#Henry V x You

[smolvenger]

The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.

A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr

You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.

You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.

“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.

 The one key to sealing it.

You.

A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.

 You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.

But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.

“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.

It might not happen at all, you wondered.

You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.

 As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.

“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.

Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.  

The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.

And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.

Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.

Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.  

“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.

He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.

“I am, your grace,” you replied.

He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.

“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.

You then looked up. Eyes onto him.

“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.

You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Very well, your grace.” You replied.

Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.

“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.

You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.

But no blow arrived.

Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.

“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.  

One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.

“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.

“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.

Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.

“You are generous, your grace.”

He went up to you.

“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”

“I could…Henry,” you replied.

 You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.

“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.

Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.

“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.

Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.  

A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.

The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.

The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.

“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.

You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.

“Yes,” you answered.

 He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle.  Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else.  But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.

“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.

You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.  

 You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.

And desirable.

He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.

Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.

Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.

It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.

There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited.  A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.

 The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.

You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.

Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.

 After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.

“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.

“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.

“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.

Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.

“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.

The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.

“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.

Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you.  It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.

Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.

Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.

“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.

You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.

“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.

“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.

The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.

You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.

That was enough to persuade him.

He pushed you down and was on top of you.  Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.

Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it.  You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.

“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.

He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.

“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.

“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.

“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.

He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.

“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.

You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.

Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.

“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.

Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.

 He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.

“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”

More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers.  How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.

“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”

He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.

“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”

 He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.

“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“

 He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.

Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.

“Ah!”

A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.

 Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.

He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.

You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.

You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.

 He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.

“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”

You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.

“And I will go with you!” you insisted.

The men’s heads turned to you.

“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.

The advisors went around you.

“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.

You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.

“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.

There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.

“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.

You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.

“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.

It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days.  You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices.  You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace.  Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.

Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.

You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.

“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”

“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”

“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.

It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.

The many ups and downs.  The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.

Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.

They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.

You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.

“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”

Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.

You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.

How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.

You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.

He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.

“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.

“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.

Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding.  Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.

“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.

It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.

“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.

“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”

There were no animals around, much less people.  Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.

It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.

He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.

He held you closer.

“Yes, Henry….”

He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.

“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”

“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.

“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”

He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.

“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”

You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.

“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”

You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.

“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.

He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.

“You will?” he asked.

“I will,” you answered.

 Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself.   He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.

“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.

“I do!”

He chuckled lightly.

“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”

Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.

“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can.  Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”

He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.

“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.

“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”

He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.

Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.

“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”

He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.

“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“

You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.

“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“

Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.

“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.

He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.

“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”

He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.

“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”

You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.

“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”

“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.

Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.

“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”

He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate.  The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.

“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”

“Yes, yes-I will!”

“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.

“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”

“Who is your king?”

“Henry! Henry’s my king!”

He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.

“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”

He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.

“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“

“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”

Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.

“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”

He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.

“Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.

He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.

“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.

“And I must agree with you…” he replied.

You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.

“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”

“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.

“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.

“I will see you in our tent…”

He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.

“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”

You embraced him a last time.

“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”

“I love you too, Henry…”

Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.

#smut #tom hiddleston smut #carrie writes #the hollow crown #prince hal #henry v #prince hal x you #prince hal x reader #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n #henry v x y/n #henry v x fem! y/n #henry v x you #arranged marriage au #medieval au #historical au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston characters #fluff #historic fiction #history #tom hiddleston characters fluff #prince hal smut #henry v smut #the holllow crown smut #tom hiddleston characters smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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

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

✠ Arise Fair Sun by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

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

✠ Nursing the Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

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

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

Summary:

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

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

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

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

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

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

✠ Tavern Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary:

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

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

✠ Beautiful by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

✠ Prince Charming by jewels2876 • 〔F〕 •

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

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

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

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

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

[henryofwales]

His mind flashes to Henry.

1 | 2

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrbedit #firstprince #rwrb spoilers #alex claremont diaz #prince henry #lgbtq #filmedit #dailylgbtq #lgbtedit #* #alex x henry #book v movie #nicholas galitzine who told you you were allowed to make *that* face?? god #i'm pretty proud of this one ngl :') #there are many lines that arent iconic but means a lot to me #and that makes me stop and say wow casey so real #this is one of them #the one is when alex is watching henry 'create Prince Henry of Wales for the day.'

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

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

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

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

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

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

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was completely by accident, but no less true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clark wanted to wait- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clark?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #clark kent #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x plussize reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent fic #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent fanfic #man of steel #batman v superman #batman v supeman: dawn of justice #justice league #some things you just cant refuse #Clark Kent #clark kent x black reader #clark kent x black!reader #kal el #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic

[ginnysgraffiti]

dirty thoughts, riding, touching part, needy

y/n, partner half asleep.

&. KING HAL (HENRY V) x yn.

you were his fabric doll, as he started to call you after the official marriage.

softness, kindness, a giving nature and wisdom; that's how he described you.

hal spends hours worshipping and absorbing every tiny detail about you, and if you only ask, he could go on and on.

he usually gets lost in your fair wavy hair, doe eyes, blushed porcelain cheeks and delicate little hands.

"all your grace is in your vagueness, my queen. your soft voice, your manner languid, your features blurred and dreamy." his shooting words waking you up the morning after the marriage.

and then he gets lost again in your features, measuring the distance from one freckle to the other, the softness of your lower lip, more evident than the upper one, before primitively undressing you and making the bed creak until small hours.

his place was between your legs, no doubt.

and anyone who dared to lay eyes on you would meet the guillotine the following morning, at the bell's heavy ringing, and you knew it.

but the sticky words of his, sweet like honey, they only dripped down the walls of the royal halls, during boring and long meals, where you represented a public image and inspiration source.

yes, because with you, you and you only, in private, hal was the most alive animal you had ever seen.

and you missed all this.

you missed the taste of his tongue, the heat of his thighs, his overly expert hands and his hungry gaze.

he made you feel so loved, beyond every limit.

now, however, the peace pacts and bloody wars were consuming him to the core, badly scratching his armor, crumbling his tolerance.

you could rarely see hal during the day, and even when you hoped to enjoy his company in the late evening, he was usually too tired or busy checking the artillery.

you felt neglected, even though you knew very well that it wasn't his fault at all.

but now the gazes of the other nobles became more focused on your skin, and the caresses he used to give you left an empty space under the covers.

[...]

one evening, when the flame crackled particularly on the medieval torch on the wall, your steps drew their way towards your room.

the latter creaked slightly, and hal's sleeping figure gave you such a view.

he was shirtless, as always, lying belly up, lost in a deep and calm breath.

you approached the mattress, making sure to not make any noise. you quickly got changed in your pajamas and sat next to him.

something about his position and his presence was awakening something brutal and hot inside your knotted stomach.

you could feel your stomach juices flaring up.

fuck, you needed him.

the sin was now rising to the neurons of your brain, consuming you alive.

you didn't know if he would forgive you, no, but you knew that that was all you had to do.

such dirty thoughts for a queen.

[...]

you found yourself straddling him with only your underwear, you had taken off almost everything. you molded yourself to his pelvis and the hardness you felt between his thighs took your breath away.

you stopped breathing. your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks burning.

you felt his erection quiver under the thin layer of your panties and with an inhibition that was unknown to you and an incessant need to attenuate the devastating heat that you felt between your thighs, you rubbed yourself against him, moving your pelvis dangerously.

faster, faster.

faster.

faster until you could feel yourself soaked.

you could feel his hips bones the more you moved, and your mouth was wide open.

you looked at him hypnotized in his most regal sleep. his perfect face teasing you slowly, in such a perverse way that made you even wetter.

you panted.

the breathing heavy and wet.

no longer able to bear the powerful pulsations between your legs you moved even faster but slowing down every now and then, when small grunts came out of his soft lips.

without even realizing it you were already entertaining yourself, rubbing your fingers against the fabric of your own underwear.

dirty moans fill your ears.

you didn't know what you were doing, but you knew you had never felt better.

"are you going to cum on me so soon?" asked a husky voice in your ear, panting.

fuck.

you couldn't look up, you couldn't allow yourself to sink into your wet perversity like this.

you could barely nod.

an ashamed queen ashamed of her own actions.

how disgusting.

hal grabbed your hips and with one move made you turn your back, letting out a small cry of surprise that you knew would excite him even more. your smells mix with the spicy ones of the room, the bodies merge. this position made everything more intimate and awkward.

"how naive to think i was really asleep..."

you worshipped him, as if you had a god in your hands, while he slammed you onto the mattress with incredible force.

now you found yourself with your cheek against the pillow and your pelvis raised to the height of his cock. with one hand he grasps your buttock, he places the other on the back of your neck to keep you still. you felt dizzy and hot.

he moaned like a caged animal.

you knew he was just holding back and that if you could turn around you would see a murderous look.

the one look you needed to know when he wanted to push himself into you.

he needed.

instantly.

he squeezed your buttocks vehemently and your eyes widened when he gave you a resounding slap on your buttock which made you let out a very powerful scream and which, to your enormous surprise, made you terribly more excited. you felt him lean over you, his massive chest pressed against your thin back. he loomed over your body, brought his mouth close to your ear and, in a husky, sensual voice, murmured, "fuck, i didn't know my queen could have such a twisted mind within these walls."

"i-...i can explain...your majesty...forgive m-"

he pulled your hair to make your back arch and the loudest moan left your wet lips.

your legs trembled in the middle due to your own sound.

how pathetic.

that's just how you were when you needed hal.

"there's no need, just let me fill you up with my cum until my queen is completely satisfied beyond any physical limit. and call me hal, only hal." a soft wet kiss delivered on your shoulder.

"forget your queen duties tomorrow."

the last famous words you fucking craved for so long.

#timothee chalamet #timothee x y/n #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #&. HAL #&. HENRY V #the king #haltheking #timotheehal #timothéehal #&. HAL x yn #&. HENRY V x yn

[lixzey]

against all odds

in which the king sets his eyes upon his queen's lady in waiting.

king hal x reader

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend

#timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #hal x reader #the king 2019 #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée x reader #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x you #timothée chalamet fanfic #hal the king #henry v #catherine of valois #lady in waiting reader #timothee #lil timmy tim #timothée chalamalabingbong #timothee fanfic #timothee x you #timmy chalamet #fanfic #fanfiction #timmy #the king #timothée hal #timothée hal chalamet #timothee hal chalamet

[meetmyothersouls]

Soft dim hal please?

I'd love to <3

Only Yours

Warnings: first person reader, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming, breeding, oral, not proofread

I stayed seated as the Hal's dinner guests began leaving, still not knowing quite how this newfound royalty worked. Only married to The King now for a month, I stayed quiet, and I stayed in my place. An arranged marriage didn't allow much time for formalities.

The large oak doors slammed shut, and I heard the clicking of Hal's shoes as he walked back to the large refractory table. My hands in my lap, and my head faced down, I didn't realize that he'd taken his seat once again. He sat at the opposite end, at the head of the table and sighed, swirling red liquid in a goblet before bringing it to his lips.

"I just loathe gatherings like that, don't you?"

"Hmm? Sire?" I said, looking up.

I heard him swallow the liquid and sigh again. He gently placed his goblet down and looked at me. I found it hard to maintain eye contact, thought I knew how rude it would be to break it while he was addressing me. "Still so formal?" He asked quietly.

I feigned confidence, clearing my throat and sat up a bit straighter. I allowed myself the tiniest smile and said, "Well, you are the King."

"And that makes you the Queen, does it not?"

My eyes flicked back to his. The Queen. That was still something I was having trouble accepting. "Yes," I said, my eyes darting back to my lap. "I suppose it does."

"Hmmm," Hal muttered. He scooted his chair back, the wooden legs dragging noisily against the stone floor. I could hear him taking steps toward me and my heart went from a steady beat to a heavy pound. It wasn't that was afraid of him, he seemed nice enough. Letting me have my own room until I was comfortable enough to share his bed with him. He expanded his library since my arrival making sure I had plenty to read since he learned from my father that it was my favorite thing. He gave me sweet smiles in passing. Then there was the matter of his attractiveness. Hal was easy on the eyes, to say the least. Lost in thought, I didn't realize he was standing behind me until his hands lightly grazed my exposed shoulders. "Then when will you allow me to start treating you as one?"

I gasped lightly as his fingers traveled from my shoulders to my neck, not pressing or squeezing but exploring my soft skin. He trailed his fingers to my chin, where he lifted and tilted my head back, until it rested on the back of my chair and my eyes had no other choice but to look up and meet his. Even upside down he was elegant and beautiful. He smiled, a half-smile pulling up one corner of his lips. "Perhaps, right now?"

Unable to speak, I nodded. Hal brought is face closer to mine, his pace slow yet deliberate. Then his lips were against mine. Upside down, what should have been awkward was nothing but. Gracefully, and delicately his lips skated across mine, his tongue sliding out to lick my lips. My heart pounded so intensely I felt it in my ears. The room spun and when Hal pulled away from me, I felt myself sag in my seat. I lifted my head the room suddenly turning back to its normal position.

"Come now," Hal said gently, "I must have more of you."

He began walking, as I eased myself off of my chair, the room still spinning. I swayed gently, knocking my cup off the table. I swore under my breath. In quick strides, Hal was at my side again.

"No matter. If you can't walk, I shall carry you."

Either unable or unwilling to object, Hal lifted me into his arms. Our faces were close as he ascended a winding staircase, and even though he wasn't even remotely out of breath, I felt it silly for him to walk me up the entire set of stairs.

"Hal, I assure you I can walk."

"I'd prefer you to save your energy. For other, more exciting things."

"And what of your energy?"

"I have a surplus."

"Is that so?"

"It is, my dear, y/n."

We reached the top where Hal finally put me down.

"I am not a virgin," I blurted out, hoping it wouldn't be a mistake. "I hope that does not upset you."

Hal stared at me for a moment before shrugging, "only means that I do not have to teach you everything."

The inside of Hal's bedroom was shockingly simple. He had made sure mine was ornate and supplied, while his only contained a bed. One large, simple bed. He spun me around and began unlacing my corset, a tedious task that I hoped he would be able to accomplish quickly.

"Tomorrow, anything you want brought to my room I will have a servant bring. I do not wish to be separate from you any longer."

I nodded in agreement. How was it that I hadn't had anything more than a polite gesture from him in a month and now I felt like I was jumping out of my skin to be with him?

Layers and layers of clothing fell off of me until I stood in nothing but a white slip. My nipples hardened underneath the thin fabric as he spun me back around to face him. A thumb lifted my face up to meet his as he capture my lips with his. Hal kissed me softly, deeply and passionately as he backed me up to the bed. Once my back of my knees hit, I let myself fall back.

"Your clothes?"

"Shhh," Hal said nudging my legs apar with a knee. He dropped down to his and breathed deep between my legs. "Divine," he whispered. Wasting no time, his head was between my legs. He licked my folds earning instant moans from me. He sucked and slurped, pulling my clit into his mouth and rolling it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue. Then came his fingers. First one, then another, pumping in and out of me, curling each time to get me where I needed to be.

"Hal, ahh, " I hissed in pleasure. "Please!"

"Tell me what you want, y/n."

"I want to cum, please let me cum, my King."

He kept a steady pace with his fingers while he gave my clit one last flick with his tongue. I came hard, moaning and arching my back off of his bed.

"That's it, cum for me, my Queen. Good, good." He purred as my body jerked in pleasure. "There she is."

His clothes were off in an instant. I barely had time to recover before he sheathed his cock inside of me. Hal let out a low drawn-out groan as made himself at home. My legs splayed open for him, he began thrusting his hips softly.

"Whose cunt is this?" He growled.

My back arched at his filthy words. I whined, wanting all of him and more. He pinched one of my nipples hard between an index finger and a thumb. "Answer me," Hal demanded. His voice hard yet loving. "Whose cunt is this?"

"It is yours! Yours and only yours!"

"That's right," Hal praised, letting go of my nipple and replacing it with his lips. He suckled tenderly, licking the area he'd just abused, while his cock hit me deep with each thrust. He pulled my nipple with his lips until he let go with a soft pop. "I may not be your first, but believe me when I say I will most definitely be your last, y/n. And we will make love every night until your swollen with my child."

"Halll," I moaned, feeling that intense pressure building in my stomach again.

Hal's thrusts became fast and sloppy, his breathing became erratic and shaky. He buried his face into my neck, sucking on the skin, sending me over the edge. I moaned as I came, pressing my breasts into his chest. Seconds later, I felt him flood me with his warmth. His body jerking and shaking on top of mine as he emptied himself inside of me.

He laid on top of me, his softening cock still deep inside of my pussy as he kissed me. I smiled, an idea forming as I began rolling my hips underneath him.

Hal breathed out a shaky breath, smiling against me. His cock hardening with each movement I made underneath him. He wanted me full of his child. I'd make sure that happened sooner rather than later.

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #smut #the king #king henry v x reader #the king 2019 #the king Timothee chalamet #anon #request

[miasmat]

A rocky heist that eventually went well? Was Vito being cheeky and Henry lost his temper? Someone threatened Vito and Henry finished the job? Who knows

Clean version with Vito just being a cheeky cunt under the cut :3c

don't piss off henry or he'll punch you with his fist and then his mouth

#and you may ask 'tom how are you doing all these so fast?' #and the answer is definitely not 'i was sitting at my desk for 20 hours straight' #i am not joking when i say I am physically ill with heartache over these two #i will die for them #or at least ruin my back for them #vito scaletta #henry tomasino #vito x henry #vito/henry #mafia trilogy #mafia ii #mafia 2 #h/v #digital #fanart #fan art

[georgiapeach30513]

I’m Your Whore

Summary: who deserves to be called the White Wolf

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia X Reader X Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, threesome, rough sex, sucking, sex with an audience, creampie, hair pulling, D/s dynamics, cuckolding, spit roast, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.1K

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Geralt Masterlist

“We’re here ma’am,” Pietro looks at you through the rear view mirror, and you wait for your bodyguard to open the door. Upon looking away, Pietro gives a quick wink to the giant at your side.

Geralt leans over to you, whispering a quick, “Are you sure you want to do have this meeting in your condition?” You roll your eyes and push the man out of the car.

“Go on, White Wolf. I will not have you telling me what it is that I need to do,” Geralt loved your sass. It was a bit unpredictable at times, and he hopes that you are of clear mind during your meeting with Steve and his own White Wolf.

He gets out, holding the door open for you, and extends his hand. Waiting for you to take a few steps forward, and he begins following you. Your head high as you walk through the halls of Steve’s estate. Your heels clicking down the way, alerting Steve of your arrival, and he peeks his head out of his office.

“Nice of you to join me,” the blonde man gives you a nod as he holds his hand out for you to follow him into the room. You greet his own guard Bucky with a nod, and wait on Geralt to pull out your chair before he takes the place behind you. His hands crossed in front of him. Geralt gives a quick smile to Bucky, and turns his gaze down to look at your lap.

“Steve, what is the meaning of this?” You cock up a perfectly arched eyebrow watching as he takes his place at the other end of the table. Bringing your fingers onto the table, your French manicure taps on the lavish wood, but he still sits there quietly.

His ringed fingers rub over his lips, pursing them in thought, “Steven? I haven’t got all day.”

“It appears that we have a dilemma?”

“Oh?” You turn your head to look at him, “And what is our dilemma?”

“Do you not find it curious that both our guards have the same nickname?” You lean back into your chair, and shake your head. When he continues to sit silently, you tap on Geralt’s hand, and he scoots your chair back. Standing up with his assistance, Steve’s slams a fist on the table, “Sit down.”

You sit quickly, glaring at him. Daring him to say another word, “I proposed a way to determine who should keep their name,” you sigh, taking a deep breath, annoyed that Steve was wasting your time. “Why don’t they see who can make you cum faster?”

“Steve!”

“What?” He chuckles, “Are you trying to say that you haven’t look at either of these men and imagined what they would feel like buried in between your thighs? You keep Geralt on a short leash, while you eye Bucky every time you’re in his presence. Try and deny it, Darling. You are curious.”

“Is this why you gave me an out to this meeting?” You turn around to look at your White Wolf, and he nods with a smirk. “The three of you just casually discuss my cunt?”

“Yes,” Steve tells you, spinning around a few of his rings. “It’s not everyday we see a strong woman with so much power. Sometimes it’s nice to see the face she makes at her most vulnerable?”

“And when is that, Steve?”

“Right before climax. You let your walls down as your cunt clenches down on a fat cock. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head, while you’re taken to another plane of existence. Just pleasure. Pure, unadulterated, sinful, pleasure. Seeing how both men want to keep their nickname, you will be the judge on who is in fact the White Wolf? Look at it as becoming their She Wolf. One will rise in ranks, while the other will be reborn. Are you not going to take me up on my offer? I’m giving you a gift.”

Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you. Your eyes coast down Bucky’s front, before you look back at Steve, “And where do you propose that this takes place?”

Steve snaps his fingers, and Geralt lifts your body up, sitting you down on the table, before he steps in between your thighs. Pushing them so wide that your skirt rips. Gasping up at him, and Bucky crawls on the table behind you.

“You’re wanting to watch?” You look back nervously at Steve, but he was already making himself comfortable in a chair, perfect to view you being taken apart by the large men. Bucky’s mouth attaches to your neck, and he leaves a trail of goosebumps with every open mouth kiss he presses onto you. Sucking bruises into your skin, while Geralt’s fingers make shapes on your thigh. Slowly making their way up higher.

“Why would I not want to? I need to see which one brings out the prettiest sounds in your voice,” he stands up, walking behind Geralt. Getting right in his ear, while his lust blown eyes stare down at you, “Here’s your chance White Wolf. Fuck her.”

“Geralt,” you say his name quickly, but then his body rolls, and you feel his bulge at your core.

“What do you say, Darling? You up for the challenge?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, and Bucky lays you flat on the table. His mouth moving your own. Kissing you upside down, while his fingers rip off your blouse. The different feeling of his flesh hand and metal hand kneading your tits has you moaning into his mouth.

Geralt rips off your panties, and spreads your legs out wide. Whistling at just how wet you were, and it was all for them. His hands grab at the back of your knees, and he brings them down by your side. Making your legs go in the same direction as your head, and Bucky finally lifts up. Watching Geralt take his thick cock out, and slaps it against your clit, creating strings of his precum and your arousal.

Pushing his thick cock in your entrance, he quickly pushes all the way in, before pulling out just as fast. Leaving you whining at the violent stretch and added loss of him. Panting, and Bucky lifts you up, and forces your head to look at your spread cunt. “Watch him this time,” he coos into your ear.

Geralt slides into your warmth slowly this time. Wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Every ridge of his length hugged by your cunt tightly. And when he bottoms out, your wide eyes look up at him. Bucky’s hand presses onto your stomach, and you look over at Steve, “What is it?”

“Oh, he’s in her stomach. You see that,” he moves his hand, bringing your own to the bump on your belly. “You feel it?” Geralt pulls himself out slowly. Achingly slow, and you watch the bulge disappear. And then he pounds into your heat with fury, and you feel it balloon back up. “You like that? You like how deep he is?”

“Uh-huh,” your fingers grip onto his wide waist, and you give him a little nod. “Wanna feel you more, White Wolf.”

Geralt grunts, and starts rutting into you. Overpowering your body, while you become a complete mess. “Steve,” you call out his name, eyes glancing over at him. He was enjoying the show. Taking a slow drink of his bourbon, while his hand palms himself. “Steve!”

“Does your White Wolf make you feel full?” You nod your head, gasping when Geralt’s tip edges at your cervix. “He is a big boy. Thick and veiny, just how you like it, huh? You gonna be a whore for Geralt?” You shake your head no, because while you enjoyed this, you didn’t want to be a whore for him.

“Would you hurry up,” Bucky pleads, giving your nipples a hard pinch. “I wanna see how much her hole is gaping when your finished with her.”

Geralt, a man of few words, picks up his pace. Rolling his pelvis deep into your cunt. He was a genius. Hitting every one of your spots, and your eyes go hazy as euphoria pulses through your body. Your velvet walls clench tight around him, and he grunts, struggling to pull himself out. You had him in a vice grip. Taking every inch of him.

“She’s been gripping me tight,” he grunts out. Gritting his teeth, he slams into you one more time before his spunk paints your heated walls.

“Move,” Bucky demands, getting himself onto the floor. He twists your body to lay on your stomach. Gripping your hair at the root, he lifts your head to look at Steve, “Want him to see what a mess I can make you.”

His movements were smooth as he pushes into you. His own little whimper rings into your ears, and you weren’t prepared for how soaking wet his pretty sounds were going to make you. A fresh flood of slick coats your walls. And he moans again. Starting to rut into you vigorously.

Hips pounding onto your ass, and he starts nibbling at your shoulder. Smirking up at Steve when his hand wraps around your body, and he starts making tight circles on your bundle of nerves. Bucky lets go of your hair, and your head droops down. Your mouth dry at all the sounds you’ve made, but there was one that Steve wasn’t ready to hear.

“Bucky,” you choke out as pleasure overtakes you.

Steve stands up, and is over to you in two strides. Gripping at your cheeks, lifting your face up to look at him, “Now, I thought I told you I was giving you a gift. These two men may be fucking you dumb, but I’m the only one that should be on your mind. If I hear you say, moan, scream, or even fucking mumble one of their names again, I will fuck you so hard you’ll be walking funny for a week. Don’t test me, Princess. You said I owned this pussy, and I will let anyone fuck her, and you’ll like it, but only your husband’s name echos off those pretty lips. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you pant out. Your voice was hoarse already, and your head bounces around with Bucky’s motions. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re forgiven,” Steve was so fucking hard. He was refusing to pull his cock out. His thick hand just rubs over his tighten pants, and you drool at how calm he was.

Flat on your stomach, while you look over to your husband, Bucky props himself up on his fists. He pistons hard into your abused snatch, and you let out a loud drawn out moan. Everyone in the house can hear you. Could hear the table legs scratch the floor with every hard pound into you that Bucky makes. Your pussy makes loud squelching sounds. It reverberates off the wall, and all three men are mesmerized by how much you could take.

Geralt walks over to lift your chin up, and you realize that he had crawled onto the table. Your face right in between his thighs, “You’re not too dumb to suck on my fat cock, are you?”

“N-n-no,” Bucky doesn’t slow with your whimpers. In fact it just makes him slam into your harder. Using his thrusts to bob you over Geralt’s cock. Bucky doesn’t even care that your cunt is clenching down on him again. He looks up at his best friend with a smirk. Flicking his head over to Steve, who stands up.

Bucky makes sure to pull his cock almost completely out of you. Letting your husband watch as your cream coats Bucky’s member. Your slick covers his cock as it glistens in the lighting.

“Yep, this is a perfect way to occupy your mouth. So who gets to keep the White Wolf?”

Pulling his cock out of you, Geralt slaps you across the face, asking who again, pulling his dick out of your mouth to slap across your cheeks. “Both. Both,” you whimper out again. Looking up at Steve who finally fists his cock slowly. “Both!” You scream out as Bucky slams into your cunt one last time before he spurts deep into your core, and you moan out Steve’s name.

“Alright, gentleman. Stay if you wish, but looks like we’re going to have to do this again. At least until she chooses” he walks over to you, and pushes Bucky out of the way. “Stay if you must, but now, I’m going to be the one to fuck my wife. Even if she is a bit incoherent now. You can handle a few more orgasms, right?”

You give him a nod as he lines himself up. Taking a deep breath before he barrels into your warmth, “I’ll let you know when you can play again boys,” Steve always controlled the situation. Always. “And you my darling wife. You take cock like the best girl. It’s like you were made to be my whore, huh?”

“Yes, sir. I’m your whore.”

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @missusbarnes-rogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @harrysthiccthighss @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @smile1318

#mafia au #wolf v wolf #white wolf v white wolf #Geralt x reader x Bucky Barnes #geralt of rivia #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #geralt x reader #geralt x fem!reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #bucky barnes smut #geralt of rivia smut #geralt smut #henry cavill #sebastian stan #steve rogers

[keenzinemugstudent]

Okay this is a new story I was thinking about when I was at work what if Clark and you were in a relationship but after he met Lois your relationship with him starting to drift and you break up you leave Metropolis and years go by Clark meets you again because the team needed your help but he also sees that you're with a child that strangely looks like him come to find out before you left you find out were pregnant and were planning to tell him but you caught him and Lois together so you left without telling him that you were pregnant with his child🤭😲😏I'm a terrible person but I love drama and Angst.

#clark kent #dc x reader #chubby reader #clark kent x reader #superman x lois #batman v superman #lois lane #bruce wayne #diana prince #wonder woman x reader #batman x reader #superman x you #clark kent x you #your name #dc x gender neutral reader #superman x black reader #black reader #jon kent #henry cavill superman #man of steel #kon el superboy #dc angst #superman x reader #henry cavill fic

[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.

#the hollow crown #the hollow crown henry iv part 1 #fanfiction #hollow crown henry v #william shakespeare #shakespeare #Henry V x reader #Henry V x fem! Reader #Henry V x y/n #Henry V x you #Henry V fluff #Henry V angst #tom hiddleston characters #angst with a happy ending #prince hal #prince hal x reader #prince hal imagine #prince hal fanfiction #henry v imagine #henry v fanfiction #henry v fanfic #henry v x you #henry v x reader #tom hiddleston #hiddlesverse #carrie writes #herny v x fem! reader #tom hiddleston henry v

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2023-12-23

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

❆ Twelve Days of Christmas￨Prt. II￨Prt. III￨Prt. IV￨Prt. V￨Prt. VI￨Prt. VII￨Prt. VIII￨ by smolvenger • 18+ • 〔F᜶A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You must face your first royal holiday celebration —the Twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany —for your first time as the bride and queen of the new, young King Henry V, a man you were arranged to marry, a man you hardly know."

❆ Green Sleeves by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Hal should be at the royal residence for the holiday but is instead at a local inn with Falstaff and Poins. He has his eyes on you."

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

Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @smolvenger ||

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

[stellarknightz]

I am am insane Dr. Rose enthusiasts and am disappointed in the LACK OF THEM!!!!!

#Thsc #the henry stickmin collection #dr. vinschpinsilstien #Dr. V #Ellie Rose #Dr. Rose #Ellie Rose x Dr. V #ship art #I’m going to confess to you on Valentine’s Day #Digital art #im going MAD IS THERE A SHIP NAME I DONT KNOW ABOUT #NEED MORE OF THEM I AM DYING #Yaoi vs Yuri #Yuri is LOOSING #💔💔💔💔 #tik tok audio #Dr. Rose my fucking beloved #there was gonna be more bounce but I gave up lol #What there’s no mistakeswhattttt lolll #your crazy ahhahaaa #crying and throwingup

[visd3stele]

synopsis: cursed in a magic circus, king Hal loses his crown. He is willing to believe any curse can be a blessing when it brings him to you.

tw: magical au! talks of poisoning, talks of creepy old men, attempt sa

a/n: don't forget to let me know what you think: asks, reblogs, messages, comments, whatever feedback is welcomed, cherrished and encouraged <3

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THEY KNOW WHY KING HAL'S HORSE IS NAMED TINY HORSE, I'm begging

A galloping circus

When the moon begin her slow ascend on the still lit sky, one can feel a thimble in the air. A shift in the waves of air. Colder, harsher, agitating the sea and the ocean in a call to help their queen. And as the tides spiral 'til the stars to tickle them awake, the Masters of the night spread their limbs and smile a toothy grin.

One such Master is the First Star. Born from Lihtnighte and the Moon, coddled by the moms and gaped at and admired by the whole suite, the First Star learned to love its beauty. Worshipped by the humans for the light it offered, as bright as a second sun in the midst of shadows full of lurking beasts, the First Star learned to play with them.

It visited often on the Land. Amongst humans, unlike any other Master. Bored to no end, the First Star decided to stir up some fun...

"But what's fun for an immortal isn't fun for us, mere humans." You whispered under your breath, cementing your annoyance with a swift roll of your eyes. The horse you were tessellating neighed his agreement. He moved his head stubbornly against your comb when you approached his hair, meaning to braid it before the show.

The circus master gave you a stern look and repeated the last sentence to anchor himself in his speech again. The entire tent was witness to chaos and havoc below its curtains. Just like every time you visit the duke's domains.

You paid no mind to the story. You knew it by heart already. All people do, part of the circus or not. The First Star created it to amuse itself. At the beginning all was good. People presented their talents, made jokes, put plays in place, danced and singed as they did when celebrating the other Masters of the night.

But one human dared to question it. The First Star was too laid back, keeping people from their work days and nights in never ending rows; and thus harming their society. Taking great offense at the mortal, the First Star cursed her and the circus. Frozen in time, forced to perform for eternity in its name so that anyone else can move forward like the daring woman wanted.

Which is why the humans of the Land religiously respect the Bright Circus. Wherever it goes, every night it performs, the tent captures the unique light of the First Star, shining like a diamond on the ground.

You were a bit odd in this picture, though. You joined the circus willingly a hundred and seven years after it was made. Running from a marriage you wished no part of, fooled by enchanted promises and silvery lies.

The First Star appeared to you one night, startling Nightsun, your favored horse. A wild stallion none of your father's stable boys could tame. He bowed to you, though. The little lady y/l/n who would rather feed the horses and clam the hay than sit through manner lections and dress fittings.

It led you to the Bright Circus. "I've been watching you, miss y/l/n. I think you would be a marvelous addition to my Circus."

Indeed, you were. Your number was easily the most impressive one under the cursed tent. And despite the scary tales of the First Star's wrath - very clearly showed by the heavy pregnant woman that wiped the seats after the public left (the woman who dared go against the Master of the night that fateful day, you later learned) - you knew no one would go against its will. If the Star wanted you, the Star shall have you.

So, you traded a cursed destiny for another. Two hundred years you did the same thing, every night. Performing mostly for the depraved rich. You started your number alone in the middle of the sand circle that separated the Master of the night's puppets from the free public. Then, like a lightning against the night sky, Nightsun would come running in. Stardust caught in his caramel hair, moonbeams glistening off his soft light-brown skin. The effect that earned him his name, a sun in the night, shining bright enough to catch the First Star's eyes.

From here, you would improvise. Years of sneaking in the stables and hiding in the woods for moments of freedom taught you many things. To chase boredom away, you'd climb the horse and dance on his back. Or play around with Nightsun, on and off his saddle free form. Legs thrown in the air while your upper body supported you safely on Nightsun, a slow waltz alone on his back, twirling and jumping around and on the strong mustang... it all pleased the immortal star.

One day, though, another odd one stepped on your stage. A boy around your age... or rather the age you were before the curse froze you in time alongside the people of the Bright Circus. He was tall and lean, his hair cut carelessly, shorter on edges, cupping his face with wild curls. He walked with his head held high, even though his shoulders seemed to drop down on each step.

Hal. No last name, no middle name, no backstory. A boy brought in by the First Star one afternoon as mysteriously as it took you. All the boy owned was a beautiful horse that kept close to her master. A high mare of the deepest browns you've ever seen; one white strike split her face in two, completing the etheral image the horse made. Her, and the clothes on him.

You have tried guessing his life story from them, the dusty clothes he wore every night, washed in the river each morning. No luck. The fabric was simple, but lasting. A loose green shirt paired with a coat so long and light in weight you couldn't find it a practical purpose and tight black pants. Nothing to indicate the wealth. He could have been a smaller nobleman, a richer bourgeois or even a peasant dressed from well sewn patches of his master's old clothes. It was practiced by your father's servants.

Or perhaps even a duke's son who ran astray and found himself in an impossible situation. Your frustration with Hal only grew by the day, with his silent demeanor, reserved personality and loneliness. But you couldn't deny the excitement that rose in yourself with his arrival. No more were you alone under the scrunting gaze of a cruel public. No more were you alone, standing out against the family the first in the Circus created.

"Nervous?" He asked from the box next to yours. The First Star's magic fit inside the Bright Circus everything its inhibitors needed to please the viewers. Everything you did was to please them. And regardless of the story of the Circus' origins, they still seemed to have forgotten the pain and sufferance of people stuck in time for eternity on the whim of an angry immortal.

"He speaks," you teased friendly. You had gotten used to Hal and his antics: keeping mostly to himself when the group gathered around the fire after the show, eating alone on river's benches or with his horse in the stables. Venturing around the tent as often as he could.

A wanderer such as yourself.

One time, within a few days since he came to the Circus, you followed in his steps. It was the day you finally connected, a bond so sudden, so unusual that it could only strengthen shortly into an unbreakable one.

"What secrets do you hide, Hal? Could you be a changeling, spying for the Fae Queen? Or, even better! Perhaps a Forest Spirit."

The young man eyed you then. He let his gaze roam you, truly taking you in for the first time. Hal's frown unknitted his wrinkled brows and light touched his shadowed face unlike never before since you met him. Even a small tug of his lips fluttered at the corner of his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be more afraid if I was?"

"Oh, absolutely not! I hope you are, for I cannot make sense of you and that would be such a wonderful explanation."

He rose one brow, turning his whole self to look at you. You noticed an upside down Y shaped scar on his cheek. And you added it to the list of things you knew about your partner. A name, a secretive personality, expensive clothes, but unlike any noble's and an unknown wound on the side of his cheekbone. Such a great, useful list!

"Most people would be afraid of these beings. Even the ones who don't believe in their existence."

"But I'm sure they exist. If our Masters of the night are real, so can our folk tales. I would like to meet one. Or all. There can't be a whole world invisible to us full of only awful creatures."

A small smile graced Hal's lips, so genuine it took you by surprise and bewitched your mind and soul for a second or more. "Perhaps not." And you got the feeling he meant more that the stories that scare kids to sleep and serfs into labor.

"What's her name?" You asked when the silence became too much.

Hal smirked. "Tiny Horse."

You burst out laughing, all the pent up stress and curiosity flowing free in chimes of absurd happiness. The young man looked at your closed eyes, mouth wide open as your chest heaved with each laugh, head thrown back as you knotted your fingers in your horse's hair to keep from falling. And warmly smiled.

"Only when I have something to say. But you knw that already."

"That I do," you leaned from Nightsun to peak in Tiny Horse's box where Hal begrudgingly adorned the mare's mane with feathers and shiny stones, polished to look like authentic jewels.

"Don't worry about me, Hal. I'll survive. The horses, though..."

Hal scoffed. "I hate them. Whom do they think they are to demand how we or our horses look when we perform?!"

"A very influent duke and his court," you sighed as another scoff echoed from the boy.

Tiny Horse and Nightsun beat their hooves on the ground restlessly. A pained look passed both of your faces. All the ornaments itched the poor animals' quite badly. You and Hal had to stop your number for weeks after a visit at this duke's estate. You'd let the horses run free, bathing them, tessellating and sleeping in their boxes to make sure they're not sick.

"Why are they called nobles?" Hal mumbled. "There's nothing noble about them."

As always, there was that mysterious fog clouding his speech. A vengeful longing barely hidden. As if his past was haunting him still and Hal, bitter about it, felt trapped in his powerless state in the Bright Circus.

"The title may have bore some meaning long ago."

"It had no other meaning than stuck up minx lords believing they're better than anyone else."

"Was your landlord a bad man, then?" You asked, hoping to gain some information of his other life, before he danced with you on top of marvelous horses in a magical tent.

"Five minutes!" The pregnant lady, the Maker of the Bright Circus in her defiance of the immortal Star, announced. A shiver ran down your spine each time you saw her. Carrying an eight months babe in her womb for hundreds of years... you couldn't begin to imagine or understand such a nightmare!

When you turned, Hal and Tiny Horse already left.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

After you readied Nightsun, you tipped on your toes to watch the seats fill with well dressed ladies, trailing their gowns behind their tight waists and lords in the softest buffalo leather coats. You didn't miss the days a maid would wrap the corset around your bruised torso until you looked like the fragile porcelain doll you had to be. But the change of the world always made you sigh in wonder.

You would usually sneak under the seats, where the ground was low and created a small hole, enough to easily fit two people. And watched. No matter the public, rich, poor or serfs even, you enjoyed observing them. Comparing how everything was supposed to be in your time and how things evolved.

Sometimes, more often than not, Hal joined you. You would contemplate and comment together on the good and the bad of your realm and how swift the shift was, that the rest of the people who had the privillage of not being frozen in time didn't even notice it.

"I knew I'd find you here." He sighed, slugging his from to fit next to you.

"He says as if I'm the one who always disappears."

"Sorry. I didn't want to see them more than I have to."

Again with the thorny spite against nobles. Instead of prying on his past some more as your mind begged of you, you repositioned yourself to face him.

"Then how come you're here, now?"

"I thought better. Couldn't have possibly left you alone in such moments."

Your heart flipped at his words. And you blinked to spread the piercing warning of tears. You nodded, hoping Hal could tell how grateful you were, dropping your head on his shoulder softly. You raised a hand to cover his eyes.

"See anything?" When Hal shook his head you hummed in content. "Good. Now you can stay with me and not see the stuck ups."

Hal's body shook with laughter. Even though the sounds he made were muffled and barely audible, you embraced the vigorous movement with a happy smile.

The duke on whose lands you were about to perform has taken a special notice in you. He begin with sending his guards to escort you to the noble estate. Everyone knows the Circus disappears at the first stream of daylight, along with its cursed ones. No matter where they were. There was no escape.

You tried to push them aside, conjuring excuses such as needing to bath, wash the horse, feed him and yourself and everything you could have think of. When the duke himself started to press you to join him, he wouldn't take a refusal on your part.

"I'm so very sorry, m'lord, but I need a visit to the river nearby. All that effort and the fire-like light had me a gross mess of sweat and smell."

"My personal bathing chambers are a well deserved payment for your the likes of you."

"Thank you very much, you're too kind. Unfortunately my horse needs to be tend to."

"Don't you have servants to do the job? I am sure the First Star provides you all with every needed thing."

"No, m'lord. I have to take care of my horse myself."

"Then let me lend you some of my stables boys."

"I prefer it if no one touches Nightsun but me. It's better this way. A show horse caring looks different than a normal one."

It wasn't until Hal chimed in that the duke left you be. A demanding dominance adorning him as if he was meant to be listened to and he knew it. And the duke felt it too. But he would always start anew each time the Circus stopped on his lands.

Hal has proven to be a rock for your sanity in the decades you spent together. And you suspected - or at the very least hoped so - that you gave him some sort of comfort as well.

"I- I didn't have a landlord." He whispered after some time. Your hand still over his eyes. Better this way, perhaps. If you could see the green entrance to Hal's soul, he might close to you again.

You remined silent. An encouraging brush of your nose against his shoulder the only sign you were paying attention.

"I was raised at Court. The royal Court. Surrounded by so called nobles. Disgusting men like this duke. I learned to see their true faces."

You muffled a yelp of surprise at his words. Never in your wildest assumption have you thought Hal might come from the King's palace.

His body tensed against your feather light touch. "What happened?" It was the question that conveyed all your curiosities. Though you weren't content with it still.

Hal let out a mocking gruff of laughter. "What happened? They poisoned me. My... the King favored me and I didn't favor them. So they poisoned me."

"The First Star saved you." The words traveled through you on their own accord. An extension of the mind who focused on what it can understand from the pieced story Hal gave you.

He nodded, shifting to face you, letting his forehead drop on your shoulder. Your palm still on his face, but Hal knew your body as he did his own. As you did your own and his as well. When you danced, you never rehearsed your moves from the start. You improvised. Always something new. Never the same choreography. You learned your bodies well. Could feel each other edges and presence even in the dark, even with your eyes closed. And it became an unconscious part of your lives and instincts.

"It came to me that night. I could barely see it, vision blurry with tears and the fog of looming end. I couldn't breath and my own blood tasted bitter in my mouth. That I managed a nod at the First Star proposal is a miracle."

"Do you regret it?"

"Do you?" Hal shot back, raising his had and softly removing your hand from his eyes as he straighten. Back to his usual self, as if he didn't just open up to you more than ever.

"No." You whispered, a sense of betrayal sneaking from the back of your mind.

You hated the First Star and the Bright Circus and what it does to its poor people. But you wouldn't change your answer all those years ago. Because you're not free right now and you will never be, but at least now you can ride, you can dance, you are husbandless and... and you met Hal. You cannot regret whatever choice led you to him. Or rather, led him to you.

"Yeah," Hal agreed, watching the different emotions fill your e/c eyes like a tangled web. "I don't regret living or having all the time in the world to spend with Tiny Horse. I don't regret my life means riding her, dancing... and you." A blush colored his cheeks as Hal pierced your soul with his own. Trembling lashes the only indicative of his nervousness. Gone as soon as you noticed it. Replaced by the suppressed anger so familiar to his gaze.

"But I do regret what has been take from me. What I didn't know how to appreciate as my brother did and didn't want hard enough as my brother did. I could have done so much for so many. Be the man my father wanted because the Land needed it..."

"Shh." You hugged Hal tight as his words turned into whispers and his body convulsed with unshed tears and rage. "Shhh. It's alright." You didn't understand much of his rambling. But you understood the feeling of shuttering guilt for enjoying a new life that hurts so many, the missing of a far away past that hurt and hurts still. And the need to change, to help.

"It's alright. We're both here now. Nothing to do about it. I've got you."

"I've got you." He repeated slower and nodded his head and blink his lids to shake off the tears welled in those mesmerizing green pools.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Soon all the seats were taken. A sea of people fit under the magic veil of the Bright Circus. You and Hal sneaked out of your hidden spot. It was time to take you places and get ready.

The show went on as usual. The kids went first, with their makeshift dolls from corn or wood. With the magic of the First Star they could now bring the objects to life. Orchestrate a play they wrote themselves. Never one the same as the kids, even those frozen in times for centuries, have an infinite supply of imagination.

Then Hlaf, former baker in a life long since gone, would enter the stage. He'd contort his body in such manner he could fit through a ring off a lady's finger. Following suit, Feora and Engel would amaze the public with their wire walking. Such a thin thread of cotton, suspended on twenty meters in the air, the two sisters seemed to fly.

Later came Seax with their blades and Deor with her wild animals, somehow tame to her words. After, Blīþe followed with his jokes. The short man could talk for hours and the people would laugh their breath away. But as all things must come to an end, new ones must begin.

You weren't paying attention to the movement around you. Eyes fixed on the duke, in the middle of the first row. A start coursed through your body as you felt someone's touch at your side. Hal was squeezing your hand tight, hid thumb brushing over the back of your palm in soothing circles.

"I've got you," he whispered. "And you've got this."

A nervous smile trembled on your lips, though a genuine flicker twitched the corners of your mouth. "We've got this."

"Y/n, Hal, you're turn." The First Woman of the Bright Circus spoke behind you. The Show Runner was making your introduction, the same as always: Admired grandees and dear workers, young and less so, folk of the Land, you know our story, but you don't know theirs. Everyone is aware of our blessing, but theirs is a mystery the First Star landed upon us for reason only it can be privy to. But fret not, my darlings, for their talent is undeniable. Majestic. Welcome our marvelous pair of equestrian dancers!

You and Hal rolled your eyes at the same time. Your heart skipping beats, shoulders tensed, forcefully rolled back. His jaws set, muscles pulsing on the beat of his heavy heart.

Nightsun and Tiny Horse entered the sand circle, your stage. In a mist of maroon-yellow dust lifted in the air by their grumpy hooves. The two horses settled their pace, slowing down as they moved in the circle facing each other, distance closing in, in, in...

Hal took off. Fierce. Fast. Like a knight charging into battle. The man hadn't stop a second until his feet gently hit the back of the strong mare. Hal didn't climb up, he jumped. No hands rested on the side of the horse to help him. Just a flex of his knees, a wide jump and he twirled in the air to land gracefully on top of Tiny Horse.

The people, who have been holding their breath, afraid to even blink to not lose a beat of his steps, released the now warm air at once. Then the tent filled with the deep, bearish noise of clapping, sighs of admiration, whistles and appreciative murmurs.

Your turn. Hal is waiting for you. You close your eyes to take the duke's image out of your mind, life your chin and fix your gaze on him. On Hal. The unexpected friend in which you found comfort, affection. Love, you dared name it now, to give you strength. Though you were pushing the feeling down for over a decade. As sweet and kind he is to you, he is still Hal. The cold, privet man who opens up about himself in riddles and so rare he doesn't make sense.

Except... he shouldn't make sense. And in your mind he doesn't. But your heart learned the language of his summer green eyes, the rhythm of his laugh and the beat of his soul.

"Go," she whispered impatiently. And this time her pregnant form didn't sent shivers down your body. You were so light, your body but a feather through the air as you neared Nightsun and Hal. Hal who smiled warmly at you from the just as lovely mare.

Turning to your left side as you reached the perfect spot for what you had in mind - not too close to your stallion, but close enough to work - you leaned all your weight on your left leg. The right one in the air, pulling your body after it. You felt every muscle, every tendon stretch. Then you landed on Nightsun's back with your right foot first, turning to the rows of stunned people.

It happened quick. They needed a moment to understand what they saw. And when they did, another round of heavy tinkle break through your haze.

"Showoff." Hal mumbled jokingly, so low you almost didn't hear.

"Not at all. You simply think so because you are, in fact, lazy today."

"Not lazy. Just... he doesn't deserve my best."

"Mine neither. But the little kids and the tired serfs do, hmm?"

Hal snapped his head towards you, greeted being by your questioning, almost disappointed eyes and raised eyebrows. He sighed. "You're right."

He offered you his hand, pulling you towards him as you swirled in the air until your feet brushed his - both bare - on Tiny Horse. Hal smiled and wiped the hair clean off your face before you tackled him, palms on his shoulders and switch back to Nightsun, right as he arrived to your subtle calling.

You couldn't last more under Hal's mellow gaze. The suave curve of lips welcoming you, reassuring you. You wanted more. You wanted the secrets behind his walls to include a love just as burning for you as yours was for him.

You took one deep breath and carried on. A web of limbs and bodies was made out of you and Hal, clutching tight to each other as you jumped and flew together. As you swayed to music you hummed in harmony, shaken closer and closer by horses beneath you.

Hal would take your wrists in his hands and let you walk the air on Tiny Horse's side as he supported your weight. You shifted your upper body until your shoulder were glued to his and rolled over, knocking some sand where you landed.

Hal moved one of his feet on Nightsun and circled you, proud and glowing like a Master of the Night in one of their chariots. When you could focus, you jumped and got behind him, legs wrapped around his torso as you climbed to sit on his shoulders.

"Get up. On your feet." He suggested for the ending. And you did. You placed your feet on his shoulders and waved to the public as Hal led the horses away. The night was done.

Or so you believed. Hal stopped the small convoy you created at the stables, leaving to get you both and the horses some food as the Show Runner wrapped up with the people.

Sighing in content, you laid your forehead in between Nightsun's and Tiny Horse's. Caressing each of their sides. "All done, my dearests. All done. You did so good. Amazing! I- we are both proud of you. Good job."

The horses neighed, something troubling them. You assumed it was the ornaments and moved to removed the sparkling feathers and golden jewels. But as you took the needed steps back, a thick hand wrapped around your stomach and pulled you behind.

Nightsun and Tiny Horse shifted the weight on their back legs, charging at your attacker. But the duke, as you recognized the piercing smell of a poor attempt to hide the sweat with aromatic plants' essence, moved his arm up until it pressed against your neck and pushed something shiny out front, pointing to the horses.

A ruffle, you realized, bile coming up your throat.

"Don't you dare hurt them." You warned. Though your voice was weak, strangled by the too big arm of the old man.

"Oh, but I don't want, beautiful y/n," he said, stuffing his nose in your hair and sniffing with a pleased sigh. A shudder passed through each and every of your bones as the hair on your arms picked up against the goosebumped skin.

Disgust. Towards him and also towards your powerless fear.

"All you have to do is stay still and let me have a taste for the animals to live."

"The only animal I see here is you." You spat. You knew there was no way you could put up a fight. Get away. He will have what he wants. But the least you could do was make sure it's as unpleasant as it can be. Reminding him of how small of a man he is. How disgusting, useless, pathetic...

A shot. Tiny Horse and Nightsun broke their deffence and whined, the sound scratching your ears. You tried to run to them, but the arm still painfully pressed against your neck chocked you.

"If the bulled touched even a bit of their hair..." you warned, but the duke cut you off.

"They're fine, dumb animals. Getting scared out of a little shot. The bullet went between them, probably stuck in one of those trees. But make no mistakes, I can and I will shoot them if you don't behave for me. Clear?"

Tears picked at your eyes as you nodded. Staying still when the duke relaxed the arm holding you hostage. Folding under his touch as he urged you to lay down, legs slightly apart.

If your parents could see you right now, a stray thought sneaked in. Making such a sacrifice for two some beast, you could hear your mother say. Don't be an idiot, y/n, your father would agree in his usual stoic manner.

Were you? Being an idiot? Should you fight the duke at the expense of your and Hal's horses and actually get away? Could you?

It was too late to wonder such things. The duke let his pants fall to his knees, hovering over you as he begin to undress your lower parts too.

You bit your lip, praying to your body to relax as your mother taught you for your wedding night. Night that never came. She said it would hurt less if you relax. But what about the pang in your heart and the loudness in your head. Thought banging against your skull, a bloody fist pulling at your heart, sunking it down, down, down...

You braced yourself. Lips sealed, teeth closed tight on the inside of your cheeks, head turned to the side in an attempt to see your wild mustang, untamed and free in spirit even in these or your father's stables and Hal's brave mare, strong and powerful. Eyes so fixed in the darkness your vision begin to blur.

And you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing came.

Pushing yourself up on your elbow, you saw the duke's body lying in a wrong position at your feet. Above it, Hal stood cowered by the weight of his rage. His curls messier than ever, curved spine raising dangerously low as his breath hitched, coming too fast. His deep, smart eyes now crazed with wrath, bulged in two perfectly round shapes. In his hand, gripped by long, trembling fingers, a knife shone under the moonlight. Scarlet red blood glistening off of it.

"Hal?"

Your voice seemed to wake him from his fury. He turned your way, features softening on an instant, worry blooming in the spring of his eyes. He was careful to avoid your bare parts, gaze locked only on your face. Looking for signs of shock settling in.

"Yes, it's me." He said carefully.

You nodded. Relief flooded your senses so sudden and with such force, you begin trembling, letting the tears you fought so far fall with loud sobs and ragged breaths.

The brain couldn't keep up with the heart. You were fine. Nothing happened. But the mind struggled to grasp it. Too beautiful to be true. Hot blood pushed against cold limbs. Dried tongue tried to water chipped lips, to sooth the sting in the inside of your cheeks.

"You're fine. He's gone. Dead. You're safe." Hal spoke slow. Pointed. Making sure each of his words hit your ears and understanding.

You nodded. "I know. Thank you." Your voice was yours, but not your own. Changed with the weight of the scare. Rough and gruff.

Hal nodded as well. "I'll see to the horses, if that's alright."

He wanted to give you space. But your blood boiled now, heating every part of your body. Making your brain restless and your body so large, scattered, yet small, so, so small.

"Stay, please."

He stiffened, but did as you asked. Stepping over the corpse, leaked blood staining both of your still bare feet. Hal sat next to you, welcoming you in his arms as you scooped closer and closer until you sat in his lap.

Arms around his neck, his own supporting your back, rubbing it up and down, but never touching lower than your middle. Head hidden in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent as if it was a calming plant. Hal's head rested atop yours, the soft part of his cheek flat against the crown of your hair. Your heart steadied to follow his heart's rhythm. Your mind cleared of anything to let itself be filled with Hal. Only Hal.

The metallic scent of blood beat at your nostrils. You both ignored it, safe in your embrace. Part of your own world now. This one, no other more.

Seconds passed. Hours, days, months perhaps. An eternity and thousands more could have passed around you and neither would have noticed. Content as you were. Peaceful. Happy.

But all things must come to an end.

You tried to remember how it happened. Every detail of those terrible moments. You never were able to. A blur. A fading questioning under the weight of sharp voices and chilling orders. A shape of a distant color merged together from seven uniforms, seven people.

They took Hal first. Clothes still soaked in nappy red. They ripped him from you, limbs webbed, clinging tight to one another. And as they stepped away, finally holding Hal in their grip, you stumbled over him.

You barely noticed when the guards picked the lifeless body up, or when some servants and ladies in waiting caressed with soft words the newly widow's ears, deaf to any consolation.

A passing wondering flew through your mind - would she still be devastated had she known what the duke meant to do to you? - but you had no time to ponder over it.

"Hal!"

"Don't. Y/n, stay here. Go away. The hoses need you," he hoped to convince you. But it's a magic Circus, with magic proportions. There will be food for Tiny Horse and Nighstun and someone will attend to them. After all, the Cursed Ones are good people, a family. And even the animals are part of it.

"Let him go. He was only protecting me."

In another time, you would have known no one would care. You weren't a good lady anymore. Had your mind had been clearer, you would have remembered it. Hal seemed to better adjust to a titleless condition, regardless of the danger looming over him.

Would he be hanged? Can someone in the Bright Circus die? Lihtnighte wouldn't allow it for sure, right?

All the questions bugged through your head as you tried to pry the guards arms off your partner. Your Hal. Even without the love you nurtured for him, you owed him a try. He killed to save you. He is in this messy business because of you.

But you had too little force, exhausted as you were - and the guards, too much. They easily charged you with treason as well, for daring to stand between an act of punishment for a high criminal. Soon, you and Hal found yourselves on a short path to the ducal palace.

The journey there was made in silence. Hal was being kept at the back of the convoy - that turned to be a funeral walk as well - while they held you in the front. Even so, you felt his eyes on you, burning the back of your neck with care and concern. He didn't like the five men between which you were trapped. You neither. But more you hated the vile guards who tied Hal's hands by their horse's saddles and forced him to walk as they set the riding pace to slow gallop.

Hal and you were calm, though. Calmer than two people soon to be judged and executed should be. Everyone found it frustrating. The whimpers of fear, the wobbling lips and running noses, the teary eyes and chocked voices, it all fed the guards the sense of power they need to feel. The entitlement over one's - over many - life.

And they knew, of course they did. You won't die. You won't even catch sunrise in the dungeons. You both will vanish at the first gleam of sunlight. And if death might fall upon you, you both will wake up, well and alive, under the Circus' tents. So was your blessing and your curse.

So the guards seethed. Locked their teeth and hoped the widow duchesse would want to have your pained screams as payment for her beloved husband's death. If killing you was not an option, showing you a faith worse than must do.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The castle rose dark and tall, a giant's shadow looming over crops and fragile wooden houses in the valley. This particular duke hadn't took care of his servants' needs.

In opposition, the walls of the fortress were thick and standing. Richness as you have yet to see adorned the architecture. Crenels sharp and dangerous barred their teeth to you from above. And a solid wooden gate draped over a deep river, filled with Masters of the night know what beasts.

Inside, a torch lit corridor swallowed the light from your eyes. So used to the night and the soft gleam of moonlight, the beauty of the stars' glister on the blue-black sky, your pupils closed in two small strawberry's kernels.

"I've forgotten how it feel like. Being inside a palace," Hal mumbled at your side. His sudden presence should have startled you, but never again could his voice be anything but calming and comforting.

The guards let you loose, tied up to a rope they carried much in front. Leading you to the duchesse court.

"Such a big noble you used to be?"

Hal didn't speak no more. Set jaws and a shaky breath the only answer you got.

Finally, you entered a golden antechamber. Soon, you'll meet your faith... for now. As the new day must not be far, if you rightly assumed.

"Move." A rough hand pulled you forward, casing you to stumble through the open doors and almost fall on the thick woolen carpet.

You weren't scared, you knew it. But something still stopped your from lifting your head. An unsettling feeling weighing heavy above and around.

You dared a peak to Hal. See if he feels the same. But his eyes roamed the walls in shocked awe. Lining your sight to match his gaze, you looked at the portraits displayed by the yet to appear duchesse. You saw the king who ruled when you were a little girl. His son next to him. Older than you remembered. But then again, you haven't seen the prince as he became King. The First Star made sure of it. The next men were all the same: stoic under the heavy crown, a scepter and a white fur finalizing the royal look. They all shared similar features too. A long and strong line of succession.

The certainty of a unmoving past captured not in stone, but in color and art lulled your brain into a foggy haze. You let it wrap you whole and sush the ringing bells of questioning the unreliable future you had open in front of you.

Until your eyes found eyes you knew so well. Eyes you stared into for ages. That gave you strength, loyalty and love. Eyes that bulked out of their sockets on the face next to you.

"Hal?"

Raised at Court. Favored by the late king. Poisoned by jealous, zealous lords. A brother who wanted it all... It made sense now. Even if you were yet to comprehend. Hal, the boy you danced with, ride with, love. Hal, the silent, smart, stoic boy who hides a sarcastic funny, sensible man. Hal, a King of the Land.

"You...?"

You turned to face him, but he - sheepish - wouldn't meet your gaze.

"You were the King."

A nod. Barely. More likely a bob of his head.

"And now you're not."

Hal pointed to a painting next to his own. So much bigger. So much Imposing. Another man, not as handsome as Hal, lacking the mettlesome, sharp look Hal bear in his eyes, without a benevolent, yet threatening smile like Hal's that gave way to his nature - born to rule, king to his subjects, merciless with his enemies.

"My brother," a small voice like you've never heard from him before spoke through an ocean of howling water. "The one the lords supported when he went after my throne."

His throne. He said it with so much longing, yet too much sufferance.

"Wait," realization seemed to sink in, "your brother, the nobles.. they poisoned you for him? He knew about it?"

Another bob of his head. An even smaller nod. As if strings attached to the back of his head pulled and pushed at the same time. Pain and anger.

"This duke supported them?"

"Likely so."

"Your portrait is the only one polished though."

Hal frowned. He hadn't notice it, but it was true. And it confused him.

But neither you, nor him had the time to elucidate the issue. The doors blew open once more and a short woman, wearing all black from the thin veil covering her face to the flat sole shoes, strode in. She marched to the huge chair, modeled to look like a throne. Before she could sit, however, her eyes slipped on Hal and she jumped as if the seat suddenly burned her.

A yelp echoed in the room, sharp and high. Through the layer resting over the duchesse's face you could see her eyes growing in size, lids hiding in the crests of her wrinkled skin.

"Prince... I mean King Harry, Your Majesty," she bowed so low her headdress brushed the floor's dales.

"Harry?" You mouthed to Hal, trying to laugh off the feeling of betrayal threatening to consume you.

But Hal didn't spare you a glance. An eyebrow raised, straightening his back and raising his chin higher, he waited for the duchesse to get up.

"You call me your king, but you mourn one of my killers."

"Oh, Your Majesty, please! I begged him not to do it..."

"And hanged the usurpator's portrait to shadow mine," Hal continued as if the woman didn't utter a word. Ever since you left with the Bright Circus you stopped paying attention to the more normal wordly things. Such as kings and succession. But you tried to remember now a time when you felt this type of power surging from one of your father's friends or the King himself when you visited the Court. And failed.

The way Hal talked without raising his voice, yet his will spread and overwhelmed everyone in the room... nothing could compare to it. You wanted to be upset, angry with him for hiding all of this from you. Sad he missed and enjoyed this life so obviously much. But you couldn't.

Watching him now, the satisfied curve of his lips, the fire in his eyes, the sweet speech with which he let the words fly... he was always beautiful. A Master of the night in disguise. Now he fit the immortal god part like a glove. And you found yourself falling for him even more.

"And with the money and power you got from it, you torture MY people," this time he let the rage slip in his tone. The duchesse flinched. A bright smile surprised you blooming on your lips.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry. I didn't want it. This. I had to. I'm sorry. I polished your portrait in the hope you shall return one day. I always believed."

Hal glanced on the clustered window, covered with heavy satin drapes and colorful glass art. He managed to see what you sensed. Dawns of the new day coming soon.

You draw your lip between your teeth. There was no choice to be made, Hal will come back with you, rather he likes it or not. But you watched him in worry still. Bothered by the thought he may not want to return.

"If this is true, Duchesse, then do better than your husband. Govern these lands, these people, better. And don't be afraid to cut the roots of evil, whomever might be so. Your late husband would have dishonored an innocent girl," his voice lowered, eyes dreamy, "if I wouldn't have killed him. It was justice I served, a punishment he deserved. Lose the crape and begin the change. That's an order form your King."

"Yes, Your Majesty. At once, Your Majesty. Oh, this is such a blessed day! All my men are at your disposal, my king. Just giver the order and they'll stand behind you to take back your throne. I have enough friends that have been waiting for your return to form a strong army and..."

"I do no wish an army, Duchesse. As you know, I am bound to the Bright Circus. I cannot - will not - leave." Hal's eyes slid subtly to you, hand reached for a reassuring squeeze. The duchesse missed it, too baffled to pay attention to anything nut her working mind attempting to wrap around the news.

"But surely there must be a way to break the curse. There has to. I will find it, Your Majesty, I swear it to you. I will free you!"

"Only if you break hers too. Y/n's. If I shall be King, she's my only Queen."

'Twas the last thing he said before the familiar warmth enveloped your hugging bodies, taking you to your small new family of centuries, in a another part of the Land.

#my writing #my fic writing #my fic #the king #king hal #king henry v #alternative universe #timothée imagine #timothée x y/n #timothee fanfic #timothee x you #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x y/n #timothee x reader #my original writing #timmy x you #timmy x reader #the king 2019 #magical au #alternate universe #au fic #prince hal #prince hal images #prince hal fic

[x-heesy]

𝙻 𝚘 𝚅 𝚎

Gratitude is the fairest blossom that springs from the soul. -Henry Ward Beecher

Kisses For Roses by Art Department, Aquarius Heaven

#l o v e #henry ward beecher #x-heesy #my art #artists on tumblr #4/2024 #aesthetic #book quotes #quote #quotes #qotd #quoteoftheday #quote inspiration #mental health #depression #anxiety #you are loved #you are not alone #You are the road #knowledge #wisdom #positivity #flower #iphone art #typography #fucking favorite #now playing #music and art #contemporaryart #pop art

[hc-geralt-23]

The Dragon and the Witcher: A Tale of Love and Destiny

Updated version

Each of my stories will be updated as as soon as i can

Chapter 1: The Convergence of Worlds

As the sun set over the vast plains of the Continent, Geralt of Rivia found himself on a seemingly ordinary contract – exterminating a pack of vicious monsters. However, a strange portal suddenly materialized before him, swallowing him whole. As Geralt fell through the swirling vortex, he could feel the very fabric of reality being twisted and torn around him.

When he regained his senses, Geralt discovered he was no longer in the world he knew. Instead, he found himself in the heart of Westeros, a land of dragons and noble houses, in a time long before the rise of the White Wolf. Confusion and curiosity filled his mind as he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Just as he was about to wander off in search of answers, a voice called out from behind him, "Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Geralt turned to see a group of armed guards approaching him with wary eyes.

Chapter 2: A Targaryen Discovery

In the capital city of King's Landing, meanwhile, the Targaryens were gathered to witness the birth of their newest member – a girl named Y/N, the firstborn child of Viserys and Amma. The child bore the unmistakable silver-haired beauty of her Targaryen ancestors, a rarity even among their family.

Unknown to even the wise maesters of Westeros, Y/N possessed a powerful magic inherited from her dragon-blooded lineage. Her mere presence had unknowingly opened the portals between realms, drawing Geralt and his destiny closer to the House of the Dragon.

As Y/N was presented to her parents, a soft glow seemed to emanate from her tiny form, capturing the attention of all who beheld her. A sense of awe and wonder filled the room, for it was clear to all that this child was destined for greatness.

Chapter 3: The Witcher and the Dragon Princess

As Geralt acclimated to his newfound surroundings, he soon came across the magnificent dragons housed within the Targaryen stronghold. His curiosity piqued, he ventured deeper inside the castle and stumbled upon Y/N practicing her archery, her silver locks gleaming in the moonlight.

Drawn to her beauty and grace, the Witcher cautiously approached the young Targaryen, his heart slowly awakening to emotions he had long buried. "You have impressive skills with a bow," Geralt remarked, admiring her precision.

Y/N turned to face the stranger, her eyes widening in surprise. "And who might you be?" she asked, her voice gentle yet tinged with curiosity.

"I am Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher from a distant land," he replied, his eyes locked with hers. "I find myself here by some twist of fate, drawn to your enchanting presence."

Chapter 4: Forbidden Love

Despite their growing affection for one another, Geralt and Y/N knew that pursuing a romance was riddled with complications. The Witcher hailed from a foreign land, and Y/N, a princess, carried the weight of her family's expectations. Their love seemed destined to remain a secret.

Days turned into weeks, and the bond between Geralt and Y/N deepened. They stole moments together, hidden away from prying eyes. Each stolen kiss, each whispered promise, only fueled their desire for a love that seemed both impossible and inevitable.

However, fate conspired against them as whispers of their clandestine meetings spread throughout the kingdom. While some viewed the union as an opportunity for an alliance, others saw it as a threat to their own ambitions. Geralt and Y/N found themselves caught in the crossfire of political games and power struggles.

Chapter 5: Trials and Tribulations

As tensions heightened, Geralt's unparalleled prowess with a blade became essential in protecting the woman he loved and her dragon-kin. Battles against rival houses and supernatural threats alike united Geralt and Y/N in their fight for survival.

Together, they faced countless trials and tribulations, their unbreakable bond serving as an anchor in the storm. Y/N's magical abilities proved invaluable, while Geralt's strength and agility proved essential in battles against monstrous foes.

Their shared experiences and the trust they built cemented their love, giving them the strength to face the countless obstacles thrown their way. In the darkest of times, they discovered that their individual strengths melded into a formidable force.

Chapter 6: The Prophecy Fulfilled

As the final battle between the rival houses loomed, a prophecy spoken by an ancient seer emerged, intertwining Geralt and Y/N's destinies. Only the union of a Witcher and a dragon-blooded Targaryen could end the cycle of chaos that haunted both realms.

Geralt, armed with his knowledge of monsters and the elixirs that enhanced his abilities, fought alongside Y/N, whose mastery of magic and command over dragons became pivotal to their success. Together, they harmonized their unique talents and shattered the chains of despair that threatened to consume their love.

Chapter 7: Union of Worlds

With their enemies vanquished and the realms once again at peace, Geralt and Y/N celebrated their triumph, the love between them blooming under the shared admiration of their respective worlds. They knew their love had defied fate, crossing boundaries to forge a unique bond between two realms.

Joined by their loyal companions, including the Targaryen dragons, Geralt and Y/N embarked on a new adventure – exploring the uncharted territories of their intertwined destinies. The worlds of The Witcher and House of the Dragon became forever linked, with love as their guiding light.

Epilogue: Infinite Paths

Though their journey would always be fraught with uncertainty and danger, Geralt and Y/N faced the unknown with unwavering determination and profound love. Their choice to defy the constraints of their respective worlds united them in a truly extraordinary tale, forever etched into the annals of history.

"The Dragon and the Witcher: A Tale of Love and Destiny" serves as a testament to the power of love, bridging the gaps between worlds and propelling two souls toward an everlasting bond. Through the sheer force of their will and the magic that bound them, Geralt and Y/N's love endured through the ages, inspiring generations yet to come.

#henry cavill #c-a-v-a-l-r-y #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt x you #Geralt