one seems to know who she is, but he beat her to the ground and now he’s calling for stocks!”

“Stocks?” Will almost chuckled in spite of the seriousness of the moment. What a medieval punishment! Do stocks even exist?

Will followed the girl down the hill and into the village, where the burly, bald old butcher was standing over a figure as of yet unclear to him as he approached the scene.

You had no idea what was going on, only that you;d made the attempt to slip your hand into the bulging pocket of the old butcher, only for some brat to alert him to your presence. The man may have had forty years on you, but he could still pack a wallop, especially seeing as you were still weak from the influenza that had nearly taken you over the winter, and that you were still very hungry.

He kicked you repeatedly in the ribs until you fell over, calling for stocks or a gallows as he continued to assault you.

Vaguely, you could hear some women protesting, claiming that you were only a starving girl (which was, of course, truth). Mr. Miller, however, did not stop, at least until another man’s voice joined the assembly.

It was deep, but gentler than the others. “How dare you raise a hand to a woman?” it began.

Mr. Miller’s voice lost some of its’ rage. “Reverend Ransome,” he said quietly.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” the deep, gentle voice continued. You had your head in the dirt, and intended to keep it that way for your protection. “The Lord teaches us to forgive those who trespass against us.”

“Everything I am worth is in this purse, and she nearly nicked it off me!” protested the gruff butcher.

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t carry your life savings on your person,” the other man suggested. “Or, perhaps you should mind the teaching of Our Father and offer the girl some help instead?”

You finally spoke up. “I can leave,” you said softy. “I’m wandering, looking for work. I just recovered from influenza, and I lost my factory job and had to do…do some horrid things to get by…but I was chased out of town--”

“--bloody hell, what a surprise!--” swore Mr. Miller.

“--and I have been eating grasses on the roadside to subsist, hoping there’s work in the north,” you explained.

After a moment of silence, the gentle voice remarked, “It’s newly spring, there is very little grass.”

“Exactly,” you said pathetically.

You were conscious of the gentle man kneeling down beside you. He slipped a finger under your chin, bringing your face into view, forcing you to look the town reverend in the eye for the first time.

Instantly, you knew that here before you was not a man who would do you harm. His eyes were gentle, blue, full of sympathy for you. You couldn;t help but be instantly revived by his touch. For being a chaste man of god, his face could turn a lady to sin, the rugged handsomeness of his visage nearly hypnotizing you.

Your lower lip trembled in hesitation. It was this little twitch that seemed to perk his interest even more, as if expressing a small degree of modesty was something that went a long way in the parson’s mind.

“Poor woman, please don't be afraid,” he said in the softest, most inviting voice.

“What are we going to do with her?” asked Mr. Miller angrily.

“My name is Will,” he said, ignoring the butcher in order to introduce himself. “I am the vicar here in Aldwinter.”

“I…I’m Y/N,” you replied.

Will smiled. “A beautiful name. It suits you. But your accent is Welsh…Cardiff?”

You smiled and nodded meekly. “You really are a far way from home, little wanderer,” he said, observing you a bit more closely. You could feel his eyes strip you down to your core, both in a curious way…and one that may have had a more lustful foundation, even if he himself was not aware of it.

“Well?” repeated Mr. Miller.

Will looked up at the angry man with a scowl. “Patience. I think our solution here is an obvious one.”

You looked at the reverend and decided to trust him. It was better than letting this crude butcher have his way with you.

“I have fallen behind in maintaining the church after the harsh season,” he admitted. “It needs a bit of cleaning.”

“Your wife will see to that once you marry,” chimed some woman from the crowd.

The good Reverend is engaged, you thought sadly. As if a sinner like me ever had the chance…

Will involuntarily scoffed. “Which won’t be for another few months,” he added. “Until then, perhaps Miss Y/N could fulfill the task?”

You nodded quickly and enthusiastically. “Of course,” he continued, looking you in the eye again, this time with just a hint of fatherly sternness, “you must promise not to steal again, from anyone.”

“Yes,” you whispered quietly. “I swear to God I won’t.”

The vicar cringed at your use of God’s name, and you immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Will only smiled after recovering from the brief wince. “I believe you.”

Will Ransome loved God more than anyone, which was the way it should have been. He knew in his heart that would never change.

But in the weeks that followed your clandestine meeting, as gravity drew you closer and closer to the vicar, he found himself falling prey to the wandering eye of so many lustful men that he’d been warned to avoid throughout his life.

But perhaps this was…natural?

After all, you were equally beautiful to Stella, albeit with different coloring and a somewhat rougher edge. You had a bit of a firmer stance, a more assertive manner to you that set you apart from her. You weren’t afraid to question the reverend’s ideas as he began to offer them to you in exchange for advice on how to convey them in a sermon. He quickly became attractive to your differing perspectives.

Of course, he was deterred by the fact that you seemed, at best, indifferent to God. However, the challenge ultimately proved to only solidify the chemistry you had with the man. Will was a man of God for more than just duty’s sake. He loved a deep discussion on theology, something to spark his wit as well as his faith. You provided the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his thoughts, as if you were a walking diary.

In turn, you looked very, very lovely when you swept the aisle floor, or polished the brass chalice on the altar, as you found yourself doing presently, on the last day of spring, just before sunset. You knew Will would be around, as tomorrow was Sunday, and Midsummer.

And his wedding day.

You couldn’t help but want his eye to fall on you tonight, and he was a difficult man to read in terms of his more private feelings. He often neglected to mention Stella, even though you’d met the woman several times, and reluctantly admitted to yourself that she was kind, and deserved to be happy.

You knew he could never love you. You would be a terrible vicar’s bride. You weren’t even a virgin.

But for just one kiss…

You felt your mind drift off into fantasy, where in the chalice you held, Will’s reflection appeared, swiftly moving in behind you, his head slowly falling to your ear, his docile baritone whispering: “Lord in heaven, forgive me…”

“Will?” you replied in an equally-soft tone, the feeling of lithe fingers delicately wandering over your collarbone, tracing it back to your neck, brushing your long hair back almost real.

“Y/N, I don't know what’s come over me, but I’m afraid I’m beginning to love you.”

“As am I,” you felt tears come to your eyes. “Neither of us should accept how we’ve begun to feel.”

“I am despicable,” he bemoaned. “But you are an angel, and such beauty is only God’s work…who am I to refuse his gift?”

His hand moved down to your breast, firmly settling over it as he pulled your back against his chest, his sighs moving hot air across your neck as you leaned back. You didn’t expect Will to bare his teeth and gingerly run them over the soft flesh in the curve of your shoulder, sending bolts of lighting down your legs.

We are in his church…you’re leading him astray…

No, don’t tell him to stop…

You felt Will pull away and grab your shoulders, firmly-but-gently turning you to face him. It was in that moment that you realized that you weren’t in a day dream. That Reverend Will Ransome, with the tender blue eyes that called your soul back to God, was standing before you, expressing sincere physical affection for you even as he wore his priestly habit.

“I…I’ve wanted this since the day you saved me,” you said quietly as Will caressed your face, looking deeply into your face as if God himself resided in you. In his arms, you felt as if he did. “Every day, you came in to check on me…”

“...I longed for those moments every day,” he confessed, holding you tightly to him and tenderly rocking you back and forth. He smelled faintly of woodsmoke and pine. You wanted to drown in his scent. “I knew that for God, for Stella…I couldn’t…”

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumbled. “Nor do I wish your bride any ill will…”

“It isn’t your fault,” he answered, tears beginning to fall down the side of his reddening face. “Don’t allow yourself to think so.”

You were quiet for a moment, simply letting the feeling of being with Will Ransome turn the world underneath you.

“I’ll call it off,” he said, his voice wobbling slightly in spite of the conviction of his words. “Tell Stella that the Lord has called me to celibacy and meditation for a year, then afterward, we’ll marry, and--”

You put a soft finger over his lips, instantly quieting his plans. “No, Will.” The words cut you to say, but in your heart, you knew they needed to be said. “That would be wrong.”

He nodded after a pensive sigh. “Yes, you’re quite right.”

“And you didn’t believe for a moment that your silly rambling would amount to anything,” you added. “We both know where we are supposed to be, and--”

“--it isn’t here,” Will finished your thought for you.

Nodding silently, you turned away. You could feel his hands reaching your shoulders, rubbing them, causing you to release an involuntary sigh of pleasure.

You wanted the vicar in the worst ways, and it made you feel like a devil to acknowledge your desire to bed a man of the cloth, even one who didn’t have celibacy vows. Will Ransome was still an engaged man, with not one virtuous reason to cancel the arrangement. You were hardly worth the rumors that would start, let alone the trouble it would take to insult Stella and undo any progress that Will had made with the townsfolk in regards to his reputation.

After all, Stella was the town darling since her birth eighteen years ago. There was no doubt the conservative villagers of Aldwinter would instantly take her side against the scrappy young vicar who stole her heart, only to regurgitate it six months later for the sudden love of a gutter rat.

“But I cannot do this to you,” he mused. “Marry Stella while you watch from the back pew. I cannot make you dance at my wedding to another, not one of God’s own angels.”

You almost had to laugh. What farce of a religion somehow declared you an angel where Perfect Stella wasn’t?

“Don’t think on me,” you said, breaking away from Will again. “But…the brass is polished,” you added, changing the subject.

He ignored your attempt to soften the moment, and instead cut you off again, quickly laying his lips against yours, drawing the resistance out of you with his kiss. You nearly fell to the floor in a heap of need. This couldn’t go on. It would only make the inevitable parting worse.

But you never gave in to your reasoning. Not as Will too, allowed himself to surrender to the heat suspended about you in the humid summer night air. You allowed sin to consume both of you, though you were positive that you both would come to regret doing so.

No, you promised yourself, letting Will litter kisses up and down your flesh as he began undressing you behind the altar. I will have no regrets.

Having regrets was a foreign feeling to you anyways. You were, after all, still a thief.

My Dear Will,

As these will be the last words I ever say to you, I will make them brief and as painless for us as possible.

We were never meant to happen. Sometimes accidents occur, but for what it’s worth, it was the best mistake I will ever commit. I came to Aldwinter to steal some food and money. I never expected to steal the heart of the best man in England.

You were right. I couldn’t bear to watch. Instead, I’ll lock the memories of my night in your arms away, until we can reunite to share them again in heaven.

Send my love to your bride, Y/N

Will bit his lip, maintaining his composure as he read your handwritten note twice more.

“It’s time, Reverend.”

Startled by the sudden call from the usher in the doorway, Will accidentally threw the note into the blazing fireplace before him. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

He took one last glance around the room before leaving the last morsel of evidence of your love affair behind him, stepping over the threshold to become a husband. He was unaware that you were only just now leaving Aldwinter, hiking over the crest of the north hill, never to return to his life.

I hope this satisfies, @holdmytesseract! I'll admit, I am much less familiar with Will Ransome than I am with Loki, so apologies if this was unbelievably atrocious.

Random Mutual Tags because I can't remember who will read outside of Loki stuff : @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl

#fanfic #essex serpent #will ransome #will ransome x reader #tom hiddleston character #sad ending #fluff #forbidden love #tom hiddleston #fanfiction tom hiddleston #the essex serpent

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holymultiplefandomsbatman · 1 year

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Confess Your Sins

William Ransome x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Confession has never been more fun. Especially when Reverend Ransome isn't above sinning himself...

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI; cockwarming, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, humiliation kink, biting, historically inaccurate; I chose violence with this one, so prepare yourselves. 😂

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Sunlight shone through the high church windows, casting warm shadows. You looked up at Will, trying to sit still as his blue eyes stared you down.

Heavy feet shuffled along the wooden floor only a few inches away. A few seconds later, the small window of the confessional booth opened from the other side.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago.”

Your teeth ground together.

Will shifted to open the small window on his side, causing his cock to hit a different angle deep inside your cunt. A flash of heat raced up your spine. You clenched around him, inhaling sharply through your nose.

Will gave you a warning look and adjusted you on his lap to make sure you weren’t visible from the other booth. Then he opened the wooden clasp to let the confession begin.

Your hands balled into fists.

Will’s eyes never left your face while he listened to the confession, occasionally shifting in his seat. Every twitch of his hips, no matter how small, sent sparks through your body. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock as it dragged along your walls. Another desperate whimper rose in your throat and you swallowed it down with a soundless gasp of air.

Will let his hands rest on your thighs. He squeezed gently, his palms running up and down your thighs in a maddening rhythm while the man in the other booth rambled on, blissfully unaware of the sinful events happening just a few inches away.

Your body arched on Will’s lap as he squeezed your thighs again, rougher this time. His grip was firm and steady, those long fingers digging into your skin, applying pressure and releasing again. His blue eyes never left your face while you squirmed under his watching gaze.

You rolled your hips against him and quickly had to muffle your desperate sounds behind your palm when he responded by thrusting upwards into you without warning. It was still rather tame compared to what Will was capable of when he truly let himself go. But even that gentle thrust had you whimpering in desperation as your walls clenched, squeezing his cock mercilessly.

“Reverend?”

The man’s voice from the other booth hit you in the face, knocking the air out of your lungs. You froze.

Will’s eyes grew wide.

He let out a deep breath before continuing with the confession.

His voice wavered every now and then, making your walls flutter around his cock. His hips bucked upwards in response and you let out a string of desperate noises, pressing your palm even firmer over your mouth to stifle your moans.

Will’s breath hitched again as he listened to your muffled whimpers and moans. He groaned quietly and everything started over again. It was a vicious cycle of blissful torture.

By the time the man finally left, you were shaking. Your hands clutched Will’s shoulders as you rocked back and forth on top of him, trying desperately to chase your oncoming orgasm.

Will’s hands firmly held your waist, controlling your movements. He was guiding you along at a rather slow pace, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that up much longer. His jaw clenched, the firm grip on your hips sometimes growing almost painful as his fingers dug harshly into your waist whenever you rolled your hips a certain way.

You bit down on your lip to keep the moans in that threatened to escape your mouth. God, how much you wanted him. How much you needed him.

You gave Will a pleading look, grinding down on his cock with enough force that your eyes watered as it dragged along your walls so perfectly.

Will sucked in a sharp breath, his blue eyes narrowing. He had that crinkle between his eyebrows as he frowned at you, a telltale sign that his restraint was slowly slipping.

Please!, you mouthed, trying to convey all your desperation in that one word. Trying to make him understand.

Will groaned under his breath. He just looked at you for a moment, his blue eyes mirroring the same desperation that burned you alive from the inside. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The heat of his kiss left you breathless. Your lips parted obediently, allowing Will's tongue to slip into your mouth and explore. Your breath hitched as he nudged your tongue with his own and challenged it to play along.

“Reverend Ransome?”

The voice came from outside the booth.

An icy shiver raced down your spine. Will froze. He slowly pulled away from your lips and you exchanged a look of shock.

Your heart hammered away against your ribcage, your breathing suddenly way too loud in the small space of the confessional booth.

Whoever was there would only have to pull back the curtain to discover the two of you.

Your disheveled state would be somewhat simple to explain; maybe you’d started feeling sick. Then it would depend on your acting to make the person believe it.

Will’s pants being unbuttoned while he literally held you on his lap? That would be far more difficult.

Then again, the thing people would see was you on Will's lap…

The steps outside drew even closer. “Reverend?”

Will gasped quietly. He tightened his grip on your hips until it became almost painful. His cock twitched.

You stared at him in surprise, confused by the reaction.

Your hand flew over your mouth again as Will surged forward. He started thrusting his hips in earnest, the force of it making you bounce on his lap.

The wood of the confessional booth creaked quietly under the strength of Will’s thrusts as he snapped his hips into you like a man possessed.

You’d never seen him like this before.

You clung to his shoulder with your free hand, digging your fingers in as you held on for dear life. Every new snap of Will’s hips sent you tumbling closer and closer to the edge.

A muffled groan left your mouth as he whispered into your ear, his voice rough and almost demanding.

“Touch yourself for me.”

You frowned for a second.

He couldn't be serious...

If you did that, you’d either have to let go of his shoulder and fall, or you’d have no way to keep yourself quiet.

Will only narrowed his eyes and emphasized his words with a harsh thrust.

A small, desperate noise left your lips as you quickly nodded your head. Your hand left your mouth, instead sliding between your legs to rub your clit. The moan you so desperately wanted to let out instead turned into a breathless sigh as every brush of your fingertips brought you even closer to the release you craved. It burned under your skin like a kindling flame.

Will groaned under his breath and buried his face in the crook of your neck, rutting into you at an even more desperate pace. Your breath hitched as he bit into your shoulder. His teeth dug into your skin to muffle his loud moan as he came hard.

The combined sensation was almost enough to send you over the edge.

You threw your head back, your hips bucking into your hand as you tried to hold back the groan of frustration that was building in your throat.

You could almost taste the sweet release of your orgasm…

Will gently pushed your hand away and replaced your fingers with his own.

A strangled whimper ripped from your lips as his lightly calloused fingertips unraveled you in a matter of seconds. Pleasure raced through your body like lightning and you threw your head back, letting the overwhelming emotions escape your mouth in a deep sigh of ecstasy.

Will wrapped his free arm around you and held you close. He helped you ride out your orgasm until you were fully spent, then embraced you tightly when you collapsed forward into his chest.

You looked up at him with a soft, exhausted smile and caressed his cheek with your fingertips.

Will chuckled before he leaned forward to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips moving slowly against his as you basked in the warmth that Will’s gentle kisses sparked in your chest.

The steps outside the confessional booth moved away. Then the dull bang of the church door echoed in the silence.

This was supposed to come out in time for the Valentine Event by @muddyorbsblr but then I got swamped by uni stress. I hope you still enjoyed it. 😄💜

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @mischief2sarawr @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtigger @xorpsbane @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops @thomase1 @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @holdmytesseract @sarahscribbles @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokikissesmyforehead @wheredafandomat @animnerd @joyful-enchantress @springdandelixn @coldnique @peaches1958 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @tallseaweed

This fic: @ellooo0ooo

#mywriting🧡#william ransome x reader #will ransome #the essex serpent #will ransome x reader smut #will ransome smut #william ransome x reader smut #smut #essex serpent

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lizmaximoff · 1 year

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Tom Hiddleston Filmography → Will Ransome ↳ The Essex Serpent (1.06 | Surfacing)

#tom hiddleston #will ransome #essex serpent #the essex serpent #clare danes #cora seaborne #clemence poesy #stella ransome #mine #gifs #thf

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messrmoonyy · 2 years

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OSCAR AND TOM TOGETHER I AM TRULY THRIVING

#FOAMING AT THE MOUTH #MY TWO FAVS #THE INLY MEN EVER #tom hiddleston #oscar isaac #Loki #moonknight #marvel #Hollywood reporter #marc spector #triple frontier #scenes from a marriage #the night manager #essex serpent #poe dameron #Star Wars #will ransome

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kateslife15 · 1 year

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May 13 2022:Tom Hiddleston in ‘The Essex Serpent! in this video he gave us a tour at the set!

#onthisday #hiddlesarmy #hiddlestory #hiddles #hiddleston #hiddlestoners #tomhiddleston #willransome #hiddlestory #essexserpent

#tomhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #hiddles #hiddlestoners #tom hiddleston #dammit hiddleston #hiddleston daily #hiddlestory #thomas hiddleston #bobby hiddleston #the essex serpent #essex serpent

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zylice · 2 months

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🐍

@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @lokiblackfatkink @holdmytesseract

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Eng.Danah Malallah (@idanaah22)

instagram

#tom hiddleston #hiddlesconda #Essex serpent 🐍#essex serpent #Instagram

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michelleleewise · 2 years

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Toooom!! Your loki is showing!! Or.... Looooki!! Your lusty vicar is showing!! Either works for me 😏💚😏💚

#tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #hiddlestoners #tom hiddleston characters #hot hiddleston #dammit hiddleston #loki #the essex serpent #essex serpent #thomas william hiddleston #will ransome #lusty vicar

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somewereinthegalaxi · 1 year

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Me: I DON’T HAVE A THING FOR PRIESTS!

Hollywood:

Me: … or do I?

#suepernatural #fleabg #essex serpent #tom hiddleston #dean winchester #andrew scott #enwoo #priest kink #i have a priest kink and I cannot lie

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vbecker10 · 1 year

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@gigglingtigger @michelleleewise @kats72 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @mochie85 @cakesandtom @animnerd @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @holdmytesseract @lokikissesmyforehead @coldnique @maple-seed @muddyorbs @sarahscribbles @goblingirlsarah @lovelysizzlingbluebird @peachyjinx @peaches1958 @thomase1 @cheekyscamp @tessathechild @misunderstoodself

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liminalpebble · 10 months

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Violet: Chapter 18, The Nativity

Masterlist link

The holiday season descended upon their little London social circle in a great wave of mirth and relief. It glowed like a luminous hearth against the heavy cold and darkness of deep winter. Even Will, generally adverse to parties and social graces was feeling the festive spirit and enjoying the company of the few people he liked. Not to mention that the relief of Violetta no longer being his student was nearly palpable for the both of them.

The Reverend had shaken each student's hand as they filed out after receiving their final grades for the semester. Violetta was the last in line.

“Miss Vespero,” he said with a sly grin, “Thank you for an enlightening and challenging semester. I foresee you doing quite well in the world and wish you all the best.”

As she shook his hand, his thumb stroked a delicate little circle on her wrist which shot a spark through her.

“Thank you, Reverend. I hope I wasn't too disruptive.”

He smiled and looked to the floor, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes a little disruption is a good and necessary thing. It's been quite enriching for me. In any case, shall we declare our contest a draw and leave it at that?”

He looked up to meet her eyes inquisitively, and she raised her eyebrow in that impudent expression that drove him to animal madness. “No, Father. It's fairly clear that I've won. And I'm not a victor who is generous with sharing her laurels.”

He gave a crooked grin, a wink, and whispered under his breath, “That a girl.”

----

The Ambrose abode flared into rowdy life. The maids decorated and prepared for the upcoming parties, swaddling the mansion in red and green garlands while day after day callers came to greet the beloved couple and welcome them back. Violet was startled by all the commotion after having the grand home mostly to herself for so long, but the colorful decorations, laughter, smells of find food, mulled wine, and fresh evergreen were, she had to admit, a welcome intrusion. I think I needed a bit of this. I just didn't realize it, she thought to herself.

The first gathering was casual and intimate, comprised of those the Ambroses' considered their chosen family. They had invited Will's adult children and their families to the house for several cozy days with their father. Violetta was afraid it might feel a bit awkward, seeing this side of his life, especially considering that his oldest daughter was rather close to her age, but it all felt surprisingly natural. She caught herself gazing with warm admiration from the door frame as he sat cross-legged on the floor, making silly faces and cuddling his first grandchild (a baby boy who had just begun to crawl). Although the sight didn't tempt her in the least to have children of her own, it melted her heart with a new and unexpected wave affection for him. She had never seen this soft playful and completely unguarded aspect of him, overjoyed to be in his element, surrounded by his family.

The little group sat in a circle on the floor as the baby crawled around in the middle. They chatted over his coos and giggles while Jo spoke quietly to her father. “Papa, I worry about you out here in London. Are you sure you won't come back to Essex? I know you tend to be lonesome.”

Will finished making his comical expressions at his grandson then answered her. He was still gently holding his pudgy little hand as he gave Violetta the slightest knowing smile. “Jo, darling, I'm doing just fine here. Really,” he assured her, patting her shoulder. “I'm finding so much joy in teaching. I was a bit sad at first but it's turned out the be the breath of fresh air I needed. Oh! And the college has the most exquisite library!” Violet smiled to herself at that, but didn't dare to meet his eye. Jo nodded and grinned in tacit surrender, just glad to see her father uncharacteristically content. As she did, Violetta was stunned to realize how much she looked like Will, with her curious aquatic eyes and shy smile.

Jo noticed her curious look and asked sweetly, “Violet, what are you thinking, love?”

“Pardon me. I was just taken aback by how very much you resemble each other.”

The father and daughter looked to each other and chuckled. Will said, “you're not the first to see it. We hear it often.”

Violetta felt a tug and looked down to see the baby wrapping his little fist around the fabric of her apron. Giggling at her, he started to climb. Will and Jo smiled their matching smiles as she exclaimed, “Aww Violet, darling, little Emil seems to like you!”

“That's...that's sweet,” she said. The tiny human made her nervous. She had never been around children, especially not babies. Her aristocratic family was more in the habit of delegating the care of their offspring to hired help, and seeing them as rarely as possible.

“You're welcome to hold him,” Jo said.

“Umm...I've never tried that before. I don't know.”

Will scooted over to her, lifting his tiny grandson easily in his large hands, arranging her arms around him to support his head and body. “There,” he said kindly, “that's not so scary, is it?”

Violet looked to both of them, equally proud that she was doing it and red-faced with embarrassment that she was afraid to. “He has your eyes,” she said, looking first to Will and then to his daughter.

Will tilted his head in consideration, “Well, all babies have blue eyes for a time. They change after awhile.”

“I...uh...I'm ashamed to say with all the scientific curriculum I've studied, I never knew that. “

Jo laughed. “Papa tells me you were very studious and fearless in your classes, and yet little Emil here makes you nervous? I promise you, being around him is significantly easier than enduring my father's lectures.”

Will rolled his eyes at her playful jab.

Violet laughed. “Oh no. I see my reputation precedes me.”

Will elaborated, “Just a bit, I'm afraid. But not to worry. I've mostly said nice things about you behind your back, Miss Vespero. It was very satisfying to be challenged.”

“Mostly?” Violet said, and they all chuckled.

It was just half a second of a friendly glance, but Jo (just as emotionally perceptive as her mother always was) noticed something in it. It was so quick, so subtle. She wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but she thought she saw something between them. Jo initially felt a little jolt of surprise at the idea. It would be an unusual pair, certainly, she thought. But soon a feeling of contentment settled over her. She had only recently met Violetta, but she liked her immensely; a modern and progressive young woman like herself, sharing the same struggles for equality. She smiled with quiet thought as her father often did, satisfied that he might not be so alone after all. Jo decided he was in good hands if he was indeed in Violet's. And judging by that tiny glance, he was very much in the palm of her hand and probably head over heels.

All of their eyes suddenly followed the sound of the door bell, and a new guest being greeted. Violetta's enjoyment was abruptly snuffed out as Luke Garrett swung into the room. Had he even been invited today? She suspected not.

Luke crowed, “Hello, Violet, Ransomes. Aww...look at that. How natural you seem with a baby! It's a regular nativity scene in here,” then laughed at his own cleverness. (No one else did). Violetta gave him a glare that said, in no uncertain terms, that she would be throttling him if not for the infant currently occupying her arms. She stayed calm and simply greeted him politely, then excused herself to help in the sanctuary of the kitchen. Emil gave one last determined tug to her skirt hem, trying not to let her go, but Will scooped him away from her in that practiced graceful way all parents seem have a knack for.

As she came into the kitchen, Greta rolled her eyes in solidarity, handing Violetta a nearly empty wine bottle, encouraging her to finish it off right from the spout. She gladly obliged and then said, “thanks” wiping her chin irreverently. “I needed that.”

Greta winked. “I know.”

---

Charles Ambrose eyed his pocket watch with a scowl as they all milled about the large parlor sipping drinks. He had hoped that the act would hint to Dr. Garrett that it was well past time for his departure (from a gathering he hadn't been invited to in the first place). Katherine and Charles sighed to each other, communicating about it in that wordless way that long-married couples are capable of. Realizing they weren't getting anywhere with subtle manners, they simply tried to ignore him as much as possible and enjoy the other guests on this otherwise pleasant afternoon. Eventually a socially-exhausted Violetta escaped to the library, rubbing her temples and trying to breathe deeply, but the cause of her headache followed closely on her heels.

Garret swaggered in saying, “Fancy a chat, Violet?”

How she hated the way his grating voice wrapped around her name.

“I'd rather not, Luke,” she sighed out, exasperated.

“Oh, but I think we might have a good deal to talk about.”

“Such as?” she snapped, raising her voice slightly.

“We might want to lower our voices, darling. I'd rather not announce your secrets to the whole house.”

Violetta felt her red-hot blood drain from her face as it blanched to a nauseous sallow hue. He smiled like a snake.

“So who is she, Violet?,” he asked, swirling his drink with unbothered ease.

She?, Violetta thought, Thank god he thinks that. I guess he doesn't know everything.

“I have no idea what you're talking about Garrett.”

“Oh, but I think you do. Which lovely little London lady gave you all those pretty bruises. If that's what you like, you should have just said so. I could have happily given you some myself.”

Her eyes went wide. “Garrett! That was a private medical exam! Did you force poor Spencer to break confidentiality? You should lose your license for this.”

“Oh come on, Violet. Spencer and I share a practice. He didn't tell me and I didn't ask, but I happened to hear. Now tell me, who's the lucky lady keeping you from marrying me? Maybe that sweet little cook I saw you swigging from the bottle with, like a sailor? Maybe Martha, that little communist bother? She seems your type...troublesome.”

“You are not entitled to know my personal business, and I will not tell you.”

He shrugged, “Well that's your choice of course, but your family thinks rather highly of me. If I were to tell them about your little indiscretions I'm sure they would believe me. Not just that, but oh dear, they would be terribly disappointed! They might just beg me to marry to you to save your poor soul and save face. But don't worry, I'm no prude. If your girlfriend happens to be an attractive one, we might as well have a guest in the bedroom.”

She came closer and growled out, “You're disgusting. And don't you think my family would expect such threats of blackmail just to get my dowry? It wouldn't be the first time they'd heard unfounded rumors to those ends.”

He stood a hair's breadth from her face and grabbed her chin. “And what exactly do you think you could do about any of this, hmm? I guess there's always the convent since you don't need men anyway.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, voice sounding more shaky and weak than she intended. “My family would give you a grant on your own merits. They do it all the time. Why are you so intent on ruining my life!”

He tutted, giving an exaggerated sad face. “Oh poor princess, a grant is one thing but a lifetime of funding is quite another. Oh, and I've changed my mind since my last offer. I was going to give you a life free of children, dedicated to whatever pursuits you desire, but you look soooo sweet with a baby in your arms. It melted my heart a bit to think how cute you'd be when properly domesticated. Also, it would be terribly unfair to deny the world the gift of a Garrett heir.” He tugged her chin roughly toward him and kissed her cheek. His breath had the rotten-fruit stench of too much brandy and she recoiled violently, backing up into the book-shelved walls.

“But most of all, Violetta. I'm encouraging you because I really am growing to like you, like this game...this little back and forth we have.” He came closer until she was cornered, pressed into the leather and paper spines, and said, “I know it's all a bit much to take in. I'll give you two weeks to mull it over while you enjoy reading all those rejection letters. Maybe then you'll consider your options with a bit more realistic clarity. Farewell, dear girl. See you soon.”

And then the beady-eyed imp was gone, swinging out of the house as abruptly and ungraciously as he had entered it. Violetta wasn't sure how long she stood there with her back against the books, staring blankly, with her mouth open. She could still smell his sour brandy breath on her cheek and dove into her pocket for a handkerchief. Scrubbing furiously until her cheek was raw, she still couldn't clear the reek him, the touch of him, from her consciousness. Finally she dropped the cloth and simply began to weep, the dark orbs of her eyes misting over as tears streamed down her face. She tried to stop and tried to keep her hiccuping gasps quiet. She could only be grateful that the hubbub of the little afternoon party drowned out her pathetic whimpers.

Before she knew it she looked up and there was Will in the door frame smile dropping into an expression of horror as he said, “Violetta, we're about start with....Oh god! Darling, what's wrong? Was it Garrett?? What has he done to you!”

She nodded, but was too distraught to answer completely so Will simply held her as she cried into the placid softness of his blue sweater. She forced herself to take deep breaths, filling her nostrils with the smell of Will's lavender laundry soap to replace Garrett's odor. Violetta composed herself enough to quickly explain everything that had just happened in a frantic whisper, knowing their private moment would be limited. When she finished, she still couldn't pull away from Will's sturdy chest as the tears fell. She took solace in the fact that if anyone saw them, they would simply see a vicar comforting a young friend who had just received some kind of terrible news.

Will growled out in a low but furious voice...one she had never heard from him before, “There's a special place in hell for that awful man.”

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