#turnimagines

“What did you just call me?”

(P.S. This was inspired by @wordsfailing’s random sentence starters)

I tried to keep these drabble-y but sometimes I got carried away and some are longer than others.

More to come...

Marquis de Lafayette

“Bonsoir Marquis.” You grin as he steps toward you. He smirks, that expression alone sending a pang of nostalgia to your heart. Gathering you into his arms, he pulls you securely against his chest so he can reassure himself that after your latest mission, you are, indeed, in one piece. He sighs. “Bonsoir, mon amour.”  He murmurs, ducking to capture your lips with his own. You falter, frozen by his words and captivated by his kiss. When he pulls back, you’re still in shock.  “What did you call me?” You whisper, the corners of your mouth quirking up in hope. He kisses your cheeks, then your forehead, and finally your lips again.  “You speak French very well, Ma cherie, I think you know.” He teases before wrapping you in his embrace once more.

Caleb Brewster

You’re in Washington’s camp, searching for your wild whaler. Before you find him you’re accosted by a drunk soldier looking for an evening frolic. You shake your head but he won’t leave you alone. “Hands off the lass.” It’s Caleb and he’s thankfully found you. You breathe a sigh of relief.  “I saw the wench first, Brewster.” The soldier shouts, grabbing you. You wrench your arm free and stumble into Caleb’s embrace. He quickly pulls you close, aiming a pistol at the soldier. “She’s my woman, Belhoff.” He warns. “Touch her again and I’ll do worse than just kick your arse.” He says, cocking the hammer of his gun for effect. The soldier grumbles, too drunk to realize the gravity of the situation. You turn to Caleb. “What did you call me?” You grin. You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest when he’d laid his claim to your heart. “My woman, if you’ll have me.” He cups your chin tenderly. You nod, pressing an eager kiss to his salty lips, his beard tickling your skin, reminding you just how wild he was. He chuckles when you pull away, keeping you tucked firmly against his side as the two of you walk back to his tent.  

Robert Townsend

The tavern is empty when you find him. Robert is sitting at a table, staring intently at the glass of liquid in front of him. “Robert, is something amiss?” You ask, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. He shakes his head. “Everything.” He replies dejectedly. You cover his hands with your own, coaxing him to continue. “How are we to know what is wrong and what is right?” He asks. You shrug. “We can’t, we can only try to do right.” You say, rubbing the top of his hand with your thumb. He sighs. “Robert, I know it all seems confusing now, but sometimes leading with your head just won’t cut it.” You tell him, cupping the side of his face for good measure. He looks up, finally meeting your eyes. You smile, trying to show him compassion. He seems receptive and leans toward you. “You think I should lead with my heart?” He asks as you rest your hand at the base of his neck and nod in reply. “Sometimes. In this case, yes.” You say, referring to the earlier conflict he was battling within himself. “And what about us?” He asks, rubbing an errant lock of your hair between his fingers, focusing on the strands twirling rather than your inquisitive gaze. “Well, what does your heart tell you?” You ask, smiling softly as you lean forward. He meets you in the middle, pressing his forehead tenderly against your own. “It tells me that you are the light of my life and to never let you go.” He says. You pull back abruptly, your heart soaring.  “What- what did you call me?” You ask, if only to assure yourself that this was not a dream. “You are the light of my life, please never leave me.” He repeats before bringing you toward him and kissing you passionately.  

Benjamin Tallmadge

You are waiting in his tent as you always do when he is away on a mission. Curled up under the covers, you lie awake in fear of all the terrible things that could’ve happened to him. You begin to imagine another scenario in which you might lose your dear Major Tallmadge when the tent flap opens and he steps through into the candle light. “Ben!” You sit up, a smile on your face, which soon falls when you see he has blood on him. “Ben—” “It’s not mine.” He hurries, quickly removing the offending garments until he’s only in his linen pants. He sits down quickly and rubs your arms. “I’m unharmed, look.”  He demonstrates, twisting his body to show you he was unscathed. You nod, still doubting that he was safe in front of you. You reach out and touch him slowly, then eagerly, smoothing your hands over his skin and finally pulling him toward you to crush him in a hug. He kisses the top of your head as you bury your face in his shoulder. You’re pressed against him tightly as he pulls the covers up over the both of you and kisses your forehead. “My love, please don’t worry.” He whispers into your hair. You pull away slightly to look up at him. “What did you call me?” You ask smiling. He smiles back. “I love you.” He replies, drawing you back against his chest so he can kiss you. At first slowly, as if he’s savoring every moment, and then hungrily as if it would be the last time between the two of you. The blood beneath your skin seems to rise in an effort to greet him and goose bumps break out across your body at the joy of being so near to him once again. There would always come another night of worrying, wondering if he’d return or not, but this night would be spent worrying no longer.    

George Washington