(A/N can we just admire Tom Hiddleston? Really Quickly? WHOEVER MADE HIM MADE A DAMN FINE HUMAN BEING AND I WANT ONE. )
Imagine...
You skip down the stairs of the mansion- which really was a palace- the cream coloured knitted sweater which was many sizes to large on your form hung off you, covering your hands, as your sock clad feet slide across the marble tiles, almost causing you to slip- until large, warm arms wrap around your waist, preventing a painful accident from occurring.
"Y/BF/N!" You gasp, looking up at the tall man above you, who's smirk causes your internal organs to liquify.
"Darling," He smiles, placing you carefully on your feet, his hands never leaving your waist, as his eyes search over your body, trying to see if you had obtained any injuries, before lingering on the warm sweater. His, warm sweater.
"Darling, is this mine?" He questions you, his fingers toying with the hem of the jumper that adorned your body, as you bit your lip, unsure of what to say- should you lie? Tell the truth? It was such a hard choice
"No, it's Henry Cavil's," The sarcastic reply floats of your tongue without so much as a second thought... but that comes too late as amusement dances in Y/BF/N's eyes, swirling around, as he raises an eye brow.
"Henry Cavil's, is it now?" His beautiful accent danced perfectly with the cheekiness, as he pulled you closer to him, your chests now touching, you had to tilt your head back slightly so you could continue to look at him, his eyes mischievous.
"Yes, yes, yes! You know, the insanely hot guy who plays Superman?" You reply, your tongue getting ahead of it's self, as you mentally chastised yourself- gosh, Y/BF/N is going to have a field day with your tongue today.
"And I'm not, darling?" He teases, his minty breath hot on your reddening cheeks as you scramble in a mess of your brain to find an answer that won't dig you deeper into your grave.
"No! You are- you're like, super duper hot- but like, you know- have you seen him?"You ramble, trying to make sense of what you were saying, to no avail, as a chuckle rumbles through his chest, a small sense of pride making its way through you- you can make him laugh.
"Well, maybe, i'll have to spoil you rotten until I can convince you you're mine, Mrs (his last name that isn't yours yet)." Before you're given the correct amount of time to register his words, you're being swept into his arms and placed on his hip, so he is carrying you like a small child to the library (your original destination.)
Placing you on a large, antique armchair, he places a soft, delicate kiss to your lips, murmuring his promise of being back soon, before leaving you, wonder struck, before getting up to find a book, in the beautiful place. The strong scent of books fills your nose, as you scour around, desperately trying to remember which shelf the book was on...
After what seemed like forever, you were curled up on Y/BF/N's lap, listening to his beautiful British accent pronounce the words, slipping your cup of tea, as you rested your head on his chest, enjoying the baritone voice that you adored oh so much.
Maybe, just maybe, he was better than Henry Cavil.... but only because he got you tea.
~~~~~~~~~~
Written: 22/October/2021
Edited: 04/May/2022
What do you guys think? Personally I think it's pretty messy, but the plot was good-ish ahaha.
Enjoy!!
-Outcastkido
YOU ARE READING
Mafia Imagines
RomanceI always wanted a book to read with my own name, and always wanted to write a book on here so here is my compromised issue: Mafia Imagines
