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smolvenger · 4 months

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The Twelfth Night Ball, A Cinderella Story (Henry V x fem! Reader one-shot)

Summary: As a lady turned servant, every day you survive under immense cruelty. Then one day, it is declared the King of England, Henry V, is throwing a ball, looking for a potential bride...

Word Count: 7535 (have snackies)

Warnings: Physical and verbal abuse from the "stepfamily" (this is a Cinderella story after all). Some curse words here and there. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slip past my radar. LOTS of angst, but it becomes tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: Happy Holiday Season! This was gonna be a Christmas ball but things got busy, so it's Twelfth Night (that was a bigger deal back then, anyway, ehehhe) but I hope you enjoy this any time of the year! Comments, dms, reblogs, and comments about my work are always appreciated!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @loz-3 @muddyorbsblr

Once upon a time, you were a little child delivered to a house of strangers. Your dear parents, an established lord and lady, both died of a deadly illness that spread. You were separated from them- sparing your life. But without even a final goodbye.

It the Lord and Lady Brentford who took you in, for they were distant relatives. You could still feel the guard's hand, much bigger than your own, support you when the carriage door opened before the Brentford Manor. You stepped out of the carriage and onto their grounds. They looked at you with polite smiles…but nothing warm behind their eyes as they led you in.

It began small. At first, they were merely strict in their lessons with you. As any daughter of a lord. You tried to adapt, to please them. As much as your little eight-year-old self could allow. Even at your best behavior, they always reminded you of one thing: you were mere charity. Their one daughter you had never met. She was sent off to stay in a convent for her education.

It was when you were thirteen that one day, they requested you to move into a shabbier room. The one you slept in had to be used for guests.

Then they kept insisting the servants needed help with things. Mending, cracking eggs, a stone on the floor that needed scrubbing. You wanted to help, to please them. So you said yes.

Then, you realized one day your pretty dresses were gone. They said that what was left of your family's fortune had been spent already. You had to make ends meet, they said, by selling what nice ones you had. Leaving you with only servants' clothes.

Then, finally, when you were fourteen, you went down after helping cook breakfast. To eat with them…and there were only two chairs at the table.

“Where may I…I sit?” you asked.

The Lord glared up at you.

“You do not eat with us.”

“But…you are my guardians,” you replied.

He snorted. “You. Family?”

His eyes were cold.

“You were never our family, girl,” Lady Brentford agreed.

The stomach within you dropped. Hot tears welled up.

“Bring us our bread, girl.” she ordered.

“If…If my father was alive, he-”

Lord Brentford stood up.

“He is dead. Are you going to keep talking or should I get the horsewhip to get you to shut up? Bring. Us. Our. Meal.”

You went back, sobbing hot tears. Then delivered their meal to them. Banished. No longer as a member of the family. Or of any family that wanted you, loved you. You were unloved. Unwanted.

The Lord and Lady threatened to throw you out if you ran away resisted, or fought back. To beg on the streets. Or whore to survive. So you were stuck as a servant.

And so your life as a servant began for years here. Some of them gaped at first- the Lady Y/L/N turned into a drudgery maid. They pitied you. They did not laugh at you for not knowing initially how to cook an egg but would show you how. They let you hug them and cry and rage. Only in private. For all knew how the Lord and Lady reacted to defiance. You got to know them and talk to them, It was Miss Anne who would give you oranges when they were in season to bite into. It was Mr. Page who would show you the secret bird's nest when you had to gather the apples in the orchard. Their kindness was appreciated.

There was one other consolation in your life- the Brentford’s only daughter, Jane. The time arrived when her long stay at the convent for her education was done. She was considered of age to be married and she moved back. A woman of your age, your very height and size but with pale skin, long chestnut hair, and bright green eyes.

After Jane got home, you brought her some food to her room but found she wasn’t there. You saw her outside in the garden climbing an apple tree in bloom to gather the fruit and flowers. As she stepped on one branch, it broke beneath her weight. With a scream she fell a great distance, breaking her leg. At once, you alerted the servants and helped her in. It was you who stayed by her side, nursing her until she healed.

Since then, a friendship began between you both.

Lady Jane was the sort who became a very different person than her parents. She was kind. If you brought something a little late, she gave you no chiding. Jane was always getting into some sort of mischief, for sometimes she would scrape her hand or burn something, and you would patch her up.

You became each other’s confidantes…and then she considered you not as a servant, but an equal. You were sometimes tasked to be with her, and those were the easiest- delivering her correspondence two and fro, brushing her hair, and dressing her. Even picking flowers for her room to cheer her. Jane loved animals and her pride and joy was her mare, Psyche, who you would be tasked to feed and brush.

It was only a shame she had no interest in marriage or even romance. If only she got married so you could become her chambermaid and live far away from this place! But no. She refused to be forced into a marriage. You were amazed at her bravery to refuse her parents boldly. However, she was their natural daughter and a Lady. She had the privilege to rebel. You did not.

Sometimes you wished you were her, you had to admit. Jane was something of a recluse, not wanting to go to balls and parties and be out in society. Her beautiful dresses only caught her mild interest, preferring riding her mare, her books, climbing trees, and talking with the servants despite her parent's protests.

You wished she’d say yes to one ball- how beautiful it must be to wear a gown and dance the dances you were taught when your parents lived! And to maybe have men show interest in you and show up to see you- to be considered and wanted for marriage by some good-looking, nice lord!

But…what money your family left for your dowry was left to the Brentfords….who naturally spent it for their desires until you had none left. Without even a dowry, you would be considered useless for any Lord’s bride.

Maybe not marriage…but perhaps, as you looked at the married couple kept as servants here- Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Saw them hold hands and exchange small kisses in hallways and smile…love. To be loved. To fall in love. To find romance. Somehow. Something you had never heard, experienced, and could only yearn for in your deepest heart…perhaps there was someone out there who could love you…

But perhaps that was only for daydreams and for sad romances with Knights pining for already married ladies. Much less a scullery maid.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

One December morning, you spent one of the few hours you had alone walking in the woods. You reached the clearing of a field not far away. The Natural spot was so peaceful. No Lord or Lady Brentford. No threats. No names. Just the early winter morning.

You shivered in your dress. It was all you had on you.

That morning, you awoke to see the Lady Brentford. You did not mend her skirts to her liking. So she went to your room and in revenge, ripped apart your only cloak. She tossed it at you.

“There. Until you learn how to mend clothes the right way, stupid girl.”

You only held the torn cloak, tears pouring down over it.

The sun was bright, and the grass frosted. The world was brisk and cold, but it got warm after exercise. The sun was bright. Your breath comes out in puffs of smoke.

Suddenly, you heard horse hooves. Turning your head, you jumped to see a great white stallion galloping and on top of it was a man in a red cloak. You took a few steps in retreat.

Before you could have a good look at the rider, the horse suddenly stopped and bucked, his front hooves in the air with a whinny. It was so sudden, that with a masculine shout, his rider fell off of his horse onto the grass.

You let out a gasp-was he injured? Yes, this was a stranger. And a man. And you were alone. But he could use the help! And if he was injured, he couldn’t hurt you!

“Sir, sir, are you hurt?” you cried, picking up your skirt to go there to see him.

Up got the man with a small grunt.

You finally saw his face and you felt yourself stiffen.

He was incredibly handsome. Young with high cheekbones and a high forehead. Auburn curls and trim facial hair with soft blue eyes and ivory skin. Tall and lean yet muscular and broad. Virile and powerful, but an air of charm, and elegance to him, though you could not name why you could tell.

He managed to get up and wipe off his dirt on him, looking at you. He smiled, hands up in pace.

“I am alright! I’ve suffered worse!” he assured you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Of course, my lady!” he replied, bowing his head.

You felt yourself go warm. You had not been called “my lady” in years. Much less by a handsome man!

You then saw the horse a small distance away. Trotting off. The man whistled, but the horse did not respond.

You knew you had to feed Psyche later today. Her carrots were in your pocket. You pulled one out and lured it over. Surely, the white stallion walked over. Once you fed him the carrot, you pulled him by the reigns over to the man.

“Thank you- he’s not used to me. A rather naughty fellow, but he shall be my good friend long enough,” the man laughed.

“If you give him enough treats, I’m sure he will be your friend quickly.”

“Thank you, my lady, you’re very kind. Do you need assistance getting home?” he asked.

For you to go home with a man?! They would think something less than chaste was happening out there. Especially since you were both a woman and a servant. Whores and thieves, that was what all thought maids to be.

“No thank you, I do not live too far,” you explained.

The sun went behind a cloud, giving it a slight chill. Though there was concern on his handsome face.

“But without a cloak?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I…I have no cloak I may use and I wanted to walk. I could brave the cold. Once one moves about, it does get warm,” you told him.

“Here, my lady…”

He took off his red cloak and put it over you You let out a small gasp. Feeling his hands brush past your shoulders as he sealed the clasp. It was so large it felt warm on you- the heat of his body and his scent still on it.

“Sir- this is too much!” you gasped.

“No, you may have it. I have a dozen others and you have none,” he refused, a kind smile on his face.

It was like an embrace. You touched the material, feeling it in your hands. It was high-quality cloth, likely expensive from the bright red. He must be some great lord who happened to ride by.

In his nice red leather jacket (it hugged his lean but broad form very nicely, you noted, feeling a sudden heat in you) he swung himself back up on the white stallion.

“Thank you, dear lady. For your concern to me.”

“And thank you, my lord, for your generous gift,” you replied.

“Farewell for now.”

He smiled at you, nodding his head, and then he rode off. You couldn’t help but watch him as he left.

You burst into giggles as you walked through the forest, feeling as if you could float from such an encounter with such a handsome man. For one brief moment, the love story you craved had happened. You drew the cloak around you. Your mind racing with fantasies of an actual embrace from him. Or even more- if he kissed you!

You returned very warm. You folded the cloak and set it down among your things, even the torn-up cloak. You smiled- always keeping that memory in your heart. You would make sure to guard it carefully. But even if the Brentfords tore it up, they could never tear up your memory, your moment, your encounter with this dream of a man. Or your hope that you would someday see him again.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The next day, amidst the fasting and preparations for the Christmastide season, there was a messenger who arrived at the door. He was dressed in fine reds and handed one male servant the letter. Up the servant came as you attended to the Brentfords. Eating their breakfast of simpler fare than they would like.

The servant looked flushed and wide-eyed. He held up the letter, declaring “My lord- it is an invitation from the king!”

There were gasps around the table. From none other than the king! The newly crowned Henry the Fifth. Lady Brentford grabbed it and opened it, reading it aloud.

“We do cordially invite all eligible, unmarried ladies of this household to attend the ball hosted by the king on Twelfth Night. Each lady shall be introduced to his majesty the king in addition to a night of dancing, feasting, and frivolity.”

Eyes went wide. You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest.

“Oh! A ball! How wonderful!” cried the Lady Brentford.

“To have him write us alone is an honor!” agreed the Lord. Though their eyes turned greedily to their daughter. Lady Jane stopped eating her bread, it nearly dropped on her plate.

You looked up from where you poured more drink into Jane’s cup.

“If he is asking to be introduced to eligible maidens...it means only one thing…” Jane began. Her face turned white, her appetite gone.

“He is looking for a bride! Oh, could you imagine? Our Jane- Wife to the King and Queen of England?”

Jane gripped the edges of the table.

“Mother, father, please- I don’t want to go. Please. There are plenty of other women who would be more happy to be there than me! I don’t want to be sold like cattle to a man I don’t know, please! And I hear he was a drunkard and a thief- I don’t want to marry a man like that, please!” Jane pleaded.

“And risk losing the chance to become queen? Besides, we hear he’s a young, comely man, it could be worse! There are lots of old men we could consider marrying you off to! You must go!” argued Lord Brentford

You stepped forward.

“What if…I went instead of Jane?” you asked meekly.

Eyes turned to you, but you stood your ground.

“It said all eligible, unmarried ladies. I shall go in Jane’s place, so she doesn’t have to,” you said, a sudden rush of boldness in you. Perhaps it was the incident with the man the other day. You always wanted to go to a ball. And to go to a royal one was an honor.

Their heads turned.

“It shall break sumptuary laws for a maid to dress in finery. They could fine you. Or worse.” sneered Lord Brentworth.

“But I am Lady Y/L/N, like my mother was before me,” you blurted.

The Lord Brentford got up and slapped you hard across the face.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, feeling the sting of the impact.

“You are our servant and you will remember your place! And will hold your tongue and stay where you are, impertinent, foolish girl!”

You held your cheek, keeping your eyes down. The Lord continued.

“To think. You. A king’s bride- a queen? Yes, women like you were offered to him as whores, but I doubt he’d even want your filth in his bed, much less as his wife. You’d be lucky to polish his boots.”

They sat down, glaring at you.

“Now, there is laundry to be finished. And we have a ball to prepare Jane for- you must do it.”

You turned away, so they wouldn’t see you. You reached the smaller room for laundry. Where you could finally crumple to the ground and sob.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━��━ ❜

Jane’s dress purchased for the ball was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

It was a creamy white with pearl embellishments. Richly made, beautiful. It shimmered in the light and seemed to glow when it became dark. Everyone smiled big at it as it was brought up. But the envy and greed in your heart stirred, making you feel heavy and bitter. Sometimes, You forced your eyes away from it.

Christmastide arrived. With it numerous feasts. Some drinking and exchanging of gifts. The Lord and Lady were in sour moods but only softened when discussing their ambitions for their reluctant daughter.

Before you knew it, the new year arrived and the fifth of January. The day before the ball.

Jane looked at the dress laid out on her bed. You had merely sat on a chair behind her, mending her stockings. Everything in you not to cry.

“It is beautiful, I will admit. But…I have met cats more pleasant to talk to than some of the lords that will be there,” she sighed. “I love gossip and a nice meal as much as anyone else, but…how horrid I am at dancing! I know I will step on all of my poor partner's toes tomorrow night!”

Finally overcome, you set the stockings down.

“Jane, how can you say such things? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are?! Just merely go and enjoy yourself and think of your blessings!” you blurted out.

She turned to you. You were tearing up.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll be quiet now-” you apologized.

“Y/N, you know I’m not my parents. I won’t punish you for being honest. What is it? You’re crying, tell me!” she asked. She walked away from you and knelt as you sat.

She gave you a handkerchief and you began to wipe away your tears. Her eyes looked concerned.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you mused.

“I will not. Tell me what troubles you,” she offered.

You gripped the handkerchief in your hands, squeezing it for support as you began to confess.

“I wish I could be you. To go to a ball and to meet a king and dance. To feel equal to the other ladies who get to be introduced to him. Yes, becoming queen does sound like a nice dream. But, it’s not just that…I just…always wanted to try a pretty dress and not have to spend my nights working. If my parents lived, I would have experienced one. If the Lord and Lady weren’t who they are, I would have, but now……”

She hugged you in comfort.

“Oh, I’m a selfish being, I am! I am so sorry, poor Y/N! I’ll be more careful, I swear it!”

You hugged her back. Then she looked at the dress, then you. There was a look in her face- a light in her eyes. One that could only be when she had an idea.

“Jane…what are you thinking of?” you asked.

“What if…you were the one to go? Wear the dress and attend the party? ” she asked.

“What! What if- what if they catch us? We’ll get in trouble! There will be other balls!" you cried.

“There won’t be other royal balls. And I know how every servant hates my parent and they love you! Please, we can trust them!”

“But…will they watch?”

“My mother and father are rather fond of strong wine on Twelfth Night….”

You felt your heart race.

“You said you always wanted to. And you should go. We’ll switch clothes in case they wake up! They’ll be too drunk anyway. And you know it is a royal carriage they are lending us with a royal driver and footman- they won’t know you! Would you like that?” she continued.

You paused, your heart racing.

“You are a lady- you must accept it. Here- we shall keep it between us. We shall ask only a few servants…you will go to accompany me and wait- then we shall switch clothes. I shall be the maid to attend on you and you the lady! That way, if Mother and Father arrive in my room, they’ll see me gone and won’t suspect a thing!”

She was getting more excited, pacing about and talking. But then she turned to you.

“But…that is only if you want. It’s just an idea," Jane offered.

Your heart beat hard. A chance. It made you scared. You could get in trouble…but you never wanted to so badly to do it. You would go. Or die trying. At least once, you would fight for something you wanted.

“Jane, I accept your plan. Let’s make it happen.”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

At last, it was Twelfth Night finally arrived. You and the other servants managed to get the Lord and Lady Brentford so drunk, they were laughing and red-faced. Jane was presented in her pretty dress and curtsied for their applause. Then they had to go to bed to sleep it off. It would be minutes until the carriage arrived.

Jane grabbed your hand.

“Now, haste!” she hissed.

You raced to her room. She took off the dress, the servants all helping. She got into your plain dress and apron easily. You were given her fine necklace and her rings. Her little silvery slippers fit your feet perfectly. Then, at last, the dress was slipped over your head and sealed. It adjusts perfectly to your body. There was a soft gasp from one servant as they looked at you. Their eyes were made big and there were smiles.

“Is it…bad?” you asked.

“No…look,” Jabe offered, gesturing to the mirror in her room.

You hardly recognized the reflection.

You were radiant- the way its color complimented you. It brought out your eyes and your skin seemed to glow almost. The gems sparkled as if they were stars adorned on your chest and fingers.

“I…I look…” you muttered.

“I’ll say it- you look beautiful,” Jane said.

“Fie, Lady Y/L/N looks quite like a princess! They’ll think she’s sailed from France and my, won’t that be something!” agreed one servant.

The carriage arrived. You both stepped forward. A footman in his finest gave came forth and helped you both into the carriage- the Lady and her maid. Then off it went. There was snow on the ground that shone in the darkness as it went forth.

The stone castle arrived. You both were helped off. You could hardly believe it. It was at least three times the size of the Brentford Manor! Picking up your skirt, you went with Jane behind you.

There was already laughter and music. You could smell spices that made your mouth water.

You entered forth, seeing the torches lit around. There was a warm orange light. Part of the hall was cleared so couples could dance. Chatter erupted and wine flowed. You even felt eyes on you, admiring you in your dress. Though, you saw a line of women before one end of the room. The women to be introduced to the king.

“Lie to him, tell him you’re Lady Brentford!” advised Jane.

“I cannot lie to the king. Not without getting into trouble. I’ll only tell him my family name.” you said.

“S’blood, you are right there…best of luck!” she wished as she headed to help herself to the feast.

So all came forward to be introduced. Each lady. You all were smiling. You managed to chat with several by you. All excited and trying to suppress giggling. But it was brief, as there were many women. Apparently, according to them, you just told him your name, curtsied, and perhaps exchanged a sentence or two. Then you were dismissed for the next woman. Nothing more, nothing less. The line went lower- you were happy to chat with them all. But all stilled as they got closer to the curtsy.

Then, before you knew it, it was down to the last three ladies before you. Then two. Then the last one turned and you faced the King of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales.

There, on the throne, sat the man who fell from his horse.

The king?! The king!? The entire time it was the king! Oh God’s blood! He was the king! Harry of England! I have a cloak from none other than the king! You panicked internally. Though your body tightened.

Your skin tingled and a coldness hit your stomach when you saw him. Your hands were suddenly clammy. The wind was out of you.

Henry the Fifth of England sat rigid. You saw his jaw drop a little and his face go pale. He too was in surprise.

Then he let out a small half laugh, a shaky smile growing on his face.

You gathered yourself together. Then, taking in a breath to ground yourself, you announced.

“I am Lady Y/F/N Y/L/N, your highness,” you introduced. Dipping into a curtsy.

He gestured his hand up to stop you from leaving. Your eyes fluttered down, folding your hands properly. Your heart hammered as he walked up, taking your chin and tilting it up. Your heart beat even harder. It was a miracle you were still standing.

He smiled, almost ironically.

“How are you, Lady Y/L/N?” he asked.

“Well, your grace.” you replied.

“Do you have a partner for the next dance?” he asked.

“No, your grace.”

“I believe I have sat long enough. I would like a dance with you, my lady, if you will have me, ” he offered. He extended his hand to you.

“You may, my lord,” you replied. Despite the slight trepidation, you accepted it.

He smiled at you, leading you down to the floor. You heard gasps, whispers, and saw many eyes staring. Some of the women from the line turning red as strawberries, fumes practically blaring out at them. You kept your eyes away from it all. Only at the floor, then up to him.

“I must warn you, I have no strength in dancing,” he warned you.

“Then perhaps this is only a practice dance, your grace,” you replied.

The couples went into lines. You curtsied and bowed. Took hands, walking back and forth. You realized Henry sometimes mixed up counts, but he was definitely not the worst. You smiled at him.

“How is your stallion, my lord?” you asked.

“He listens to me more. Would you like to know why?” he asked.

“Why?”

He turned to you in the dance.

“He cannot resist being given food. And that I learned from a certain lady I met,” he answered.

You grinned up at him. The dance continued. You found your eyes could not lower from his. Yet you knew the steps, knew every one. You were almost floating. As he touched your hand and would lead you, it seemed he was getting better with each other count of the music. You could feel how soft his hands were, how warm. Sense his presence, his steps. Feel the tingles from his touch, from when he looked at you. For a while, it was as if you were the only ones dancing.

Before you knew it, your dance with the king ended. He bowed and you curtsied. He then turned to line of women.

“I shall meet all of you, and shall spare a few dances, sweet, fair ladies,” he promised.

That seemed to appease them- you couldn’t blame them in the slightest.

Jane was already there to fetch you food and drinks now that she was satiated. To make sure all in your attire was well and good, ever the one to accompany a lady to make sure nothing less than chaste was occurring.

As the line shortened, you did notice Henry dancing with a few other ladies. Though there was a slight pang of jealousy, you did your best to ignore it for the other delights of the party- the rich decorations, the sumptuous food, the sweet sips of wine. Besides, as you got to know plenty of people here, men and women, young and old, married or unmarried, you found them all kind and friendly to you. Your fellow eligible ladies befriended you as one among them, not as a rival to be torn apart. None even suspecting you were a servant- only a fellow and equal guest of this ball. Even seeing if you could come to this dinner or this ball in the future or visit. You were making friends outside of your small circle. Friends who wanted you to be with them.

Though you found that since the king had danced with you, you got attention from several other men. And there were more dances you had with them. They were handsome and some were lovely dancers in all. Though one gentleman with scruffy red hair and boyish freckles seemed stiff as a board as you danced with him.

“What is it, my lord?” you asked.

“His grace, the king, is staring-” he whispered.

“He watches everything that goes on,” you dismissed as you took and retook hands in the dance.

“Not at me. He’s stared at you the entire night,” he grumbled.

As your eyes flashed, you saw it was true. Henry’s eyes were on you. Floating up to meet yours again. Recatching your breath, you made yourself focus again on the dance until it ended.

As soon it ended, the king approached you.

“May I have another dance, my lady?” he asked.

After you accepted, he did not hesitate to lead you on the floor. This time, not a single word passed. You felt his eyes, and noticed his touch more. You felt very warm all over all of a sudden. His dancing was better, no counts or steps missed at all. You had to catch your breath from his quiet intensity. Before you knew it, it ended.

The king allowed the party to go on, but asked to speak to you in private. Jane was there to chaperone in the back. Her eyes big as you knew it was everything in her not to say or react to something. She merely folded her hands and watched in awe and suppressed laughter.

“I know you…we met before, Lady Y/L/N” he said.

“We have, my lord.”

“And you truly did not have a cloak at all, my lady?” he asked, noticing your fine gown.

“If I may be honest…it was destroyed by someone in an act of cruelty,” you replied.

His brow furrowed a little in response.

“But I am grateful his majesty was generous to give me his, I am,” you assured him.

“You are…and you live with this cruel person?”

You let out a slight sigh.

“I only wish I could…I could be like you in your wars and fight as you do with France. I’m not a brave person, your grace.” you replied.

His blue eyes softened.

“I wish it hadn’t happened to you. You do not deserve it."

“She would disagree,” you mused.

“No! You are a good lady-you have been nothing but the sweetest maid I have met, even that morning!” he cried.

You felt yourself get a little dizzy at his words. He even blushed, then he looked at you.

“ Perhaps, like my dancing, you may practice being brave.”

“I…I believe I could, my lord,” you replied.

He offered his hand again. How lovely the garden looked with the snow, cooling you from all the exercise with dancing. Already it was late-the ball was winding down.

“I enjoyed my time with you, my lady Y/L/N.”

“As have I, my lord…”

There was the pealing of a bell. The time was winding down. A servant went up and whispered to Jane. She hurried up.

“Our carriage is about to leave, my lady,” she said.

She turned back to the corner, watching the party guests begin to leave. But…Henry’s hand in yours…nothing ever felt so…so right. You hadn’t the heart to flee him. Not with the sad look on his face.

“The Y/L/N family…that is a house that is of good repute, but small. Where is your father, my lady? Is he here tonight?” he asked.

You only eyed back at the vanishing crowd. “He…he is not here,” you finally answered.

You felt emotions bubbling in you. He let go and you began to increase your steps from him. But then he grabbed your hand and you turned.

“My lord!” you cried.

“Please, tell me one thing- where can I call on you? Invite you? Find you? See you again?” he asked, almost pleading.

The look in his eyes was almost heartbreaking. Though Jane was getting huffy and impatient, you went up to him, your voice a whisper.

“I live in the Brentford Manor, with the Lord and Lady there.” you replied.

His jaw hung a little loose. Then his hand let you go. They both hung in the air until they fell.

“I shall see you anon then, my lady.”

“I shall see you anon then, my lord.”

With that, you left, picking up your skirts to hurry to the carriage.

As soon as you got into the carriage with Jane and closed the door, she laughed and applauded.

“Not one but two dances with the king?! Oh fie! How incredible! And you met him already?!”

The carriage jerked into motion as it headed back to the manor. Breathlessly, you explained everything to her.

“Am I in danger?” you asked.

“In danger of making him fall for you! But at least one day you’ll have the most incredible story to tell your children! How glad I am it all worked!” she laughed.

When you returned at the ungodly hour, you hurried to her room and switched clothes. Yet your head was still ringing and your heart beating fast, your mind and body still reeling until it could shut down for a little sleep. You wished you could write it all down- of your one night where you danced with the king.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

It was four days since Twelfth Night and the Tenth day of the new year. You had to content yourself with your life as a servant. The Lord and Lady were of a milder temper. As far as they knew, Jane introduced herself and curtsied before the king and that was it.

That morning, you were serving their breakfast. You cut the bread into slices and brought it up to the table to the family. They placed it down, the knife still on there with the other cutlery.

There was a knock. Heads turned. A servant ran over in.. Red cheeked and breathless, his voice a high cry.

“His Majesty, the king, is here!” he yelled.

There was half a scream and Lady Jane nearly dropped her plate out of her hands. There was a flutter like no other, making sure all was clean and presentable.

“He’s here for you- I know it! He’s here for you!” cried the Lady Brentford.

She began pinching her daughters cheeks to make them redder and prettier in her eyes and fussing and whispering. One heard the marching of boots. Your own heart beat harder than it ever had and you shook as you tried with the other servants to dress the place up.

Finally, a servant announced his presence and all stood up. In, sure enough, walked King Henry in his beautiful red leathers and his crown. Your breath stopped as you noticed a little bouquet of flowers in his hands.

All bowed and curtsied respectfully, then returned to await what he would say.

Henry took off his crown and handed it to a servant. Then he looked around the crowd. You didn’t know if you wanted to shrink or run or both.

“I am here for the Lady Y/L/N. Does she reside here?” he asked.

Their lips curled. They gasped.

“Her-her??” Lady Brentford cried.

The Lord Brentford turned her head to you, his nose flaring. His hands reaching forward, ready to grab you, drag you by the ear to be beaten, box an answer out of you.

“What have you done with the king, you little slut?!”

There was a shift in that second, some of Henry’s guards, even Henry himself was ready to intervene.

Acting quickly, quicker than you ever had, You reached for the table and got the knife, pointing it to Lord Brentford.

“Do not lay a hand on me or you won’t have one!” you rebuked.

Henry stepped forward, his voice angry.

“Lord Brentford, Are you going to deny the King an answer to his question?” he asked.

Heads turned over to you. Jane was smiling seeing the knife still in your hand. Then the Lord Brentford relented and gestured to you.

“She lives here, your majesty.”

Setting the knife back down on the table, you were gestured to step forward and curtsy. He looked at you in your servant's clothes which made your stomach twist in shame. But you held your own ground, poised with folded hands and kept your eyes up at him.

“May I have a word with her in private, Lord Brentford?” he asked.

They all bowed and relented- his servants to accompany you.

He stepped forth and seemed to blush as he handed you the flowers.

“These are for you, my lady” he said.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you replied. You took the bouquet in your hands, feeling it’s sweet scent.

His hands free, you saw him clench and unclench his fists nervously.

“Fair lady-I do not know how to say this. I’m not good with words, or speaking with women…” he began.

That itself made you smile.

“Lady Y/L/N, I am a king…and I am a man too. And I speak to you as one now. Should you refuse, I shall never bother you again. But if you shall, would you allow a hardened soldier to speak of tenderness and affection? To spend time to know this lady and plead his cause to her heart? I offer my friendship at least. At most, as your suitor. Only if you shall have me, Harry of England, as yours. To pursue you, ask for you, care for you. To court you, not as king and subject, but as a man and a woman, only if you accept me. What say you, dearest, fairest lady?”

You brimmed with joy. You felt a free hand clutch your chest, wondering if this was even real. But you knew who was the one in fine leather and who was the one in simple cloth.

“My lord, I must tell you something…”

He nodded, listening. You took in a breath and began.

“I am the Lady Y/L/N. My parents died and their fortune dwindled. Leaving me with nothing but the title and what dignity we had left. As you can see, the house of Brentford took me in. But other than the kindness shown by their daughter, the Lord and Lady…do not consider me family. They have made me a servant here and I have worked as one since I was very young. If you are willing to court a lady with nothing but an empty title and a heart full of affection for you, you may. If not, I shall let you go. I shall not begrudge or ask you to change your ways. I understand them. I have nothing to offer to you that you may benefit- no lands, no armies, no alliances, and most of all, no dowry.”

“My lady, you yourself are a dowry,” Henry replied.

A gasp escaped you and you felt everything inside you become warm.

He offered your hand. And you placed yours in it.

“Then…I Accept you as my suitor, my lord.” you said.

He smiled even wider, putting his other hand over yours.

“We have a special dinner prepared in the palace. Would you dine with me?” he asked.

“I shall be glad to…I only ask one thing and one thing in turn in our courtship. This and nothing else…I only ask for shelter. For an escape from this place. To stay in a different home far from Lord and Lady Brentford. You saw what happened-this has been my life for many long years. I want to leave this place, to no longer be under their power. But give only the dearest blessing to their daughter, the lady Jane, and their servants, for without their help the years would have been unbearable…and we would not have crossed paths again. If you cannot grant me shelter from the Lord and Lady, then protection from them,” you requested.

He clutched your hands a little tighter, almost shaking them.

“I shall my lady, you need not be afraid of the Lord and Lady anymore. I will fulfill your wish…and you shall be safe. I shall do everything in my power…may I kiss your hand?”

“Yes.”

He took your hand and kissed it gently, and sweetly. His goatee tickling a little of your skin and his lips soft.

He asked his servants to gather your things, quickly. Much to the astonishment of the whole house. But none dare resist the orders of the king.

“You shall stay as a guest of the palace until a family, a new one, may take you in. I promise, there are plenty who shall not treat you as they have,” he vowed.

He looked at you with a smile. You then went to your room and wrapped the warm red cloak over you. Then, right before the door, stood the family. You embraced each servant as they congratulated you. Then you went to you hugged Jane with a smile.

“Oh, I feel like I am abandoning you!” you sighed.

“Oh no! Do not fret! I can handle my parents, I will not let my them break me. I will fight them every step of the way. Just write to me often, promise.”

“This wouldn’t have happened without you, I am forever in your debt, Jane.” you replied.

“You already helped heal my leg back then. Then your friendship is the only credit I shall ask for.” she replied.

You hugged again as a goodbye.

You then turned to the Lord and Lady Brentford. They did not speak, but you did.

“I shall never forget your cruelty. Your harshness. I held my tongue to survive-but now I can speak. I do not love either of you. I dislike you both more than any person in the world. If anyone asks me of you, I shall tell them everything you said and did to me, for it is the truth. Of the names you called me, the things of mine you destroyed, and of the times you beat me and broke me. And do not think, should the day ever come that God makes me queen, that you shall receive any help from me. I shall never step foot in this place again or call on you.From this day on, I do not know who either of you are. You are both cruel, heartless, selfish miscreants. May you answer to God and only He may show you any mercy He deigns you both to deserve. You shall have none from me.”

King Henry offered you his arm and you took it. How warm it felt-you could feel his muscles beneath his leathers, but how smooth it was and how pleasant he even smelled!

“Now…are you ready my lady?” he asked.

You only looked back at the place, and the people standing there. Then back at the handsome, kind face of your regal suitor.

“I am, my most gracious Lord.”

He walked you to outside the door where the carriage awaited. The snow falling gently, blanketing the world in soft, white blankets.

“When we are alone…would you call me Harry? Henry perhaps, too,” he replied.

“Yes, Henry,” you replied.

He blushed a little to hear his name. He were helped into the carriage next to him.

Henry smiled at you kindly as he sat next to you.

“Thank you. For everything” you wished him.

“Of course, Y/F/N.”

You could have melted how he said your first name. He then held up your hand again and gave it another peck from his lips.

“My, you like to hold and kiss my hand, Henry!” you teased.

“If only it wasn’t so easy to hold and dear to kiss!” he replied with a smile.

Your eyes forward, not daring to look back. Only forward as the carriage moved away. One part of your life ending and another beginning. To live a new life from now on.

A life where you were finally loved.

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ghostlyloversworld · 26 days

Text

♡*♡∞:｡.｡ Pretty boy ｡.｡:∞♡*♡

Henry V(Hal) x Fem Reader!

Idea- Hal is not happy but his favorite girl helps him clam down

Side note- I love Timothee as Hal 😭 also happy Easter

Waring-use of Y/n! Kinda spicy but not a lot,

Song- my boo by Usher Ft. Alicia Keys

There's always that one person that will always have your heart you never see it coming cause you're blinded from the start.

Hal huffed angering being shown on his face after one of his trusted men had messed up almost making Henry seem like he didn't know what he was doing. "What do you want?" He sneered at a maid who looks down "nothing your majesty.. " she muttered terrified of His anger

"So why are you here" Hal said looking at her with that look of anger still being on his face but the maid knew not to look up ".. Im-im just trying to do my job you're majesty" she said softly "well do it somewhere else" his teeth grinding together with the pure anger he felt in the moment

Know that You're that One for me It's clear for everyone to see. Oh, baby, ooh ( Yeah, uh, uh, uh) (you gotta Rockaway to this one, c'mon) you will always be my boo.

He started to pace around the room. Holding his hand up to his mouth Hal didn't seem to notice his wife opening the door and walking in before gently shutting the door. She watched as Hal paces around the Room "Henry.. Hal" when she called out to him he stop pacing and looks at her "Y/n.." He said softly

His wife crosses her arms "what did you do to Ally.. The poor woman was so terrified of walking down the hallway" she said with a stern tone to her gentle voice he sighs "I didn't mean to.. It's just one of my men almost made a fool out of me.. " she sighs "I get that.. But don't take your anger out on her... She's done nothing to you"

See, I don't know 'bout y'all, but I know about us and, uh it's the only way we know how to rock. I don't know 'bout y'all, but I know about us and, uh it's the only way we know how to rock do you remember girl? I was the one who gave you your first kiss

Cause I remember girl, I was the one who said "put your lips like this" Even before all the fame and people screaming you're name Girl I was there when you were my baby

Y/n uncrossed her arms before walking over to Hal she gently puts her hands on his arm ".. Do you wanna sit down and talk about how it happened?" He takes a deep breath "please.. " he knew his wife would never sell out this personal information to the world to know. That was one of the reasons he even married the daughter of France

She walks him over to the desk. She sits on the edge of the disk as Hal sits in the chair ".. Just tell me when you're ready" she muttered. Hal looks at her with love "one of my most trusted men had almost made a fool of me when he almost said to much to someone. But I guess it made me mad.. Since I want to keep the crown" she gently rubbed his shoulders as she listened to him speak

It started when we were younger, you were mine (my boo). Now another brother's taken over. But it's still in your eyes (my boo), even though we used to argue, it's alright (my boo) I know we haven't seen each other in a while

Hal gently wrapped his arms around his wife's waist he looks at her before gently kissing her. What? He couldn't help himself it caught his wife off guard Making her giggle before she even kissed him back

Hal deepens the kiss as soon as he felt his wife kiss back. He gently pulled on her bottom lip making her gasp a little causing Hal to smirk against her lips Y/n slips one of her hands up and gently puts her hand on Hal's face

But you will always be my boo. I was in love with you when we were younger, you were mine (my boo) , and I see it from time to time, I still feel like (my boo) and I can see it no matter how I try to hide (my boo) and even though there's another man who's in my life you will always be my boo

Hal gently lifted Y/n up making her wrapped her arms around him as they kept kissing. Hal pulled away and gently brings his face to her neck, he started to kiss her neck making her gently gasp at the feeling of his cold lips against her warm neck. She didn't hate the feeling but it made her feel weird

Yes. I remember boy 'Cause after we kissed, I could only think about your lips. Yes I remember boy the moment I knew you were the one I could spend my life with even before all the fame and everyone screaming your name. I was there and you were my baby

it started when we were younger you were mine (my boo) now, another brother's taken over, but its still in your eyes. (my boo). Even though we used to argue its alright, my (boo) I know we haven't seen each other in a while.

Hal's hand started to hitch up her dress making her close her eyes until she said softly "no Hal.. Not here at least.. Where everyone could walk in and see us" she giggles when he gently bites down on her neck

But you will always be my boo. I was in love with you when we were younger, you were mine (my boo). And I see it from time to time, I still feel like (my boo) , and I can see it, no matter how I tried to hide (my boo)

Hal pulled away from her neck "mm.. You're no fun" he huffed "oh really?" She looks at him with that grin and she said teasing him "sleep by yourself tonight then" "no no.. I take it back" he said softly

And even death there's another man who's in my life, you will always be oh, my oh, my oh, my oh, my boo. My oh, my oh, my oh, my boo. It started when we were younger, you were mine, (my boo)

Now, another bother' taking over, but it's still in your eyes, (my boo.) even though we used to argue it's alright, my babe, I know we haven't seen each other in a while. But you will always be my boo.

I don't know about y'all, but I know about us and uh it's the only way we know how to rock. It started when we were younger, my boo.

Taglist- none

#henry v x reader #the king #timothee chamalet #x female reader #x fem!reader #timothée chalamet #willy wonka #usher

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five-miles-over · 1 year

Note

Since I am currently obsessed with your Tom Hiddleston character headcanons and I noticed requests are open👉👈 Could we get some soft, fluffy Headcanons of the Tom Hiddleston characters on their wedding day to you?

Aaah, thank you so much for your request, @queen-paladin and thank you even more for your patience! This was fun to imagine, I hope you like it!

Multi-Character Headcanons: Tom Hiddleston Characters On Their Wedding Day

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this list: Will Ransome, King Henry V, Prince Loki Odinson, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, Bill Hazeldine, Coriolanus, Jonathan Pine, Robert Laing, Magnus Martinsson, Oakley, Thomas Sharpe, James Conrad, and Jaguar Villain! Tom Hiddleston.

Will Ransome from The Essex Serpent

On his wedding day to you, Reverend Will Ransome would wake up at sunrise, taking his time to wash himself, get dressed, and make his way to the church for his own wedding

He would take advantage of the early hours of the morning to be alone with his own thoughts, except almost all of his thoughts would be on you. Will would mull over how tomorrow, he would wake up as a married man. Instead of an empty bed, Will would find you by his side as his wedded partner, a gift bestowed upon by God for him to cherish for the rest of his life. Instead of spending the morning contemplating in circles, the reverend would be with his newly wed wife, talking to you about his thoughts and eagerly listening to yours. And instead of retiring alone at nightfall, he would be comforted by your warmth and your love, spending hours in your arms until you both drifted off to sleep.

Heavenly father, hallowed be thy name, grant him the strength not to stray from the path of a devoted husband.

After an hour or two of solitude that would finally come to an end after years of longing, Will would politely interact with the guests while taking his rightful place at the altar as the groom.

As soon as Will saw you enter the church, holding a bunch of wildflowers and forget-me-nots, his heart would swell with joy and gratitude. He would silently thank God for bestowing him this gift of spending his life with you. And before the official vows, he would make his own, silent promise to make you happy as possible for as long as he lived.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get caught in a compromising position right before the ceremony (don't ask me how I know this, I just do)

King Henry V from The Hollow Crown

On his wedding day to you, King Henry V would remain as stoic as possible in the presence of his servants while they readied him for the ceremony.

Yet, occasionally his eyes would drift towards the small, intricate portrait of you that stood on his dressing table. Henry commissioned for it to be painted (based on his own description of you) for his personal desire after the first meeting with you. Every morning and every night that he could not be with you, he would look at the portrait and remind himself of the one that ruled his heart, his only beloved.

And it delighted him to know that one day, that portrait would be replaced with a larger, more grand painting of you and Henry, the rulers of England. Perhaps, if God willed it, you would be holding his future heir in your arms when the time came for your portrait.

Thinking about the heir would almost make Henry break his stoic facade, not because he would be thinking of fatherhood but because he would be musing over your wedding night. How would you feel after the ceremony? Would you be open to consummating your marriage?

He would gently lick his bottom lip, remembering the first time he kissed you on the lips. It was on your third meeting, after Henry sweetly asked for your permission to do something so bold as to embrace you. If it weren't for his own restraint, Henry would have been caught blushing like a virgin by his own servants. That would certainly set some tongues wagging about the castle.

"Nev'r has't i seen true beauty until this moment. How f'rtunate i might not but beest, yond while oth'r men spendeth their whole liveth seeking Elysium, i has't t bef're me", were King Henry's thoughts as soon as he stood in the church, gazing upon you while you entered, wearing a pristine white wedding gown and holding the arm of your father.

(Translation: Never have I seen true beauty until this moment. How fortunate I must be, that while other men spend their whole lives seeking paradise, I have it before me.)

At that moment, all of the royal stoicism the king of England had faded away like the morning dew. He smiled as if he were blessed with everything he could ever want.

His eyes did not leave you even as you stood beside him at the altar and knelt before the priest.

Henry recited his vows without flinching or faltering. As soon as the priest gave him permission, the king of England lifted your veil and proudly brought his lips to yours.

Your wedding would be one of the happiest days of the king's life, and one he hoped that you would also cherish

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have a coronation and a wedding on the same day

Prince Loki of Asgard from Thor:

On his wedding day to you, Prince Loki of Asgard would be pacing through the palace in the hours before the ceremony, his hands behind his back

He had already imagined this day more times than he could count, marrying you, the love of his life. And with each day leading up to your wedding, his fantasies would grow so vivid, so exciting, so intimidating that he would hardly be able to sleep

Thoughts would be plaguing his mind every waking moment while the palace was being decorated for the celebrations

Would he be a good husband to you? How would he be able to satisfy you on the wedding night? And what if he displeased you in some way, shape, or form? Would you go to Thor instead and seek comfort in his arms? No…no, no, it couldn't be. Loki shook his head. You loved him. You would never betray him and he would never betray you.

With a million butterflies in his stomach, he would go to the throne room with Thor by his side, wearing his armor, brand new emerald green robes, and his signature golden horned crown.

Seeing you standing next to him in a beautiful wedding gown completely took his breath away, and it only strengthened his resolve that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life.

He would probably struggle to look you in the eye, keeping a shy, boyish smile on his lips the whole time simply because of how much you resembled a goddess of beauty

In the presence of the All-Father, Prince Loki would make his vows to protect you, remain loyal to you, and perform his duties as a husband with utmost respect. And when the time comes, in front of all of Asgard, he would bring his lips to yours, sharing your first kiss as a married couple.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get shy when putting the ring on his bride's finger

Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim from Avengers: Infinity War

On his wedding day to you, Loki would probably be overly excited about making sure this wedding was one to remember for the centuries to come

Until he met you, Loki believed he would never be able to find true love, let alone find someone to spend the rest of his life with. But all of that changed when Loki had a crush on you and Thor decided to play Cupid, conveniently leaving his brother alone with you in parks and cafés. Loki and you eventually caught onto Thor's plan, and eventually began placing bets with each other about what stupid excuse Thor would use to leave the situation. The result? Loki fell hopelessly in love with your wit, your humor, and your beauty.

And now that he would finally get the chance to celebrate his union with someone so special, Loki decided to leave no stone unturned in making your wedding as wonderful as possible.

With his brother's help, he arranged to have the magic of Asgard brought to your Midgardian venue, complete with a long banquet, floral arrangements with Asgardian flowers, and even a few lute players to entertain the guests while they dined

Loki even had a special tiara made for you to wear during the wedding - a simple yet elegant golden wreath tiara with diamonds and emeralds. He would've had a more extravagant design made, but every other female in his life suggested that he should choose a tiara that would suit any wedding outfit you chose

The moment he saw you, walking down the aisle in your wedding outfit, his jaw dropped. For a moment, he felt like his heart stopped and he went to Valhalla. When you approached him at the altar, he couldn't help but whisper, "You look absolutely ravishing, my dear…My Queen."

After bringing his hand to your lips, he would recite his vows to you

"I, Loki, prince of Asgard, Odinson, the rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief, do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity. I promise to always keep you safe, to keep you happy, and to keep you loved. You are my everything, and I will never ever stop fighting for us, wherever our journey may take us. And I swear on all that I hold dear in this life, that I shall never betray you, nor let anyone, man or god alike, take you from me. For as long as I live, you will be my wife and my lover."

Possible first dance song: "The Only Exception" by Paramore

Wedding superlative: Most likely to instigate a brawl between two people at his wedding (and do nothing to stop it)

Bill Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout

On his wedding day to you, Bill Hazeldine would wake up, giddy as a schoolboy (after being unable to sleep last night until he called you on his mobile). His parents would giggle while he darts about, getting ready at a pace never seen before.

It was no secret that Bill was excited about marrying you. He spent weeks planning the perfect way to propose to you, visiting at least six different jewelry stores for the perfect ring and seeking your entire family's permission two weeks prior. And the night he proposed to you, he surprised you with a homemade attempt of your favorite dessert and your favorite film before presenting the ring to you.

And of course, you said yes, much to Bill's immense delight. Finally, he would be starting a life with the you, the person whom he loved the most. He would be marrying someone who loved him for who he was and made him feel like he was capable of anything.

When it came to the wedding, Bill would be critical of every single thing about himself, bugging his parents and his best man with questions

"Is this enough cologne? My tie, is it too short? Please, I don't want her to be disappointed."

"Bill, she loves you," his mother assures him. "She's marrying you. She wants to spend the rest of her life with you. Now stop fretting. You'll sweat through your suit."

After about a thousand assurances and countless intrusive thoughts, Bill would be nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet while waiting at the altar.

But as soon as he saw you, coming down the aisle, all of those thoughts would disappear. All Bill would be able to think of is how gorgeous you are, and how he's going to marry you in front of the whole world.

Your first dance song would almost 100% be "Wedding Bell Blues" by The Fifth Dimension. It was his mother's choice, and once you heard the lyrics, you couldn't help but approve (seriously, if you haven't heard this song before, look up the lyrics because it's about marrying a guy named Bill)

Also, someone would probably need to make sure that Jewel Diamond doesn't show up and seize the microphone to sing "Part Time Lover" or "Like a Virgin" at the reception. But if that's taken care of, you and Bill will probably have a great time celebrating with your family and friends.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to cry when he sees his bride walk down the aisle

Caius Marcius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

On his wedding day to you, Caius Marcius Coriolanus would put on his armor and his military regalia as if he were going to lead a campaign. His mother insisted that it would make him look distinguished, and send a message that his bride - and their family - ought to treat him with respect.

Many of his army men and his comrades would be in attendance, some of them even bearing gifts. They all knew of Coriolanus's feelings for you, teasing the general of how reluctant he was to approach you when he saw you for the first time and Cupid struck

But instead of rudely telling them all to shut up as usual, Coriolanus would bear it with gritted silence because deep down, it was all true. Coriolanus deeply loved you, and would never wish to live without you or hurt you in any way.

Too proud to be caught smiling in public, Coriolanus would simply let his eyes speak his adoration for you when you entered the temple of Mars, dressed in fine robes and jewelry with a veil over your head.

His eyes darkened with lust when you came closer to him. And in that moment, all he wanted was for the priest to hurry up and stop talking so he could kiss you, claiming you before everyone as his wife

After the ceremony came to an end, Coriolanus would keep one hand on the small of your back, determined to keep you close to him while he musters small talk with the guests…and insults some of them.

At some point, perhaps at sundown, he would cut his conversations short and bid his in-laws good night. Tightening his grip around you, Coriolanus would bring you to his home as fast as possible so he could finally drop his guard and…privately celebrate your union

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get into a fight at his own wedding

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

On his wedding day, Jonathan Pine would be extra vigilant, keeping an eagle eye for anything that might go wrong.

While you were getting ready, he would be pacing along the oceanside and through the rows of seats for a possible threat, or someone who could be smuggling a weapon. Even after Angela Burr assured him that no one knew about his wedding except for the few people in attendance, he would still insist that someone keep a tab on you and give him constant updates while you were getting ready.

Jonathan had already loved and lost someone, and he would never forgive himself if someone took his bride away from him.

Until he saw you, he would not be able to let himself rest for a moment, rubbing the nape of his neck while pacing, adjusting his cufflinks (which happened to be the ones you gifted him for Christmas), and thinking of every single way that someone could sabotage this special day

And the moment you came down the aisle in your beautiful wedding gown, Jonathan would breathe a sigh of relief and beam with pride. At that instant, the only thought in his mind when he looks at you would be how amazing and how happy you look while you approached him. And how every moment leading up to this one was definitely worth it. Nothing would be able to hold a candle to the first time he got to see you as the one he, Jonathan Pine, was going to marry.

Holding your hand, Jonathan would quietly say his vows, knowing that he had already made every single vow to himself when he proposed to you. That in his mind, he had already promised to love you through thick and thin, in good times and bad times, even when the two of you would be miles apart. You would be the one he fights for and stays alive for, every single time.

Possible first dance song: "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls or "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra (Or "Shakespeare" by Miranda Cosgrove)

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have a destination honeymoon

Robert Laing from High-Rise

On his wedding day with you, Dr. Robert Laing would be thinking of nothing but you, simply put.

("Ruhi, come now…" "You know what, Robert? Somebody had to say it.")

When Robert originally moved into the high rise, he was disillusioned with the thought of being involved with other people. He wanted to be alone, nothing more. But now, three years after that day? He couldn't picture a day without seeing you, without indulging in your witty banter, without giving you a kiss before going off to the medical school, or without you simply calling his name. It had to be magic of some kind, an enchantment Robert couldn't quite explain with all of his scientific knowledge.

And that's how Robert Laing, a doctor of physiology who lived on the twenty-fifth floor of the high rise, let himself fall in love you and share his life with you.

Sure, Wilder and a few other guys in the high-rise would be pouring drinks and making crude jokes about Robert finally getting a 'ball and a chain' but Robert knew better. You wouldn't be a ball and a chain to him, but rather an angel.

With you by his side, Robert could begin a new life at the high rise, one where he wouldn't have to be alone. A life of comfort where he could come home to someone who would care for him, and a life where he would have someone to cherish and protect. It would be a new life with a new purpose, all thanks to you

So when he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time, he couldn't help but stare. You looked like an absolute dream, so radiant and so gorgeous.

He'd continue to steal glances throughout the ceremony, even while reciting his vows. And when the officiant finally says "you may now kiss your bride", Robert would put one hand around your waist and use his other hand to cradle the back of your head, passionately capturing your lips with his

Possible first dance song: "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You" by Frankie Valli

Wedding superlative: Most likely to burn the dance floor at his own wedding (and get quite tipsy in the process)

Second wedding superlative: Most likely to eat more cake than the bride

Magnus Martinsson from Wallander

On his wedding day to you, Magnus Martinsson would be one of those grooms who makes snarky jokes about his life being "over" but is secretly freaking out on the inside

It wasn't helpful that his colleagues at the station kept making jokes about him being 'tied down' and how you were way out of his league.

Magnus would find himself in a downward spiral of thoughts about the kind of husband he'd be, and whether you really were making the right choice in marrying him when you could have better.

His comments might get so bad that even Kurt Wallander would have to intervene and tell him to stop unless he wanted to hurt his bride

Wallander would take Magnus aside and assure him that there are many great things about marriage, and that he is lucky to be spending his life with someone like you. That most men, especially those who joke about marriage being the 'end of their life', would desperately want to find someone who loves them as much as you love Magnus

With those words, Magnus would calm down, fix his curls, and go to the altar to wait for you. And as soon as he saw you walk down the aisle, he would realize how right Kurt was. That he, Magnus Martinsson, was the luckiest man in the world because he was going to marry you. That all of those jokes were false, and the only thing that mattered was how much you loved each other

Magnus might not choose to write his own vows, sticking with the traditional "in sickness and in health, till death do us part", but he would be sure to tell you how much he loved you throughout the wedding

Possible first dance song: "My Girl," by The Temptations

Wedding superlative: Most likely to show up to his own wedding completely hungover

Oakley from Unrelated

On his wedding day to you, Oakley would be the most chill groom ever. Seriously, anything could happen and he'd be the one reminding everyone to calm down. The rings are missing? Don't worry, they'll turn up anyway.

His chill attitude also means that he would be perfectly fine in getting married while wearing a t-shirt and cargo pants. Somebody might need to drag this cocky handsome bastard into a suit, reminding him it's his goddamn wedding day, not some picnic

Oakley really isn't a fan of formal wear, especially anything that requires a tie

He would probably be joking around with his friends, having a smoke during the hour before the ceremony.

He wouldn't even be freaking out about the fact that he'll soon be a married man because…this is exactly what he wanted the minute he fell in love with you. He knew that he needed you in his life, that you were the one he wanted to love for the rest of his days, and that the best thing to do was to tell you exactly that… before asking you to marry him

And the moment he saw you standing in your wedding dress for the first time, all of those memories left his mind and the only thing that Oakley could think about…was how he would never forget this moment. And that if the world were to end tomorrow, he would be the luckiest guy on the planet just because he would get to call you - this gorgeous, funny, and kind person standing before him - his wife.

Also, Oakley would totally be the type to make his wedding kiss with you totally epic, either picking you up and spinning you around, or turn it into a dip and kiss (which looks something like this)

Possible first dance song: "Teenage Dream" by Boyce Avenue or "Lucky," by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get drunk during his own wedding and say something extremely inappropriate

Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak

On his wedding day to you, Thomas Sharpe would have every detail in its perfect place. From the flowers to the organ playing the wedding march to the seating arrangement, every single thing would be immaculately arranged to your liking.

He would play the part of a doting groom very effectively, almost ignoring Lucille most of the time in favor of talking to your family members. He'd play with the little ones, laugh at your father's attempts at humor, and assure your mother that her child will lack nothing in their marriage

The moment you entered the chapel, a warm smile would spread across Thomas's face and his face would light up as if the in the world darkness was finally gone for good.

As if you were made of glass, he would carefully take your hand in his and lead you to the altar, kneeling before the priest.

Then, Thomas would make his vows to be with you in sickness and in health, till death do you part, and kiss you slowly, savoring this moment of purity.

After the ceremony, Thomas would lead you in a waltz - your first dance as husband and wife - with a pace so swift yet so delicate that it would not extinguish a candle

At a specific moment, when the guests are dining, Thomas would lightly tap on his glass with a fork to get everyone's attention.

"On behalf of the Sharpe household, I would like to thank you all for attending this lovely occasion. I could not be more happier than to be marrying the lady seated right here," Thomas would gesture to you with a proud smile. "She is truly a blessing, and until death parts us, I promise to hold her close and to treasure her always. May our days together be filled with happiness and joy."

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have an eloquent wedding toast that makes everyone go "Awww"

James Conrad from Kong: Skull Island

On his wedding day to you, Captain James Conrad would be silent to almost everyone before the ceremony, pretending to be completely calm about his impending nuptials. But his dark circles and his red eyes wouldn't fool anyone; it would be pretty clear that he hadn't sleeping so well lately

Actually, after he'd finally left Skull Island and settled in the United Kingdom, James had been dealing with nightmares about Kong and other terrifying creatures he'd encountered. Eventually, Preston Packard and Mason Weaver coaxed him to start seeing a professional about his nightmares and traumatic flashbacks.

That's how James Conrad gained the courage and the hope to start a relationship with you, the beautiful neighbor who lived a few doors from his flat. And now, nearly two years after your first date, he proposed, you and James moved in together, and you were getting married.

James could not have been happier about your union, but the past week leading up to the wedding had been tough.

The two of you thought it might be good to have a little separation before the ceremony, and James thought it would make the wedding sweeter, so you agreed to sleep over at a friend's place.

James found himself deeply missing your touch (and your cuddles - shh, don't tell anyone I told you) and many of the nightmares from his past returned. So after talking to you on the telephone every night, he would hold one of your sweaters like a security blanket while trying to lull himself sleep

When he finally saw you coming to the altar in your wedding gown, it felt like he'd been underwater for hours and was finally coming up for fresh air. From now on, he would never have to sleep alone, or face anything all by himself. Whatever happens, if he ever has to return to Skull Island in his dreams or in real life, he would have you by his side.

He'd be grinning the whole time from ear to ear, just enjoying the moment with you, and would always have his arm around you. Whenever James wasn't trying to stifle a yawn, he would be holding you close and stealing kisses, much to the amusement of everyone else around him.

Possible First Dance song: "Can't Help Falling in Love with You" by Elvis Presley

Wedding superlative: Most likely to never let anyone else dance with his bride because he gets jealous

Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

On his wedding day to you, Thomas would be dressed to the nines and poised like a prince, wearing a sharp three-piece suit (with a pistol concealed in his jacket) and Dolce and Gabbana citrus cologne

To him, this wedding was not unlike any other important engagement. A place where deals could be made and broken, offers could be extended and retracted, and alliances could be tested

Therefore, only the best of decorations could be present. The cake and the champagne had to be of the utmost quality (no cheap, off-brand liquor allowed), and the floral arrangements needed to be elegant enough for royalty

It would also be an opportunity for Thomas to reward his those closest to him in his inner circle; by inviting them, wining and dining them with a gourmet meal, he could reward their loyalty while also keeping them near should they try anything suspicious.

But none of that would apply to you. No, Thomas may be emotionless and calculating in matters of business, even at his own wedding, but you were not to take part in any of it. In fact, your innocence was one of the reasons why Thomas was so attracted to you. You gave him something worth living for, something that was worth defending and protecting. He could not afford to corrupt you with his dirty world of schemes and plots

During the wedding, Thomas would be your Prince Charming (like always), making sure that you were comfortable.

He would hold your hand and tell you how beautiful you looked whenever you got nervous. If you were hungry, he'd make sure that a plate of food was brought to you. And if someone dared to make you uncomfortable on your special day? They had better prepared to have the living daylights pounded out of them.

Also, Thomas would never admit this to you until possibly years after your wedding to him, but he secretly bribed the person who showed you your wedding dresses to only show you designs that he approved of. He knew that you would look stunning in anything you wore, but he always liked to be the one in charge

Possible first dance song: "Fly Me to The Moon," by Frank Sinatra or "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King

Wedding superlative: Most likely to carry out a murder at their wedding

Taglist: @thatdummy-girl @icytrickster17 @mischievoushiddleston,@lokischambermaid , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisgoodgirl , @lokisninerealms @jennyggggrrr ,, @tom-hiddleston-imagines , @lokiismineforever @smolvenger @winterfrostlovetriangle , @the-haven-of-fiction , @turniptitaness @cakesandtom ,@sallymagnoliaposts @leahs-reading-nook @holdmytesseract @muddyorbsblr

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witchywomanrunningupthathill · 1 year

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Presume Not That I Am What I Once Was - The King (2019)

Pairing: Prince Hal/Henry V x female!reader

Description: You and Hal fall for each other as both of your realities come crashing down, all at once.

Word count: 801

Warnings: mentions of sex, female anatomy and allusion to pregnancy, supporting character death (?)

A/N: Hiii! Long author’s note warning. It’s been so long since I’ve posted on here. Of course the first fic I write on return is about the love of my life, Prince Hal. Now, for the record, I will always, ALWAYS see Tom Hiddleston as Hal. Full stop. #HollowCrownSuperiority. But yesterday, I was looking at scenes from The King (with which I take great issue, but we aren’t ready for that conversation) and the visuals (read: Timmy’s face) were giving way too much for me not to be inspired to write about such a complex, clever, and conflicted character. Soooooo here’s 800-ish words about our beloved prodigal son/wayward prince turned King of England. Oh, also, right below here is *probably* my favorite Shakespeare monologue. Very revealing (and confounding) of Hal, and what made me fall in love with this character. <3

Henry IV Act I, Scene ii

PRINCE

I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyoked humor of your idleness. Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That, when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wondered at By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapors that did seem to strangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work, But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So when this loose behavior I throw off And pay the debt I never promisèd, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off.

You didn’t know it would be the last time. The last time you would hear the voice he never used around anyone else but you, tender, caring, adoring. The last time you would see him grin like he did when he was too far gone from drink, euphorically gleeful. The last time you would ever be able to touch him. Here, he wasn’t the Prince of Wales; he was Hal.

You weren’t expecting to feel the way you did about him. The way your heart beat faster each time he swaggered into the Boar’s Head Inn. The knot in the pit of your stomach when you’d come downstairs to find Sibyl perched on the prince’s lap with his hand ‘round her waist. You kept your eye trained on him every night, gambling and singing and fucking the night away.

At first, it was just like any other lay with the drunken, unkempt men that passed their time here. Just bodies moving together. Over time he visited Sibyl less and less, and wasted no time pulling you upstairs. He would stay the whole night and hold onto you in his sleep.

He wasn’t expecting to traipse around Eastcheap only for his mind to wander back to you. Back to the conversations you two shared in that Spartan single-room apartment after it was all over, the both of you laying entangled atop sweat-soaked sheets. He loved watching you gaze at him in the candlelight as he murmured tales of his antics with Falstaff and Poins, almost always punctuated with the faint grunts, cries, and rhythmic banging and rocking from all around, a prelude to another round of lovemaking.

It was the night after his father, Henry IV, had succumbed to the pox. Hal wasn’t gentle this time. He fucked hard, the rocking making you nauseous at one point, not that he would have noticed because he had kept his eyes closed the whole time. You wondered what was going on in his head. You wondered when you would summon the strength to tell him. Hal thrusted and thrusted, but it was all for naught. His moans turned to whimpers. He collapsed beside you; head buried in the crook of your neck as he broke into a sob.

“Hey, hey,” you said, turning to him and pulling him into you, your hand cradling the back of his head. His breath came out in warm huffs and tears seeped onto your breast.

“My father...” Hal mumbled. You pulled his face up to yours, thumbs wiping the tears from his bloodshot eyes. He looked tragically beautiful. While you cursed yourself for what was to come, Hal replayed his words to his father’s councilors. Know now that you will be watched over by an altogether different king. Hal assumed – no, he knew – his father saw him as nothing but a royal pain. His thoughts were interrupted by your quiet groan. You winced and looked down, hand to your lower stomach. Hal’s eyes followed. You hadn’t meant to let out a sound, jerking your hand back down to the bed. In fact, you had been good at hiding it. Or so you thought. Your eyes traveled slowly back up and you met your lover’s gaze. You’d never seen so many thoughts go on behind someone’s eyes, grief, trepidation, yearning, remorse… You held each other as hard as you had the very first time, a goodbye of sorts. But that was the thing about goodbyes, endings – no one ever shared them for the same reason.

Snow fell the day Hal became King Henry V of England. The Abbey bells rang out around London. Your hand slid to your belly instinctively and gazed at the city from your window, just barely making out the palace in the distance.

#the king 2019 #the king netflix #prince hal x reader #the king #henry v x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fic #henry v x oc #henry v x ofc #iz writes

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 3 months

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Last Updated: 2024-02-02

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Prince Hal/Henry V stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✠ Claimed￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by yespolkadotkitty • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: When an unknown man claims ownership of your home, you determine the best course of action is to gain his favour by using your feminine wiles.

✠ Arise Fair Sun by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you."

✠ Army of King Henry V, the by frostbitten-written • 18+ • 〔E᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "King Henry V will be departing for battle on the morrow. He and his queen share one last night of passion, with hopes of conceiving"

✠ Her Prince￨Prt. II by omgrachwrites • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "The man that comes to visit you at your woodland cottage —the man that you're falling in love with —is a mystery. When you discover what he's hiding from you, it turns your... world upside down."

✠ Nursing the Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury."

✠ Prince and the Servant, the￨Prt. II by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •

Summary:

✠ Queen's Abduction, the by smolvenger • 16+ • 〔A᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "Shortly after your secret marriage to the king of England, Henry V, a nefarious villain abducts you to be his..."

✠ Second Floor, the by shiningloki • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Prince Hal has been visiting the ale house for as long as he could remember. He met you there —a woman employed by the tavern to pleasure its customers. After taking you for the night, Hal [demands you] be reserved for his personal use only... Six months later, Hal [returns after leaving for war three weeks early] later to indulge in [you], but this time, he has come with a shocking revelation."

✠ Shy by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[Like] many nights, Hal finds himself in the Eastcheap taverns… [However,] this night, he notices something different — or rather, someone. Blending into the background... [you keep your] head down... as [you clean] up... occasionally [you glance] their way, meeting his eyes a few times but never lingering in his gaze. [So] as any cocky, self-assured Prince would do, he saunters over to [you], his head held high... with a charming smirk painted on his lips."

✠ Tavern Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern... and your mind about him starts to change."

✠ Used Goods￨Prt. II by smolvenger • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: "While betrothed to... Hal. But The Law of Contract states that you must be a virgin to marry into royalty. You are not; you didn't choose to...and to escape arrest and treason, you must seek the Prince and tell him your dark secret of being sexually abused as a child. Is the betrothal over? How will Hal react?"

✠ Wedding of the King, the by smolvenger • 16+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "Henry consents to an arranged marriage to [you, a noble woman]. He is enthusiastic about [the marriage] upon meeting [you]. [Nevertheless,] as the wedding day arrives, he learns that [you are] not."

✠ Wordless by megthemewlingquim • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary:

✠ You Will Be Mine by five-miles-over • 〔E〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: Hal takes a special interest in one of the palace servants.

✠ Beautiful by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •

✠ Beautiful as Always by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Fairytale by five-miles-over • 〔F〕 •

✠ Fight by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✠ His Queen by smolvenger • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Prince Charming by jewels2876 • 〔F〕 •

✠ Shamless by megthemewlingquim • 18+ • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Waking Through the Forest by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Prince Hal/Henry V Master Index

See Also: @angelkurenai || @five-miles-over || @frostbitten-written || @high-functioning-lokipath || @jewels2876 || @lady-rose-moon || @megthemewlingquim || @omgrachwrites || @shiningloki || @smolvenger || @yespolkadotkitty ||

#Prince Hal x Reader #Prince Hal x Y/N #Prince Hal x You #Henry V x Reader #Henry V x Y/N #Henry V x You #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Female Reader #Tom Hiddleston x Y/N #Tom Hiddleston x You #The Hollow Crown Fanfiction #The Hollow Crown Fanfic #Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction #Tom Hiddleston Fanfic

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mel-vaz · 2 months

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Chapter 2 of the King 2019

In the apartment, Hal and Y/n are making love to one another.

Y/n: Henry we need to talk

Hal: why must we talk when I'm show you my love

Y/n: You should go see your father.

Hal Kiss y/n try to stop her from talking.

Hal: do not mention that man in our house

Y/n: Henry I know that you do not have a good relationship with him but he is your father. Maybe he is summoning you to apologize.

Hal: I will not go to that horrible place and we are not to speak of this again. Do you understand?

Hal is snoring, he is sleeping naked on top of Y/n their legs are intertwined with his face on her bare chest. Falstaff enters the couple's home. He opens the curtain, stirring the Y/n. Hal doesn’t stir.

Y/n: it is too early for your foolishness. Falstaff go home.

Falstaff: He needs to go see his father.

Y/n: I have Falstaff, he will not listen to me.

Falstaff: A Man who does not listen to his wife is asking for death.

Y/n gets up and moves Hal's body off of her, She gives Hal a quick kiss. Looking at him with so much love and affection

Y/n(whispers to Hal); My heart you need to wake up. (to Falstass) all go make breakfast.

Falstaff I’m sorry to interrupt your slumber.

HAL What are you doing?

Hal speaks muffled, groggy, face smudged into the pillow.

Falstaff: Visit with your father.

Hal: Go away.

Falstaff: If your father is indeed enough gravely ill to request your presence, then you must visit with him - it should be better to regret having done so than it would to have not. No matter your feelings for him. If your father is ill, you must visit with him. And - let me add - I say it not out of concern for our king’s well-being, more for fear of the drunken soak to which you be likely to succumb should you fail to heed his call and he were to die without you having squared your ledger... I fear it would be soak enough to put even me to shame. If not for yourself then for Y/n,

Hal stares at Falstaff, lucid and penetrating, with his one eye not smudged into the pillow. Falstaff watches Hal a moment.

Falstaff: Do it. If nothing else I ever suggest.

Falstaff rises and exits. Y/n brings the cup of coffee as Hal sits up in bed, Y/n sits next to him and brings the cup to his lips.

Hal: get dressed we are going to see that King

Hal and Y/n are at the palace gates. Without exchange with the guards, they are granted entry. All watch them with cold interest if not disdain. They walk the hall under escort. As Hal approaches the antechamber he crosses paths with Grey and Cambridge on their way into the great hall. Grey eyes him with contempt. Cambridge looks at him cautiously, searching.

King Henry is in his chair, visibly weak, presiding over a sitting of parliament. The full court plus The Archbishop of Canterbury and clerical attendants are there. Thomas Of Lancaster, the King’s 18-year-old son, Hal’s younger brother, is there too. The Archbishop is addressing the king. He’s arrogant but nervous, he speaks with a lisp.

Servant: Henry, Prince of Wales. And His wife Y/n Princess of Wales.

Henry IV: My son. Come to me.

The Archbishop appears put out. He regards Hal with derision and Y/n with disgust. Hal crosses the room with his arm around Y/n holding her like she was life. They bow before Hal’s father, taking in his frailty. The King takes in his son’s disheveledness.

Henry IV: Come closer. They take a step closer.

Henry IV: I feel my life is nearing its natural end and yet still even I must appear of ruder health than you.

Hal doesn’t respond. He continues looking his father in the eye. While Y/n looks to the ground filled with uneasy

Henry IV: The time has come for me to consider the issue of my succession. You will not be king.

Hal remains fixed. A barely concealed smirk on the face of Grey.

Henry IV: While you are my eldest son, for reasons that must be evident to you, that are on display for all here to see and smell, and due to your commoner wife, you will not inherit this crown.

Hal: Nor have I sought it.

Henry IV: That privilege and responsibility will instead fall to your brother Thomas.

Thomas straightens, postures regally. It doesn’t suit him.

Henry IV: As you may be aware - to whatever degree you are aware of the world outside your own - I will assume you are aware that the kingdom is at war with itself. Matters as grave as these require leadership committed to their resolution and you - of this I am sure - can not provide that commitment. Thomas, however, can. He is soft, but he is eager and he will lead my army against the newly treasonous Percy Hotspur.

Hal looks at Thomas who has trouble meeting Hal’s eyes.

Henty IV: I will assume this news comes to you as neither a surprise nor disappointment. I do however see it as my duty as King and as a father to say it to you directly.

Hal walks to Thomas dragging along Y/n.

Thomas raises his head and holds Hal’s eyes.

Hal: How do you feel, brother?

Thomas: Strong.

Hal: When do you fight?

Thomas: I set off tomorrow. We fight by week’s end.

Hal: You need not fight. These feuds need not be yours.

Hal takes Thomas’s face in his hand. Thomas leans his head away and tries to stare at Hal. He is young and afraid.

Henry IV: I have said what you were summonsed to hear. Leave us now.

Hal turns to his father, one last cold look, then leaves. Take his wife along with him.

#timothée chalamet x reader #chubby reader #fem reader #the king 2019 #Hal V #henry v x reader

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jely-bely · 1 year

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Ex Wives

Divorced💛

Beheaded💚

Died💀

Divorced❤

Beheaded💗

Survived💎

#ex wives #Six #six the musical #katherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anne of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #history #henry the eighth #henry viii #henry v x reader #six fanarts

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apolloanddaphnis · 10 months

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The Poet's Rusalka

Synopsis: Marina Czerwonka is a young Romani woman from a little village in Poland, after her mother dies her path changes drastically , dreams of ink stained fingers and green eyes, friends with beguiling strangers and an altercation that cements her course at a London tavern. She meets a rogueish lord and eventually wins the heart of not only the rake but a British monarch.

This is a Hal story, some things have been changed and its nothing like The King. This takes place during the restoration era of England in the 17th century, instead of Charles II being king its Hal, but he's Henry X not the V. Historical characters like the rebel poet John Wilmot, Nell Gwynn, and etc. Play huge parts in this story and I don't own them.

Big disclaimer, this is a very mature story and could be offensive.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Chapter I: A Fish out of Water

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Most Men are Cowards, all Men should be Knaves.

The Difference lies, as far as I can see,

Not in the thing it self, but the Degree.

-John Wilmot

🥀

It's been one year since I left Karpacz, one year since I buried my mother, and one year since my life changed forever.

I arrived in England only knowing Polish and Russian. I hardly had anything with me, and I took what I could of what was important.

Traveling in November through Eastern Europe to western is no easy feat.

I traveled through horses and carriages, it wasn't easy dodging shifty characters, but I've managed. My shawl and jewelry easily allowed everyone to know I am Romani, naturally I've been treated like a common whore, a thief, or both. A witch too, constantly but that's been my whole life.

When I made it to Paris, I was lucky enough to run into fellow Romani, Django Delort. He was handsome, tall and lanky and dark with laughing brown eyes, a thin mustache, and long, satin auburn curls he always had tied back with a purple ribbon. I stayed with him and his sister, Penelope, and her kindly husband Antoine. They were newly weds and pregnant with their first child. The family is very kind and didn't mind sharing their caravan with me and their food, so I made sure to be plenty of help. They taught me French, luckily Django and Penelope are fluent in Russian due to a maternal lineage.

Django was always full of laughter and jokes. He's an actor for the stage and inspired my interest in the theater, seeing such emotion and becoming somebody else was inspiring.

He wanted to marry me though, despite the constant attention he gains from the female population of Paris, and I couldn't have that. One, Django falls in love at least once a week, and I do not love him, and I won't marry for less.

"I don't want you to feel used, Django, you're my dearest friend in the world, a difficult feat in this world. Our bond is strong but unromantic, I am undeserving of your affections." I spoke to him in French as he helped me board the boat to London.

He stroked my cheek with such benign affection, his reddish brown ringlets blowing ardently in the May winds of Northern France. I gazed upon his cognac colored eyes that usually held so much joy and laughter, but now bathed in longing and despair. And I was the cause of that.

"You are more deserving than any prisoner of this realm, mon cherie, I am not good enough for you and that is why Cupid decided not to relinquish your heart to me. I understand this now, although it leaves me bitter. Do you have to leave for dreary old England? With people colder than your Polish winters?" He returned, in his native tongue.

I blinked away tears saltier than the sea, and stroked my friend's Motley colored scarf. "I know it's silly, but I've been dreaming visions of it. As a fellow Romani, you'd understand that can't you?"

"Ah yes, your dreams of long ink stained fingers and hooded green eyes in the shadows…our mother's would rise from the grave if we ignored such dreams." He brushed his fingers through my loose hair.

"Mon ami, this isn't forever this isn't goodbye, I love Paris. I will return to Paris, I will return to you and Penelope, and Antoine, and their child and children yet to come. "

He shoved me away but it was gentle and he took a large intake of breath, as if he found even something as natural as breathing unbearably difficult to pursue. "I want this to be as undemanding as possible, ma belle. Just go before I demand more than you can give." His voice was heavy with tears and I nodded mutely before boarding.

He didn't leave once I was on, but he didn't look my way either. He just gave me his back to gaze upon as I sailed off and away to the unknown, saying goodbye to the only friend I've ever known.

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Current Day, The Three Crowns, London, 1674

Jane was the first to be kind to me.

She found me struggling to speak English. I had only known hello and thank you, she could tell I was in search of a position. Although she knew not Polish, Russian, or French, she had pulled me by my arm to a slender, beautiful young man who was sitting on the lap of an intoxicated and pawing excuse of a man. She said something in English and he immediately spoke French to me. A heavy weight was lifted off of my chest, and the fair young man had introduced himself as Jem. We spoke in French and he had explained to me his father was an English navy man who knocked up a French lady of the night, his mother. He had informed me that she died of syphilis when he was only ten. I offered most empathetic condolences, and both of us bonded over the loss of our mother and growing up in the world as bastards.

Growing up as Roma, you learn that you do not have the privilege to judge others, I didn't turn my nose up at prostitutes, it's not always easy finding work. Jem and Jane had spoken to the owner of The Three Crowns on my behalf, and Thom Pugh the owner took one look at me, desperate to make me one of his working girls. Jem had told me my exotic gypsy features and amethyst eyes made the man eager to make a bit of coin off of me. But Jem had assured me Jane persuaded Mr. Pugh to take me on as just a serving wench as well as a laundress for his rooms. I was safe due to the generosity of my newfound friends…for now.

Jem was teaching me English and he and Jane loved when I would read their palms and show them how to tell people's fortunes. It was all about trusting instinct and getting to know the person. I read people well, which is why I know Mr. Pugh isn't a man of his word and I made sure to stay out of sight as often as I could.

It was hard keeping the customers hands and eagerness away but I managed, I wasn't going to be a shaking little doe, like animals, people smell fear.

I helped Jem and Jane how to keep up with their hygiene as well, with that you could really see how beautiful the two are. Jane stands at a petite stature with curves of a noble lady, wide hips and a full bust she always has falling out of her bodice. Her coloring is pretty in a wild exotic way, sun-kissed like my people. Her eyes remind me of a sly cat, and they're a pretty blue-green, her full lips are always painted with Rouge like her cheeks and her jawline is squared off like a member of the gentry, whoever Jane's real parents were, they did her terribly wrong leaving her in the gutter. Her hair is like dark gold and bounces down her back in coils, she's the most sought after girl here for a reason, and not just on beauty alone. She's never in a foul mood, always laughing and bringing sunlight in wherever she goes, jesting and pulling pranks along with Jem. When I felt homesick and longed for my mother who now lived buried deep in the Earth and my father who was a slave to the seas, she made me forget with her warmth and her smiles.

Jem too is so very beautiful for this Saxon underworld, tall and lean like an interpretation of David. Porcelain like the statue too, with freckles beaming like stars across his upturned nose, eyes so blue you swore he was part sea-folk, lips so full and red and pretty for a man, and his hair fell in youthful and boyish raven waves. He has the most enchanting smile, and tempted those who thought their desires relied solely on the softer sex.

He always made sure I ate, and asked me everyday if anyone bothered me, the answer was always no.

In half a year I was speaking English comfortably, although my accent didn't hide that I'm a foreigner and had people assuming that I'm empty-headed, but I minded not.

"Jem, you speak English so well, proper. Better than everyone else here, why is that?"

He was drawing black kohl around his eyes, he reminded me of my people when he did that. I smiled and took the kohl from him to help. "Oh you mean why don't I sound like a common whore?" He asked with humor in his voice.

"I would never say it like that."

"No of course not, you're too sweet. The only one in this rotten little world God has dealt us with to not look upon my kind with revulsion." He handed me the rouge so I could paint his lips and high cheeks.

"We Romani are treated like mud beneath the wheels of a carriage, and my father is a pirate, I am not wealthy enough to judge."

He smiled. "There's a kindly gentleman, I'm to his liking. He brings me poems and oranges and lessons. I can read now too.''

There was something akin to love in his powder blue eyes, my friend is in love. I opened my mouth to speak on it but Jane burst in, in just a yellow corset with half her laces undone, a hiked up green skirt, exposing her red hosiery. "Jem, we've got someone for yeh." She smiled "oh look at that, pretty as a lady yeh are. Marina yeh so good at making us look more than we're worth somethin'." She took Jem's hand, dragging him out.

I cleaned up behind Jem and washed my hands in the wash bowl, humming an old song my mother would sing to me as a child.

The door creaked open, it was probably one of the girls asking for something. I have a basket full of nicely folded laundry.

"I'll be right there." I called as I bent over to pick up the basket. But forceful hands prevented me from doing so.

My heart clenched, my blood froze. I couldn't even breathe, foul breath perfumed my senses. I felt dizzy with illness. Something hard pressed into my backside. "Not a sound you Slavic whore!"

He started ripping at my bodice with a knife and I swallowed back tears, oh God this was really happening. There was nothing I could do about it and no one would care. I attempted still, to wriggle myself free as he pushed up my skirt and he slapped me in the face so hard I tasted blood as he tugged on my hair. "Oi! Stop that–Aye!"

His assault had come to stop when he was torn away from me, I gathered myself trying to hold together my torn bodice and sleeve and my hair that was now loose at my hips.

"My-my lord-"

At that I sharply turned around to face my rescuer. Jane stood beside a tall, slender nobleman. I noticed his handsome beauty as he had an opulent cane raised above my assailant who was now cowering on the floor. With his rags it made my rescuer look all the more every bit of title and income I am positive he has. His jawline is sharper than a knife, his chin and nose proud and his pretty, far set, gray eyes even wore a nasty haughty lidding. But there was disgust that colored his eyes. He wore a long, curly brown wig with the hats of style upon his head, adorn with ostrich feathers. "Are you so pathetic and hideous as well as oafish, so utterly incapable of being loved and I dare say–tolerated, that you feel like your only choice is to force yourself upon this tiny creature?" He laughed and didn't allow my attacker to speak, he waved his cane in the air and hit the drunkard in the nose. There was a sickening Crack and crimson poured like paint from his nose. "I assume you're from a beginning akin to fenced pigs, I assume it is common practice to take someone from behind and force miserable tiny cocks like yours there into any hole. Even if it's a hole in the fence, I daresay you don't care if it splinters your smelly foreskin as long as it's a hole any hole will do, I imagine that's how you got here. Your mother methinks was just any hole, a sweaty unappealing sow being forced into the mud by pungent boars. How many were there during your conception?" The lord sneered.

My mouth fell open in shock, my insides tickled in amusement, and I took dark delight in how thorough and detailed he insulted this man. Jane was having the time of her life laughing at the lord's cruel and entertaining words.

The lesser man had the audacity to look insulted and opened his mouth to answer, but the cruel and handsome lord didn't allow it. He took his cane and bashed the head into the rotten teeth of the pub crawler. His mouth overflowed with blood. The lord looked positively perturbed at the gory stain on his cane and with an irritated sigh, took out a pale green handkerchief to wipe it off. "I should cut your little porky cock off right now, it's far too small to be rendered useful. And even if your size was comparable to an adequate blade of pleasure and breeding, it'd still be without purpose for you haven't the slightest inkling how to use it." He grinned cruelly as his richly heel pressed down on the rapist's groin. The man wailed so boisterous in bloodcurdling pain that all who were present at the tavern had gathered around to watch the scene displayed.

It was perverse how people gawked and took great pleasure in watching violence. "It's quite pathetic with how incredibly old you are that you still can't use this little cheese knife correctly. If your ignorant inbred brain understood the meaning of consent, that'd be a start." He removed his plum velvet heel from the abused crotch.

It was finally the moment when my eyes met the stormy gray pair of my hero. Although taking in his slightly intoxicated eyes, his cruel tongue and where he was, I wondered if hero was the right word.

Mr. Pugh was outraged but at me, yelling at me about causing such trouble. He was ranting about how the only way to possibly recover from causing his establishment such reputation, which caused me to snort since its glorified brothel with a menu. The only way I could make up for it was to become a working girl. I opened my mouth to defend myself but my dark antihero had taken up for me once again.

"Mr. Pugh, you're so adamant about this woman using her beauty for a bit of coin one might easily imply that you yourself had arranged this…well whatever this was." The lord smirked but it lacked humor.

I had such delicious joy watching my employer fumble with his words as if English wasn't his first language. But I felt sick knowing the attempted thievery of my virtue was a plot, a means to an end. "Mm, well Miss…" His eyes focused on me, he almost looked curious.

He was asking me my name, I was flustered as I was in delay in answering. "Czerwonka, Marina Czerwonka. "

His perfectly arched brow rose. "Czerwonka, is that Polish?"

I nodded attempting to pull my tattered bodice back together.

To my surprise, the dark lord took off his velvet cape to wrap around me. "If you would prefer the employment of the spider who trapped you like a fly in his web, over being under my employment with very little play but a warm bed in the country. Then by all means stay behind." With that he turned to the door and kissed Jane's hand. "Another time Jane. "

She winked. "A pleasure as always Johnny. "

The lord she was so informal with left the room, I sputtered. "J-Jane, who was that?"

She grinned. "That's right, you're still so new…that was the infamous Lord John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester."

I had no idea what these English titles meant. "What is he infamous for?"

She grinned and bumped my hip with hers. "The worst things."

"Could you help me pack before his carriage leaves?"

"Thatta girl." Jane guided me to my room, and I couldn't stop thinking about Lord Rochesters ink stained fingers…

@sufferingstarlight @meetmyothersouls

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc #king hal #king henry v #hal x oc #henry v x reader #the king #john wilmot #jamie campbell imagine #jamie campbell bower

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

Text

Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Warnings: dacryphilia, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up babes), creampie, spit kink (for like two seconds), Reader being a brat

A/N: This has been a plot bunny that sat in my Google Docs while all my other works got attention. Did I really just write a 5+1? Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Clark Kent was a simple man, for the most part. He had preferences, sure. But he knew what he liked, and went for those things more often than not. One of his preferences was a certain kind of woman.

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

The perfect combination of submissive and strong-willed. What others may call bratty, Clark would call “a little feisty” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And that is where Clark was anything but simple. He was your Dominant, you were his submissive. He loved you, he provided for you, and he kept you safe. He kissed the ground you walked on, he broke you, and he put you back together.

The first time you met Clark Kent was in the break room of the Daily Planet.

You were an intern for the summer, just working to get some credits toward your journalism degree. You weren’t all that interested in going to warzones and reporting on drug lords and shit. You wanted to tell stories about starving artists and activism. You wanted to surprise people with your ability to capture the essence of someone’s emotion and relate it to the reader’s own experiences.

While doing your writing at work, while you were supposed to be doing whatever Lois Lane threw at you this morning, you decided to take a break to recharge. Since energy drinks gave you the jitters, you opted for a warm-ish mug of hours-old coffee.

As you reached up to the cabinet to get a mug, you watched as a hand appears above you to grab the handles of two mugs. You turned, following the hand, to see who reached over you. Eyes blue like the Atlantic Ocean behind a pair of plain black rectangular frames looked back at you. You can’t help but smile at him as he beamed, bright enough to illuminate your entire day.

And your writer’s brain was getting way ahead of itself already. Who the hell was this mountain of a man? I wonder what his lips taste like. Should that tie go with that shirt? Fuck, did he just ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted the black or the flower mug. I was gonna offer the flower. But I’d rather not assume you didn’t wanna just take the plain one. So, I’m gonna stop talking and let you answer.”

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

“Sunflowers are my favorite.” He offered the mug and your fingers touch and you’re glad that you are the only two in the break room.

“Clark,” he says, as he poured himself some coffee, “Clark Kent.”

You gave your name and he put out a hand to shake yours. With your hand in his, you notice how it engulfed your own. You thought to yourself about that hand around your throat. Just lightly squeezing the sides of your neck, as a warning.

“Nice to meet you. I hope Lois has been easy on you. She can be a little…much.” He said it in a way that lead you to believe he’s been on the demanding end of Lois more than once.

“Eh, she’s alright. I mean, Ms. Lane is just fine.” You tried to cover your disdain for Lois. In reality, you saw her as a ‘Pick-Me’, but you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure she is. I dated her, so I know her pretty well. Not that I should be saying anything. But, don’t let her try and get in your head. She’ll use whatever she can to get a scoop, whether in the field or the workplace. She’s a great journalist, but-” You cut him off, not wanting to take part in putting down another woman.

“I think I get the hint. Watch my back around her.” You assure him you understood as you poured your coffee and put in some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back. That was rude of me. My mother would be disappointed in me for that.” He looked into his mug, and you saw that he was not proud of himself for putting down his ex.

“It’s all good, Clark. I can tell you didn’t mean anything by it. Emotions are tricky, ya know?” You don’t know why you wanted to give him an ‘out’, but you did.

“That, they are. I better get back. See ya around,” He gave a cute little wave and exited the room.

The first time Clark Kent called you Sunflower happened about a month after your first meeting.

The two of you ended up together on a test run for Perry to see how you go about working with other reporters. He probably just wanted to see if I could share a byline.

You could tell that Lois saw a tenacity in you that reminded her of her younger self. While that was great, you wanted to be seen for your ability to get people to talk to you without making them feel like they were in an interview. Just a conversation between people.

When you asked Clark to work on the assignment with you, he jumped at the opportunity. In truth, he wanted the chance to see you at work. He’d listen to Lois talk about how you just saw things differently. Almost like she was jealous, but she would never admit to that.

“So I was thinking we could go to Gotham. Before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous there but we’ll be going during the day. And I finally got the go-ahead from Wayne Enterprises to shadow one of their board members. A Day in the Life kind of piece. What do you think?” You rambled out, arms crossed as you leaned against Clark’s desk.

“I think I can get you an exclusive with Bruce Wayne if you wanted.” He stated nonchalantly.

“I would owe you big time. Wait, how the hell do you know Wayne? What, were you boy scouts together or something?”

“We just end up at a lot of the same places.” Clark offers no other explanation.

“Right,” you nodded at him, not letting it go, “So, I run point on this and you back me up?”

“Sounds perfect. You’ll do great, just know he will try and flirt with you so don’t make it easy for him, Sunflower.” The nickname caused heat to rise to your face, remembering that first time you met him.

“Sure, like the most eligible bachelor in Gotham who can buy whatever he wanted would look at me twice?” You weren’t being down on yourself too much, more like you were being realistic. The man had dated supermodels and heiresses, not chubby junior reporters.

“Without sounding unprofessional, trust me when I say Bruce will look at you more than twice. You say the word and I’ll set him straight.” Was that flirtatious? No way.

“Um, if you say so, Clark,” you tried to laugh it off and walk away but Clark caught your wrist, your eyes locked with his and you felt…something.

“I do say so, Sunflower,” he lowered his hand from around your wrist, “Just prepare to shut him down more than once. He’s, uh, persistent.”

“You trying to save me for yourself, huh?” You couldn’t help yourself. If he denies it, you could say you were joking. If he confirms it, then…

He simply smiled and tilted his head, neither confirming nor denying.

During your interview with Bruce Wayne, you were surprised that he indeed did flirt with you as Clark said he would. You managed to steer the conversation back to Wanye Enterprises each time he would stray to learn more about you. You would give him a detail here and a tidbit there, but you kept it professional. Clark was there to take notes, letting you take the lead. He was impressed by you. You kept Bruce flirting with you to get him to spill details about new things he was working on for Gotham.

The first time you kissed Clark Kent was three months into your internship.

Lois had taken a shine to you, loving what few pieces you were able to get past the intern pool and into an issue. You figured it would be in your best interest to go to her with any journalistic questions you had. You may not like her very much, but she was still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and you would be an idiot not to take a few pointers from her.

There was one thing you didn’t talk to her about, and that was the massive crush you had on her ex. It just seemed too messy, and honestly, you didn’t need her permission to do anything.

That’s why you accepted Clark’s invitation to make you dinner. Frankly, you weren't surprised he asked you. You had been flirting with each other, exchanging glances and smiles across the office. Spending hours a night talking on the phone and texting back and forth naturally lead you here.

Armed with a bottle of wine and all the courage you could muster, you make it to Clark’s apartment just as he is finishing dinner. He answers the door in jeans and a grey long-sleeved henley, looking so comfortable and so different without a tie on. He thanked you for the wine, took your wrist to pull you behind him, and shut the door with a socked foot.

Pouring you both a glass, he congratulated you for completing half of your internship. It completely slipped your mind that you had reached this milestone, but he remembered. And that was saying a lot. You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of the pinot noir.

“This is going to go great with dinner. Thank you again for picking up some. I can’t believe I forgot to,” Clark bantered, setting his wine glass down to check on the pork tenderloin and roasted potatoes.

“You were too busy trying to impress me,” You insisted, smiling when he gives you a stern look.

“Watch it, Sunflower,” is all you hear and you shifted from one foot to the other to hide your search for friction. You barely had two sips of wine in your system before this man had you feeling drunk.

“Time to let the pork rest while the potatoes finish up. Should be done in a bit,” Clark picked up his wine glass, settling his other hand on your lower back to guide you to the island counter. He didn’t expect it when a shiver ran up your spine and caused you to giggle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

You sat and chatted during dinner like you’ve known each other for ages and it just felt very comfortable. He told you about his mom, growing up in Smallville, and how he came to work at the Daily Planet. You spoke about your schooling and how you’d one day like to write for the Planet and publish a book of short stories. He was stuck on your every word and it made you feel important to have his undivided attention.

After dinner, you retired to the living room to watch some tv. It was more just on as background noise as you conversed with each other. When you both reached for the wine bottle at the same, you both laugh and then look at each other. And it was all you could do not to melt into a puddle as those blue eyes stare longingly at you.

Clark reached up and took off his glasses before tossing them on the coffee table. Fuck. But, he does nothing more. For what seems like minutes, you sat in silence just staring into each other’s eyes until you speak up.

“Clark, please?” You whined, growing more frustrated with every second.

“Use your words. Tell me what you need, Sunflower.” The way he said it had you shifting in your seat.

“I need you to kiss me, please?” You pleaded, the little crack in your voice not missed by Clark.

He cupped your face with one large paw, his touch so soft that you leaned into it to feel his warmth. His thumb moved over to wipe across your lips, followed swiftly by his lips.

Your lips met and you felt the warmth radiating from him. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue as he begged for entry. You let him in, moaning into his mouth. Clark grunted in return and pulled away to rest your foreheads together.

“I have wanted that for far too long, Sunflower,” Clark groaned, licking his lips.

“Me too,” you whisper, scooting closer to Clark to lace your fingers together, “Can we do it again?”

Instead of answering you, he pulled you into his lap and attacked your mouth with fervor.

The first time you tell Clark Kent you love him is exactly two months after your first kiss.

It was completely by accident, but no less true.

Clark invited you over for dinner and a movie. The two of you were in the middle of watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Patrick was dancing on the bleachers and singing to Kat. The most romantic scene in the movie apart from the poetry scene.

“Ya know, if we went to high school together and you sang ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to me in front of the whole school, I would have melted,” you say, stuffing popcorn into your face, “But then, I already love you, so you wouldn’t have to do the whole singing thing.”

Clark’s head whipped around so fast that you can feel the wind coming off of him. “What did you just say, Sunflower?”

You look to Clark and you realized what you had said at the same moment and your eyes went wide. “I think I just confessed love during a ‘90s romcom.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” Clark looked at you with that look in his eyes, “Good thing I love you, too.” He says nonchalantly, trying to not freak you out, and went back to watching the movie.

“Clark, I love you.” You wanted to feel the words on your tongue again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” Hearing the words come from him was like a cozy embrace that coated the night in warmth.

The first time you had sex with Clark Kent was at the end of your internship.

Clark wanted to wait-

No, he didn’t want to wait, but he chose to wait until your internship was over and you were offered an actual job at the Daily Planet to not seem like he was cruising for tail in the intern pool.

Little did you know, but Clark had it all planned out. Candlelit dinner, romantic music, wine, and chocolates. The whole nine yards. But you didn’t get to experience that version of lovemaking.

At the same time Clark was lighting candles, he heard your heartbeat spike across town. He sped away to your location, without putting on his suit. He flew above the city before he found you being held up at gunpoint in an alleyway and his blood boiled. He watched you comply with your attacker and hand over your purse before flying down behind the man quietly. The man had no idea what hit him when Clark flicked his temple and the assailant falls over unconscious.

He didn’t even think to keep his identity secret anymore. He steps over the man to get to you and check you over for injuries, both external and internal. When he sees nothing, he questions you, “Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You look almost through him because there he is in a sweater and dark-wash jeans, glasses slightly askew. You step back an inch as he reaches out to you. He can see it in your eyes that you are piecing together little moments.

How he got across town in what seemed like seconds. How he never got sick. How it felt like he was always hiding something. This is what he was hiding from you. For your safety? For his?

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you I was Superman, I just didn’t know how. Do you forgive me, Sunflower?” Clark’s pleading ultramarine eyes burned into yours.

“I mean, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell me. I have so many questions. Of which, you will answer all of them, Clark. But, all I need to know right now is how the hell you found me?” Your breathing was starting to speed up again and you tried to calm down but given the circumstances, you were acting pretty normal.

“I kind of, know your heartbeat. I can hear it at all times. Wherever you are, I can hear you,” Clark makes an odd face and then forces out an embarrassed laugh, “Now that I say that out loud, it sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. But it’s also super romantic, too,” you reach to Clark and pull him to you, “What’s my heart sound like now?”

“Sounds like you’re excited,” he let his hand drag down your body, “Smells like it too. Now, why would that be?”

“I mean, I did just find out my boyfriend is a superhero. That’s sorta hot. Sorta, I mean, he hasn’t taken me flying yet.”

“Brat! How hard is it to ask for what you want?” He picked up your purse from the unconscious attacker and handed it to you. When it is secured around your shoulder, Clark picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, Sunflower.” He took off so fast that the world blurred around you.

As he got closer to his apartment, he slowed down and flew a bit higher near the clouds. He rolled over onto his back so that you are straddling him. His hands found each other behind his head as he floated above Metropolis, all attention directed at you. Your eyes wandered around the city as you adjusted your seating which stirred his arousal.

Clark tried to adjust himself under you without you noticing but instead, you took the opportunity to grind your clothed sexes together. The groan that escaped Clark’s mouth is enough to spur you on to continue your ministrations. His eyes are already rolling back in his head and you feel quite proud of yourself. You reached under Clark’s sweater and ran your fingers through his chest hair as you continue to work your hips over him.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Sunflower?” He opened his eyes, pupils were blown wide with lust, breathing becoming unstable.

“Take me to your place so we can get more comfortable?” You flirted with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying up his body.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed under your thighs to have you wrap your legs around him once more and began to descend to the balcony of his apartment. He let you inside first but is quickly behind you following you into his bedroom as you start to shed your layers.

You spun around and gave Clark a show of your skin becoming visible in the moonlight. When you are fully undressed, you knelt in front of him with your head down and your hands on your thighs.

He walked over to you and kissed the top of your head. He listened for your heartbeat, and it was steady, if not a little heightened. You were awaiting instruction, as far as he could tell.

“Sunflower, I want you to pick a safe word.” He stood behind you and undressed down to his underwear.

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

“Good girl,” Clark caressed your shoulders and squeezed them, “Are you okay with calling me Sir?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your heart rate evened out, Clark noticed. You’re happy. He beamed down at you.

“Good girl, now turn around and take out Sir’s dick.”

You turned around and reach up to Clark’s boxer briefs, cupping him over the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband and pulling the underwear down and off. His length sprung up to bounce in front of your face and you lick your lips in anticipation but don’t go any further without direction.

“Such a good girl, Sunflower,” he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Come lay down so Sir can taste you. I can already smell how wet you are.”

You took his hands as he helped you up. Clark pulled you close to his body, your back against his chest. He attacked your neck, nipping and sucking marks that would show in the morning. His length on your hip has you testing your limits.

As if reading your mind, Clark reached down and cupped your netherlips. You instinctively clamped your thighs around his hand and he used a foot to kick your legs apart. With one hand exploring your cunt, the other slides around your throat as a warning.

“Don’t ever block me from my pussy, Sunflower. This belongs to Sir now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it belongs to you.” You were sure Clark could feel you clench around nothing and you didn’t care. You wanted him to know he was doing everything right.

“Good girl,” He dipped a finger into your wetness and pulled it back out to wipe across your bottom lip, “We’re both gonna taste your sweet honey.” He used the hand around your throat to turn you around so he could claim your lips.

You tasted yourself as his tongue invaded you, whimpering into his mouth. His answering groans had you trembling. He walked you backward until your legs hit the edge and he pushed you down. Leaning over, he knelt and pushed your thighs back as far as they would go, marveling at your glistening slit.

With the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your neglected nub, pausing to suck on it lightly. He ate with the hunger of a man starved. He steeled his tongue, probing your core and tasting you from within. He made out with your pussy, pulling back to spit on it which drew moans from you and had you squeezing your breasts in response.

Clark was good at this, not that you were surprised because of how good of a kisser he was, but fuck! The way he fingered your pussy, making sure to curve his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside was heavenly.

When he sped up his fingers and pushed down on your lower stomach, you gasped and realized he understood the assignment. He was rewarded with you squirting over his hands and chest.

“Such a good girl for me, Sunflower,” he said, before sucking your juices off of his fingers and moving your limp body up the bed, “Now, you’re going to be an extra good girl and take Sir’s dick.”

That was all the warning you received before Clark was pushing in, stretching you wide over his thick hardness. With every inch, he would pull out and press in an inch more than the last thrust. He made sure to stretch you slowly, keeping your tightness while allowing you to get used to his girth.

“That’s right, Sunflower, open those sweet petals for Sir,” Clark soothes your whines as he fucks into you, “I promise I’ll make it all better when you let me all…the way…in.” He punctuated his words with jolts from his hips.

When he is finally seated inside you, he pauses. The sudden stop has you reaching for Clark and moving your hips to gain friction.

“Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” he leaned over you and watched as tears flow from your eyes, “These tears are gorgeous, but use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Sir, please,” you whined, looking into his eyes, “Need you to fuck me, please.”

The smile on Clark’s face is brilliant, he’s got you right where he wants you. He kissed your face, stopping to wipe away your tears with his tongue. Pulling back, he secured your legs around his hips before he leaned down to wrap one hand around both of your wrists, holding them above your head.

When Clark fucked you, he paid attention to every aspect of your body. He looked into your eyes. He kissed and nipped at your neck. He pinched and teased your nipples. He rubbed your clit while he pounded inside you.

Clark just did it better than any of your partners before. Maybe because you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him? Or maybe because he was just…better. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him and he was inside you and you were all his.

You lost track of how many times you came, but Clark remembers every time. He committed them to memory, seeing you arch your back and feeling your walls flutter around him. He could tell by the sheen of sweat on your body and the way your body is vibrating that you were beyond spent. Possibly even a bit overstimulated. Perfect.

“You ready for my cum, Sunflower?” He licked his thumb and pressed on your clit as you keen, “Do you think you can hold on for me for just a bit longer?”

“Yes, Sir,” you moan as he slid his hands to your hips.

“There’s my good girl,” he groaned and began his assault on your pussy. At this angle, he can stimulate both your hooded center and your G-spot. A punishing pace that set you ablaze. While you held onto his biceps, you looked into his eyes. Where there used to be blue irises, only dark pupils remained. His curly hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead. He was barely a man now, more like an animal rutting into you.

Before long, his hips stutter in their onslaught. Breathing erratically, he squeezed your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. He moved to kiss your neck and latched onto your shoulder with his teeth as you feel every twitch of him releasing inside you. You know there will be bite marks in your shoulder for days but you don’t care.

Clark’s teeth left you, followed closely by his tongue soothing your almost-broken skin. Sometimes, he didn’t know his strength. And it was a close one this time. He was still inside you semi-hard before he decided to pull out slowly causing you to whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He moved from the bed for a moment. You closed your eyes for a millisecond before you feel warm wetness between your legs.

“Just cleaning you up, Sunflower,” He wipes your delicate folds softly and throws the towel in the clothes hamper before crawling in bed beside you, “You go right to sleep, you deserve it.”

The last time you refer to yourself as Clark’s girlfriend is a year and a half into your relationship.

Clark proposes to you over dinner in the house you bought together. He bought the ring after you talked about marriage just two weeks ago. Well, technically, Bruce helped him buy the ring. As in, Bruce bought the jewelers store and had them design the perfect ring for you.

A smoky quartz center with marquise and pear-shaped citrine petals around it. You had mentioned more than once that you didn’t want a diamond engagement ring, you wanted something that matched your style.

Clark presented the ring to you on one knee, ever the traditionalist. You said yes, of course.

This man was your life, your hope, and your future. You looked forward to every minute of every hour of every day with him.

He is your light in the darkness, and you are his Sunflower.

A/N: Yes, the title is from "Sunflower" by Post Malone/Swae Lee. Yes, the song was for a Spider-Man movie. So, what? It's a good song.

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witcher-and-henry-cavill-stuff · 6 months

Text

A Father's Tender Dilemma

You watched as Henry cradled your son, baby Hugo, in his strong arms. The room was filled with the sounds of Hugo's fussing and cries, indicating his hunger. It was clear that he wanted his mother for some comforting and, most importantly, milk. But Henry seemed reluctant to let go of his turn with the little munchkin.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of Henry holding Hugo so tenderly. It was heartwarming to see him fully embrace fatherhood, cherishing every moment with your son. But as Hugo's cries grew louder and more desperate, you knew it was time for him to be in your arms.

You approached Henry, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Darling, I think Hugo needs his mummy now," you said softly, trying to convey the urgency in your voice.

Henry looked down at Hugo, his expression torn. He adored his son, and it was evident in the way he held him with such care. But he also understood that Hugo needed your nurturing presence, especially when it came to feeding him.

"I know, love," Henry replied, his voice filled with both reluctance and love. "But I just wanted a little bit more time with him. He's growing up so fast, and I don't want to miss a single moment."

You understood his sentiment, but you also knew that Hugo's needs had to come first. "I completely understand, Henry, and I love how much you adore him. But he's hungry and needs milk. We can always have more moments together as a family, but right now, he needs you to pass him to me."

Henry sighed, his reluctance fading as he saw the determination in your eyes. He gently cradled Hugo against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head before carefully passing him over to you.

As soon as you took Hugo into your arms, he snuggled against you, his cries gradually subsiding. You settled into a comfortable chair and began to nurse him, providing him with the nourishment he sought.

Henry watched the two of you, a mix of adoration and relief crossing his face. Seeing you provide for Hugo's needs filled him with immense gratitude for your presence in their lives.

He approached you, crouching down to place a gentle kiss on your temple. "Thank you, love," he whispered. "You're an incredible mother, and I'm grateful for you every day."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words. "And you're an amazing father, Henry. Our son is lucky to have you."

Together, you created a loving and nurturing environment for your son, ensuring that both of you had your special moments with him. As the family grew and bonded, you knew that the love between you, Henry, and Hugo would only strengthen, creating a beautiful foundation for the years to come.

#henry cavill x reader #x reader #henry cavill one shot #one shot #family time #baby V #Cavill #fluf #cute #sweet

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cassie48 · 1 month

Text

|𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦|

King hal / Henry V x fem lady!reader

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𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘏𝘦'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬.

𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘹. 𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘴 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘵. 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲.

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤" 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

"𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦" 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘷𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯.

"𝘉-𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦" 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝘌𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘏𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢��𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

#henry v x reader #prince hal x reader #the king netflix #timothee chalamet x reader #prince hal #timothée chalamet #king hal #timmy chalamet #paul atreides #dune part two

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smolvenger · 4 months

Text

The Prince of Wales (Henry V x fem! Reader)

Summary: You have your first baby as Henry V's wife and queen a boy. You are relieved to finally provide him a male heir. But he is happy that you now have a baby together.

Word Count: 2575 words

Warnings: more realistic discussions and depictions of childbirth and post-birth body stuff, one part gets steamy but not really detailed smut- it's Diet Smut kinda. But LOTS of fluff.

A/N: From @herdetectivetheorist's request of First Baby with a touch of spice with Henry V. Thanks for requesting! I convienntly had a draft already ready for months that I procrastinated on, but you motivated me to finish it!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“It’s a boy!” the midwife announced.

You heard his cry ringing through your ears. His cry. Your sons cry. His first breath, his first sound. The relief of your body from the pain of delivery washing over.

Up the midwife brought the tiny baby. Now you knew the sex- a boy. This was the baby that grew in you for so long finally brought out.

The ladies in waiting who held your hand on the birthing stool let out small laughter of relief like bells. So did you, a smile on your face. You waited until the afterbirth came out of you (pouring out very quickly and painlessly compared to the baby!). When it fell to the bucket they got rid of it.

You were far more interested in the crying bundle they had wrapped in a blanket. Emotions washing over you. You heard his high-pitched, bright cry ringing through the walls of your bedchamber.

“At long last, we have an heir! A prince of Wales” cried one lady in waiting.

I’ve done it. I’ve done my duty, you thought. My position in court is secure- wife of the current king and mother to the new one. The respect and laudation that would be doubled onto you, and how none would doubt you as queen.

Your own mother was there to hold your hand through this. She let go, but she had tears in her eyes. Then she kissed your head.

“I’m proud of you. You bore the pain with strength, like every woman before you. So proud of you, my dear.”

She looked down, smiling at the grandson.

You were led to lie down in the bed. Though there was chatter all around you as you looked into that little face, holding the tiny, new prince.

“Oh, to think! England now has an heir!”

“Hurry, we must Go tell the king.”

The lady in waiting scurried out, smiling wide.

Finally, the midwife handed him to you.

“Here, your grace-here he is,”

You took him in your arms. All warm in his white blanket. The little face you had longed to see for almost a year.

How small he was. He didn’t feel small when he was growing in your belly. And he definitely didn’t feel small when you had to push him out! He cried a bit more, and then he stopped. He was placed in your arms, to feel close to you. Close to his mother.

Mother, mother, mother- you. Yes, you were a mother!

The others gathered around you. Some took turns to hold him. God Willing, if this child lived to adulthood, he would be their sovereign. But right now he was no longer than anyone’s arm and cute enough to cause giggling. Yes, he was already a handsome baby. Not every baby was pretty after they were delivered right out of the womb. That must be his father in him!

It was not long before you heard footsteps outside the room. A servant hurried in with an announcement.

“His majesty, the king.

He hurried in. Dear, darling Henry. King, husband, and lover. You looked up to him with a few of the male attendants of court. Everyone at once dipped into curtsies and bows. Though, lying down with a tiny, cooing baby in your arms, you could only bow your head.

Henry hurried up to you with wide blue eyes.

“How are you, sweetling? I couldn’t stand to hear your cries of pain- my men had to pull me away from your chambers and force me outside where I couldn’t hear you. If only you knew how much I worried!” he cupped your cheek tenderly.

“It is done now. And I’m fine, my lord.”

“The queen is a strong woman, she will recover in time, I am certain,” assured the midwife.

Henry turned back to you as if you three were the only ones in the world. Henry leaned down to sit on the bed, his voice soft.

“Your confinement felt like my beloved wife was sent to the other end of the world…and here she is back again. And I thank God she is safe,” he said. He boldly pecked your forehead in the presence of all.

“I am fine, we both are” you said, looking down at the baby.

He then looked down. Noting the infant- you could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“Here is your heir, Henry…” you offered.

Gently, very gently, Henry looked at his son for the first time. Your husband’s face froze, his mouth falling a little. Then there was a coo and you saw a tiny hand reach out from the swaddled bundle. He broke into a smile. A shaking hand of his went out and brushed the baby’s tiny finger.

A male attendant stepped forward.

“The name of the child?” he asked.

Henry looked up at them.

“We agreed to follow the tradition of the first child being named after the parent of the same sex. He is Henry the Sixth. He will have the name of his father but be taught to respect his mother. He will one day, God Willing, live to be crowned king of England.”

Everyone applauded. Ten minutes later, as if on cue, there were bells. Bells ringing from the chapel. Soon it would be down to every town in England once it was announced- there was a Prince of Wales at last. The baby delivered alive and healthy who was the long-awaited son.

. Exhaustion washed over you after all of that, moving only out of the bed to sit on your favorite chair. But after months away, Henry stood by you like a puppy.

“I would like to eat dinner with the queen tonight…” he told his attendants.

They all looked at him with big eyes. They all knew that the king in the evening asking to dine with the queen was a code for asking for sex.

One servant went up to him blushing.

“My lord- you know what the physician and midwives would say. It is far too early from the birth to perform your marital duties to her…”

“No! I only wish to…to…be with her…”

You accepted his presence smiling.

“He is welcome,” you told the servant.

Henry turned to his servants as they bustled around. The baby would have his own special nursery- a golden room with a golden cradle

“For that, you must be grateful, your graces. Every parent is kept awake all night listening to their baby’s wailing. It shall save your majesties several winks of sleep. Do not fret- a servant will be here all night to rock his grace, the prince of Wales, in his cradle when he cries.”

His grace…such a grand title for such a little thing!

Food was brought to both of you on silver plates. Though you moved it to your laps, sitting on the rug before a blazing fire as if it was Christmas.

“How are you, my dear?” he asked.

“Well…only tired…” you answered.

“As am I, my lady, I’m exhausted…never more exhausted in my life.”

“My lord, you weren’t the one who pushed him out of yourself today!”

He let out a laugh and so did you.

“Well…I did miss you in your confinement…I miss you in my bed- even when you grab all the blankets and pull them to yourself in the middle of winter for me to freeze, my lady!”

“My lord, you snore like a dog.”

You gave him a light, playful kick and he smiled, more laughter coming out.

“If I may be honest, Henry…if I count on my fingers of the exact time, I believe our son was conceived on…on…on my name day feast,” you admitted.

You saw Henry blush.

To honor your own name day, a great banquet and ball was thrown in your honor. Though you and Henry had little moments. His hand bruising against your leg as you both sat. With growing heat, he crawled up to touch your leg beneath your dress as you both sat and ate. How he would lay gentle kisses right on your neck where you stood. How he looked into your eyes when you had to dance.

You both could not take it. So as one great dance began, you went into the next room of his study. Kissing furiously. Soon enough, he held you up to be on the wall of a private stone hallway, he was strong enough to hold you to where your eyes could meet his. You began lifting your fine skirt to your hips. Shaking, he removed his trousers. With grunts, he desperately took you on the hallway wall of the castle. Your legs wrapped around him, both of your clothes still on. Glad the music and crowd were loud enough that your cries of bliss into oblivion there. Readjusting yourselves after to meet them, only secret smiles shared between you two.

One month later, exactly to the day of the feast, your courses didn’t arrive.

In the present, you saw that even his neck was turning red with the memory.

“You gave me quite a birthday gift!” you teased him.

But you only laughed and showed him with kisses on his warm skin.

Once the plates were set aside and he was dressed down to his shift as you had been in all day. He got into bed. Then you nervously gripped the blankets.

“My lord, I must tell you…I’ve been…bleeding…”

“Bleeding?!”

“The midwife and my mother tell me it’s natural. Many women do so after they give birth. It’s like my courses but…heavy…they gave me so many rags…but…you won’t mind- will you?! It might disturb you- the blood!”

“I promise you- I will swallow the discomfort…I only want to hold you and sleep beside you- bleeding and whole and mine again to cherish,” he said.

You nestled into it. He wrapped his arms around you. And you turned to him. He kissed the side of your head. With the crackling fire, he was asleep and snoring again in minutes.

It was true what they said. Not even royalty was immune. After birth, the father always falls asleep first.

And not long after, you were settled asleep too.

It was the middle of the night. Deep late. Henry woke up to feel you thrashing around, such as in a bad dream. Then you jolted up. You looked around, feeling the blankets. Henry turned awake.

“Hal! Hal! Where’s Hal?!” you cried.

“I’m here, Sweeting- I’m right here!” he said. He sat up and held your arms still.

“No- I meant our baby! Hal! Little Hal! Where is he?! Where is the baby?! Where is our son?” you cried.

Part of him was touched. Hal was a sensitive nickname- one from his tavern days. The ones thieves would call him. Now here…it was only a baby’s name. A way to distinguish him (for there were many, many Henrys in England).

“Shh, it’s alright, my love- he’s in his nursery! With the wetnurse and servant!”

You hung onto him and he rubbed your back to soothe you.

“I…had a bad dream. Little Hal was taken from me. He kept wailing but his kidnapper took him further than I could reach and I…I couldn’t get him back…” you felt yourself tear up.

“Here…then we’ll go visit him,” Henry offered.

The servants were all surprised to see the royal couple out and about in the middle of the night in the halls. You hurried forward, picking up your skirts to increase your pace.

The guards opened the doors at once for you, your husband right behind you. Sure enough- there was the servant at the cradle. He already looked bleary-eyed from his miserable new job. The nursemaid sat on a chair readjusting her shawl. The servant rocked the cradle as the new infant sobbed.

“Your-your highnesses!” he cried as they both bowed down.

“How is he?!! Hal!? The baby?!” you cried.

“He’s just been fed-suckled quite a lot, hungry little thing. But he’s still crying,” the wetnurse explained.

The servant went back, gently rocking it absent-mindedly.

“Could I…I hold him?” you asked.

“Your grace, are you sure?” asked the wetnurse

“I am sure! Please!” you begged.

They brought him up. Though he had a mighty cry, they handed him to you. You sat down, Henry just near him.

“It’s alright…it’s going to be fine, your mother’s here…shhh…” you cooed little Hal.

You nestled him next to your heartbeat. Sure enough, the small baby settled. He relaxed into your touch.

“Well, it seemed he just wanted her majesty…” commented the wetnurse.

“I want to forget about being a majesty…I want to be a mother…” you said.”I want to…enjoy just..just holding him, as any mother does…”

He nestled in, very warm. Clean from how they washed him. His little head with skin so similar to yours.

You smiled up at Henry.

“He’s beautiful, the most beautiful child I’ve ever seen…” you said.

“I see so much of his mother in him already…Y/N…”

Henry’s voice softened.

“I never…held a baby before…could I…I hold him? Could you show me how?”

You nodded. Henry went to sit down. You handed him Little Hal.

“Here…nestle him on your arm- as long as you support his head. Or use two hands. One hand on his head, and the other on his rump- like that…”

He kept a hand under the head and the other beneath the baby’s bum. Henry utterly melted looking at the child. The baby settled perfectly calm. Henry blinked, he looked down. The baby began to coo. You even saw a few tears fall from your husbands eyes.

“He’s…he’s…I never thought I could feel such…such…such love for something like him…”

Another cracked coo came from Little Hal and he wriggled. Arms trying to get out of the swaddling.

“Fie! Already a day old and he’s moving so much!” Henry commented.

You let out a small laugh.

“Hello Hal…” he whispered, his voice light. “Did you know I’m your father…I have been worried about you and your mother ever since we learned that you were on your way. But you were worth every bit of trouble. You are our gift from heaven above…I love you so much, my little wag,” he whispered.

He gace him a kiss on the forehead. You touched his arm.

“My father…before he passed, when I was very small, I wandered to his room at night, crying and asking for him…” Henry revealed. “When I awoke from nightmares or was scared of the dark, he would rock me and sing…”

He began to sing to the baby softly as he held him. You felt your heart burst.

“Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.”

The servants blushed and flitted their eyes down. Seeing the king and queen at such a private, intimate moment. But you ignored them. You went down to sit beside Henry. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and he turned to you with the sweetest, most loving look you had ever seen on him.

“Henry…I have done it…we have done it, we have an heir…” you mused.

He looked at you. A smile and beaming blue eyes.

“Not just an heir, my love…We have a child.”

#henry v #henry v x reader #henry v x fem! reader #henry v imagine #hollow crown imagine #henry v fanfiction #tom hiddleston #carrie writes #fanfiction #hollow crown henry v #shakespeare #henry v fanfic #tom hiddleston characters #hiddlesverse #tom hiddleston fluff #hiddles

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gulnarsultan · 1 month

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Can you do Yandere King Henry V (From Tge King) courting Reader then making her his Mistress,

" Scenario "

King Henry (v) was the dream man of many women. He was handsome, intelligent, and had a wonderful gift of conversation. You came from an influential family. You came to the palace to look for a groom candidate who would be useful to your family. But fate had other plans. Henry was never a man who believed in love, and especially in love at first sight. However, from the moment he saw you, his heart and mind began to be consumed by you. He was married by duty. But that didn't mean he couldn't have you. After all, it wasn't the first time that a man had several mistresses. He learned a lot of information about you in a short time. It wasn't hard to find an excuse to meet you. In a short time, the courtship period that even you did not know when it started began. Soon after the courtship, Henry had made you his mistress. From now on, you are Henry forever.

#the king 2019 #yandere the king #yandere the king x reader #yandere king henry v #yandere king henry v x reader #yandere historical characters #yandere king #yandere male

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witchywomanrunningupthathill · 2 years

Text

Burn the Witch - The King (2019)

Pairing: Hal/Henry V x Female!OC

Word count: 2k

Warnings: None

Blurb: Okay so this one has been spinning around in my head for a while, and now it’s finally on the page! For the sake of creativity, we’re just gonna embellish history a little and replace Catherine of Valois with the reader as queen, Gascoigne as a traitor, and a few other nobility tings. Not quite sure how I feel about this one, but it was more of a rust-buster than anything else.

After Agincourt, Hal took a peculiar liking to the palace gardens. The space itself was tranquil and provided a brief respite from the demands of court, from being King Henry V. He paces steadily through the greenery, past grandiose shrubs and plots of lilies and roses, then rounds a corner as the familiar words of the Hail Mary are uttered by a dulcet-toned voice.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…”

Hal stops and takes in the view of the woman who remains unaware of his presence before her. A demure vision sat in one of the garden’s alcoves. She wears her long hair down, pieces of it falling at the front of her bowed head. Her feet are crossed under her and she clutches a rosary in her hands, constantly running the final bead in between her thumb and index finger. His Queen of England.

“…Now, and at the hour of our death.”

She finishes the prayer with the sign of the cross.

“If I do recall, I am quite certain that I ordered your ladies-in-waiting to follow you around the palace.”

She gasps, eyes snapping open and dropping the hand that was suspended in front of her shoulder just a moment ago.

“Your Majesty—”

She stops fiddling with the rosary in her lap. Hal looks around at the landscape for a moment before he begins pacing around the woman.

“You gave me a fright,” she starts.

“I, too, enjoy walking these gardens,” Hal offers.

“They remind me of my home.”

“Which?”

“Bath.”

“Hm,” he retorts pensively. “You do not miss Agincourt?”

“It served its purposes, but I am afraid I did not form any attachment to it…”

He’s been easy on her. It’s no easy feat to be a spoil of war, a political transaction – to be married off to a stranger, come to a new place, and make a life with a king. At the same time, though, France had been her birthplace and her place of residence for only three years of her life, while England had been her home for twelve years. She knew Somerset like the back of her hand, having grown up living with the Hungerford family. In fact, the young man she thought of as a brother, Sir Walter Hungerford, had fought alongside the man she now calls her king.

“It is a bit strange – not being from here nor there,” Hal posits.

“In some ways, I suppose…” she says. Hal nods and stops once more in front of her. “But I have brought a piece of my life in Bath with me.”

“Your chambermaids?”

“Not only my chambermaids, Your Majesty. My cards – le tarot.” Henry offers a look of both confusion and interest.

“Will you show me?”

She nods and Henry holds out his hand to help her up from the stone bench.

The queen leads Hal up a large flight of stairs and down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor lies a dark passageway with a narrow, stone spiral staircase, its steps worn from the many footsteps taken over the centuries. At the top of the stairs, she lets Hal pass in front of her through the doorway and into a chamber lit with sunlight.

Hal looks around. He hasn’t been in here before, not as a child and certainly not while he traipsed around Eastcheap. It’s small, cozy. A large Persian rug sits at the center. There’s an open book laid on top of it. A chair is pushed into one corner, clearly out of commission. There’s a long mahogany table running along the back wall, with quite the assortment of flowers and other, more leafy plants laid atop it. Along with the plants are many candles. Bound books sit along a wall.

“This is where I usually come to do my practice.”

“It is beautiful.”

She steps over to the table, running her fingers along the leaves of a basil plant, before reaching for the deck of tarot cards laying in a neat stack.

“What do you know about divination?”

“Erm…very little. It is magick, is it not?”

“In some ways, yes. It is used to determine the future. I mostly use it to pass the time, but I do believe there is some truth to it.” Hal chuckles, but it comes out more like a puff of air than a true laugh. The queen hands her king the tarot deck. “Hungerford gifted these to me when he returned from one of his trips to Italy,” she adds.

“Well, let us hope its magic is not black and unholy.” He examines the cards, flipping through the first few one-by-one. It’s a set of Visconti Sforza tarot cards, ornately decorated, cryptic, and mysterious.

“I could read for you, Your Majesty. If you would like.”

“You may speak plainly. Call me Henry. Or Hal. Whichever you prefer.”

Hal moves to sit at the table as the queen does the same. She holds out her hand expectantly. He hands the deck back to her.

“Now that the cards have your essence on them, we may begin. Draw three cards and lay them on the table.”

Hal follows her instruction. William Gascoigne, chief justice of England and advisor to the king, peeks through the door that was left ajar, eyebrows furrowed. He watches as Hal lays the second card down. The Queen reaches to flip it over. William gets a glimpse of the King of Pentacles card, his eyes widening slightly. He weighs staying and watching the king and queen as they divine or returning to the king’s other advisors. William stays put. Hal draws his final card and the queen turns it over, revealing an emaciated figure, not quite a skeleton and not quite flesh, riding atop a horse and carrying a long staff. William’s eyes go wide. What a cursed image! This cannot be the work of the Lord. No, this woman is cavorting with evil!

“Ah, Death,” the queen remarks. Hal silently sucks in a breath and glances quizzically at the card before shifting his eyes back to his wife. “Do not worry, it is hardly literal, Hal.” The king sighs, relieved.

William is now seeing red. He storms away from the chamber. His footsteps echo in the staircase vestibule, causing both the king and queen to turn their heads toward the noise coming from the open door.

“Is someone there?” Hal calls out. There’s no response, save the wind whistling through the trees outside the window.

“We may continue later if you have other obligations—”

“No, let us continue,” Hal urges, placing his hand on top of the queen’s.

A group of men sit around the king, all offering their advice and conjecture on what shall be the fate of France. Hal has his arms crossed, displeased with the orders masked as suggestions that his men offer. He looks over to John Falstaff who is also silent. Hal raises his eyebrows at the man. Falstaff returns the king’s look with little more than a smirk. He never liked council meetings anyway. As Hal starts speaking, the councilmen’s voices lull to silence.

“Perhaps we shall adjourn this meeting for the day, gentlemen.” Hal rises and his councilmen follow before exiting the chamber. William stays put, standing not too far from Hal. Falstaff is one of the last out of the door. Almost.

“Sir John,” Hal calls. Falstaff whips around. “I would like if you stayed back a moment.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” John obeys, offering a nod.

Hal turns his attention to William.

“William…Is there something you need?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. There is a matter I would like to bring up with you.” He pauses before moving his eyes over to Falstaff. “In private.”

“Anything you wish to say to me may be said in front of Sir John,” Hal challenges. William exhales loudly, perhaps gathering the courage to continue.

“I am afraid there may be…witches…among us.”

“There may be? That is a serious accusation, William.”

“And I concur.”

“What makes you say this?”

“Your Majesty…it is…our queen.”

“I would choose your next words wisely.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, Your Majesty. Just the other day, in her bedchamber – I was looking for you and assumed you may be there, but I was mistaken. She was there sitting with her ladies-in-waiting…sliding her hands across their palms.” He recalls the memory, the queen sits at a small round table holding one of the girls’ hands, examining it intently. “Voici ta ligne de coeur…et ici c’est…” she explains to them. “She read cards for the other girl. Telling her about her past, present, and future, ha!” William exclaims. “It must have been those girls who started this and pulled your dear queen into their witchcraft!”

“That is enough.”

“You must do something about this, Your Majesty! With your permission, I could speak to the archbishop on your behalf—”

“That won’t be necessary. I will confer with the archbishop myself. You may leave now.”

“But this is a most urgent matter! Your Majesty, I would not advise seeking…erm…wisdom through these means. Your Highness, this is the work of the devil!”

Falstaff lets out a large yawn, drawing it out comically. He cannot have William outdoing him for dramatics, can he?

“And what would you advise, William? Shall we stroll to the chapel, peruse the Scriptures for a while?” Hal suggests ironically.

“She has gotten to you too—used her sorcery on you. How dare she compromise a king in such a way! Burn the witch!”

“Enough!” Hal shouts as he bangs his fist on the wooden council table. William flinches at the king’s exclamation, but rage and desperation burn behind his eyes. Falstaff stares at Hal. Hal steps away from William and walks over to the fire place before turning to face the men once again. “Who am I, William?”

“King Henry V...Your Highness,” William answers shakily.

“And tell me, what does that mean to you?”

“Erm…You are the Sovereign—”

“That is correct,” Hal interrupts. “I lead men. I rule men.” He steps away from the fireplace, closer to William. “I’ve fought a war for men.” William breaks Hal’s gaze, looking at the floor, a brief reprieve from the King’s penetrating stare. “I have trusted your counsel, confided in you.”

Hal steps even closer to William, only footsteps away from him now. “I once thought of you as my friend…Now you not only question me, but disrespect my queen. I put my life in all of your hands for the sake of this kingdom!”

Hal raises his hand, pointing his finger into William’s chest. “I AM ENGLAND! And it is I who will decide whose head to have, whose body to burn!” Falstaff looks at the pair of men in front of him, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed by his young friend.

“Your Majesty—”

“I did not give you permission to speak. The queen…she knows this country…this land…this realm. I respect that. She is my true advisor, apart from God, of course. I will not let my participation in a silly divination rite or your allegations that I misjudge which direction to lead this country have any impact on my rule. You are my counsel. But I am king. I have the last word in this council chamber. And God has the last word in all that is. Are you willing to doubt Him? Do you doubt me?”

“Of course not!”

“Well then let us consider this matter settled,” Hal steps away from William and places one hand in his pocket. “The queen is no witch. She is a woman passing her time in one of the few ways that she may.” He runs his hand over the queen’s rosary beads laid inside. “You may leave.”

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