#henry v x reader

[cassie48]

𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻

King Hal x fem reader.

A/N: In which the king isn’t happy with how his wife, the queen is treated.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(

You were chosen to be queen. Hal himself wanted you. But, in some ways, a lot of ways actually, you felt you weren’t meant to be a queen. You were very quiet and innocent, to scared to correct someone or stand up for yourself.

Now, Hal was always there to stand up for you, he was really very protective of you. He threatened men that mocked you, and declared to the people of England that you were his wife, and that they must accept that.

On this particular day, you were sat on a bench in a secluded area of the gardens, hiding from everyone, crying. Earlier that day there had been an incident, leading you to hide away from your husband and those he would send to look for you.

You had been on a stroll, earlier that day. You often went on strolls when Hal would have meetings. On this particular morning, you bumped into a man that served Paul. He was a sort of advisor and helped him stay in order. George, was his name.

You had never really warmed to him, as he constantly made you uncomfortable. He would send you odd looks, when Hal wasn’t looking, sometimes in places that no man but Hal should be looking.

“Sorry George” You said looking at the ground.

“Oh it’s fine your majesty, it’s my fault” he said with a disgusting smirk.

“Do you know where Hal is?” Your sweet voice said, wanting to see your husband.

“He’s busy right now” he told you.

You nodded turning to continue on your walk, when his voice continued.

“I could accompany you, you know” George said not even bothering to address you respectfully.

“Oh, it’s fine, really” you said going to turn.

“Are you sure, I’d like to” he said, clearly wanting you to agree to go with him.

“No really, it would be…improper” you said, with a polite smile, trying to leave.

But, to your shock, he grabbed your upper arm roughly, tracing his finger over your body.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re quite the improper girl” he whispered, his fingers sickly travelling all over you.

“W-What?” You said your voice trembling, pulling back slightly, but it didn’t work.

“The men talk, say that you’ve been quite 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳” he said with a menacing smile.

This was when you lost it, you stared to ball your eyes out, ripping yourself away from his hold, running off to hide in the gardens, crying as you did, that’s where you found the little bench.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.

At that same time, Paul was leaving his meeting room, going to see you in your chambers. This was a daily routine for him, he truly loved him.

But a scowl made its way on his face when you weren’t there. “Where is the queen?” He yelled at the servants in the room.

“We, aren’t sure, your majesty” a man answered staring at the ground in fear.

“Is it not your job to take care of her when I’m not?” He yelled rage dripping from his voice as he grew more worried.

“Find her” he demanded with a cold voice.

They all scrambled, running in all directions to search for you, fearing for their lives if they didn’t.

Around an hour later, there was still no sign of you, Hal was getting very impatient. So he went to look for you himself.

He knew your favourite places in the castle and he knew one of which was the gardens, so he made his way there. He had searched almost all the gardens, until her heard a soft crying.

Hal eventually found you on that bench, as soon as he saw you, he was 𝘔𝘢𝘥.

“My love? What’s wrong?” He asked as he sat on the bench too, placing you on his lap.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, continuing to cry loudly into his chest.

“Are you hurt?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.

You nodded your head no and hugged onto him tighter, as the tears fell down your face.

“Love, you have to tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it” he said kissing your head.

“It was…g-george” you cried.

“What about 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦?” He said, his face suddenly becoming cold.

“He, he said I was an improper lady! And h-he was touching me Hal” you hiccuped.

Hals phase froze in anger and shock. George was in the room when Hal first threatened everyone about going near his wife. He made it very clear she was to be shown respect. George was one of his most trusted men. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“I’ll deal with him, this won’t happen again” he said kissing your hand.

You eventually lifted your head from his chest, as he wiped your tears from your cheeks.

“C-Can we go for a walk?” Your gentle voice asked.

“Of course, anything for you” Hal answered lifting her off his lap onto the ground, and taking her hand in his.

They walked the grounds talking about everything and anything, happy to be in each others company.

You hugged his side, yawning, suddenly becoming very tired.

“Do you want to retire” he said, his arm around your waist.

You only nodded in response, and you both headed back to your chambers.

He ordered the maids to run a bath for you, before kissing you softly, telling you he had something to take care of, and he’d be back later.

Around one hour later, you lay in the bath, the bubbles covering your naked body, and your eyes closed, enjoying the heat.

The door swung open to reveal your husband once more, but this time with blood on his hands.

“Hal?” Your little voice squeaked.

“It’s not my blood, I only took care of something that needed to be handled” he said sitting beside you, and giving you a kiss on the forehead.

You nodded, your eyes heavy as you leaned into his touch. You yearned to be in bed.

Hal caught onto this, and ordered the maids to help you prepare for bed, and get into your nightdress.

“What did you do to him, George I mean” you whispered, playing with your fingers.

Hal smiled before saying “I taught him a lesson” and giving you a long kiss, and bidding you goodnight.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭,

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯.

A/n

I hope you all enjoyed, I’ve been wanting to write for Hal for some time now so finally I did!!

[aphroditelovesu]

How many children would Yandere historical Men wish they had? If the fem-reader wanted five or more children. What would the historical Men reaction be?

Characters- Edward Seymour, King Henry V, Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, King Henry VIII, Charles Brandon, Lorenzo De Medici and Francesco Pazzi?

Hmm... I guess it really depends but I would say they would all like to have lots of children with her but they know it's quite common for a woman to die in childbirth so they would keep that in mind.

❝divider by: @cafekitsune

Edward Seymour ♡

Edward would like to have at least two children, both sons. He would like to have daughters with his beloved, but he would prioritize sons to keep his family in power. If his wife wants to have more than five children, he would be fine with that. The more children you have, the more tied and dependent you will be to him.

King Henry V ♡

Henry would like to have several children with his beloved, mainly because he is a Monarch and needs to keep his royal lineage continuing. If his darling wants to have more than five children, that's great! Henry would probably like to have at least ten children. Even though he is terrified at the thought of you passing away in childbirth, he still wants to have a huge family with his darling.

Napoleon Bonaparte ♡

Napoleon wants to have at least one son to also maintain his power through a male heir. He doesn't have a specific number of children he would like to have with his darling, at least one is certain. But if you want to have more than five children, Napoleon will be fine with the idea. The more the merrier, right?

King Henry VIII ♡

Henry wants a male heir above all else and when you give him that, he won't worry about the idea of ​​having more children unless you bring up the idea to him. Henry would be so caught up in the joy of finally having his dream son that he wouldn't think about his next children. However, I imagine he would like to have at least one more son, just in case. Henry would be worried about having more than five children because he fears losing you but he won't be against it if you want him to.

Charles Brandon ♡

Charles really isn't worried about the idea of ​​children at the moment, he's more focused on enjoying his wife and spending as much time as he can with her and he's well aware that he would have to share his attention with a child. However, he knows that he needs to continue his lineage and that's why I see him wanting to have only two children, three at most. He wouldn't like it more than that and mainly because he knows how dangerous childbirth is and this man can't lose you under any circumstances.

Lorenzo de' Medici ♡

Lorenzo wants to have many children with his darling and there is no discussion about that. Eight children at least, that's what he wants. Coming from a powerful family, I don't see him putting the Medici's power at risk because of the lack of descendants. Although he doesn't want to risk your life in childbirth, he will still have many children with you. Lorenzo likes to see you pregnant because it just affirms that you belong to him.

Francesco Pazzi ♡

Francesco would like to have a considerable number of children with his darling. At least four children, but he's not opposed to having more if that's what you want. He loves you and wants to make you, so if having more than five kids is what you want, who is he to judge? Francesco just needs confirmation that it won't kill you. He couldn't bear to lose the woman he loves.

[smolvenger]

The Little Princess (Henry V x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As queen of the nation and wife to Henry the Fifth, all rejoice to discover you are pregnant with your first child with your beloved husband. Only to discover, the child is not the long awaited son, but a girl...

Word Count: 5K

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 @jijilaufeyson

@anukulee @herdetectivetheorist (from your request!)

A/N: hehehehe uploading this while listening to "The Man" by Taylor Swift

Warnings: Pregnancy and childbirth in the beginning, which I try to portray as realistically as I can. I changed up what would have happened in history per the request I was given for this. No way is it accurate. But also this is fanfic world and irl Henry V wouldn't have had the luscious curls and ass of Tom Hiddleston. Mentions of sex but no smut. Baby stuff. Some angst, but lots of fluff. Grammar and spelling mistakes that missed my radar.

“Her Majesty, the Queen of England, is with child, Your Highness,” the messenger announced.

Henry had slouched, relaxed on his wooden throne. He then shot up straight. The dominant grace he held cracked for a second. His blue eyes blinked, doing his best not to stagger in his posture.

“She…she is?” he asked, almost incredulously.

The messenger nodded his head.

“Yes. The physician just examined her. He asked me to inform you of these happy tidings. And we shall pray you shall soon be blessed with an heir apparent,” he reported with a smile.

Henry found a small half laugh escape him. He smiled so wide it showed his teeth. He lowered his head, feeling a little dizzy for a second. But he knew how to regain himself quickly after his time as the ruler of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.

“Tell the physician we thank him for his swift and happy news,” he replied.

The messenger bowed his head and exited through the wooden doors.

Henry did his best to remain focused throughout the meetings today. But he found his head swam. You- his precious wife, beloved consort-was going to have a child- have his child. He was going to be a father, and you were going to be a mother. His entire world had changed in just a minute and he was supposed to act as normal.

Once they were declared finished, he shot up.

“I would like to visit her Majesty at once,” he declared.

“She is in her chambers, my lord,” one servant confirmed.

He hurried to where you were, the attendants right behind him. The hallways nearly spun as he walked with such a quick bounce. Not caring even if his crown was knocked out of his head.

Meanwhile, you were sitting down. Your stomach was already churning- for you had become more aware of it since this morning. You could only sit and embroider with your ladies in waiting- it was only a matter of time until-

“His majesty, the king,” a male attendant announced at the door.

 You shot up and curtsied as Henry the Fifth of Lancaster bounded in. The other ladies followed suit.

“My lord, and husband,” you replied dutifully, raising back up to face him.

Henry looked flushed, scattered even. He walked up to you and held both of your hands in his.

“My lady, do you confirm that what I heard was true? Are you…are you with child?” he asked softly. As if you were in private and not with a dozen eyes on you.

You nodded, smiling. You leaned in closer, your voice matching his quiet tone.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I know it in my heart, Harry. I’ve had no courses for months. The physician’s tests confirmed my suspicions….” you replied.

 You took his hand and moved it to your stomach. Even if it appeared normal, even if the baby was now small- it seemed even the king himself sensed the presence inside.

“Our first child is inside me now,” you said finally.

He picked you up and spun you around and kissed you. Bursting into laughter, you clutched him. He held your face and kissed you again. You, his wife, his queen, his beloved, now about to be mother to his child. Who cared if these people saw this intimacy from their lord? He was the maker of what was formal, not they. 

“We’ve prayed so long for this, my lord. You know how long we have asked God to bless us someday… and someday has arrived!!” you replied.

He held your face again, his eyes shining.

“I’ve never loved you more than this moment, Y/N,” he confessed. 

“I love you too, Harry,” you responded.

As the pregnancy passed, you dealt with each symptom with as much grace as you could. For you knew once you had a son, all would see you as more than just Henry’s pretty accessory and broodmare. You would be the mother to the next king. All would respect you and revere you far more. That brought you through the mornings of nausea and sudden, intense cravings for certain foods.

What was best was the nighttime before sleep. Henry defied court tradition and insisted he wanted to join you in your chambers. Even though there was the advice that he avoid his marital duties until after the baby arrived, to risk any lustful acts harming the child inside you. To have a misteress to pleasure him as you carried the child was out of the question for Harry of England. He would prefer to fall on his sword instead.

The truth was, you didn’t need to perform any act of lust with your husband to be with him. You both could sit in silence. Read books and play chess or little games. Discuss anything and everything. Even to lay in bed and to hold each other. And how your heart burst with love as you felt his hand on his stomach and heard him talk to the child.  Even placing little kisses on there. When the baby first kicked, you put his hand there to feel. You both grinned and kissed each other. That was as intimate as anything with your bodies entwining. Whispering names and hopes for the little child. Said little prayers for a safe delivery for you. For the baby in your stomach to survive past infancy. To survive to an adult. One that would always know how much their mother and father wanted and loved them.

When the time came for confinement, the time when you would stay only in your private chambers in the ninth month away from the court, including Henry, to help guarantee a safe delivery. Your heart beat fast. Your stomach was so large that you could only waddle rather than walk. Henry only kissed you, gently tracing your face. Promising that only if there was a crisis would he break down the doors and run to your side. 

For days you sat in your rooms. It became stuffy and dark as they closed the curtains, the priests carrying incense throughout and blessing what was going to be the birthing bed. You sat there, sweating, and feeling both the immense fear of your death and the fear of the pain.

 At last, one early morning, your water broke. Hyperventilating and crying, you awoke a lady in waiting to run to get the midwife. You were shaking, pain scorching as the baby was starting to get ready to emerge. You knew what would happen, and yet when it began, you felt thrown into the unknown. You were so frightened, you let out screams as the contractions began. They fetched the birthingThere was the delivery, you cried your way through the pain. 

“Harry- where is Harry? Where is my husband? I’m so frightened! Please! Where is he!?” you cried, your vision blurry with tears.

“This is not the place for your husband to be, your Majesty. The Lords thought it best he be kept away for now. But how proud he would be of you now- you’re doing well- the baby’s coming out fine!” the midwife encouraged you. “Keep pushing, my lady! I see the head!”

You were sweaty and disgusting and at your most primal, far from the elegant and regal woman they all saw in public. Blood and fluids, including some embarrassing ones, had come out during the labor which was all being cleaned up after it was spilled.

The hours dragged on in torture. The midwife yelling encouragements through your hot face full of tears. You felt sick, even faint, as you pushed the child out from between your legs. Sitting on the stool with the midwife over, every lady in waiting dabbed your burning forehead and squeezed your hand through each push.

Then, finally, a cry came out. But not from your voice. A baby’s cry. You let out a shaky breath of relief.

 Alive. The child was alive. As were you.

You caught your breath, panting hard. One lady in waiting grinned at you-

“Well done, Your Majesty!” she praised.

You let out a gasp as the afterbirth crawled out. But it was easy and painless compared to a child and slipped easily into the below pot placed for it. A maid grimaced but took it away. You heard the click of a knife as the cord on the child was cut. Another warm cloth went over the tiny, wrinkled newborn as it wailed and wailed. You felt dizzy, the red curtains of your chambers swimming around. Then you came to.

The heir. The heir apparent. Henry’s heir- Henry’s heir was here. The one purpose for which you were made wife to the king was now fulfilled-

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced. 

The child was in the midwife’s arms. your eyes noticed the lower half of the baby’s body. She was correct. 

For a second, your heart stopped. The world stopped. 

There was a slight silence in the room. It wasn’t like the eruptious joy that would have followed had it been the opposite.

The baby still cried heartily. They swaddled her- not the long-awaited him, her. For that was what the baby that was your constant companion inside you for months was. Not the long-awaited male heir for the Lancaster line. No- a daughter. And what is a daughter, but a disappointment?

In those seconds, your mind reeled. Your belly was empty now for the first time in over a year. You had disappointed the nation- there would be no heir to the Lancaster throne. Not yet. You had let down the court. Mothering a son brought special respect and privilege.

And, most of all, worst of all, you let down Henry. The one person you loved most of all. And that hurt the worst. 

The baby wailed. A high, piercing, harsh cry. Ladies in waiting gathered around and fussed. The midwife cleared out the mucus and fluids covering the newborn. Still, the crying rang through the room like harsh bells.

You wondered briefly if it would have been better if you didn’t recover and died from this than face the humiliation.

Wrapping some swaddling over the crying newborn, they handed her over to you.

“Here, hold her, your majesty. She seems a healthy, beautiful little girl,” the midwife announced.

The tiny, wrinkled babe at first didn’t seem beautiful. 

Then the bundle was placed in your arms and the baby stopped crying at once.

You looked down at her.

Something inside you broke.

She was….small. So small for your great pain. Her tiny face, the tiniest little hands, and hte tiniest head. She was fragile. Could you remember when you were brought to court to marry the king? You were just as fragile, as naive, as alone without protection- who knows what would have happened if Henry had been so gentle and patient with you, if you hadn’t grown to fall in love with him and he with you.

She nestled to you, her crying ceasing. Clinging to you. She didn’t know so many things…but she knew you were her mother.

And she trusted you to protect her. 

A new feeling burst on you. You were not afraid of facing humiliation from the men of court…you were afraid of failing her. She reached a hand and began to coo. Making tiny little noises like that of a mouse. You held up your hand and she held onto your finger- settling close to you. 

“Hello, my dear…hello…” you murmured. The pain seemed even more distant. 

Tears came down you again and you felt yourself smile. You loved her. This tiny, beautiful, and unwanted girl.

One lady in waiting reached for you and you barked at them.

“Get away from her! Don’t touch her!” you yelled out, the tears running down your face, your breasts heavy with milk that was not going to be used, and the hotness in your body flushing to anger. You held the bundle closer to yourself.

You understood the instincts of bears, how they would rip men into pieces if they dared tread near the den of their cubs. If anyone- anyone- haughty courtiers that were so stuck in their ways that they had nothing better to do with their time other than harm an innocent child- incapable of fighting, of proper speech, of defending herself- you would have murdered them. And you would have enjoyed it.

She cried only a little, startled by your voice. You rocked her and shushed her, kissing her forehead. 

“Hello, hello- I’m your mother, don’t be frightened, my dear, I’ve waited a while to meet you, shhhh. Mother is here, you’ll be safe. I’m sorry I surprised you, shhh,” you whispered.

The midwife approached you cautiously.

“Your majesty…the baby must be cleaned further. Do not worry- she will be safe…” she assured you. And your good sense one- for the midwife had delivered hundreds of babes and you knew the girl was in good hands.

You looked down again at your baby, still somewhat patched and bloody. For that, you handed her over.

Henry was tending to his stallion in the stables. The white one was his personal favorite. He often enjoyed being the one to hand the horse hay and feel it nibble form his hand. His attendants just beside him to see to anything, wanting to do anything to distract their lord and sovereign as he anxiously awaited news of his beloved wife.

 A lady in waiting arrived inside and their heads turned like deer. She took a few steps forward and curtsied low. Henry gestured for her to rise.

“How is the queen? It was early morn when the birthing began. Tell me- Does she live?” he asked anxiously.

“Her majesty lives. She is delivered of a…a princess,” reported the lady.

There was a slight silence. A greyness washed over the faces of the lords. Frowns remained on their faces, but their eyes were kept on Henry.

Henry took a moment. He was still, his face unreadable. He then replied.

“The babe is fine?” 

“Yes, the babe is fine, born healthy,” she answered.

He broke into a relieved half laugh and smile.

“May- may I see my them?” he asked.

The lady nodded. “Yes, the midwife said you may.”

Henry gave the lady a nod.

“We most heartily accept these joyous tidings, sweet lady. I shall see her anon,” he said.

At once, he broke into a jaunty walk. He burst from the stables, and up the stone steps, through the hallways into his wife’s chambers. He was far faster than some of the stuffier, older lords could keep up with They had a hand on their heads for their hats and puffed as their legs attempted to keep up with their lord.

 Confinement seemed like his sweet angel was torn from him to another world and not another part of the castle. But he bounced up the steps. The sweet temptation to burst through those doors for weeks was finally relieved. 

He at once raised a knuckle and knocked on the doors. There were feminine gasps and murmurs on the other side. 

And another sound, something light, a little voice- that of a baby. And his heart picked up.

There were no servants or lords, so he announced.

“It is his majesty, the king of England.”

One lady opened and they all bowed low. Even the few ladies in the corner trying to get rid of sheets full of blood discreetly. But Henry was a man who had seen battles and once killed the famed Hotspur himself- what was more blood to him?

You laid in your bed, holding the little babe. Your heart racing hard, fighting not to break and cry and yet you found yourself smiling at him. His curls swept back from the wind of his rush and his blue eyes wide as he saw you. 

He came forward and knelt next to the bed in a few short strides. He took your hand in his and kissed it.

“How is my lady?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m fine,” you replied in a choking voice. Glad to see him again, glad you were alive to experience all this.

You looked down at the swaddled child.

“Here is…here is your daughter, my lord…” you presented.

You waited for the stormy look on his face, hoping your smile would relieve it.  But Henry the Fifth merely loosened his shoulders. His jaw dropped then broke into a smile as he saw her.

“May I hold her?” he asked.

You brought her into his arms. She seemed ot know her father, for she settled easily. He rocked her, and kissed her forehead. Happiness beaming everywhere on his face. 

“Mary…that is what we agreed, my lady, if it was a girl…would you still like that to be her name?” he said sofly.

You nodded.

He looked around the crowd. The lord and attendants finally arrived inside, staring with wide eyes.

“Today is a special day- for we celebrate the birth of the Princess Mary. Named in memory of my mother. And we are all going to celebrate. I would like there to be a joust and a feast as well when she is christened, all for the safe arrival of Her Highness, the Princess of Wales- And please note, I want a portrait of the joust commissioned-”

Henry looked back at you sitting up on the bed.

“I want my queen in the center, on a seat- beautiful as she is and shining bright, as a testament of my love for her…”

Folding your hands, you smiled back up at him. Exhaustion and love warming your insides. Joy seeping through to where you thought you would float.

“And I ask for a second portrait be of all of us- for we are now the royal family,” Henry finished.

The courtiers nodded solemnly with plenty of “yes, my lord” repeating from their lips. For none would dare cross the king.

They departed, leaving you both alone for the first time in weeks. Mary wiggled a little in her father’s arms. He sat on the bed and smiled at you. You laid a hand on his arm.

“Harry, all of this fuss! Should you save such grand celebrations for when we have a son?” you asked.

“No, sweetling. Our child is born alive and healthy- and with her in my arms, I’m too overjoyed, that her sex does not matter right now,” he responded.

“But…your heir!” you cried.

He smiled and his eyes lowered to his baby.

“ I have three brothers. There’s more than enough heirs. There’s no need to panic…”

He leaned close.

“And with my lovely wife naked in my bed again… once she is better…how can I resist a night where we can create another beautiful child? Wouldn’t our little Mary be happy having a brother to play with and tease and scold over?”

You playfully shook your head with laughter and swatted his arm lightly.

“My lord, you are unappeasable!” you teased.

“And I have missed you too, my lady,” he replied.

Both of you kissed as May began to cry again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

How incredible a nursery they had built for her. The rockers- two people set up to stay awake all night to rock the baby to sleep- curtsied low. It seemed that despite the disappointment, they were charmed with the sweet little baby. Her little noises that cackled about. Her adorable squeaks that made won people over. How you loved to call her “my little mouse!” when you visited to hold and rock her. For Mary would always nestle and wish to be held. She had no thoughts of being a great Princess of the Sacred Isle yet. She was an infant who only wanted to be cared for and loved.

The joust came and went. The artists got right to work for their commissions. The christening was a holiday throughout the nation. Bells rang as the Bishop blessed Mary in the church with all the nation watching. 

At the feast afterward, many gathered around to glimpse at their new princess, cloaks and hats and long skirts crowding around the official cradle made for state events. It was decorated with the arms of the Lancaster house. Plush red fabrics draped the inside- the colors considered traditional for her father. It measured seven and a half feet long and two and a half feet wide. The guests invited could look at the infant from a safe distance. You couldn’t help but awe at the creation-  all for one tiny baby inside! How small she looked compared to the great size of the thing! They must have thought her a giant child, not a human one!

There was no better, no more doting father than Henry the Fifth. It seemed that the only concern about a male heir came from his courtiers. And their protests and reminders fell deaf on his majesty’s ears. Even in public events where she was placed in the state cradle, Henry would stay to stand guard near it. He was not too much of a man that he was beneath wishing to hold her. He would bend up and use one arm to hold her crimson swaddling. 

“I am the Father of the Nation. Of my subjects, as much as she.” he would declare, one hand up to gently touch his little daughter.

How often you stayed in that nursery, amazed at her. The nursemaids tell you everything about what a baby did and why they did it. For even if she was not yours to raise, your curiosity would get to you- and how much every day she would grow and change! Just a month later and she was big enough you wondered how she got out of you!

One night later at dinner, Henry wished to have her cradle nearby so you could eat with her. Little Mary let out a hearty cry out of nowhere.

You jumped- for it was loud and sharp. She did not wail often in her father’s presence.  But Henry merely tilted his head.

“Now, what is the matter, lambkin?” he asked the baby.

She continued to cry. He picked her up. A hand over her head and her bum, placing her on his arm.

“What troubles you so, Fair little chuck-hm? Would you like a kiss from your father? Would it cheer you?”

He gave her a kiss on her warm cheek. She calmed down a little. Then she began to cry again. Your husband shot up his eyebrows in confusion. But you listened carefully to the quality of the sound of her wailing- this one was low-pitched, repeating its rhythms.

“My lord, the nurses tell me that kind of cry means she is hungry.”

With a smile on your face, you asked a servant to send for the wet nurse. Henry only widened his eyes in awe. 

“Well, my lady, tell me…what have you learned from them about the crying of babes?” he asked in curiosity. 

One day- after certain parliament sessions, you returned to the nursery. You heard her crying again- the sort she did when fussing. For you only wished to…to be with her, see her- for her childhood to be as good a one as you could afford for her.

Once inside, you saw one maid trying to ring her rattle. The other maid held her up to see it. But it was doing no good for little Mary who kept crying.

You walked inside and the little girl paused. She began to smile and kick her feet, her crying ceasing. She was even reaching two chubby arms towards you. 

How could you have hated that she wasn’t a son when she was born? What were you even thinking with such joy and such love this little girl had for you?

Reaching over, you brought her up.

“Hello, my lovely girl, how are you?” you asked. You brought her up to yourself.

 Smelling how well they bathed her. How she was indeed a sweet girl who only wished to be held and loved! You kissed her forehead.

The maids smiled.

“She does that when she misses you,” one reported.

But you never forgot the day you heard her laugh for the first time. It was the fourth month after the birth. Returning inside after strolling the gardens with the ladies, his majesty not being present. You assumed he was discussing something with the Prussian ambassador or shooting his arrows. You passed by the hallway with the nursery. You heard a small sound. Like the tinkling of bells-

It was Mary- her first laugh- you felt a gasp. And another followed- a masculine one right after- a certain laugh you knew like your hand.

Could it be… was it…?

Curiosity overcame you and you opened the door, Henry was sitting on the floor, holding her up above him and she was laughing, clapping her chubby hands. He laughed too.

You burst with love and put a hand over your mouth. The servants watching were flabbergasted. Seeing the sovereign himself playing with her, lifting her in the air and moving her about as she wriggled. You walked in and Henry still held her and leaned up.

“I believe you are enjoying yourself, my lord?” you asked.

“Mary loves it when her father makes her fly like a bird, I discovered,” he said. “You should have seen her with the ambassador's son. So used is she to men with beards, that when the shaven youth stepped forward, she stared at him like a wonder of the world!” he recalled. “Oh, and the little dear is rolling over. She can roll over to one side, but cannot roll back. And when she does, she can only cry in frustration!” he reported excitedly.

You grinned and kissed his cheek. Both of you admiring the new gown on the princess. When there was money left over in the budget, Henry would find ways to spoil her with toys and dresses. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Months passed. You and Henry waited until the time was right, when you were ready for his bed, for acts that would put his seed inside you... But…you were having trouble conceiving again.

You took advice from the physician, recalling every embarrassing martial act out loud to the old man. You devoured certain herbs prescribed to you like a rabbit. Even mixing them into drinks when you could.

Yet…your courses returned as normal.

But you began to wonder…perhaps Mary was the only child you would have. And part of you mourned. Wishing for the large, happy family you both whispered to each other at night early on in your marriage. Secretly envious of women who boasted of their broods so easily conceived. 

One evening, you sat by the fire with your husband and child after dinner. Mary was asleep in the cradle in your private room. You rocked it gently, hoping she would stay asleep when the servants would come to fetch her to her nursery. Already she was big and big, more fussy from the teeth she grew.

Henry walked by you and placed an arm around you.

“What ails you, darling?” he asked.

You looked up at him.

“I am just worried, Harry… if…what if…what if she is the only one I will have…” you mourned.

 Henry looked into it and said. “I think it would be wise if Mary was made my heir.”

You blinked, your jaw dropped.

“What- but husband-I have not a problem with it, but others will! But the parliament, the lords…they will refuse. They will hate her…even hurt her!” you replied.

He remained still, resolute. But his voice was soft. 

“I am their king. My word is law and final. The lords, no matter what they think, must follow as I say…and if she is the one of my line, she is the one of my line…Mary will be queen. A good queen. A queen who will lead England to prosperity.”

The fire cracked more. Both of you looked at the peaceful, sleeping baby. So lovingly tucked into her soft nightdress and snuggled into blankets.

“She can barely talk yet.”

He smiled.

“She has your blood. And if that is the case, then there is no one I trust more than her…”

There was a grand announcement. Shock ran like a storm through the country. Though yes, the lords all complained and bemoaned a female heir, Henry made sure the ceremony was grand. It didn’t matter if they liked it or not, England had its heir. 

There was a grand ceremony. The stony throne room decorated with grand emblems. A crowd gathered as you and Henry dressed in red velvets. Though she was getting a little heavier, you still held her high. Your face raised as every icon of another Mary with Her Child, and just as dignified, perhaps as important.

“I now announce her grace, The Princess Mary of Wales, is the heir to the throne. She shall succeed me- and all of you must honor my wife, Her Majesty, as the mother to your next ruler and honor her highness as the queen to follow,” Henry announced, his beard neatly trimmed and his golden crown beaming on his head.

“Her majesty-Princess Mary. And one day, Queen Mary of England. Long live the queen!” he declared.

“Long live the queen.” the crowd repeated.

It was the day the artist said he would show the works he painted. The small, dark-haired, bearded man went up to the first one, covered in a cloth. He pulled it off with a flourish as all took it in.

The first in the joust showed you sitting on your throne as Henry rode his white stallion to defeat his opponent. You seemed to be glowing. In bright colors that shone when light caught it. Placed in the center where all would see, decorated and beautiful.

The artist went to a second painting covered in a cloth. He removed it.

There stood the three of you standing in the church in bright,  The child in your arms and Henry by your side. The three of you appeared just as grand, even Immortal. 

You had not failed your husband. You had not failed the nation. You had provided an heir after all. And all would be well.

You looked over little Mary, leaning close to press a kiss to her temple and whisper to her.

“Long may you reign, my little dove.”

[ghostlyloversworld]

♡*♡∞:｡.｡ 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

[mel-vaz]

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.

[witchywomanrunningupthathill]

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.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

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.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✠ Claimed 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 ||

[jely-bely]

Ex Wives

Divorced💛

Beheaded💚

Died💀

Divorced❤

Beheaded💗

Survived💎

[hernakedmuse]

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.

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Chapter I: A Fish out of Water

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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

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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

[five-miles-over]

"Take me by the hand and say Harry of England, I am thine."

@muddyorbsblr @holdmytesseract @smolvenger

Imagine: Henry V asking for your hand in marriage.

[cassie48]

|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 𝘸𝘪𝘵�� 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 king. 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.

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 𝗵𝗮n𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲.

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 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 t𝘩𝘢𝘵 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 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 s𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 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 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

**Tag List**

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Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁If your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you. For some reason, I could tag everyone this time....if you are tagged, but were not notified, please let me know.

[smolvenger]

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.

[ginnysgraffiti]

Hiii. I wanna say I love your works for all of Timmy’s characters. Ive gotten back into my timothee obsession and after reading your fic on what each character tastes like i was thinking maybe what sex is like with each of his characters? Feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to do it just thought I’d shoot my shot!❤️

so touched to see that someone appreciates my stories TT

i really tried my best with this, i hope i didn't leave any grammar mistakes here and there, enjoy! <3

&. LEE

for a while, lee refused to have sex. he was terrified of hurting you.

however, when you reassured him and told him it was completely okay, he let himself lose it completely and follow his instincts.

that's why sex with lee is rough, primal and wet, and you never actually doubted that.

nights passed in his pick-up, in motels where he would let you stay just to have more comfort and mainly a proper bed, at his aunt's house, anything.

sex with lee would be amazing everywhere, and not a time where he would refuse to dirty talk to you in the meanwhile.

he can fuck. over and over. he's like a rabbit. talking about him slowing down or stopping by himself, the thought wouldn't even cross his mind if your voice doesn't beg for it. he's fast. that's it. he's so damn fast, rough and shameless. he isn't used to matching his pace with his partner's or even taking their time with them, so it would take him some time to get used to your preferences or just maintain control.

lee would be sooooo loud. he would whine and grunt and beg. he also loves when you suck his fingers.

he even ties you up and blindfolds you while playing with your clit, thrilling the fact that you're oblivious about his next move.

the first time would probably be in some natural reserves, where he likes to spend most of his nights. he would fuck you hard on the back of his pickup, so the bright and shining stars could be the only witnesses. he would then take you inside, place you on the front seat and cuddle you to sleep on his lap.

he would start with needy and hungry kisses. everywhere. his tattooed hands would overstimulate you well to hear your moans even before starting. it would be the best adventure ever. he would try anything, all in. he would make sure to use his bony finger as best as he can, he would spread your legs like no one else and start with the damage. the real damage. because once he has the green light (and he always wants your permission) he won't stop. he will destroy you in any way possible. then, he would gradually slow down, return to use his fingers and feel you closer and closer.

he would watch hypnotized as milky fluid, both his cum and yours, leaks from inside of you. he would worship you as his most precious treasure.

&. HAL

do we seriously need to read how it would be to have sex with hal to imagine it?

there's not even the need to say anything, he's already on top of you.

hal is absolutely vocal, desperate groans, loud curses that never leave his mouth.

his mouth is always, always wide open as his pupils roll back.

dom for sure, he's too prideful to be below you, but if you beg enough, maybe he'll let you inside him. he's into fucking you when you're on all fours on the bed, maybe it's a king-thing, but you love it.

he never actually stops when you beg him to, but he absolutely cares about your body after the act.

you're his queen, but when hal is needy you can happily forget about your queen duties. his words, not yours.

he's also into pet play, you're his mutt and he makes it known.

he often enjoys to make you scream his name, moan louder and louder to make sure the messengers, maids or court servants hear you through the door.

making them hear the bed cracking, the slaps he keeps giving you to see your tears softly running down your pale cheeks, the way you lose your breath as he pulls your hair to almost make you swallow his cock.

he's violent, let's say, but he can actually care. really care.

he always adds "my" in front of pet names. my whore, my queen, my sweetheart, my love, my angel.

his kinks include cock worship, absolutely, breeding (we don't need to mention it), power imbalance, exhibition, humiliation (giving, of course), sadism (uhm...).

you never actually discovered how far his sadism can really go, and that scares you a little bit, hearing the servants' opinions or stories about it.

you know he's capable of anything, anything.

however, he makes sure, every single night, to massage you properly during the aftermath, kissing softly every inch of your inner tights while his finger tips play with your nipples.

&. LAURIE

laurie is a softie big cuddly boyyyy.

he waited so long for you to tell him you loved him before he made any sexual advances. he wanted it to be purely making love; not having sex.

he always will treat you first, you're his everything.

he would always clean you first, massage you first, check you out before even looking at himself.

not the most vocal, but definitely not silent. laurie prefers to let out soft moans and quiet praises rather than being vocal and over the top.

he would treat you more like a best friend in public, gently stealing you cheek kisses or holding your fingers under the table. he would eventually tease your inner thighs when -absolutely rarely- he would feel like doing it.

he's a sweet boy, the most intense he gets is probably the occasional slap on the ass when you look or sound too good.

laurie loves your lipsticks. he knows every single one you own and how every single one tastes. when they have a more visible colour and you leave kiss marks on his neck, he would surely refuse to remove them. also, he's into asking you to leave kisses on his shirts.

he's a romantic boy, come on.

during sex, he would always hold your hands. always, never letting go, holding onto you as if you were his only lifeline.

&. ELIO

elio is just like lee, absolutely vocal and completely down for you being on top.

he just lives for that shit, being submissive and guiding your hips as you take complete control.

sex with him would be difficult, because mafalda would always check the sheets and or his night underwear, and you know that elio needs to be careful. however, he's absolutely good and skilled at letting you enter his room late at night.

at the same time, during sex, he would worry often about noises and bed cracks.

in fact, he's totally whiney and whimpery, you have to kiss him to swallow his drawn out moans and don't let him lose control.

as written before, elio is obsessed with just going dumb, he wants you to control him, make decisions for him and use him whenever you want. he's definitely into being your pet, just being a complete boy toy for your use.

you don't always understand the difference whenever he wants you to take the lead or brutally use him, but again, it's clear that he wishes for both.

he loves receiving head, and thinks you're magic the way you work his length when he literally begs for it.

would cry often during sex just from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, always begging you to hold him through the tears.

he's absolutely insecure and would overthink the aftermath for entire weeks, shyly asking you if you enjoyed it, or if he had hurt you or if you still love him. his head goes completely dumb at your every touch, but he constantly needs you to confirm that that's what you want as well.

after the first night, he would suffer every instant he doesn't get to enjoy with you, so he would furtively touch himself or steal your swimming costume.

&. PAUL

deep down, paul is a lover boy.

he had been having visions about you for ages and he would just wait for you to get pregnant in his visions and wish for it to happen as soon as possible.

at the same time, paul isn't a very sexual person, but he enjoys pleasing you whenever you ask him.

during sex, he would always go slow and hold you the whole way through, being as gentle as he can be even when you ask him to move faster. he would eventually lose it as soon as you arch your back, moaning at the friction between your hips.

he often has fantasies about using the voice on you, but he would be way too nervous to tell you about it. in his head, using the voice over you is absolutely arousing.

you soon discovered paul had many kinks, for example calling you mommy (even lee would do that, of course.)

you absolutely adore when he moans, because you can always find a little hint of shame and insecurity, but as soon as you take the lead just to reassure him, his guttural sounds make his whole body throb on top of you.

he would be absolutely careful and use protections, always, except when his visions are too frequent and he would literally kill to get you pregnant, turn you into a mommy and have babies.

you surprisingly discovered that he is down for your cuts or wounds. he often offers to train with you, even if he knows you're so much more experienced than him, but he would just love to lick your fresh blood or your healing wound to feel his tongue fizz.

paul is obsessed when you pull your hair, begging you to make you cum with absolutely no shame.

&. WILLY

sex with willy can be a literal rollercoaster.

he can become extremely needy during sex, and with needy...i mean needy. almost in a very childish way, if we consider that he's impressively incompetent and inexperienced in that field.

once he's inside you, he is shy about it, asking if it's okay if he kisses you deeper or grabs your waist or simple gestures. he always needs to have your permission.

he slowly gains confidence the longer you two are together and the more you are imitate. he would pull you away and just whisper how much he wants you. sometimes, even dirty things, but you never understood if he had a special chocolate to let him gather enough confidence for that.

he can be extremely perv and dirty minded, but he'll never admit it.

he's obsessed with leaving hickeys on you.

he would occasionally start meowing and doing his :] face when you mess with his curls.

if you pull his air while you're on top, taking his cock the best way you can, there will be no return, seriously. he would fuck you all night, and i'm not joking.

willy's got stamina, he really does.

loves to be submissive, there's no need to say it.

just like elio, he would be deadly aroused when you use him like a pet, sometimes he would beg for you to blindfold him or tie his wrists.

in these cases, his wet tongue would do all the work.

loves to smell the sheets after you two had done it, he just loves that smell.

his moans are the sexiest thing ever, but he's more frequent to make small sounds and groans.

when he's on top, willy would use sweet nicknames, tongue twisters or rhymes to sweeten you even more.

if your body hurts he would massage it carefully and give you a special chocolate treat to regain energy.

right after sex, he would be scared to death that you could get pregnant. have mercy, he just doesn't know how it works.

willy is the fastest learner, though.

given that he doesn't know how to start, he willingly accepts all your advice, and knows how to follow them to the letter.

once you give even the smallest instruction, he would just be more and more needy.

[five-miles-over]

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

[gulnarsultan]

Hello, could you do yanKing Henry V from The King (2019) and Princess Of Russia, who is his mistress? He is married to Catherine of Valois

Princess was visiting England (You can choose the reason why she were visiting) but she and King Henry V started liking one another and started a secret affair

Soon after, she was forced to go back to Russia after her father, Vasily I of Moscow found out about their affair with each other?

Hello dear. Thank you for this wonderful request. This is how I created their meeting and the reason for coming to England. I hope you like it.

[How sweet of you to think that Henry would allow the reader to return to Russia. But it can't be like that. Henry won't allow it.]

》Scenario《

King Henry's marriage was based entirely on political purposes. In other words, he didn't love his wife Catherine. It would be a lie to say that there was harmony between them. Weeks after the wedding, Henry was going to host Russian ambassadors in England in order to make agreements. The Russian ambassadors were accompanied by the Princess, the precious daughter of Russian King Vasily. When Henry saw this beautiful Princess, he was speechless. It was as if he was in front of someone from a fairy tale. How could he not be impressed?

Henry was a smart man. He wouldn't scare the Princess by revealing his obsession. Everything started out friendly and normal. However, their friendship soon turned into love. Their love was kept a secret between them. Henry visited the Princess's room every night. He spoiled her with the most expensive and luxurious gifts. He had almost stopped going to his wife's room. However, he finally managed to get the real Russian King's ears about their relationship. The King was both angry and disappointed. He immediately sent a letter demanding that his daughter be sent back to her country. Henry read this letter with a sly grin. He looked up from the letter and turned to the Princess in front of him. The Princess was sitting on the couch and was excitedly waiting for what the King would say. The Princess's swollen belly was visible under her dress. Henry prepared an agreement and sent it to the King of Russia with the ambassadors of his country. He wanted the Princess to stay with him and be his mistress. After all, the Princess was six months pregnant and there was no chance of going back. Moreover, the child that would be born would be the heir to the throne of England. King Vasily did not want to accept the offer at first. However, he knew that he had no other choice. The agreement was accepted between the two countries. Months later, a healthy baby boy was born, whom King Henry named after himself.