Sheet Fort – France X Reader
It had been your idea to build the fort. You were the one to grab the sheets from the closet while Francis finished cleaning up the plates from dinner.
He had invited you to stay the night, since he knew you were struggling with work and could use a break.
He could hear you giggling in the other room and it made him smile. He absolutely despised when you were upset, feeling guilty for a reason he couldn't explain.
After wiping his hands on a towel and removing the dirty apron he was wearing, hanging it neatly on a hook in the cupboard, he made his way out of the kitchen.
"Francis," you called childishly. "Over here."
You peeked your head out of a tent of covers, beckoning him to come and join you.
Comforters and quilts were hung all around his living room, tied to different objects and corners of the room. It was quite dark, only the light of a small electric lantern lit his path.
He wiggled his way through the slit of the entrance, crawling on his hands and knees to get in. The actual size inside was fairly small, enough space for at most 4 people. White, cottony rugs covered the floor (stolen from the bathrooms no doubt) and pillows from various parts of his house were scattered about.
"It's our little sanctuary," you beamed, proud of yourself for working so fast. "Do you like it?"
Francis chuckled, moving closer to you.
"Of course I do. I like anything you do."
You nudged him playfully, pushing him away.
"You oaf! If you think that would make me laugh it won't."
He crept nearer and nearer, shaking his head.
"Oh, it didn't make you laugh did it? Well I know something that might," he replied with a devious grin.
Instantly he sprung at you, hands wrapping the sides of your stomach and squeezing lightly, making you burst out into laughter. His fingers trailed up your body, tickling under your arms. Your face turned red as you let out squeals of pleasure.
You tried to push him off, but he was too strong and you couldn't catch your breath long enough to tell him to stop.
So instead you fought fire with fire.
Leaning in close, still cackling like a madwoman, you moved your fingers to his neck, tickling in retaliation. He let out a loud yelp and fell back.
You had him now.
Taking the opportunity, you moved your fingers all around, making him hoot and holler from glee.
"Ok ok, I give," he cried between snorts. You stopped and smiled victoriously, knowing that you had won.
But in your moment of pride you hadn't been watching Francis, and he now lunged forward.
"No!" You cried as you both toppled over, breaking one of the walls of the fort, and efficiently tangling yourself together in it. You wiggled to try and throw it off, but like a caterpillar in a cocoon you were stuck, and much to your embarrassment, so was Francis.
Your bodies were pressed tightly together, his hands on your lower back and your head on his chest, resting on top of him.
A sudden wave of claustrophobia hit you and you longed to be free of the smothering sheet. You frantically began pushing to break free, struggling to find a way out.
Finally liberated you breathed a sigh of relief. Francis only pouted in agitation.
"We should have stayed like that."
Rolling your eyes you held out your hand for him, which he gladly accepted to raise himself up.
"C'mon. You knocked it down so you help me put it back up."
You handed him one corner to tie back up from where it was hanging while you took the other.
It was a tricky business, tying, and you had to make sure you had it just right so the wall wouldn't tumble down but wouldn't break from the tension. You concentrated, biting your lip and working hard to get it perfect.
Francis tried to tie his end, but instead ended up watching you. He was so enthralled by you. To him you were an enigma, something that he just couldn't figure out. No matter what flattering words he spoke or what actions he took to further your relationship you pushed him away in a childish manner, and he wasn't sure if it was because you were ignorant of his advances or that you just did not want to accept them.
Though he had fallen in love before, he couldn't recall ever feeling like this. He was confused by the way his heart melted every time he thought of you, and the way his skin tingled when you touched him. He couldn't explain why every time you spoke his insides did backflips and his palms would get clammy. He would wait hours upon hours for replies when he messaged you, and often he would stay up in the middle of the night just contemplating about you and him being together.
You were the one who could make him ecstatic with only a smile and the one who could make him tremendously depressed with a single frown.
He had so much he wanted to say to you, but he was afraid.
Afraid that you would reject him.
Afraid that you would think him disgusting.
Afraid you would hate him.
So he went along with the charade. He pretended like it didn't hurt and that he wasn't scared. Though he so longed to be with you, he treated you like all the others, flirting harmlessly and making you happy.
"Do you need help? With the knot I mean," you asked, casually walking towards him. You ducked under his arm, unknowingly pinning yourself between him and the wall. You reached up and took the fabric from him, undoing what he had previously done.
He leaned into you, taking in the smell of your fragrant perfume. His heart pumped at an incredible pace as he thought about wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of you neck, and planting sweet kisses all over. Never had anyone made him feel so flustered and nervous.
You were standing on the tip of your toes, trying to reach the cabinet where you were going to loop the knot, when you lost your balance. Instantly you wobbled backwards, crashing into Francis and efficiently landing on him. Fortunately, he had fallen into a pile of pillows, and was not hurt. You rolled off him, lifting yourself up with your hands, trying to reorient yourself.
A lump formed in his throat and he saw his chance. You were starting to get up and now was his only hope.
His hand snaked around your waist quickly and dragged you into him, your head now resting on his torso. His heartbeat pumped at a fast pace and he breathed deeply.
Completely taken by surprise you fell into him. Though, slightly awkward and incredibly vexing, something about the smell of roses and the rise and fall of his chest made you glued to that position.
"F. . . Francis?"
He hugged you tenderly, pulling you up closer so that you were straddling him, forcing you to look at him. His fingers tucked strands of hair from your face behind your ear and he smiled softly, eyes half lidded.
For once in his life, Francis had no passionate words full of gusto and beauty to offer. His actions were neither romantic nor glamorous, but rather clumsy and endearing. He mustered all the courage he had, and in a squeaky, shy voice he whispered to you all that he could say.
"I love you. I don't know why. . . but I do. I'm sorry."
He closed his eyes, trying to stop the now-forming tears from leaking out.
The room went still. All that could be heard were the knocks of the swinging pendulum within the grandfather clock which resided in the hallway.
Slowly, you inched forward, bringing your faces closer together. Your heart pounded unbelievably quick as you felt his lips scrape against yours.
Eyelashes fluttering, you pressed forward, becoming more intimate and deepening the kiss. His lips were warm and gentle and had a lingering taste of wine about them.
Finally you pulled away, nestling your face in his hair.
"I'm sorry too. I love you and I don't know why either."
Francis was sure his pulse stopped with those few words.
He pulled you in as close as he possibly could, moving so that he now laid on his side with you cradled in his arms.
"I'm so glad."