#henry pearl x reader fluff

[emmyrosee]

Preferences

BECAUSE MORE IS ALWAYS BETTER.

Sleepiest

Touch Starved

Dancing

Haircut Comfort

Trypanophobia

First Words -dad!au

PDA

When You’re Sick

Angry

Temper Tantrums -dad!au

Needy For Him

Getting into Fights

Fatherhood -dad!au

Expecting -dad!au

   The Sequel -dad!au

Halloween

Name Calling

Failing a Course

Norman F*cking Rockwell!

Playfighting

Pandemic Life

Incorrect Heights

ASMR

Coolest Instagrams

Fainting

A Cuddle Pile

What They Smell Like

Stoned

Sick Boys 

   The Sequel

Footie Pajamas

Random Headcanons

Breakfast Lovers

Their Tattoos

Holding Their Tiny Humans

All He Wishes To Give

Chefs and Liabilities 

NSFW Content. Reader Discretion Advised. Minors DNI.

Spanking Styles

Size Kink

Safewords

Moans and Noises

Pegging Them

Get You to Sleep

Lingerie Shopping

First Time

[adrienneleclerc]

Cachetona

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N gets told she’s cute all the time by everyone including her boyfriend and she worries that he doesn’t find her sexy

Warning: grammar and spelling errors, no translated Spanish porque me da flojera, IMPLIED innocence and corruption kink if you could call it that, honestly. It's kinda angsty fluff

A/N: I actually requested something similar to @shellyshellshell but this time I’m gonna add my own spin to it. I get told I’m cute and adorable by my bestie, I’ve been told I was cute by some adults, and I’m fine with it. Like I’m 21, I know I’m cute and adorable, because of my personality along with my chubby cheeks, so this is something I worry about and lowkey struggle with. Like I feel I can’t dress in a “sexy” way or do my makeup in a “sexy” way because I feel like it doesn’t match my face or hair at all. Así que me toca vestirme “cute”

Y/N has always had a rounder face and chubby cheeks. Even at her big age of 32, she still has those chubby cheeks that her mom likes to point out all the time. She thought she would have looked more mature by now like other women her age, she thought wrong.

However, truth be told she really didn’t mind being called cute growing up. It wasn’t until her previous partners only saw her as cute, it was even worse when her current boyfriend, Henry Cavill, started calling her cute.

They met a few months ago at Disneyland, which was already a bad start, Henry took his nephews (and nieces, idk) while Y/N went with her friends as a big Disney fan herself. They met on the line of the INCREDIBLES rollercoaster because his niece liked the loungefly bag Y/N had, again, not the best start.

Henry thought that Y/N was adorable in her Disney bound of Marie from the Aristocats and they kept talking in the line until he made the move to invite her to eat after the ride, to which she obviously said yes to because who the hell would say no. And that’s how it all began.

At Disneyland

“So Y/N, I like your outfit, it’s adorable, Marie?” Henry asked, gesturing at her outfit that consisted of white shorts, a pastel pink top with a pink bow in her hair, wearing a pearl choker with a gold bow charm, and pastel pink platform converse.

“Oh yes, it one of my favorite classic Disney movies. I’m a big fan of Disney. What about you? You have a favorite Disney movie?” Y/N asked.

“I’d have to say Hercules.” Henry answered.

“The music is amazing, and I love Megara. Anyway, what are you working on right now?” Y/N asked.

They were together for the rest of the Disney trip until on of her friends, Valeria, called her to say they’re leaving. Henry asked for her phone number and he called her the next day so they could have their first date.

First date

Y/N went to her closet and chose a White lace top with light blue shorts, nude block heel ankle boots, and her pearl choker again. Henry sent her the address of the coffee shop he wanted to meet at and when he saw her at the door, he thought she looked beautiful.

“Thank you for meeting me here, you look precious.” Henry said.

“Thank you, you look handsome.” Y/N said, sitting down at the table. When they ordered, Y/N ordered a brownie and a strawberry creme frappe for some much needed sugar and Henry ordered a croissant and coffee.

They talked about whatever people talk about on first dates, it went really well until...

"I'll call you later, cutie." Henry said, kissng Y/N on the cheek.

Present day

Y/N was in Henry's living room, wearing glasses, hair in two braids, a cream knit sweater, and shorts with Kal by her side. Henry came through the door after a meeting with his agent.

"Hey, Bunny, you're looking adorable today, how was your day?" Henry asked. 'Bunny' was your nickname because after you sneeze, you would twitch your nose before rubbing your nose with your thumb (guilty), much like a rabbit would.

"My day has been fine, took Kal for a walk, made him one of those frozen treats that are safe for dogs, safe to say he enjoyed them, el muy goloso." Y/N said.

"Thats good to hear." Henry said as he got close enough squish her face. "I love these chubby cheeks of yours, you're so cute." and Henry kissed her and went to pet Kal. "Are you going to stay and eat? I can make my specialty."

"I'd love to but i actually gotta head out." Y/N said, hoping Henry doesn't notice anything wrong with her.

"I can take you, it's no problem at all." Henry said.

"No, no, its fine, you cook whatever, I'll just make something at my apartment." Y/N said and kissed Henry before going to her car. She couldn't take it, she has been called 'cute' one too many times by Henry and to top it off, he mentioned her chubby cheeks, she was a grown woman, there are only so many times a grown woman could be called cute.

She drove to her apartment and began muttering.

"Can't believe he called me adorable." Y/N said, closing the door, putting her bag on the couch. She then saw her reflection in the full body mirror Valeria insisted in getting for their apartment. "No wonder he calls me cute." She observed her hair in braids and took it off, messing up her hair. She took off her glasses to see if that makes anything better - it didn't. Thats when she heard the door open.

"Amiga! No sabes cuanta gente estaban en las tiendas." Valeria said, putting her shopping bags down. "What happened? I thought you were going to be with your superstar boyfriend all day." Valeria said, looking at Y/N who is staring at her reflection.

"Henry called me cute again, y dijo algo sobre yo siendo cachetona." Y/N said.

"But Amiga, I thought you were okay with being called cute." Valeria said.

"I am fine with my family members or my friends calling me cute because I know that. Like I’m not exactly built like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, but I thought that at least my boyfriend of all people would at least find me hot. Clearly Henry doesn't see me that way." Y/N said as she plopped down on the floor.

"Hey, you don't know that." Valeria attempted to comfort her friend.

"He was called me adorable, precious, cute, not even beautiful, and he has never called me sexy." Y/N stated.

"Yeah, I can't argue with that." Valeria said.

"See! Y siendo cachetona no me ayuda. Men call you sexy, how can I be more like you?" Y/N asked. "Agh, I sound like a fucking teenager."

"It's all about confidence." Valeria said but Y/N kept looking at her. "Okay, I love you, you know I do, but you do own a lot of pastel colors in your closet. You can borrow my clothes whenever you're out with Henry, that's a given, but even the way you do your makeup is cute, and I know you hate hearing that."

"You're right, you're right. Okay, show me how to do my makeup so it could look ‘hot’ instead of ‘cute’.” Y/N said and that’s exactly what Valeria did. She gave Y/N a Smokey eye with Fox eyeliner, a darker lipstick, contour so her face looks slimmer, and minimal blush. “I feel ridiculous.” Y/N said.

“That’s because you’re not used to it. Also, if you want to look hotter, you need to straighten your hair. Like that sleek straight look.” Valeria said. “But that’s for the next time you want to see Henry, has he texted you?”

“Mm, no, not yet. Which one of these outfits do you think would look better on me?” Y/N said, opening up Valeria’s closet.

The next day, Y/N was in bed when she got a text from Henry.

Toro: hey Bunny, you want to come over tonight? I’ll cook your favorite.

You: yeah, Torito, I’ll come over, what time?

Toro: 6 sounds fine?

You: yep, sounds good.

Toro: okay, see you later, cutie 😘

“Cutie.” Y/N mocked. She got off her bed and went to Valeria’s closet and took out some things that she believed Henry might like her in. “Valeria, I’m borrowing your clothes!”

“Okay!” Valeria shouted from the shower. “You gonna shower so I can leave the water running for you?”

“Yeah, thank you!” Y/N shouted.

Y/N took a shower, washed her hair really well, shaved, when she finished, she put on lotion, her underwear, and a robe to blowout her hair. She changed and her her robe back on to do her makeup, took off her robe, and put on a perfume Henry bought you. She put on some black heels and a pair of her gold hoop earrings. She went to show Valeria.

“How do I look?” Y/N asked.

“Estás buena.” Valeria said.

“Thank you, let’s hope Henry thinks so.” Y/N said.

She got into her car and drove to Henry’s. She stayed in her car for a few minutes.

“Okay, it’s all good, you look hot, you look sexy, you’re not cute, not adorable, you’re hot.” Y/N said to herself before leaving the car and knocking on Henry’s door. Henry opened it and was in awe of how Y/N looked.

“Wow, Bunny, you look great!” Henry said, hugging her and letting her in the house. “So I’m making the rice now, the chicken is already done.”

“Great. Hola, Osito, how are you, Kal?” Y/N cooed at the fluffy Akita.

“You’re so cute.” Henry said. Y/N paused for a second.

“Toro, can we talk about something?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind, cutie?” Henry asked.

“That.” Y/N pointed at him.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a serious question and I need you to answer me honestly. Do you find me attractive?” Y/N asked.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do, you know I think you’re precious to me.” Henry tried to reassure Y/N.

“No no no, not like that, I mena like sexually attractive.” Y/N said.

“I Don’t understand.” Henry said.

“Okay, we’ve met at Disneyland, right? You thought I was cute, that’s understandable because I tried to look as adorable as possible because I was Disney bounding. But the dates after Disney, you kept calling me cute or adorable or precious. Now i grew up getting called cute, my friends and family call me cute, I don’t mind getting called by them. But when my boyfriend calls me cute, someone I’m supposed to feel desired by…I know it’s stupid, and even saying this out loud is stupid, but when I’m dressed like this.” Y/N said, gesturing to her outfit. “And you still call me cute, it feels like you’re not attracted to me the same way I’m attracted to you. So please tell me something before we go any further in our relationship.” Y/N said. Henry was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He turned off the stove and led Y/N to the living room so they could talk on the couch.

“Y/N, i am very attracted to you.” Henry said, look into her eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like it. Why do you always call me cute though? Why is it never beautiful or gorgeous or even sexy?” Y/N asked

“Because your adorable nature is something I find very sexy.” Henry said leaning in.

“A ver, Toro, i Don’t understand.” Y/N said, leaning back.

“Your aura, your way of presenting yourself, is very innocent and cute. It’s like loving an angel. So I find you very sexy, the way you dress in your pastel colors makes you look so angelic when we both know what’s underneath is down right sinful. You are so bloody tempting that I call you cute to hold myself back from doing what I really want to do to you.” Henry said.

“Who knew the great Henry Cavill has a innocence kink.” Y/N giggled a little.

“Yeah yeah, tease all you want, bunny. But do you understand what I’m telling you?” Henry grabbed her chin to tilted her head so she’s looking in his eyes. “You are very sexy, I find your cuteness very sexy. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t desired because you are, I desire you every night.” Henry said and they kissed. “You feel better now, bunny?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Thank you, Toro.” Y/N said. “So…when did you first think I was sexy?” Y/N asked and Henry chuckled.

“Alright, let’s eat first and then we’ll discuss that, Bunny.” Henry said, leading Y/N to the kitchen.

The End

So Henry’s nickname is “Toro” which means “bull” because he’s a Taurus and of course really strong like a bull.

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[impala-dreamer]

Wonderstruck

A Magical Short Story

~ Attending a wedding alone is rarely fun. Add to it a bunch of people you don't know all hidden behind masks, things can get a little shaky. But sometimes, if you're lucky, magic can happen...~

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

3,160 Words

Warnings: Nothing but romance and magic and fluff and mystery!

A/N: Yes, it's me. No, I have not been kidnapped. This was written in part for my personal goal of branching out a bit, but moreover as a Valentine's gift for @mariekoukie6661 and @kittenofdoomage <3

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Her dress was sleek and as dark as midnight; her heels were high and deadly. Her lips dripped with crimson; a silver mask hid beautifully sad and strikingly painted eyes.

She kept to the edges of the ballroom, ducking behind round tables clad in expensive linens and gold inlaid china, skirting billowing gowns as they spun on the dancefloor. She slipped in and out of the shadows with a slowly emptying champagne glass pinched delicately between two fingers.

Despite her annoyance in being there, she could not deny the beauty of the night. The massive room was decorated in glamorous gold and pearl accents. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the windows on each wall, letting in a glimpse of the moonlit garden outside. The floors were marble that had been polished to perfection, and a warm candlelight glow illuminated the room.

It felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

A fairy tale about a sad girl watching the party from afar, alone but for the bubbles in her glass.

Which, sadly, were now gone.

Y/N sighed heavily and looked across the dancefloor at the long bar that stretched across the back wall of the ballroom. A hundred guests in suits and gowns, feathers and masks, twirled in front of her, blocking the path. Silently, she weighed the pain of entering the waltzing throng over going another moment without a healthy buzz in her head. She took a breath. She took a step.

Her heels clicked rhythmically as she laid her course for the bar. She kept her eyes on the goal, carefully maneuvering through the dancing couples, wondering if they’d all been to some class she hadn’t been invited to. All their steps seemed identical; all the women spun with the same flourish. She shook her head. Life should never be so choreographed.

After nearly tripping over a dragging tail of taffeta, Y/N finally made it to the bar and braced herself on the top. As she caught her breath, a deep but soft laugh hit her ear.

She turned toward the sound and spied a large man leaning on the bar a few feet away. He turned as she did, leaning one elbow on the bartop and kicking a long leg over the other. His tuxedo was immaculate and perfectly tailored; his shoes shined like the stones below. He wore a mask of black with silver adornment, and two crisp blue eyes scanned her form from beneath. She could feel them sneak down her body, lingering a bit in the deep curve of her waist and at the globe of her ass.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes up to hers.

“Something funny, Slick?” she asked, lips pursed in clear annoyance.

The man grinned. His lips were full and pink beneath a thin scruff of a beard.

“I liked your dance,” he said in reply.

She was startled by his accent - elegant and somehow too perfectly English, as if he were pretending to be from across the Atlantic. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure him out.

It was nearly impossible. The masks were a problem.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt that he needed to work a little harder to get her attention. Maybe she was bored, maybe the shock of his voice had her aflutter. Whatever it was, she turned up the sass.

“Yeah, well, I was a ballerina in a past life.”

Again, he laughed. A little louder, a little more enticing.

“I can see that. Prima ballerinas often trip over themselves and end up slamming into tables.”

She bit back a laugh and turned back to meet his gaze. “We take a special class for that.”

The man cocked his head towards her champagne flute. “And with an empty glass, no less.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at my job.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bar and took a step closer. “May I buy you another?”

Her eyes slid up from his shoes to the loose, curly mop of black hair atop his head. He was tall and broad, and looked as solid as a statue. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m pretty sure it’s free,” she teased.

He stopped a foot from her side. “Still…” With a quick snap of his fingers, he called for the bartender and ordered them both another round.

“A dirty martini, Mr. Bond?” She smiled at his order.

“Shaken, not stirred,” he replied, lifting his glass.

His smile was as intoxicating as the golden liquid in her glass and butterflies swirled in her stomach.

Each took a sip, swallowing slowly with their eyes locked. The blue crashed over her and Y/N lost herself in the sparkle of his smiling gaze.

Worried that she was staring too hard, she tore herself away and let out a hard breath.

“So… how do you know the bride?” she asked, trying to pry his identity free.

He licked a drop of vodka from his lip. “I don’t.”

She laughed gently. “Wedding crasher, huh?” She leaned closer, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.”

He moved in even closer. A warm scent pulsed off of him, flooding her senses with leather and vanilla and something she couldn’t place. Something spicy that made her mouth water so much she forgot that she was supposed to be playing hard to get.

“That’s kind of you,” he whispered. “I don’t think Charlie will press charges though.”

She smiled. “Ah, you’re on the groom’s side.”

“And you?”

His eyes fell to her lips and Y/N’s cheeks burned.

“I, uh… I work with Chloe, the- the bride.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Charlie and Chloe,” he said with a light laugh. “So many Cs.”

He was too cool, too confident yet sweet. She almost hated him.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused and irked. She had not come to the wedding to meet anyone, let alone a gorgeous, blue-eyed Brit, who may or may not actually be British.

Another slow sip guided her eyes back to his lips and she wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Henry,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because of course your name is Henry. With your perfect accent and your sexy tuxedo…”

He stood up, suddenly towering over her, and tipped his head, eyes swiping over her again.

“And what about you? You’ve got to be called Celeste or Audrey or something classic and elegant.”

Y/N drained the rest of the champagne at the bottom of her glass and stood to face him properly. “Well, Prince Charming, why don’t you just call me Cinderella.”

Henry reached for her hand and she gave it jokingly.

His kiss was no joke, landing softly on her skin and making the rest of her shiver. She held her breath and nearly fainted when he looked up.

“Pleased to meet you, Cinderella.”

Her head swam a bit and she wondered if that was what swooning was.

“Charmed,” she said with a dreamy smile.

He held her gaze, swept a warm thumb over her knuckles. His touch was like fire and she wanted to run. Away from him or into his arms - she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that there was magic in the air and she could not seem to tear herself away from the mystery of his face. His eyes were tragically beautiful, as if she was lost at sea on a broken raft, thirsting and alone, but she had the comfort of the blue waves to keep her safe. She thought herself insane. He was just a man in a mask at a fancy wedding. Just a tall, impossibly fit, perfectly dressed man at a masquerade ball. A deliciously gorgeous man who smelled like drinking in front of a roaring fire in a cozy library filled with old books in some ancient castle in Scotland. A man who was still holding her hand and her gaze, stealing too many moments and breaths from her day.

Y/N shook herself and pulled her hand from his.

“I should… go…” She turned toward the room. She had to get away, had to free herself from the captivating stranger and return to ignoring her coworkers and the bride’s overly friendly family. “It was nice to meet you, Henry.”

His frown nearly cracked the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he pleaded. “I… Well, I don’t really know anyone here and you’re…”

She looked back over her shoulder as he hesitated. “Yes?”

He blushed and sought comfort in his shoes. Such a beautiful sight: a strong, confident man instantly melting into shyness.

Blue eyes looked up. “Beautiful and enchanting and… I was hoping that we could dance.”

She nearly fell over, knocked out by his voice and charm. A quick breath steeled her nerves. “Sadly, I cannot.”

He stood up fully but somehow still seemed small. “Dance with me?”

“Dance at all,” she corrected.

He laughed. “Well, how about another drink and some conversation?”

With a sigh, Y/N looked back at the crowd, into the sea of indistinguishable masks and unfamiliar forms. Giving in, she nodded politely and spun around to the bar.

They ordered another round and took up residence at the end of the counter, half hidden in shadow, invisible to the other party-goers. Music soared above their heads but they could barely hear it, so engrossed in each other’s stories.

They spoke of simple things- movies they’d loved as children and that well-worn paperbacks were still tucked into their bookcases. She asked him about home and he talked about the London traffic and how he preferred to stay around the house on rainy days playing games on his PC. He poked her about work and she glossed over her job, insisting that they keep the conversation light and free from day-to-day struggles. They drank and laughed and fell even deeper into each other’s gaze.

It was strange to have a conversation with a stranger in a mask. She knew that he was handsome- his eyes were brilliant, his lips perfectly plump. His jaw was tight and his neck was thick. He was big and sturdy, yet gentle and bashful. Though most of his face was hidden, she knew he was perfect.

Perhaps a little too perfect.

But as the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, Y/N couldn’t find a reason anymore to run. The night had cast a spell around them and there was no escape. There was magic in the gilded accents around the room, in the symphony of violins that danced above their heads, in their true smiles and tentative touches.

Even if he wasn’t perfect, she thought, the moment was.

And the moment was suddenly broken.

A firm hand on her wrist dragged Y/N from her place at the bar and onto the dancefloor. The bride would not be ignored and refused to take no for an answer. Pained by the intrusion and the demand, Y/N reluctantly took Chloe’s hands and twirled her around. The skirt of the massive wedding dress billowed like a cloud around Chloe’s small frame and Y/N laughed as she was nearly caught up in the fabric.

Heart racing and smile wide, she turned back to Henry but was shocked to find his place empty. Their glasses sat abandoned on the bar and Prince Charming was nowhere to be found. She felt a tug in her chest and a dampness behind her eyes.

Before she could shrug it off as just a random encounter and push his blue eyes from her mind, a tap on the shoulder made her gasp.

She spun on the spot and found him there with a sweet smile and open arms.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, dipping into half a bow.

Excitement rushed through her and Y/N bit her lip. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Unwilling to let her back away, Henry scooped her up and held her close, one hand capturing hers and the other pressing gently into the small of her back. He leaned in and teased his lips at her ear.

“Then let me lead…”

His fingers pulsed against her back, guiding her to move against him. They turned a few times until she was dizzy in his arms, laughing as he whispered into her ear:

“Left�� right… back… you’ve got it…”

His breath on her skin was like a gust of summer air, warm and delicious, flooding her body with calm.

“See? You’re not too bad at this.”

Y/N looked up into his eyes and felt the world fade away. They rose up together off of the dancefloor, floating gently above the other guests, impossibly alone in the crowd. She knew she was drunk, knew she’d pay for it in the morning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that her friends were watching, probably whispering about the mysterious man she was dancing with. She didn’t care that she’d twice stepped on his toes or that there was no way she could hide the fact that being so close to him wasn’t turning her into a melted, lustful shell of what she usually was.

The music crescendoed and Y/N held her breath. Henry dipped his chin, blue eyes locked on her hers. The world slowed down, the seconds stretched on forever. She closed her eyes, savored his exhale against her lips. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers wove through her hair. She felt her legs grow weak, her stomach tensed, her heart skipped. He took a breath.

The band stopped short and Y/N startled as the crowd shited. The moment was gone, ripped away once more by the party swelling around them.

A rush of silk; the click of hundreds of heels. Cheers rose throughout the room as a giant cake was rolled out onto the dancefloor. It towered up to the ceiling with beautiful rows of white creme roses and pearls strategically placed to make the fondant glow in the warm light trickling down from the chandelier above.

As the guests closed in, Y/N was pulled out of Henry’s arms and her heart ached as he once again was out of her sight.

Black suits swarmed around her, heavy gowns brushed against her legs. Voices rang loud. Bodies closed in on all sides.

Breathless, she spun, searching for an exit, for a way to push through the throng.

A hand appeared and reached for her. She clasped his fingers and Henry raced toward the big doors to their left, pulling her free of the mob.

They tumbled out into the cool air and found relief as the doors closed behind them, blocking the music and the excitement, leaving them alone in the night.

The garden was dark but magically aglow with warm, golden light. Fairy lights twinkled around them, strung from bushes and topiaries, highlighting a stone path. Beyond, a labyrinth of tall evergreen waited for curious souls to venture inside, daring the branches to keep them from reaching the end.

Wonderstruck by the evening- the dramatic escape, the music, the champagne and Henry’s crystalline eyes- she stumbled. One single step turned her ankle and the deadly heels she never wore took her down.

Her gasp tore through the garden, but Henry was there to catch her fall. She swung in his strong arms and her fear turned to laughter.

“This is just absurd!” she said, steadying herself with a palm over his chest.

Henry was calm and stable, easily holding her upright. “What’s that?”

“I mean… You literally just swept me off of my feet.” She shook her head and with a blushing smile, pushed away. “This is getting silly.”

Away from his grasp, she teetered again and Henry took her hand before disaster could strike.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment,” he suggested, nodding towards a stone bench not far away. “Those shoes are dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

She let him help her to the bench and watched in awe as he fell to one knee. Like an actual Prince Charming, he took Cinderella’s ankle in his hands and gently ran his fingers over the thin strap holding the shoe in place.

“You’re not swollen,” he reported. “That’s good.”

When he looked up, concern fading from his eyes, she gave up trying to suppress the enchantment of the night and took a deep breath.

Hands cupped around his face, she leaned in and finally met his lips.

Startled but delighted, Henry pushed up to meet her, taking her once more in his strong arms and kissing her properly.

Tiny lights flickered in the breeze, soft music seeped out into the garden, and Prince Charming and Cinderella found each other in the dark. Lips hungry and hands wild; heat mixing between them like a budding fire.

When the clock struck twelve, it chimed loudly and they broke apart, laughing.

“Seems about right,” she joked, looking towards the wedding. “Party ends at midnight.”

Henry dragged a thick finger over her collarbone. “Does that mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin and disappear?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know when the last time you read Cinderella was, but… no.”

He licked her taste from his lip. “So you don’t need to go then?”

Her smile fell. “I do…”

“You could stay…” He dipped his chin and looked up through the mask, blue eyes dark in the light. “We could… find a spot-”

Y/N shook her head and reached for his hand. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to be back in the city tomorrow for work.” She lifted his fingers to her lips and left him with a final kiss.

Henry sighed. “Pity.”

She nodded and gathered her strength to stand and do what she should have done hours ago- run. Except this time, she was certain she meant it to be into his arms. Only this time, she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

Quickly, she turned, carefully stepping back onto the stone path and away from the mystery man with his intoxicating voice and perfectly engrossing kiss.

He stood and called to her, desperate for one more look at his Cinderella.

“Wait-”

She paused, hand on the big glass door, heart in her throat. “Yes?”

“Don’t I even get to know your real name?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s Y/N.”

Henry bowed his head in thanks and when he came up, the mask came off, slowly revealing a face she’d only imagined in her dreams.

He blushed at her shocked stare and laughed gently.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She sighed, blissful and lost in a dream that she prayed would last the rest of her life.

“You too…”

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[smolvenger]

❤️Happy Birthday ❤️

🎉🎉🎉I hope you have a wonderful day 🎉🎉🎉

Please can I request a little blurb with Prince Hal and "touch her and you die" 😻😻😻

Thank you!

Why hello there! Thanks, I got a manicure and went to a bookshop and ate Italian food so it was great! And here is the blurb!

Rain Within Doors (Prince Hal x fem! Reader)

Summary: When the king falls ill, your betrothed, Prince Hal, returns.

Word Count: 1923

Warnings: some sexual harassment but the a-hole is saved in time, I try to keep it close to Shakespeare. Angst and fluff. I stole a line from Game of Thrones because it fit (the Shakespeare histories WERE kind of the Game of Thrones of their time minus the dragons and excessive exploitation of women)

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

You waited anxiously and eagerly for your dear betrothed. He needed to hurry here. Things had all turned for the worse. 

Poor King Henry the Fourth was one minute at a table with all of you The Lord of Westmoreland arrived delivering the news of success in battle against Hotspur’s followers attempting to usurp the king. Everyone gasped. The lords who allied with Henry the Fourth were there- the Lord of Harcourt, Sir John Blunt, and others, all drooped their shoulders in relief. You, the younger two princes Thomas and Humphrey, The Lord of Warwick, and the King all smiled. The king shakily rose to praise Westmoreland

…then suddenly he began wheezing and fainted. 

Everyone gasped. Humphrey and Warwick met them on the grounds to give aid to the old king. Little Thomas cried for his father and you put him, your soon-to-be brother-in-law, in a hug, rubbing his back. 

“It’s all right, you know these fits happen often,” Warwick assumed, ever the voice of peace.

As the king came to, he was supported up. You were among the party to help settle him into bed. He asked the crown be placed on the pillow next to him with a raspy voice. And for musicians to play in the next room. Everyone complied.

You knew your betrothed had business in London. Even if it was in a bad place, he assured you it was nothing involving anything criminal (or whores) and that he would be back. The second eldest, Thomas, was dealing with the rebels with forces of his own and was on his way back.

“My lord, let me sit with you, so you need not be alone,” you offered, gathering a chair.

You had been sent here to marry the notorious Prince of Wales. Though you were nervous in this new castle, King Henry the Fourth was gentle with you. He welcomed you with a smile and open arms. The man who already considered you a daughter-in-law in his heart and the other princes saw you as a sister. He would let you dine with him and even play a little dice game with the family, smiling at you. Warmth on the face of the aged Bolingbroke- the lord who, long ago,  won the favor of the people so much it broke him out of exile and then thrust him into the role of king unexpectedly. Once Henry Bolingbroke, christened Henry the Fourth, wore shining golden armor as he rode on a horse. Paraded through the city as people threw flower petals at him.

Now how…weak he was! A shell of himself! Hardly the proud golden king anymore!

He reached out for your hand and you accepted it.

“Why-dear lady, I thank you. To think a pearl may be thrown to swine… to think my Harry should of all men be your husband…” he wheezed.  

“My lord, you must know- your eldest son has not….treated me poorly.” 

You didn’t know him well- the beautiful, fiery, mischievous, wild prince Henry- or Harry as called by his friends or family. Or Hal as those thieves and whores so affectionately called him.

This was to be a marriage for alliance and station, not of affection. When you arrived, you expected a frivolous, drinking, philandering Baccus. But Hal…. he was kind to you. He always smiled at you and called you sweet names. He was rumored to spend time studying in libraries more than drinking. One time, he found a romantic poem, copied it on paper, and gave it to you as a lover’s token. It touched you- who knew how he would fare as king but you felt he would make at least a decent husband!

“Just rest my lord, please,” you asked. The king indeed settled.

You walked out to the hallway to face the others. They peeked in and soon saw his eyes were closed, but he was breathing. The musicians in the next room played such calm, nearly dreamlike melodies compared to the anxiety storming inside of your being. 

Soon enough, the king settled into a deep sleep. You smiled a little- poor Henry the Fourth was a notorious insomniac, wandering the castle in the late hours from his racing worries. That should give him some relief and help with his sickness. 

But to think…here you were about to watch that old man die. Die before you could officially call him family.  

A couple of tears fell, and you walked out to the hallway staring out. It was a cold, bitter day. The winter chill stinging the glass window when you touched it.

But there was a sound- hooves.

When you leaned closer to the window, you let out a gasp. 

Hal was here in a long, beautiful black and red cape on a beautiful black horse as if he were about to rescue a damsel. And behind him a couple of others. You covered your mouth but felt a smile on your lips.

Picking up your skirts, you hurried down to the others in the outer hall. Warwick was hushing the two boys from talking too loud, to watch over the king in his sleep. 

“Humphrey! Thomas! He’s back!” you whispered.

“Who?” replied Thomas. 

They turned and then heard Hal’s voice asking for him. You and the others hurried there.

In the torch-lit hallway, your eyes feasted on Hal. The most beautiful man you had ever seen with the most deliciously fitted black velvet doublet, swooping off his cape with a gallantry that made your insides tingle.

He turned and went to you first.

“How now, My most fair lady?”

“Oh, much worried but cheered by your return, my lord,” you replied.

Hal’s eyes softened at you, then he looked at his crying brothers- Humphrey and Thomas.

“What- all of this rain in of door when it should be out of doors? How is the king?” Hal asked.

“ Exceeding ill” explained Humphrey sadly.

“Please be quiet, His grace is asleep,” warned the Lord of Warwick. 

Hal requested to see his father, and the lord of Warwick led him to the bed.

Everyone hushed and walked out to the other room, keeping quiet to give the king as much rest as he needed. Everyone worried. It was all so much- you needed some space.

With your heart calming, you went to one hallway, hugging yourself to look at how the moon shone over the winter evening through the windows. 

The Lord Harcourt went up to you. An older man with sharp cheekbones and a sharp chin, a pale face, and dark eyes. You only knew him as an ally and advisor to the king.  As you stood alone, staring out the window.

“Good evening, Lady Y/N.” he greeted.

“Good evening, my lord,” you replied. 

“You do look rather lovely tonight in the moonlight,” he complimented.

Already you felt uneasy. Alone with him, when all the others were fretting over the king. You began to take a step to return.

“You…you flatter me, my lord, thank you.”

Right as you turned, the lord reached an arm from his rich, velvet clothes and grabbed you.

“It seems a shame for such a fine lady to be wasted upon riotous Harry. I should have had you for my wife instead.”

“My lord, then wait until the king awakens and discuss it with him and announce you will-will-will court me openly like a gentleman,” you blubbered out, though you were starting to get scared.

He tried to sweetly, seductively brush your cheek but you had enough and swatted it away.

“Oh! The lady is a bit too cold, methinks.”

“And a lady is treated with respect, sir! My lord, please let me go.  I must attend on his majesty.”

“Your drunken oaf of an intended is waiting on him, who is going to stop!”

“But you are a fool! Please, let me leave!”

He backed you up until you were in a corner. Your heart pounded hard.

“Please- my lord, I swear, do not do anything that might insult my honor! I don’t want to-Please!” you cried.

“Then be not so fair and tempt a man to sin! And you have tempted me long enough. The one crown Prince Hal is deserving of is the Cuckhold’s horns.”

“Please, my lord- let me go!” you begged. 

To your horror, you felt a thin, clawlike hand reach for your leg under your skirt, then up, trying to lower your bodice to show your breasts. You squirmed, but one arm held you back.

“No, my lady. I want a see what I could be enjoying on our wedding night.”

He placed a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream. Tears welled up in you. 

With a free hand, though it shook, you slapped him hard. 

His hand dropped. He was shocked you were going to fight back. You tried to flee when he grabbed you back, ready to drag you off and force you to strip or do more when-

“Release yourself from the Princess of Wales right now!” threatened your intended.

Hal hurried in and grabbed the lord. He then took out his dagger, pointing it to your attacker’s chest. You jumped off and went behind Hal.

“What- my lord!” the lord was shocked that dishonorable, silly Prince Hal was capable of this. Then he scoffed. 

“She is not yet your wife-” he argued. 

“She is your princess and soon- your queen!” Hal reminded him.

The Lord of Harcourt pointed to where you stood and backed away behind Hal.

“She’s-she was trying to seduce me! The Lady is nothing but a common strumpet”

Hal punched him in the face. You let out a gasp. The Lord nursed his cheek. But Hal kept his dagger up at him. You heard footsteps and murmurs as the others went into the room. The younger Lancaster brothers staying by you loyally. The lords turned pale and slack-jawed.

“You are not welcome in this court until after our marriage. And then you will have to beg to be let in. And If you ever lay a hand on that sweet lady again, it will be the last time you have hands!” Hal barked at him.

The Lord of Harcourt shook and then relented, bowing his head. 

“Now, flee. Before I decide to persuade my father to behead you when he awakes.”

The lord fled into the shadows, a few attendants seeing him out. The others asked after you, but it was Hal who boldly embraced you. It was quite intimate for court protocol, but when had Hal ever done what everyone expected?

 “He-He frightened me.” you choked out.

“You need not be frightened, my lady, you’ll be safe. Did he hurt you? Do anything?” Hal questioned.

“He groped my leg, and tried to take my dress off, but no more. You caught him before more could be done. I-I -I promise you, Hal, I never intended to seduce him in any way! Do you believe me?”

Hal clasped your hands in his.

“Why would I not believe my dearest lady?” Hal replied.

Full of emotion, you leaned down and kissed them. Hal’s mouth opened a little and he smiled at you. He cupped your cheek sweetly. 

The party returned to wait on the king. You saw Hal was pale, but you kept your hand clasped in his as you walked back.

For as uncertain as this time was, no matter what the next day or hour could bring, you had each other and could endure it side by side.

[doll-r-t]

The Lost Pearl Part 8

Viking!Sy x reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,

Can also be found on ao3

TW: some angst and fluff

Masterlist

gif cred to owner

You woke up to your eyes feeling puffy and raw. Your head was pounding and your body exhausted. Your hair was still tightly pulled back. You could not bring yourself to unbind it. It had been a couple of days since Rosamund had gotten hurt. She still was pale and her body seemingly got smaller every day. She had not woken up yet and you started to lose hope. Cella stayed with her during the day as much as she cut while Syverson had taken to sleeping in the chair next to Rosamund’s bed. You would sit with her every time Cella had to do chores. You would move her legs and arms, recleaning and binding her wounds, and then read to her. Hoping the story was so interesting that she would wake up and look at you with her big green eyes wanting to know what happened next. But she did not. Sometimes at night when you could not sleep you would sneak into her room sitting on her bed watching her. You kept your hair back not unbinding it even for sleep. Beren would come once in the morning and once in the evening to check on her. Yet he could not say much. We needed her to wake up, this was the most important thing. She had already lost a lot of weight. Syverson seemed more frustrated with everything and his advisers tried to leave him alone as much as possible. You had not spoken to him and did not dare to seek out his company.            

You got up, quickly dressed, and made your way to Rosamund’s room. Cella hat to start her chores. But when you entered it was not Cella’s small smile that greeted you. It was the back of Syverson’s head. His arms resting on his knees. You were about to leave again when he spoke. “Stay. It does her good you being here.” He looked at you, dark circles under his eyes. You stepped slowly toward him. His beard was more unkempt than before and his clothing wrinkled, carelessly pulled on. You stepped up to the bed next to Syverson's chair. You did not know what to say to take his pain away. “She always ran off exploring, running around seeing wondering.” Syverson breathed in deeply his words coming out choked. “I should have protected her, send guards with her. But I wanted to give her the freedom and the feeling of safety that inside these walls nothing will happen to her.” You closed your eyes an ache in your chest. You could not soothe his pain but you laid an arm around his shoulders. He bowed his head, silent tears falling down his face. He clung to you pulling you closer towards him, his face buried in your chest, his arms surrounding your waist. You held him tightly while sobs racked his body. A single tear falls down your face. You started to softly sing quietly as if you were whispering. You sang about the story of Imon he was a man wandering the world in the dark ages, where nature like you knew now was non-existent. No woods, seas, or people. It is said he was one of the 5 original people. He dwelled in the midlands no one knew where it was, but many believed it was the City of Stones, due to its beauty. Imon came back to his family camp and found his father, mother, and sisters all dead. Killed by the dark creatures wandering in the shadows of the dark age. He wept and cried wandering the earth for many years. Hopeless, no home, no family. He was utterly alone. He fell to his knees begging for the creatures of shadows to take him, calling out for his father, mother, and sisters. The moon took pity on him, crying a tear. Out of it came a star. The star guided the man to a piece of land where the grass was green and the soil rich. He started building a home there. The star watched the man work, building different homes and trying to grow food to help other wandering people. She thought him a good man, a handsome man. But the star saw that he was still alone, saddened by this and her desire to be close to him, the star fell. She collided with the earth and the man ran to her, nature was growing around her body expanding more and more, like the green grass he had built his home on. Soon the entire earth was covered. He took her to his home and cared for her. He called her Lily, like the only flower he had ever seen. They both fell in love and soon welcomed their first child. With the earth being rich in nature and food more and more people survived and settled down. Soon small tribes started to exist. It is said that everyone originated from one of these tribes. But when she bore her third child the child was too sick and small. Lily cried for her daughter. Still covered in blood from birth and in pain, she walked to the place she fell and collided with the earth. Wishing for her mother the moon to take her back. But instead, where she fell she found a flower. It was black, sparkling silver only in the moonlight. She picked up the flower and went home. She brewed a tea out of it, it had a blue hue to it. She gave it to her daughter and once she drank it the child started to cry, her bones grew stronger and her heart strengthened. They named her Luna and her husband named the flower Moonlight after his daughter luna and the light of his life his wife.                             You stopped short, gasping for air. You pushed Syverson away taking his face in your hand. “Moonlight. Of course.” You ran out of the room, finishing the song did not matter. You ran to the wall, sprinting up the stairs as quickly as you could. You ignored the man rebuilding the parts of the wall. You pushed them away from the stone. You frantically looked at the stone trying to find what you had seen before. There in the shadow of a producing piece of rock was a black flower. You calmed your breathing down. You would only get one try. You could not destroy it. You climbed over the wall. The guards around you beg you to come back over again. One was sent to get Syverson. But you ignored everything. You held onto a rock with your right hand, stepping on a small ledge with both your feet, then let go of the wood wall completely. You shuffled along the wall slipping once in a while. Your pulse was racing, and your hands were sweaty. You were so close. Reaching out your hand you could almost get to it just a bit more. Syverson’s booming voice startled you for a moment. He had climbed over the wall too. You thought the guards would have a heart attack, lets's just hope Cella is not around to do the same or some might faint. He was almost by you, you could not let him take you back you needed the flower. You tried reaching for it again but it was too high up. “What in the Gods names are you doing?” Hissed Syverson. “Do you think you can give me a small boost?” “What? Y/N stop it right now. I don’t want you to end up like Rosamund, do you?” You turned to him, his eyes were wide, and his blue eyes seemed darker than normal. “Trust me. Do you not trust me?” He closed his eyes for a second, he looked at your eyes he had become so fond of. He gave you a nod. “You need to lift me a couple of inches.” He looked up trying to see what you were reaching for but he could not. He turned to you shuffling closer. “I will bend my knees you will put your foot on my thigh, and then just like we practiced before with the horse you will push yourself off the ground as hard as you can. Syverson had turned around pushing his back into the stone wall. He bent his knees holding you around the waist. You nodded to him and he started counting. “One, two, push.” You stood on his thighs, trying to keep balance. “I got you just do whatever you gotta do.”You concentrated on reaching the flower, plucking it carefully from the wall. “You will have to jump between my legs. Don’t worry I will hold you to me.” “I am not worried. I trust you.” You put the flower in your cleavage securing it between your breasts. You put both hands on each of Syverson’s shoulders and slid down between his legs. He kept his promise, keeping you close to him. You looked each other in the eyes, the last time you both were this close was when you helped him with his papers. “Can we go over the wall now again?” He asked in an almost amused voice. You could only nod. Syverson let you in front of him but stayed close in case you slipped.                                 Once you were over the wall again you turned to the guards. “You go tell the cook to heat up water. And you go tell Beren to come to Rosamund’s chambers we will need him.” You turned to Syverson “Come with me.” He followed you his eyebrows furrowed. “What the hell is going on Y/N?” You did not answer him just mumbled “no time.” Once you were almost in Rosamund’s chambers he grabbed your arm turning you around. “Y/N tell me at once what the hell that was back then.” You reached into your cleavage pulling out a black flower. “One question, you can see this right?” He looked still confused. “Yes, yes of course I can.” “Earlier when we were at the wall and I pointed at something you could not see it?” He shook his head. You smiled at him. “I think this is Moonlight.” Syverson let out a groan. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “For Fucks sake Y/N. Moonlight are you serious? This is just a fairytale something we tell children.” You shook your head no. “No, it is not. I know it is not. I mean you could not see it earlier because it can only be seen by women in pain. Once I picked it you saw it.” “Or I was a bit busy trying not to fall off a cliff instead of looking at a stupid flower.” You tried again but Syverson was not having it. “Enough,” he yelled. You were shocked. “You have done more than enough, don’t you think?” You stepped back as if he had slapped you. He looked to the side trying to get his anger under control. “I have a meeting.” He walked away but before he could go too far you called after him. “Rosamund would have faith.” Syverson did not turn around after a moment he kept walking. You looked at the black flower starting to doubt yourself.                             Beren walked around the corner he looked at you in concern. “Has she woken?” You shook your head no. He looked at your hands and gasped. His eyes showed bewilderment. “Where did you get this child?” “I thought I saw it when Rosamund and I were at the wall but I had forgotten all about it when Rosamund got injured.” You both looked at each other for a couple of seconds. “You know what this is right?” He just nodded. “I already called for some hot water. Do you think it will save her?” “It just might, if she is still alive until we can give it to her.” It was your turn to frown. “It can only be made into tea under the moonlight when it turns silver.” You would have to wait for hours, and even then there was no guarantee that the moon was not covered by clouds.                                     Syverson had barricaded himself in his study yelling at everyone who disturbed him. You sat next to Rosamund holding Moonlight in your hand waiting for the sun to finally go down. “You just need to hold on a bit longer. Just a bit more, please. I know you are strong, a fighter like your family. As soon as you are well we will all go riding again and don’t forget I promised to teach you how to swim and I intend on keeping that promise.” The door creaked open and Cella came in with something to eat. “Here you have not eaten yet.” You forced yourself to take some bites but then put the tray aside. You had no appetite, not since Rosamund's accident. “Ocre told me what happened.” You nodded. “And my brother's yelling can be heard throughout Warhorse.” You nodded again still looking at Rosamund. “Is it true then?” She stepped closer. “You found Moonlight?” She reached for the flower in your hand but you instinctively held it further away from her as if you were trying to protect it. You looked at her in apology. Cella sat on the bed breathing in deeply. “What now?” “We need to wait until the moon rises then we need to brew it under the moonlight into a tea. She will have to drink it. And then-” You swallowed hard. “Then everything will be okay again,” you said softly. “You know I never saw her connect with someone the way you two did. She was always a shy kid when it came to talking to people but somehow not with you.” You thought back on the first time you talked with her and how timid she seemed at first. “She was always wild running around wanting to know everything. More than we could teach her. But she was never good at making friends.” You did not understand how someone would not want to be friends with Rosamund. She was such a wonderful child. Brave, smart, strong, funny, sweet, you could go on. “It does her good you being here.” You snorted, very unladylike. “Yes, and see where it got her.” “Y/N,” Cella sight, “I told you even without you she could have ended up here. She went to that place far too often.” You looked at your hands, wringing them. “Tell that to your brother,” you mumbled. She got up and walked to you laying an arm around you. “He was angry, and probably scared by what you did. He tends to show that he cares by being angry instead of just saying it. But I know he does not blame you either.” You did not believe her. You wished you did but the hurt you had felt at what he said was still burning in your chest. You began to doubt yourself. What if it truly was just a fairytale and it would not work? Were you fooling yourself and others into hoping? You could not help but let Syverson's words get to you.                                         Cella and you sat in silence until the sun started to go down. Beren came into the room. “It is time.” You both got up. Walking out of Warhorse and further up the mountain. You both carried arms full of firewood. Beren had a pot with water in his hands. Cella started the fire and you pulled out the flower from your cleavage looking at it. The moon was rising higher. You turned to it, begging it silently to give life to little Firefly, and if she demanded a sacrifice instead then you begged she take your life. You were so busy praying to the moon spirit to notice the dark figure making its way up the hill. “Brother?” You turned your head so quickly that something cracked. “What are you doing here?” Cella asked. Syverson had made his stand firmly known but here he was in a brown leather coat, a white tunic, and brown trousers. “Having faith.” He looked directly at you while saying it. You gave him a small smile and he nodded stepping closer to the fire. He stacked some more wood on it, making it higher. The water was slowly heating. “What now?” He asked Beren. “We need to wait for the water to boil, then the Princess will take the flower and hold it in the moonlight until it sparkles silver then we will brew it into tea and fill it into a cup bringing it to Rosamund.” Syverson nodded. For a while you all were silent until the water started to bubble slowly, you turned looking at the moon again. Some clouds were gathering but the moon still shone brightly. You hardly dared to breathe. You would only be able to breathe again when Rosamund would open her eyes. A hand on your shoulder grounded you in the present again. “It is time,” Beren whispered. Your hands shook, sending one last prayer you held the flower up. You waited but nothing happened. Suddenly a spark appeared then one more and more. The flower began to shine silver. Tears gathered at your eyes, a huff of breath leaving your body. You turned to the others. All were watching you with wide eyes. It looked like the moon was illuminating not only the flower but also you. Beren urged you to the boiling water. Your hand was still shaking. At once a big warm one covered yours. You looked up at Syverson, he gave your hand a squeeze. You both looked at each other portraying all your hopes and fears through your eyes, letting each other fully see one another for the first time. You both turned to the water again “One,” you whispered. “Two,” he whispered. Three you both said silently letting the flower go. You watched it slowly fall into the water. It sank down to the bottom only a blurred shine could still be seen. The water slowly stopped boiling and a blue hue settled in. The silver was completely gone. You looked at Beren for guidance. He stepped up pulling a mug out of his coat pocket. Syverson took it from him filling it with the tea. You carefully made your way down the hill entering through the secret garden you thought only you visited and entered the building. Syverson's grip was tight on the mug, he was trying to control his breathing but you saw the tension. You all stopped in front of the door. Each of you sending one more prayer. You entered the gathering around Rosamund. Cella lifted her head slightly opening her mouth. Syverson purred the tea into her mouth. You watched in anticipation time seemed to have halted. Rosamund’s chest rose in a deep breath. And at once her eyes sprung open. A gasp went through the room. “Rosamund? Rosamund?” Syverson kneeled next to her holding her hand. She turned to him. “Is it truly you? Are you truly awake?” She looked around the room in confusion. Beren sidestepped you putting a hand on Syverson's shoulder. “Give her a moment.” Rosamund looked at you “Y/N?” “I am here little Firefly.” “Why am I in my bed?” You looked at Syverson, asking for help. “You had an accident but you are going to be okay.” He said. The rumbling of Rosamund's stomach caught all of you off guard. She began to giggle, and Syverson laughed loudly. It was infectious and so you Cella and even Beren joined in. “I will inform the cook to make something for the Little Lady.” Beren walked to the door but you halted him. “No, please I will go.” You leaned into him. “Stay with her in case something happens, and check her over please.” You walked out of the room, your hand pressed against your stomach and your heart racing but this time in happiness. You were so relieved it made you almost dizzy. You blinked hot tears away, you really needed to start getting your emotions under control again.         Syverson had turned to see you go. He had been so angry with you earlier not wanting to have hope. If he had it and it was snatched from him he feared it would destroy him. He had hunched over his papers trying to work but all he could see were your notes and something tight settled into his chest. He was so conflicted and he did not know why. He had not noticed the sun going down but with the first moonlight, he remembered your words. He sprang up grabbed his coat and walked up the hill.                             Syverson continued to caress Rosamund's hand. Beren was checking her over, her head injury was as good as gone a small scar was left. It must have been the power of the flower. It had been a nasty open wound just an hour ago. He pulled up her tunic inspecting the place where she was pierced by the wood. It was almost healed, only a long scratch was still there. Cella explained to Rosamund what had happened. Tears filled her eyes. “I am sorry. I just wanted to show Y/N/N the flowers there.” “Hush little one,” Syverson said. He climbed onto the bed pulling her in his arms. “No one could have foreseen it. The wood was rotten, it is not your fault. But next time if you want to explore tell me beforehand and take a guard with you.” She buried her face into Syverson’s chest. “Okay, Sy-Sy.”             You came back with a bowl of soup. Syverson helped her sit up and put the tray on her lap. Beren had gone instructing Rosamund to rest after eating. No excitement. He would come by tomorrow but if something was the matter they should come to get him. You sat a bit further away watching Cella and Syverson sitting on each side of Rosamund. After she had eaten she quickly fell asleep again her body still weak. Cella and Syverson soon followed. You smiled at the sweet family. They truly cared for each other. It made you wonder if your brothers would do the same for you. It saddened you that you did not know the answer to that. You never realized just how distant your family was and all the others in court. Your people called the Woodland primitive but the more you saw of them the more you thought your people were the primitive. Like the people from the dark age, wandering around lost without tribes. The people here truly were a tribe caring for each other no matter if you were family or not. You put one more piece of wood into the fire and covered all of them with a quilt.                                                     You were exhausted but instead of returning to your room you went outside to the garden, it had become your favorite spot. You wandered for a bit, just bathing in moonlight thanking the moon spirit for giving you your little Firefly back. For the first time in ages, your mind was not racing. And breathing felt easier. You settled onto a bench. The air was cold but you did not want to go inside, even though your arms were covered in goosebumps. A snap alerted you to someone approaching but you felt no fear. Suddenly a coat was put onto your shoulders. It was warm and smelled of leather, fire, and manly musk. You pulled it tighter around you smelling it a bit more. It was one of the most pleasant smells. You turned toward the man, “Thank you, Captain.” He settled down next to you. “It should be me thanking you.” Syverson had woken when you covered him with the quilt, he had watched you go through half-closed eyes. He looked over at Rosamund and Cella both still asleep. He got up, feeling a pull to follow you. He made sure Rosamund was covered again kissed both his sister and niece on the forehead and went to your room. But you were not there. He pondered for a moment but then remembered he had seen you in the garden before. When he saw you shivering on a bench bathed in the light of the moon he thought you the most beautiful woman. Even though he could not see your face, he knew you were.        

    “No, you were right before if it had not been for me she would not have been hurt.” Syverson looked down in shame. “I am sorry. I should never have said that.” He turned to you and looked into your beautiful eyes. “I need you to know that I do not believe it for a second. I let my anger get the better of me.” He rubbed his head. “ A fault of mine. I am sorry for saying it, for hurting you. You saved her life, you climbed after her and then climbed the wall again to get the flower.” He stopped his heart pounding. “In truth, it was the bravest thing I had ever seen.” You looked at him in doubt. “You climbed up there too.” “But I had no faith, did not dare to hope out of fear of getting hurt. Yet, you-, you saw hope and you held onto it, it is the bravest thing.” His gaze was so intense you could not hold it for long, bowing your head a small smile appeared on your face. You had never been called brave by a man before. Most saw a helpless Princess, a beautiful face, someone to produce an heir but not Syverson. You both sat in silence for a while, your hands inching further towards each other. You did not know who did it but your hands intertwined themselves.              

  “My great grandfather built this garden for his wife. She was not from the Woodlands. She loved flowers and all things growing. My people were not fond of outsiders. I guess we still struggle with it. She had a hard time here. And she missed her flowers. He gave her this garden. A place all to herself, where she could be around the things she loved. Without being watched by people. My Uncle tried to keep up with its maintenance during his younger years but the war had no regard for simple things like flowers. So it became a garden of weeds, chaos, and unloved.” He pulled you up, you slowly walked through it while he told you about what kind of flowers would bloom where. He did not let go of your hand and you had no intention either. One single blue flower had resisted the season. Syverson plucked it, turning to you. “May I?” You nodded entranced by the man in front of you. He put the flower behind your ear trying not to touch your hair. But even if he did you did not care, not when he was so close, his smell surrounding you. “The garden had been neglected but it is still here, so come spring I will get a new chance to restore its beauty and treat it with care and love.” “I am sure it will look beautiful.” “Yes, yes it is.” Syverson said, looking at you, his gaze wandering to your lips. They looked so soft. Your heart rate started to pick up again, holding onto his hands, as if you tried to pull him to you. SNAP. You both stepped apart, your face feeling warm. You both turned to the noise trying to see who was there. A big grey cat came walking out of the bush. It walked past you, completely ignoring you as if you were not even here. It jumped onto a stature that stood there, it was a woman sitting with her hand in her lap holding flowers, the cat settled into the lap of the woman. “It seems not everyone has forgotten about the garden,” you giggled. Syverson let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing his head. “We should go back inside. It had been a long few days. And Beren told me you are still injured.” You were surprised Beren had informed Syverson about it. Syverson ignored your curious look not willing to inform you that he had insisted to be updated on your injuries daily. “You need rest, and after how you took care of Rosamund. Of all of us. I must insist I take care of you now.” The moon was bathing him in white light, highlighting his blue eyes, his soft pink lips, and oh Gods did that man ever wear his tunic properly without exposing his chest like this? You wondered if it was as soft as it looked. “As you wish, My Captain,” you breathed out. “So be it, My Princess,” he whispered back. He took your hand in his again. The warmth feels almost familiar by now. You both walked silently to your room. You turned to him trying to say thank you for walking you to your room but it got stuck in your throat. How did this man do this to you? Make you act impulsive, and emotional and stun you into silence. It is so unlike you. Syverson let go of your hand, and you already missed the warmth. He touched the flower behind your hair and let his finger caress your cheek. “Flowers suit you.” Before you could say anything he bowed slightly. “Good night.” He walked down the corridor, glancing back at you for a second before entering his room. 

Meaning of Blue Flowers A blue flower stands for desire, love, and inspiration. It is a flower that represents the metaphysical striving for the impossible and infinite.

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[kn1feinthec0ffee]

the doctor is in - henry pearl

doctor!dad!henry pearl x reader

warnings: lit rally nothing this is the usual heaping serving of fluff & cuteness 🥰

word count: 650

notes: ohmygod this is a mess sorry i was really busy and today is just not it for me so this is what you’re getting bc i didn’t want it to be 3 weeks since i’ve posted something

********************

you woke up to a hardly noticeable tug on your sleeve. as you lazily blinked your eyes open, you saw the silhouette of your son, michael.

“what’s up, hon?” you slurred, rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes.

“i think i’m gonna throw up,” he murmured, clutching his stomach before he ran to the bathroom. from what you could hear, he barely had enough time to flick on the light and lift the toilet seat before he got sick.

“aww, poor thing,” you mumbled to yourself. you sat on the cold floor next to him and ran a soothing hand along his clammy back. “i’m sure daddy can help you feel better, sweetheart.”

as if that was his cue, henry sleepily stumbled into the bathroom, his emerald eyes squinting as they adjusted to the bright lights. “oh no, someone’s not feelin’ good?”

“my tummy hurt when i went to bed and i couldn’t go to sleep, so i was playing with my toys, but then i felt really bad.” michael sniffled, wiping his tears with his balled up fists.

“that’s alright bud, i promise you’ll be feelin’ better soon. you’ve just got a nasty stomach bug, that’s all.” henry playfully ruffled his hair.

once it was clear your son wasn’t going to be sick again, henry lifted him up, holding him close against his hip as he took him into the kitchen. much to your confusion, henry left michael sitting on the countertop, only to come back a moment later decked out in a white coat with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

“doctor pearl is in,” he cooed lovingly, gathering the “supplies” he’d need. “now, when you have a stomach bug, your tummy’s jumpin’ and hoppin’ around, and i’m willing to bed that doesn’t feel so good. so for it to calm down, you wanna eat some boring stuff, how does that sound?”

michael nodded and swung his legs off the edge of the island. you and henry busied yourselves making some bland foods for your soon to eat, including soup, toast, and a glass of water.

your son sat quietly as he slurped on the chicken noodle soup and crunched on some toast. his lack of chatter saddened you since he was usually so talkative.

“daddy, can i watch something?” michael asked softly, reaching up to place his dishes in the sink.

“of course you can, bud,” henry quickly scooped the bowl out of his hands for him. “let’s go put somethin’ on.”

the three of you made your way to the sofa as henry flicked the tv on. your son laid his head in your lap and made himself comfortable as your husband searched for the kids channels. michael decided on spongebob, letting out little giggles every time mr krabs would catch plankton trying to steal the krabby patty formula.

after a few episodes, he was out cold, snoozing softly against your lap, fabric bunched up in his tight fist. you turned to look at henry, not surprised to find he was already looking over at you. “thanks for doing the whole doctor shtick, i think he really got a kick out of it.”

a look of confusion passed through his eyes as he mischievously cocked his head to the side. “shtick? excuse you, i’m a certified pediatrician, and i’ve got the doctorates to prove it, missy.”

“you’re absolutely right,” you laughed, careful to keep your volume down lest you wake up your sleeping angel. “my sincerest apologies, doctor pearl.”

“you know i’d do anything for him,” henry rubbed his hand over his sleeping son’s warm back. “and that goes for you too, and don’t you forget it.”

“never ever, doctor pearl.” you accentuated your claim with a kiss to his perfect button nose. “now help me get this patient to his ward before he wakes up.”

“sure thing, sweetheart.” henry grinned, complete adoration in his gaze.

********************

please forgive me if this is short or if there’s any errors i wanted to get something out today sO BAD so this might be a little rushed

tags: @emmyrosee @babyboy-cody @jadelynlace @skrsgardspam @stevesharrlngtons @manicpixiedreamguurl

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter eight

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,473

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

_____________

❝ i hate all the hurt that you put me through, and that i blame myself for letting you ❞

HENRY PEARL RAN HIS FINGERS OVER THE GOLD WIRED RING, a soft but victorious smile on his face. The small, handmade ring glimmered in the light he'd hung above his desk. The night before, he'd gone to the nearest voodoo shop to purchase the smallest garnet stone, ignoring the sunrise as he immediately ran back home and into his bed. Admittedly, he'd been afraid that the ring wouldn't turn out the way he wanted; but Aniya had always looked so heartbroken whenever she looked at her own, and there was a part of him that couldn't bear to see that look on her face as often as he did.

    There was a part of him that believed she would never love him -- not in the way that he wanted her to -- and he wouldn't blame her, either. She looked like she could conquer the world with a movement of her wrist. She would want more out of the world and he would never be able to give it to her. She was beautiful, and extraordinary, and he was just a boy.

    Still, he had to admit he's been happy lately, and he'd wallowed in it selfishly. Henry knew in his heart that it wouldn't last very long, but the was all the more reason to enjoy it in the moment. A few days ago, Aniya told him she found him intriguing, and he told her 'we are only interested by things we don't understand.'

    Henry Pearl's eyes were big enough to take it all in: the world, Aniya, and himself. He could float through the sky and never come back down. He wouldn't need to.

    He set the complex -- yet beautiful -- garnet ring down on his desk, next to a photograph of he and his mother on her birthday, when Henry was only eight or nine years old. Colla Pearl had been a beautiful woman, with emerald green eyes and medium brown hair; though she hadn't been a healthy one. It was when Henry was thirteen that she became sick, and it was at fifteen that she died. Neither Henry nor his father had dealt with it properly.

    Frowning, he glanced up at the calendar, and it occurred to him that Colla's birthday would be in a few days. A sick feeling over came Henry, and it struck him that it would be eight years since her death.

    The twenty-one year old boy was pulled out his thoughts when he heard rumbling and music playing from the living room. Henry listened for a moment, hoping -- praying -- the music wasn't what he thought it was. When he heard a crash, he shut off his lamp and quickly made his way out of his closet-sized bedroom and down the hall. He was met with a low ringing noise to his left, where his father left the home phone hanging off the desk.

    He hesitated, but picked it up to his ear. A low buzz emitted from the phone, signalling that whoever his father had tried to call had hung up, and he carefully set it back down on the charger. As he proceeded down the hall, he looked to his left and noticed the empty bedroom that belonged to his father. The bedsheets had been jumbled together, and he'd left his night lamp on, as if he'd tried to get some rest but changed his mind all together. Underneath the bed was an empty six-pack of Coors Lite, and Henry grimaced at the sight.

    "Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva uti hundrade år!" The Swedish song played throughout the home through a single DVD player. The birthday song mocked the atmosphere, and dread filled Henry's stomach as he realized why his father, William Pearl, had chosen to stay up so late: he'd believed it was Henry's mother's birthday.

    Sorrow crawled its way to Henry's throat, wrapping itself around his neck and squeezing as he reached to turn off the music. Henry's vision went glassy as silence filled the apartment once again, and he heard his father cursing him in the kitchen.

    "What the fuck? We're having a party, Henry!" William complained, rushing over to the player and restarting the track. "We're gonna have one hell of a party!"

    Henry's gaze flitted across the room as he struggled to keep eye contact with William. The fifty-year-old man was nearly nude, wearing only a pair of boxers as he opened a box of party supplies Henry had tried to hide in the attic. William dumped the box upside down on the wooden floors, and Christmas ornaments and streamers were sent flying across the living room.

    "Papa," Henry began. His throat went dry as an old ornament flew across the floor: a photo of he and his parents that they'd taken at the mall. "Papa, please stop."

    "Let's make it look nice, here at home," William declared, messily organizing the supplies into different piles. He made his way to the small kitchen table and Henry's new shipment of silverware onto the table. "Here, you set the table--"

    "Papa--" He tried again, taking a small step toward his father as he climbed onto the couch in an effort to hang a 'happy birthday' sign from the windows. For a moment, he wondered where William had gotten the money to purchase it; then it occurred to him that he left twenty dollars on the kitchen table every night in case of an emergency. Henry's throat tightened as he realized that his father had been impulsively spending the money on alcohol and useless decorations. It wasn't as though either of them celebrated holidays.

    "Here is her party, why aren't you happy? Don't you miss her?" William's tone changed as he looked back at Henry, his eyes reddened and crazed as he screamed, "Be happy, for fuck's sake!"

    When Henry's expression didn't shift, William reached for one of the plates Henry had bought and tossed it in his direction, screaming "here is her fucking party!"

    Henry felt pressure against his shoulder as the plate slammed against the right side of his body and fell to the hard ground. He watched as it shattered, and cringed, his expression shifting to one of helplessness. "Papa, please stop."

    "What?" William turned back to his son, a bright smile on his face as he walked forward, grabbing Henry's head with his hands and holding it against his own. His breath wreaked of alcohol and whatever he'd eaten in the past few weeks.

    Henry wrapped his arm around his father's shoulder and tried to lead him back down the hall. "Please, Papa, just go to bed. Come here."

    "I can't go to bed now!" He exclaimed, casually fighting off his son's grip and placing his dirtied hand on his already bruised cheek.

    The boy flinched away from his father's touch. "Let's go to bed, Papa, come on..."

    "But I'm arranging a dinner party for your mother," William argued, a dazed smile on his face. Henry would have sworn he was having a psychological break, but he supposed grief did that to people. William had lost his wife; it was only fitting that he acted this way. Still, the longer he acted like this, the easier it would be for William to hurt himself.

    Henry tried again, carefully reaching for his arms as he tried to walk him back to his room. He comforted, "You can do that tomorrow, c-can you come to bed now?"

   "No, I'm very busy making a birthday dinner for your mom, so the fucking cunt can finally be happy!"

    "Papa, calm down, let's go to bed--" The boy bargained, ignoring the icy feeling that grew in his chest. His father would always say cruel things during his episodes, especially about Henry's mother; but they still stung every time he said them.

    William shrugged off his son's grasp, walking into the small kitchen where a pot of potatoes and -- was that dirt? -- boiled over the stove. Henry reached for the pot while his father was distracted with pouring a bag full of potatoes into another pot. He held it over the sink and filled it with water in an attempt to wash out what mess William had made while Henry was busy.

    "What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!" His father cursed, snatching the pot from Henry's grasp and putting it back on the stove. Smoke rose from the burning potatoes, and the young boy did his best to wave them away from the detector and sprinklers. As his father threw random spices onto the food, he exclaimed, "I told you, we're having a party! Look, we're gonna eat potatoes and shit."

    The older man brushed long, gray locks from his face and reached to turn on everything on the stove, despite using only two pots filled to the brim with potatoes. William turned the nozzle and the oven lit up, as Henry took another step forward. "No. No, Papa, go to bed--"

    "Don't ruin the food, now!" William sneered. Henry gulped and reached to turn the stove off, but his hands were immediately grabbed by William. His father glared at him for a moment, raising his hand. A stinging sensation covered Henry's left cheek.

    "Please, Papa--"

    Slap.

   "C-Can't you j-j-just--"

    Slap.

    A sharp pain quickly formed below Henry's eye socket, a jarring feeling in his skull as William's fist connected with his son's cheek. A bruise began forming on Henry's face as he met eyes with his father again, a tired but pleading look in his eyes.

    "Why c-c-can't -- why c-can't you go t-to bed now, Papa? Please..." Tears fell from Henry's eyes, his hair disheveled and shoulders hunched forward as he looked into the eyes of his estranged father. He was met with a cold glare and reddened eyes. Henry swallowed, preparing for another hit, the left side of his face reddened and covered with tears.

    William nodded after a moment, his jaw clenched as he stared up at his son. "I was just trying to make some food and make things right." He cleared his throat and looked around the kitchen before taking a step toward Henry. "Move the fuck out of my way."

    Henry stepped to the side as William made his way back to his bedroom. He let out a low breath and walked toward the stove, turning off all of the nozzles and the oven, and tossing the pot of potatoes and gunk into the garbage. He thought for a moment, then unplugged the microwave and toaster as well. As Henry went to clean up the mess in the living room, he allowed himself to accept his reality.

    He would never be able to live in his apartment in the Quarter. It would be his -- overpriced -- art studio, and nothing more.

    A tear slipped from his eye as he made his way into the attic, where he had organized Colla's items into different boxes. Henry moved to look through her 'treasured items,' the ones that she'd kept close to her heart when she was alive. Dainty pieces of jewelry tangled together at the bottom of the box, next to an old journal. Henry's brows knitted together in curiosity as he reached for the small brown book.

    The pages were stained brown, implying that Colla had gone out of her way to dip them into tea. A chuckle left Henry's lips as he began to read her Swedish writings. After a few moments, he realized the book hadn't been her private journal, but a notebook, where she'd studied different and rare types of witchcraft.

    'Tyaag witches participate in several different rituals in order to achieve functional mortality. However, functional mortality is only offered to twins born with earth magic. Once achieved, the twins will be sacrificed on their eighteenth birthday. This will usually consist of a slit throat and a knife through the base of the skull, paralyzing and killing them.

    'The base of the skull is the fifth chakra, and the mouth of God. Three days after their death, the witch twins are resurrected. Unfortunately, the memory of their friends and loved ones is wiped completely of their existence. This is due to the fact that the witches are promised a new life; and therefore, their slate is wiped clean.

    'Tyaag rituals are notorious for failed resurrections, as if the children do not comply with the fifteen rituals they need to complete before their deaths, the sacrifice will fail, and they will remain in spiritual limbo for the rest of eternity.'

    Henry shut the book immediately, remembering the wound on Aniya's neck. He cleared his throat and shook his head, as if his memory were an etch-a-sketch. He glanced outside and noticed the faded sunlight, and realized he would be late for his double-shift at the diner if he didn't leave soon.

    He quickly reached for the wired ring and put it into a small white box, complete with a little ribbon. A smile made its way across his face as he quickly changed into his work uniform, all but giddy to see Aniya again.

    As he made his way out of the cramped apartment in downtown New Orleans, he caught a glimpse of his father drooling into his white satin pillows. Henry paused, then went into his room, pulling the duvet over the man's chubby body and tucking it over him. He quickly picked up the pack of alcohol on the floor and shut off the light in his bedroom with a final breath of relief. He grabbed his things and locked the door behind him, making his way to his old Jeep.

    Henry drove in peaceful silence, admiring the lights and music of the city before stopping at the dumpster behind the diner.

    It was there that he tossed his father's pack of alcohol and his mother's box of party supplies. It wasn't as if either of the items would ever do him good. He was exhausted, and no longer sure he would live to his twenty-eighth birthday.

    Frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

________

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. i knew that henry needed to have his own chapter eventually, as he is just as complex as aniya and kol, with his own goals and ambitions outside of being the person who works in the restaurant. that being said, henry is based off martin from the swedish movie 'behind the lights' and henry pearl from 'battlecreek.' please comment and tell me what you think! - trust

[hecohansen31]

Heco, my love, pleaaaaase do #25 of the kissing prompts with our love, Henry Pearl🥺❤️

WARNINGS: Bad Date, Soft Henry Pearl, Fluff, Cheesy

“Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain”

The double-blind-date idea had been your worst choice ever.

You didn’t know why you had allowed your friend to rope you in this idea.

‘We are new and we don’t know anybody in this shithole of a town’ she had commented, meanwhile she swiped through random guys’ pictures on tinder ‘… and you could get laid, you honestly… need it’.

But what your friend hadn’t considered was that the guys she had shown were the biggest assholes of the entire town.

As soon as you had come in, your date had tried to push your boundaries, trying to sit closer than it was comfortable for you, pushing an hand around your waist and trying to grab your hand over the table, in an obnoxious matter that had made you use your own ‘safeword’ with your friend, to tell her that you wanted nothing more than to go home.

But she had been too taken aback by her ‘amazing date’ and she had just asked you, over text, to endure a bit longer, and then she’d make it up to you with extra drinks.

But ‘your date’ kept on trying to hit on you with he cringiest of pick-up lines and eventually you were so done with him that you had to escape to the toilettes.

You tried to take your sweet time, adjusting your make-up and cleaning the parts of your body the man had been touching, cursing yourself for having worn a dress that had so much access to both your naked arms and legs.

Although you had felt dashingly beautiful before the date, you now just felt… violated.

You were rather sad to escape the toilette to go back to the awful date, but on your way back to the diner table, somebody lightly tapped your shoulder and you turned immediately around, thinking you probably had a tray of hygienic paper under your shoe.

But it was a boy, a rather handsome boy, one that you had seen on a few nightly trips to the local gas station of Battlecreek, he had filled your car and smiled shyly for the entire time not even attempting to make small talk.

Your friend had dubbed him as ‘weird’, but you understood and apprecciated his shyness.

Hence you were surprised he was approaching you, but he went even further and started talking to you, rushing through the words.

“… I am sorry… I don’t mean… to… intrude on anything, but…” he fidgeted with his hands, nervously, trying to find the best words for what followed “… you seemed uncomfortable…”.

“That’s what I get for choosing a blind date over Netflix and junk food” you commented with a sad smile “… but thank you for the concern”.

And he went a step further voicing his concern for you.

“… I know… I mean… I am a stranger, but…” and almost as if a lightbulb had switched off “… I am Henry Pearl by the way, I have seen you at the gas station, a few times”.

“I am (Y/N)” you replied softly, offering him an hand “… I am new, here, in Battlecreek, and my friend thought that it’d be funny to have a few cute guys showing us around, but my date…”.

“Doesn’t know to keep his hands to himself” finished for you Henry, with an harsh note on his tongue, as you nodded a bit ashamed that he had noticed it “… I can show you around… I mean…”.

He grew all bright red, and you took a small look at your date, waiting with your friend for your return as he looked like a hawk to the entire diner.

You had no intention to go back to him, but you felt like you’d have been rude to simply walk away, although he deserved it for not knowing where to put his hands.

And also, you were a bit scared of leaving alone, scared that the man would have followed you.

“… I mean… I am a bit of a stranger and… I mean you don’t know me” mumbled softly Henry voicing your own doubts, although you honestly would have taken any other man over the one at the table.

And Henry looked cute, with two plushy cheeks that you’d have eaten gladly.

“… I am more than happy to walk out with you, if you do keep your hands to yourself” you mumbled softly, as he immediately stuffed his hands in his pockets, to show you that he wouldn’t have that problem “… well then, I do think that you can be my tour guide”.

And like that, you ran out of the diner, giggling softly to each other as you hid from your friend and your date, breathing a deep breath of relief, and once you were out you erupted in a satisfied laughter, Henry lightly blushing, as you tried to adjust your dress, waiting for him to show you around.

“Where do we start?” you asked softly and Henry immediately answered you, as you started what seemed his usual night routine, as he explained to you all the beautiful things happening in Battlecreek, as you exchanged a bit of information on each other.

Henry was surprised that you had willingly moved from a bigger city to Battlecreek.

‘I am a writer, I just think that this entire “small town mentality” would be interesting and inspiring for a book’ you had explained him ‘… and you might even be part of it’.

He had giggled at that, that adorable blush on his face reappearing.

‘I am also an artist… I mean… I am a painter’ he had then told you.

“Oh that’s wonderful” your eyes had shone with pure interest, because you hadn’t thought to find somebody with your similar interests, who understood you so well.

But Henry Pearl literally seemed your ‘soulmate’.

And it was nice and comfortable to talk with him, a natural discourse spurring between you as you walked through Battlecreek, with him letting you know all about it ‘the small town mentality’, as you found yourself more and more interested with the tall boy.

Sadly, your delightful night was interrupted by the rain, as you immediately hid under the first place that could cover your heads, with Henry laughing so gingerly that it just put you in a good humor, and although it was raining all around you and you were drenched… it was the best absolute part of the night.

“I swear that even the rain is typical of Battlecreek” joked Henry, as you smirked at him.

He had relaxed quite a bit, although the blush kept on being present on his face, and you couldn’t help but slightly push yourself forward, as you met his lips in a kiss, because although he was a complete stranger…

… you just had had the best night of your life.

And he had the prettiest lips that you had ever seen.

Which tasted of rainwater and soft pancakes.

And you had never tasted anything so good.

Henry seemed taken aback, his lack of experience clearly showing up, as he froze against you, although he didn’t shy away from you, eventually his hand finding itself around your waist, loosely as he avoided to touch anywhere in particular, remembering probably the rule of keeping his hands to himself.

But you could break it.

You would have gladly allowed it.

Just because he blushed so adorably.

A thunder made you disentangle yourself from the kiss, as you jumped back lightly startled, steadied by his arms and he brought you closer to heat you up against the coldness of your wet clothes.

“… are pretty boys also typical of Battlecreek?” you teased him softly and he smirked, adorably.

“I…” then a serious light appeared in his eyes “… I didn’t do this, for you know… this”.

“I know” you mumbled, pecking again his lips, again “… you are a good guy, Henry Pearl”.

He became as red as a tomato.

“Why don’t I give you a tour of my home, and let you use a shower?” you proposed “… no offense but you look like a wet dog”.

“A cute wet dog” he counterattacked you, making you feel that deep underneath all that shyness there was much more.

And you were curious to see more of it.

And maybe this double-blind-date thing wasn’t that bad.

[jocelynscloset]

Would you do a little something of telling Bill's characters your pregnant? Hope tonight's better than last night!

I chose to do it for 5 of the 7 characters I write of Bill’s because that’s a lot lol. I hope I got your favorites, at least.

Bill: Bill would be ecstatic. He has always wanted a giant family with you, and the fact that you’re telling him that it’s either starting or getting a new addition is the best thing he could ask for. He loves you so much, and when you’re pregnant he has an excuse to constantly dote on you and spend all his time with you, and the fact that you’re extremely hormonal throughout most of it is also something he looks forward to as soon as you tell him.

Roman: He would be very freaked out at first, incredibly insecure about his own potential for hurting you and now the baby, and he would very quickly reassure you that if you don’t want him to be apart of the picture, he’d respect your decision, even if you were in a committed relationship to begin with. He’s also afraid of what could happen to you since you’re not an Upir and he isn’t sure how that will affect you during the pregnancy, let alone the child itself. However, in time he would come around because it would hit him that no matter what, he’s got you and he knows that you’ll be a good enough mother to make up for any trouble he could possibly cause. 

Merkel: He’d be concerned and a bit upset at first. He doesn’t immediately enjoy the idea of being a father, and the fact that he’s in constant danger is also a major factor that makes itself known in his mind. He’d be worried he won’t be able to care for you and provide for the both of you like he knows he should, and he would be scared that his actions would now affect two other people just as much as it does him. He would warm up quickly though. The more you talk to him about it and the more he sees you getting excited about it, the more it would rub off on him, and he’d be back to his privately affectionate and protective self in no time. 

Axel: If you were early on into your relationship he would feel a lot of pressure. He knew he wanted to start a family somewhere down the line, but the two of you haven’t gotten far enough to really talk about that or decide you were a forever fit. If you two were fully committed, not even necessarily engaged or married but like, you knew you were gonna be together for the rest of your lives, he would be so excited and fully into the baby thing. He’d stay late at the shop building things for the nursery and he’d stay up late at night while you slept beside him, reading blogs and books about parenting and raising young children and he’d just be super super excited about the future you two had ahead.

Henry Pearl: He’d be stunned for a little while. Not happy or sad or anything; just completely, eerily still as he processed the information. Just as you’d reach to touch his hand or ask him if he was okay, he’d shoot out of his seat and pull you into his arms, embracing you tightly (but gently) and whispering how much he loves you and thanking you over and over again for being the best thing that ever happened to him. After that, he’d stay up all night asking you whatever questions popped into his head and daydreaming out loud about how beautiful she would be and how she’d have your eyes and hair and dainty little hands. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ko-Fi | Patreon (Early Access and a TON of exclusive content)

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[skarsgardclan]

New Bill Blog ✨

Hey, my name is Jocelyn and I’ve decided to start my own Bill writing blog! I’m open to thirst over concepts about Bill or any of his non- clown characters, and that includes anything from angst to fluff or smut ✍🏻

I’ve decided to tag a few of my favorite writing blogs for Bill so that I can get to know some people in the community a little better!

@lihikainanea @ill-skillsgard @dreamtherapy

@skrsgardspams @bscarz and many more!

[simple-skarsgard]

Break Me Down

Requested: Yep Pairing: You and (Dominant) Billie Boi Prompt: Bill’s brother flirts with you to piss off his brother and Bill gets jealous and you have angry sex.  A/n: These are actually 2 very similar requests put together so here ye go my little lambs. This gif makes me uncomfortable because this is a rape scene but I used it so you guys could have a visual anyways Im sorry. I don’t know how to writeimsorry.

You couldn’t have been more fed up with Bill at the moment. You were sat down looking like an entire fucking meal. Hair done up, make up on point, a cream colored dress that showed off your fantastic legs and cleavage. You’d only dolled yourself up for the purpose to catch bills attention and he’d hardly looked your way all night. 

He was busy going around being a social butterfly and mingling with coworkers and bosses of all sorts. You knew it was for his work but god it irritated you that he hadn’t even complimented your efforts that were always meant to swoon him. 

“You look lonely,” Alex, Bill’s brother, took a seat beside you on the velvet love seat. He smiled at you and you only smiled back in courtesy. Truth be told, it only upset you more that Bill’s brother acknowledged you more in that sentence than Bill had the whole night.

“Yeah sure have a seat next to the lonely girl, I’m sure she’d appreciate the company of someone other than the person she wants to be with,” you huffed slightly.

“Ouch,” Alex took your comment with a grain of salt and laughed,”what’s got you down, (Y/n)?”

You folded your lips contemplating if Bill’s brother was the right person to talk about this sort of issue with. You decided against it, but hinted at it by glancing at Bill’s direction. Alex wasn’t stupid. He figured it out in a heart beat.

“Ah, I see,” he looked you over as if mulling over ideas that could turn your frown upside down and then he got a smirk on his lips.

“I got an idea,” he said before he adjusted his gray suit and leaned back slightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to his chest. He whispered in your ear to start laughing and act like you were having a good time. 

You exaggerated your laugh slightly, but it was enough to get Bill to stop talking and turn his head to where he saw you sitting with his brother. He frowned slightly and looked over the situation and suddenly felt a massive discomfort growing in his chest. 

Alex spoke loudly enough, acting as if he wasn’t aware that Bill could hear or much less was already looking at the two of you.

“Wow (Y/n) you look really good tonight, why are you all alone?” he tilted his head and looked you up and down, he let his arm loop around your waist and dared to bring you closer. He couldn’t help wondering if he was crossing the line, but Alex was a male. And he understood male’s train of thought. You never mess with a man’s girl.

You only shrugged in response and decided you’d add fuel to the fire by resting a hand on Alex’s thigh,”Thank you for noticing Alex.”

Bill glared at you when you emphasized on his brother’s name fully knowing you were throwing shade his direction. He turned his attention back to the group he was talking to before he folded his lips in a false, but trying, smile and excused himself.

While you and Alex lowered your voices to act as if exchanging secrets between each other like kids, Bill walked up to you.

“(Y/n),” he said sternly,”Outside. Now.”

He turned on his heel and set down a drink he had in his hand on a nearby glass table. You watched as the remainder of the drink swished hard out of the glass and spilled contents onto the table. That alone showed how angry he was. 

Alex looked at you one last time before stretching his lips in a ‘yikes’ face. 

“Good luck,” he wished.

You sighed before nodding,”I’ll need it.”

You trailed down after Bill to meet outdoors.You’d been so lost in your own thoughts about how’d you get his attention, you forgot it was still day out. The warmth felt nice and you couldn’t help, but smile slightly. What a nice day. 

You were going down the steps as you watched Bill pacing back and forth angrily in his black suit. You bit your lip as you watched the fabric hugging his body and his hair slicked back which had been messed up because he was running his hand through it impatiently.

When you came face to face with him you didn’t even try to hide the coyness in your smile. You’d wanted his attention and now you’d received it. Not entirely how you wished, but it was a start.

Bill glared down at you as you began to walk to fingers up his buttons.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” you tilted your head and looked up at him innocently. 

“Don’t act stupid, (Y/n),” he was seriously pissed.

You roll your eyes and let your hand fall away from him,”What, Bill? Does it piss you off that Alex pays attention to your girlfriend more than you do?”

“That’s not true,” his words hissed through gritted teeth. 

“I beg to differ.”

“Why are you acting like this?! You know I’m here for a job and I need to make good impressions,” Bill tried to defend himself.

“And you can’t do that with me by you?” you crossed your arms,”You have to leave me alone waiting for you be done small talking, is that it?”

“(Y/n), please, this isn’t the time to start picking fights.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk!”

“Yeah because I’d appreciate it if my brother didn’t have his fucking hands on my girlfriend!” he snapped.

“Does it annoy you that he held me like that? Does it piss you off that he was more capable of doing your job than you?” you shook your head and turned around and just before you could stop yourself, you mumbled,”I bet he’d fuck me better than you do if he had the chance too.”

You instantly regretted it when Bill caught your arm and pulled you back forcibly. Either of his large hands wrapped around your upper arms.

“What did you just say?” you looked into his seething green eyes and you knew you’d fucked up big time.

“Nothing,” your voice was small.

“No! Repeat it!”

You swallowed hard feeling the knot in your throat tightening with every second.

“I-”

“You said he could fuck you better than I could, right?” he waited seconds but you didn’t answer. He pulled you closer, his voice rising as he asked again,” Right?”

“Yes,” you felt your knees becoming weak at the adrenaline racing in your veins waiting on his next approach to you.

“Go wait in the car,” was all he said before letting you go and storming back up the steps to go excuse himself from his associates.

You blinked still feeling your blood racing. He was beyond mad and you felt slightly guilty. You could have potentially just destroyed your entire relationship with him. You hung your head and went to wait in the car.

The entire car trip home, Bill didn’t say anything to you. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t touch you. Hardly breathed in your direction. The weighing silence was crashing on your shoulders and becoming unbearably heavy. 

Even arriving at your home, he went in without you. Bill was giving you the silent treatment and you couldn’t lie that you felt you deserved it. You hated fighting, but honestly it was his fault for not paying attention to you when he should’ve, especially knowing how little time the both of you had with each other in his line of work. 

You walked to your bedroom where you watched him get undressed and he knew you were watching him. The more you watched his lazy limbs move to shake off his suit, the more you saw he was looking sad instead of angry. You furrowed your eyebrows as he grabbed a silk robe to wrap it around himself with it untied to display his bare torso. You looked at his long legs always wondering if he felt like he was walking on stilts the whole time. 

Bill looked up at you with a neutral expression before he walked to the bathroom and making you flinch when he slammed the door. You sighed when you heard the shower run, but couldn’t help start feeling slightly guilty about what you’d said earlier.

So you undressed and slipped into one of Bill’s shirts feeling a discomfort as to if you could even wear his clothes anymore, but at the same time it was all that brought you comfort now. 

It wasn’t long until Bill stepped out of the restroom, steam engulfing his robed figure as he walked towards you and for a minute you thought he’d just crash his lips on yours and this fight would be over, but instead he walked past you and took a seat in the little bench you had beside the window sill.

Glancing over your shoulder you peered as the moonlight washed his pale water-beaded skin. His locks of hair intertwining together and hanging over his forehead as he looked down at the floor- not a word came from his lips.

It was obvious at this point you’d have to take initiative. It was your fault after all. 

“Bill,” you went over to kneel between his legs and rest your elbows on his knees, crossing your hands over to support your face as you let your head down, eyes looking up at him.

His ember eyes blinked to meet yours, but still he said nothing.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” your voice barely above a whisper.

Something inside him must’ve snapped because his tone was no different from when he was angry earlier today.

“You’re sorry?” he scoffed and let out a dry laugh,” For what? Flirting with my brother in my face to catch my attention or for degrading me for the sake to piss me off? Or maybe you’re just sorry that I’m the one that has the right to be hurt here.”

“I’m sorry for everything, okay,” you frowned. It wasn’t like him to rub things in your face, but it’s not like he was wrong about what he was saying.

His stare was blank and you felt him searching your soul for the slightest ounce of sincerity and came to the conclusion that you meant your apology, but that wouldn’t be enough. Only making you take your words back would suffice in this situation and there was only one way to make it happen.

He nodded slowly,”Okay.”

His hand raised to cup your face before he slid it into your hair to bury his fingers into your scalp and catch a fistful of your hair. You were caught off guard as he suddenly stood to his full height and raised you with him and brought your face in for a deep kiss.

Your moan was muffled as he tilted his head to slip his tongue between your lips and back you up towards the bed. He didn’t stop until he was laying you down entirely flat against the bed and ran a hand up your bare legs until he was met with your entrance.

“No panties?” he mumbled against your lips before catching the bottom between his teeth,”Its like you wanted this to happen.”

Your face grew hot at how easily he knew you by now. You were about to respond before he pulled away and watched your face contort with pleasure as he slipped to fingers into you.

“Such a dirty girl,” he breathed as he curled in fingers into your wetness. He bit his lip as he looked down at you, his other hand still intertwined in your hair.

Your eyes were closed and lips now parted as you drew in ragged breathes, your back arching off the bed as you felt his digits moving against your walls.

“You’ve been misbehaving, (Y/n),” he admitted,”And we already know what happens to bad girls, don’t we?”

When all you did was nod in response, he repeated himself as he added a third finger inside you,” Don’t we?”

“Yes!” you squealed out, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you completely aroused with the growing pressure in your core.

He smirked feeling his pride increase, pleased with how well he knew how to work your body. He withdrew his fingers from you and didn’t give you time to complain as he gripped your throat and lifted you up so his eyes met with yours.

“Bad girls need to be set straight,”his tongue licked over his lower lip as he brought his other hand to cup your face and brush his thumb over your swollen bottom lip.

“You need to be set straight,” his dark eyes trailed over your body, dissatisfied that you’d bothered to wear one of his shirts at all. He gripped the hem of your shirt and took it off you before he crawled onto you completely, crashing his lips against yours.

His large hands gripped your hips as he straddled you and readjusted your position so your head was to the headboard. He looked down at your body, entranced with every edge and curve edged into your skin. The skin he’d retraced many times before. 

Untying the belt of the robe, he slid it off it used it to bind your hands to the headboard. You frown, knowing it was only your punishment.

“Bad girls don’t get to touch,” he smirked and kissed down your arms, down to your chest as he gripped your breasts and wrapped his lips over one and the other squeezing a nipple between thumb and index.

Your whimpers grew and all you could do was nod, enjoying the sensations nonetheless. 

“You know what else bad girls don’t get?” he mumbled between kisses as they began to linger down your abdomen, between your legs and lick up your slit.

“What?” your voice was strained as his tongue circled your clit and he sucked on it harshly, making you arch your back in response.

He didn’t answer your question, too occupied with what was displayed before him. As he sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands trailed back up the wet trail of kisses he’d left behind to grip both of your breasts and play with them as he felt your legs begin to tremble. 

“Bill,” you breathed nearing your edge when he pulled away. You swallowed feeling the pleasure detach itself from you and you were met with his stern gaze.

“Bad girls don’t get to cum,” he licked his lips from the rest of your juices and shot you a smirk.

“Bill please,” you pleaded desperately,”I’m sorry for what I said about Alex, baby please.”

“If you’re going to beg, it’s going to be begging me to take you,” his authority never bending.

“Bill please only you can fuck me good enough to make me scream, please I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tried to squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the absence in your core to which he only spread your legs further apart to watch your squirm.

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch that first part.”

“Only you can fuck me, Bill!” you threw your head back growing impatient and frustrated.

His face grew into one of accomplishment before he untied your hands,”You bet I am.”

He gripped your wrists and pinned them down as he pushed himself deeply into you, enjoying the cry that arose from your lips.

“Oh my god,” you breathed at the sudden fullness inside you. Your fists balled as he thrust in and out of you hard and fast. Bill could feel his own pleasure rising in him at the sound of how much you were enjoying him and nobody else.

He leaned down and caught your lips for a sloppy kiss before releasing your hands again, allowing you to wrap them around his neck and take your chance to curl your legs around his waist to bring him even closer- making his thrusts faster.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered against his lips before pulling away to kiss down his neck and bite into his skin. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he dug his fingers into your hip creases.

“Fuck (Y/n),” he gritted his teeth and ducked his head feeling himself grow harder inside you. At this point your wetness was echoing in the room and the sound of skin slapping against skin vibrated in your ears. 

Bill pushed harder against you before reaching a hand between to rub your clit and earn another cry of pleasure from you, making you tighten around his cock.

“Bill I’m gonna cum,” you warn.

“Cum for me, princess,” he breathed heavily, adding more pressure to your sensitive area.

You threw your head back as your orgasm overcame you, brimming your eyes with tears and digging your nails into his back, dragging them down to make him hiss.

“Fuck,” he growled as he felt your muscles clench on him. He whimpered and bit down on his bottom lip to control himself, only to lose his grip as his orgasm struck him.

His lips parted as his eyes rolled back and groan passed his mouth.He remained still as his wave passed before he collapsed down over you and tried catching his breath. His forehead pressed to your as your hands reached to cup his face and kiss his lips softly, even though he hardly had the strength to return it.

Once he felt his sanity coming back, he rolled off you and curled his arm around your shoulders to bring you against his chest. He was silent for a moment and you almost dreaded that he was still angry at you.

“I’m sorry for not paying attention to you more, sweetheart.”

Your head turned to look up at him and your body shifted so your bare chest was to his. You ran a hand through his still wet hair and your endearing gaze fell over his.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get your attention the proper way,” you sighed knowing there was always your favorite method. Teasing.

He chuckled,”You know if you want me to be this angry when I fuck you, you could just ask.”

“I could, but whats the fun in that?”

The both of you laughed and shared one last kiss before cuddling each other to sleep.

A/N: Yikes idk how this was, but i hope you enjoyed! I’m still currently working on Chapter 3 of Accident Happen. I’m trying to lengthen the chapter out more than I did the first two. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

[emmyrosee]

i wanna bake cookies with henry 🥺🥺 like giggly, made from scratch, throwing the sticky dough at each other, scarfing sown chocolate chips, missing the edge of the bowl and getting eggs everywhere kinda baking cookies 🥰

“Baby, don’t eat that!” You giggle, trying to grab the wooden spoon covered in raw cookie dough from his large paw.

“Why not?” He hums back, holding the utensil far from your reach, smirking as you try and jump for it. “Tallulah always used to let me lick the spoon, nothin’ ever happened to me then- you sure you just don’t want me to take it all for myself?”

“You’re going to get sick!” You scold around your giggles, smaller hand wrapping around his bicep and trying as hard as you can to work his arm back down, closer to your height so you can not only save your beloved buy from potential illness… but to also enjoy some of that sweet batter for yourself.

But he didn’t need to know that, of course.

“Fine,” you snarl playfully, nose scrunching up. “Get salmonella, see if I take care of you then, Mr. Pearl.” You turn back to the cookie dough and use a spoon to roll out small little balls of the sticky, unbaked treat, trying your hardest to hide your smirk as in your peripheral, Henry’s playful nature slowly falters; his arm lowers and he lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Don’t get all pouty, baby,” he mumbles, wrapping his free arm around your waist. “I love that you’re lookin’ out for me. ‘S sweet…”

You muster all you can to keep a semi-collected voice, not wanting him to hear or see right through your crumbling façade. “Yeah… but not as sweet as you look with dough on your face.”

“As sweet as what-“

Before you allow him any more time to ponder what you meant, you slip and spin around in his arms, the ball of sinfully sticky dough eagerly gripping to the unprepared face of Henry Pearl as you smush it over his cheek and lips. His face scrunches and as you fold over in laughter for his faux disapproval, his gaze lowers and he gives you a wide, mischievous grin.

“You’ve got ten seconds to hide,” he warns playfully. “Before I show you just how sweet I can be.”

With that, you scream and dash out of his hold, leaving henry to himself as he chuckles and settles down the wooden spoon, chocolate chips slowly starting to fall from his face.

At least the oven wasn’t on; with the way you two simply could abandon such easy tasks and entertain each other, it’s amazing your house hasn’t completely burned to the ground yet.

The wasted cookie dough was worth it in the end, anyways.

[eddiemunsxn]

How you meet for Henry x female reader plz

Fluff plz

— cherry blossom.

masterlist. / nav.

❰ warnings. fem!reader, slight angst (blame hawkins lab), surgery scene (blood, wounds), there’s lots of fluff i promise

❰ word count. 2.6k

❰ note. if he just…had a healthy, soft connection with someone he might not have ended up as a moist walnut

danny elfman’s “ice dance” heavily inspired the last scene! 🥰

Trading off a concrete, jungle city for miles of trees and open sky had an unexpected change in pace. Everything from buying groceries to drinking coffee was done slower and more deliberately than in a bustling city.

Hawkins had that cafe sense of community; sitting down with someone they’d known since preschool, which meant the small town was like a knitting circle. Word got around.

Your arrival in the suburban neighborhood drew eyes like flies to a corpse. Especially your work clothes. Blank and professional, it was off putting. You didn’t have patterned scrubs or with characters, but a callback to the second world war; a white ward dress and hat.

Fitting, since your new job was established after that war, built as an X with only one road in and out. Secluded in the woods, barbed wire fences cradled the building. It didn’t have windows, but was covered with chain mail-esque grating, and atop the roof, disks jutted out like a cluster of white mushrooms.

You slowed your car at the gate, and provided your identification tag to the military police. Looking through the many eyes of the gate, something cold breathed down your throat; spreading like food coloring throughout your body.

The other thing you learned about small towns—they weren’t safer. There was a preconceived notion of them being more secure than big cities, but the opposite was true.

Your job was the most perilous thing in Hawkins. In your history of government work, little fazed you, but when you first saw the children, lined up in order of height like Russian nesting dolls, it weighed down your heart. Their names were numbers. Their childhood was white walls, bloody noses, and tests.

“Children,” Brenner said. “This is your new nurse. Say hello.”

In unison, they greeted, “Hi, miss (Y/N).”

Their voices were innocent, but in their spare time they spied through closed eyes and compressed animals to death. They were being trained to kill people.

In a backlash of pre-teen rebellion, one of them had accidentally killed the previous nurse. It wasn’t their fault to lash out in such a way, seeing as where they were being raised and how they were treated. It frightened and saddened you.

But one person, an orderly, was very human with them. You didn’t know his name, but you had watched how he interacted with the children. He never stood over them, looked down at them, or watched them with the stiff demeanor of a prison guard. He was always eye level, sitting on the floor, or across from them in a game of chess.

Without windows to look outside, he became their idea of sunlight; bright at every angle in their days, and warming the cold, emotionless space within the otherwise colorful walls.

Some of that light shone on you, calming the tightness in your chest. You wished to feel all of it. To know him, and to be of some comfort to the children like he was.

The gate peeled open, and you eased your car through—just as you now encouraged one of the children through the door of the rainbow room. Hand on his shoulder, you walked in with him, and your heart hiccuped as the orderly, standing in the middle of the room, turned to you.

He neatly held his hands at his abdomen. His hair, swept in waves, recalled the color and sheen of gold pearls, contrasting his alabaster skin. He made you think of Apollo. Suitable. A god associated with the sun.

“Feeling better today, are we?” He tilted his head, his small smile dimpling his cheeks.

The child nodded.

“Great, why don’t you join the others? You've got some catching up to do.”

The child left your side, and the orderly’s eyes were drawn to you. He approached, and your heartbeat became more quick and pronounced against your chest.

His eyes held the inviting warmth of summer’s first day, but little did you know his heart was the shape of the devil’s forked tongue. Funny how he always wore white, which symbolized purity.

“We haven’t properly met.” He extended his hand out to you. “I’m Peter Ballard. And you?”

“Y/N.” You took his hand, but he was the first to squeeze. He held your eyes, entrancing you with how kind he looked, and how he kept your hand in his. “I’ve been meaning to say…” You trailed off, but he waited, patient, and smiling thoughtfully.

“The way you…interact with them. The children. It’s so human, which might be strange to say, but…no one else has that connection to these kids, not even Brenner. You sit and talk with them. You listen.”

“I used to be very close to the first one they brought in. I knew him well.” Peter stepped closer to you, dipping his chin to keep eye contact as his height grew more over you. Goosebumps traced up your spine like a sensual hand. “But I haven’t gotten to know you. And I want to.” He quieted his voice. “If you’ll let me.”

You marveled at him, lips parted. A worded response refused you, and you nodded.

The brightness in his broad smile echoed in his eyes. He looked relieved.

Peter made sure he lingered in your thoughts, whether in the moment, or when you were apart. You attracted him like flies to a dead body, and he was all over you with subtle touches—standing so close your hips brushed, walking by you and his hand kissing yours in passing.

He once removed a stray thread of your uniform stuck to your chest, letting his fingers draw along the curve of your breast. He was neat and orderly, after all. At least, that was your excuse.

It wasn’t just physical touches. His eyes always sought you out, admiring you as though you were his favorite flower in the garden, as he did now. The children blurred into the background with you around, his central focus.

“Where were you before Hawkins?” He asked. He always had an abundance of questions for you. About you.

“Macon, Georgia.”

“Is there something you miss about it?”

“Only one thing. The cherry blossoms. Each spring, Macon turns into a pink fairground for the International Cherry Blossom Festival, with amusement rides and blossom-themed events. I miss it. The trees were always so beautiful. Especially at night. And I loved sitting beneath them when the wind would blow the petals away.

“I never fit in well with others. I’ve always been reluctant in new places, believing them to be indifferent to how everyone and everything else treated me. Because I was different. With the cherry blossoms, I found…” Your throat closed like a fist, and hurt crawled into your chest; talons writing burning marks.

It wasn’t easy to convey something which could not be conveyed in words. It was in your bones, and could only be felt in those same bones.

Pain’s language was pure presence—pure feeling. Like reading braille. One would have to reach into you and feel the cracks on your bones, the rough texture of uneasy healing in order to understand.

“Solace…” Peter murmured. He looked at you differently this time. A wound recognized another wound.

Vision blurred, you met his eyes.

“I know.” He spoke so softly, with so much understanding it proved a balm to your raw nerves. “My label was ‘broken’.”

“How did you…?”

“Cope?” He lifted his brow. “My solace was black widows nested in a vent. They fascinated me. Comforted me in how misunderstood they were. Like you and I. But then I was take—” Peter cut himself off, swallowing hard, tendons swollen as scratches in his neck. “Forgive me. Memory is a rope around the neck.”

Taken?

“Can you do something for me?” This time, he looked straight on as if to appear indifferent to anyone watching. “I want to show you something, but I am unable to without your help.”

“What is it?” You asked, mirroring his action.

“Meet me after the children are asleep. The infirmary.” He tucked his hands behind his back, and left your side.

Doors shutting, and keys jangling in the locks resounded in the hall. The children were put in their rooms, numbered like their wrists.

You waited in yours, the infirmary, for Peter. What would he ask you to do? Why did it need to be in private?

The door opened, and Peter slipped through.

You strode toward him. “Peter, what’s this about?”

He held his index finger to his plush lips. “Softly.”

“Peter…”

He lowered his hand. “This place is a prison, Y/N.” He spoke slowly in his mellow tone. He wanted to emphasize each word, their importance—to sew them into you. Intricate patterns required the most steady needle. “Everyone here is a prisoner, not just the children, but the guards, too. You. Me.”

Your eyebrows squished together, and you looked down. Words evaded your mind as sudden coldness pricked your core. You hugged yourself, cupping your elbows.

“You may have a home to leave to at the end of the day, but they will always have you—body, and mind, like they do me. And they will kill you.”

You looked back up to him, eyes wide.

“Or electrocute you into mental paralysis if they so choose. What they do here will always be above your life, no matter what you do for them.”

Your stomach quivered, and sweat leaked from the lines of your palms. You believed him. Why else would he approach you with this? The government was always fucked—you didn’t need a reminder, but you never thought, as a nurse, you’d end up in this end of it.

“I’m not trying to scare you.” Peter gently took your hand in both of his, squeezing in promise. “I want to free you from this hell, and the children.” He lifted his brow. “They don’t belong here. You’ve seen, day after day, the brutality. I’ve lived it, too, and they don’t want to let me go. But you can help me, and I can help you.”

They hurt him? Christ. Your heart stuttered at the thought. “What you said before in the rainbow room, or…almost did. Were you…” You winced. “Taken by them?”

“A long time ago, when I was Henry Creel.” He released your hand, leaving a shadow of his warmth on your cold body. “They took my name, and then they took something else from me.”

He angled his head, and drew his hair back, exposing his neck. He touched a scar there—or, rather, what was below it—in him. Something the size and shape of a pill. He was able to push on it, and it rolled up beneath his skin. “Brenner calls it Soteria. It weakens me, tracks me.”

“You want me,” you said softly. “To take it out?”

Peter angled his head back and looked at you, but you saw Henry Creel. Eyes blue as Morning Glory flowers, softened by his silent pleading from the weariness of being Peter Ballard.

He had been bound to these eyeless walls, and the colors of him were flushed white—his individuality and freedom taken. All he had left was that yellow light, that sunlight you always saw radiating from him. What else could he do but try to cling to a color that meant warmth when he never received it in any form. All he had left was the meaning.

You released a breath you had been holding. “Okay.”

“Remember, you can’t hurt me more than they already have.” Henry lay on the bed, and pulled his belt from his waist, bending it into a loop to bite between his teeth.

On a stool, you sat next to him, holding a scalpel. He angled his head, exposing his neck again, and you leaned to him, brushing your fingertips along his skin to push his hair away. You touched the edge of the scalpel to the scar, glancing up at Henry with a silent apology before you drew a clean slit.

He shut his eyes as you had to trace the incision with the blade once more, due to the thick scar tissue. Blood drooled out from the cut, and you switched the scalpel for tweezers.

As you dipped them into the wound, Henry stiffened, and the cords in his neck bulged. You massaged the pill-like device upwards as you pushed the tweezers deeper to grab it.

Henry bared his teeth, and you imagined they’d leave imprints in the leather of his belt.

You clamped the tweezers down on Soteria, and pulled it out. Slick with blood, you held it up in front of you, brow furrowed. What did this thing do? Why did Henry need to be weakened? Did the other orderlies have one?

Henry relaxed beside you, letting the belt fall from his mouth. He worked his jaw, loosening it. His tolerance for pain made your heart heavy. Why did he have to go through so much of it?

He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, his eyes bearing into the device trapped in the jaws of the tweezers. “Who knew such a small thing could be a nuisance.” He grabbed Soteria from the tweezers, and stood from the bed, unconsciously walking away as he admired the device as though it were a rare jewel.

He looked over his shoulder at you, his thumb and index fingers patchy with his own blood. The sunlight in him was brighter than before. “Now I can show you.”

Henry walked you to the doors of the rainbow room, but he trailed behind, letting you approach first.

You turned to him—him, standing there all proper again, hands hidden behind him. Your incredulous look made him smile. He gestured forward with a nod, encouraging you.

Reluctant, you faced the doors, and your spine grew sensitive under his gaze. What could there be to show in here? You grabbed the handle and pulled.

Then you felt a cool breeze, and heard the wind ruffle branches, heavy with billowy pink blossoms. You drew in a breath, and the slightest, sweet smell, faintly of lilacs, caressed your lungs.

You stood in a tunnel of Cherry Blossom trees. Looking up, a blue sky veined the pink canopy.

Like making a wish on a dandelion clock, the petals blew away from their branches, and drifted around you as pink snow.

It was exactly as you remembered it—as if you had stepped into the memory itself. Third Street Park in Macon.

Happiness—golden, wonderful happiness gave you wings. You felt so light on your feet.

But as you looked around, you didn’t see Henry, and your smile faded. Your heart hesitated. “Henry?”

“I’m here.”

And then you were okay, relieved, at the sound of his voice—soft and comforting. Since you met him, you often felt strange, or abandoned, without his nearness. You had longed for people before, but not like this.

You turned, and he stepped toward you, holding all of his tenderness for you in his eyes. How blue, how much brighter they were because of you—like the wings of a morpho butterfly.

“How are you—how is this possible?”

Henry’s eyes dropped, and you looked down to his overturning wrist. He pulled away his sleeve, unveiling bolded numbering against a map of blue veins.

001.

You understood now. They took him because he was just like the children. Except, he was patient zero. The first of them.

You held his wrist, thumb grazing the numbers. Your brow furrowed as you remembered all his pain associated with that branding.

“It’s alright,” Henry murmured, reaching his free hand up to cup your face.

You nuzzled his hand, touching your lips to his palm.

Around you, petals gathered like snowflakes, carpeting the ground in pink. Some clung to your hair, and his golden waves.

He rested his forehead against yours, your noses kissing. “It’s you and me now. I’ll keep you safe.”

[jobean12-blog]

Kinktober 2021 Masterlist

Thank you all so so much for all your continued support and kindness with these stories!!!❤️❤️I really appreciate it and I’m glad you’ve been enjoying! Much love always💕

This ENTIRE LIST is 18 + ONLY PLEASE AND THANK YOU! 

Day 1: Oct 1st- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and spookly/creepy and phone sex/texting, Bucky x reader: Sexy Stories to Tell in the Dark 

Day 2: Oct 2nd- Eyre’s One Prompt a Day List and face fucking, Bucky x reader: Bored Games 

Day 3: Oct 3rd- Eyre’s One Prompt a Day List and Begging, Mickey Henry x reader: Beg For Me 

Day 4: Oct 4th- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and public sex/hayrides, Andy Barber x reader: Party Pleasures 

Day 5: Oct 5th- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and ghost/beard burn/beard kink, Bucky x reader: Beauty and the Beard

Day 6: Oct 6th- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and devil/knife play, Bucky x reader: A Slight Edge

Day 7: Oct 7th- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and hocus pocus/multiple partners and Eyre’s Kinktober list and praise kink, Stucky x reader (Vampire AU): Marked for Us

Day 8: Oct 8th- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and skulls/bondage and Eyre’s Kinktober list and sound kink, Stucky x reader (Vampire AU): Moonlight Sonata

Day 9: Oct 9th- HBC���s Kinky Halloween and broom/hair pulling, Bucky x reader: Bed is Better

Day 10: Oct 10th- HBC’s Kinky Halloween and moon/moonlight and daddy kink, Bucky x reader (Ft Alpine): Cozy in Life

Day 11: Oct 11th- Eyre’s One Prompt a Day List and Facesitting, Bucky x reader: Sitting Pretty 

Day 12: Oct 12th- Eyre’s One Prompt a Day List and Lingerie, Bucky x reader: A Touch of Lace

Day 13: Oct 13th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and potions/cockwarming, Andy Barber x reader: Hard Work

Day 14: Oct 14th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and skeleton/costume/role play, Bucky x reader: Plum Bucky

Day 15: Oct 15th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and haunted house/praise kink, Bucky x reader: Happy Haunts

Day 16: Oct 16th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and bats/handcuffs, Bucky x reader (mob!bucky feels): Pretty in Pearls

Day 17: Oct 17th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and candy/sweets/car sex, Bucky x reader (Dad and hubby AU): The Candy Heist

Day 18: Oct 18th: Eyre’s One Prompt Per Day and uniform kink, Ransom Drysdale x reader: All Tied Up in Knits

Day 19: Oct 19th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and witch/wizard and dirty talk, Bucky x reader: Dirty Words

Day 20: Oct 20th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and monster/temperature play, Stucky x reader (Vampire AU): Chosen 

Day 21: Oct 21st: Eyre’s One Prompt Per Day and unprotected sex, Bucky x reader: Rhythm in the Rain

Day 22: Oct 22nd: Eyre’s One Prompt Per Day and clothed sex, Winter Soldier x reader: When Winter Comes

Day 23: Oct 23rd: Eyre’s One Prompt Per Day and sensation play, Bucky x reader: Ice Ice Baby

Day 24: Oct 24th: Just my own day and I decided on hand job (haha), Bucky x reader: The Job at Hand

Day 25: Oct 25th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and black cat/spanking, Bucky x reader: A Tail of Two Cats

Day 26: Oct 26th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and vampire/authority kink, Bucky x reader (Vampire AU): Blood Lust

Day 27: Oct 27th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and pumpkin/anal, Bucky x reader: Carved

Day 28: Oct 28th: HBC's Kinky Halloween and fangs/edging, Steve Rogers x reader: How to be a Gentleman

Day 29: Oct 29th: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and masquerade/voyeurism, Andy Barber x reader: Show and Tell

Day 30: Oct 30th: Just another one of my own and Halloween domestic fluff and fun, Bucky x reader: Tricks and Treats

Day 31: Oct 31st: HBC’s Kinky Halloween and food/drink play and cemetery: Bucky, Steve and Andy x reader (Vampire AU): Chosen for Eternity 

[doll-r-t]

The Lost Pearl Part 2

tPart 1

Viking!Syverson x reader

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist

Gif cred to owner

The first thing you noticed was the tension in the men. They hid it well, sitting straight atop their horse as if they were out for a leisure ride, but one could tell when one looked at their eyes. It was hard to see them, their helmets covered most of their faces. But one glance was enough they were watchful, almost like hawks waiting for prey. This poses the question if you people were truly the predator or if Dunklings were hiding somewhere, watching thinking of you as the prey. It doesn’t matter, you kept your eyes open too. Not just because of the danger but also because of the landscape. It was so different from home. Wide-open fields, rampaged by war but it was still here, still growing. You always admired the resistance of nature. So much had been destroyed for war, on both sides, and yet green still lay on the earth like a blanket instead of a wasteland. On your right, the woods were dark and deep, for miles. While on the other side were hills ending in a mountain sight. You wondered if you would go up there. It would make sense to set up a camp there. High ground, good view, no place for a sneak attack. But you did not go up there you kept straight on the fields. Your hand was still on your dagger. You had not been out in the open since the beginning of the war. You wondered if you would ever not reach for your dagger when hearing weird noises.   

 You spent the better part of your day looking out of the carriage. You had passed a view villages if you could even call it that, most of them were destroyed but the people still left greeted the men. And looked curiously at the carriage, you always duked away. Not ready to be seen yet by people that you knew nothing about. You had tried to find anything about the Woodland people you could get your hands on but it was not much. Mostly it talked about how they were not people of scriptures but people of stories. They would pass down their history by word, not by writing. It was frustrating, to say the least. Even in your younger years, you were an avid reader. Your mother had always tucked you into bed and read a story cuddling you to sleep. It was only you two. Women time she called it. Sometimes she would sneak down to the kitchen with you and make you a hot chocolate and sneak sweets up to your room. She always hushed your giggles. Now you realized that it was impossible to do these things sneakily she must have told the servants in advance to clear the path. You had stopped reading for a long time after your mother's death. Opening them but never actually starting. Now you are an avid reader again. Your father had laughed when he found out the boxes you took with you were mostly books. It made only sense to you, if they only relied on oral tradition then they would not have books so you had to bring your own.           

 You had not realized that you had not paid attention to your surrounding too much lost in your past, but when the carriage stopped you snapped back. The sun was slowly going down, but no houses were in sight. You stayed put for a while just watching as men started to pull up tents and make fires. Great, you thought, tomorrow I will be as dirty as they are. You stepped out of the carriage, walking over to the Captain. You could feel the eyes of the men on you. Whether they were scrutinizing you or looking you up you had no care. The court in the City of Stones was far more brutal. The Captain had not yet noticed you, too busy discussing something with the man with the long hair.  You could not make out what they talked about. The twang in their voices was more prominent, and you struggled to understand it.                                                 

   You stood a couple of feet away from them. “I am sorry to interrupt Captain Syverson.” You bowed your head lightly. He turned towards you. Before you could speak again he cut you off. “I am sorry Princess. I should have come and got you. We are making cam here tonight.” He began walking past you towards the tent. You sent the man with the long her a tight-lipped smile and began following the Captain. You were not particularly fond of being interrupted, nor being made to follow like a lost puppy. But you did anyway. He walked up to one of the bigger tents. “This will be yours.” He opened the flap showing you a small bed, a bucket with water, and a small makeshift table. “The water is clean but cold.” You looked up at him, there was something in his eyes, a twinkly-like amusement, and a small smirk almost hidden behind his beard. “I hope you will have a good night here Princess.” Now it was clear to you, that he was trying to get a rise out of you. Smiling politely at him you answered, in your sweetest voice. “Thank you, Captain. So thoughtful to prepare some water for washing. And to pick a place where you can park the carriage right next to my tent.” You looked at him through your lashes. “It is true what they say.” The smirk was gone from Syverson’s face. “And what is it that they say, princess?” Stepping a bit closer you smiled up at him. “You truly are a master of strategies. Setting up my tent the way it will be covered by the carriage, me not having to go down to the stream to get water or getting a cold by sleeping on the hard ground. I am truly glad to be under your care.” With that, you walked into the tent. He trying to elicit a reaction out of you may be for your mistake earlier. Whatever it was you would not give him the satisfaction.                      

  Syverson just smirked shaking his head. Calling out for the men to move your carriage to your tent. As if they had nothing else to do, he thought ironically. “So how is the princess I hope her accommodation is to her satisfaction.” Ocre threw his long her over his shoulder smirking at Sy. “Well, what can you say, Princesses.” Syverson said. “I still do not know why you agreed to this. We don’t need a Princess wandering around we have enough to do.” Syverson sight his friend never held back his opinion as long as they were alone. Although he treated his men as equals he still had to make sure that they knew he was in charge. “Imrahil is my friend, we fought side by side. He helped my sister when she snuck onto the battlefield. I owe him. Besides her cousin is my sister's fiance. No matter how much I dislike my sister's engagement plans she will need all the help she can get. You saw how the people looked at us as if we were brutes. She will need help to learn their court and what better way than a Princess.” Besides, he added in his head, once his sister sees the way the fine people of the court look down on her she may change her mind and not leave him. He rubbed his head walking towards the fire. He needed food. It was a long hot day and he just wanted to sleep for a few hours. Just as he was about to sit down and the cook Jordan handed him a plate he groaned. He was not the most gracious host, he had not helped you out of the carriage he could not not inform you of the food being ready. He rightened himself again walking towards your tent. “Princess?”  He got no reply. “Princess?” he tried again. He yet again got no reply. Gripping his sword he entered your tent. It was empty. “Shit.” He sprung out searching frantically for you. He should have positioned guards. Now he lost the high Princess. If Imrahil, your father, got wind of this it would start a new war. A noise came out of the carriage. Running around he was drawing his sword ready to attack anyone. But instead, he was greeted with your behind. He halted in his step, staring at you. You had climbed onto the back of the carriage a trunk was open and you were bent over it. “Need help?” You yelped not having heard him. You almost fell if it was not for Syverson’s quick reflexes. He grabbed your waist holding you up. You stilled in his arms and he quickly lifted you down to the ground again. You had a surprised expression on your face and he would laugh if he was not so angry. He stepped into your personal space. “I hope you are aware, Princess, that just because the war is over does not mean the enemy is defeated and it is all sunshine and roses again.” “I am well aware of that Captain.” You said taking a step towards him. You were not about to be belittled by some brute. You stepped even closer, your chests almost touching. He was heaving struggling to suppress his anger. “I am in danger right now.” This confused the Captain, he immediately looked around but could not see anyone. You could not mean him, could you? He stepped back as if you had slapped him. Rubbing over his beard. You were watching him like a hawk, confused by his reaction. But you let nothing show, still putting on your poker face. He was about to apologize when you went on. “I am in danger of having forgotten the most important thing.” You pointed at your trunks. Oh for fucks sake. Syverson breathed out. He brushed past you pulling down your trunk and walking to your tent. He had to hold onto something, gripping the handles tightly in anger. Syverson began to doubt if he did the right thing agreeing to Imrahil.                 He put the trunk down in your tent. You had been following quietly. Observing him. His back was tense and you felt a little bit guilty for just leaving. But you were not used to being on this open field. And when you realized that your book was not in your bag in your tent you began to panic. Once he set it down, you pushed past him opening the trunk. Clothing was stacked in it. You could hear a snort from him. But ignored it. Pushing the clothes carelessly from the trunk. Now Syverson was intrigued what was it that you were searching for? A silk gown? Your wash clothing? Probably considering your clean-cut look. But you paid the dresses no mind. A sight of relief caught his attention he leaned over you trying to see what it was. It was not what he had expected. It was a book, a green and golden cover. It was old so much he could tell but well preserved only some of the golden ornaments were falling off. You sight out a breath of relief hugging it to you. In your frenzy, you had not realized that the Captain had not left your tent. Composing yourself you turned around. “Was there anything else you needed Captain?” He looked at you for a moment, then breathed out heavily as if he was annoyed and went to the opening of your tent, before he could leave he informed you that food was ready. You stood there for a second just holding your book when his head appeared again. “And don’t wander off again. If you need anything get me or one of my men.” You nodded, realizing how irrationally you acted. This was not like you. You called out to him again. He slightly opened your tent, signaling that he was listening. “Thank you for-.” You pointed to the trunk he had carried. “And for informing me of food, I am starving.” You tried to smile slightly. He looked at you nodding. “I can get someone to bring you a plate.” “Oh that won’t be necessary I will be right out.” He nodded once more and went towards the campfire. He could not pinpoint you but you did have a lovely behind. He smirked, yes were lovely.                                   

     You washed your face and stored your book safely underneath your bed covers and went outside. Men were positioned around your camp, some were lying on the grass sleeping as it sounded like from their snoring and some were sitting at the campfire. The Captain and the long-haired man were among them. The chatter got a bit quieter when you arrived. The men sat on wood blokes but non was free. Before the Captain could stand up you shed your cloak laying it on the ground and setting yourself on it. “I am sorry to interrupt, but the smell was very tempting, may I ask for a serving?” Promptly a wide and short man stood up. “Of course my Lady.” You resisted the temptation to glance at Syverson when hearing my Lady. The man handed you a plate with some grilled potatoes and meat on it. “Thank you. It truly smells delicious. May I ask your name?” “Of course, I am Jordan the cook.” “It is lovely to meet you Jordan.” He nodded sitting back down. The men looked at you from the corner of their eyes. Waiting for you to complain about the food probably. They were still in conversation and only Jordan openly looked at you. You took a big bite out of the meat and potatoes. “Oh.” You moaned out lightly. Swallowing quickly you made another fork. “I was right it is delicious.” You smiled at Jordan's beaming face. “You hear that lads, delicious. So stop your complaining and eat.” “Yeah, she only thinks so because she has not eaten it for two weeks straight.” You shook your head smiling continuing to eat. To be honest you had not had meat like this ever. Usually, you ate seafood, and the potatoes were boiled but you found you enjoyed the grilled potatoes more. The men seemed more relaxed now, one offering you a glass of mead. You mostly sat there observing answering questions once in a while. You had found if you wanted to learn about the people sitting with them when they drank was the easiest way to do it. It loosened their tongues. You could feel eyes on you once in a while and knew the Captain was watching you. You tried not to let it get to you. “Oh please no more.” You winked away the man wanting to fill your plate for the third time. “It was good.” You quickly turned to Jordan. “But I fear if I eat one more plate we will need three horses instead of two to pull my carriage.” The men laughed. “My Lady that is no problem.” A big burly man stood up, he had a wild beard and braids in his hair. “If needed I will pull it myself.” He pushed out his chest. A loud laugh almost escaped you. You had never seen men behave so, well so, unlike the people at court. Clearing his throat Syverson stood up. “That’s enough. It is getting late. Don’t some of you have the night shift?” The men nodded getting up to leave. Jordan picked up the plates and went to wash them. While only Syverson and the other long-haired man stayed. You looked up at Syverson, wondering why he was interrupting. He held out his hand for you. Hesitantly you took it, pulling you up far more gently than you thought his rough hands were capable of. He bent down picking up your cloak and shaking it out before handing it to you. “Thank you.” You looked at each other for a couple of seconds waiting for the other to speak. “I will retreat to my tent now.” Syverson nodded. “I’ll bring you.” You quirked your eyebrows. “Scared I will wander off again?” You teased. The mead must have gotten to you. You were not in a habit of teasing men but there was something about the Captain that just made you want to. He put a hand on the lower of your back guiding you to your tent. Before you could enter your tent he leaned down. “You can try to.” His lip quirked. “Good night Princess.” Leaving you standing, trying to suppress your smile.                                        

   The next morning you woke up feeling cold. You only had a light linen blanket and your white nightgown was made of material that was supposed to keep you cold. Normally you would be slightly sweating already. Your room back home was facing the sea and the sun would shine on your face. You could already hear men bustling around, it seem to be dawn. The tent was still dark but not pitch black like yesterday evening. You groaned sitting up. You felt sore all over, especially your back. The constant bumping of the carriage was exhausting and you hoped that after today you did not have to see the inside of one for a long time. You looked around your hair tousled and sleep was still in your eyes. Gods, you wished you would have brought your maid with you. She would have brewed you some coffee by now. You were not a morning person and needed a while to get up. You wished, not for the first time, that you were back in your bed. Snuggled into your cool linen with a book. You lit the candle next to your bed. You slowly walked over to the wash bucket. It was yesterday's water but right now you could not care. You splashed some on your face. Gasping, it felt like it got even colder overnight. But at least you were somewhat awake. You put your morning coat on, but your bed was calling you. You slipped into it again. Was it always this cold here? It was fall not even winter. You really hoped the tailor had your clothes ready seems like you would need them. You pulled out your book and began to read. Not ten minutes after you light the candle someone cleared their throat outside your tent. Sighing you got up. Please it was not even properly light outside. Tightening your morning coat you walked over to the entrance, pulling the flap an inch a sight. “Yes?” “Good morning my Lady, I made some coffee and tea for the men. I was wondering if you would like some?” It was Jordan, he had a light blush on his face and two cups in his hands. You smiled to yourself. How right Maria was, you always want to be on good terms with the cook. “Oh, that would be wonderful.” You opened the tent granting him entrance. You walked over to your bed again. He sat down the two cups on your makeshift night table. “I took the liberty of adding a little sweetener into the coffee.” “Thank you that is very kind of you.” Your voice was still laced with sleep. Taking your first sip you hummed. “I can never start my day without one.” He stood awkwardly in the tent, waiting for something. You frowned. OH. Taking another sip you watched him in amusement over your cup. “It is very good, the sweetener adds some nice new flavor to it.” He beamed at you. “Is there anything else you need? The breakfast is not quite ready.” He looked over to your wash bucket. “I will refill this for you.” “Thank you but you don’t have to.” “No, no please it is no problem.” He took the bucket and made his way out of your tent. You smiled to yourself. If every man was so easily led like him you would have no problems in Warhorse. You kept reading for a while and drinking your coffee. Jordan had brought you freshwater promptly and you had every intention of bathing yourself at least a little. Sighing you made up your mind to get out of bed you quickly pushed off the morning coat and loosened the strings at the front of your nightgown.                      

  You could hear a commotion outside, halting your action you tried to listen. Water droplets slipped under your dress, making you shiver and your nipples harden. Suddenly the flap of your tent was pulled back, you let out a small scream trying to cover yourself a little. Syverson stood at your door. He looked at your stunt. “What the in the Gods names are you doing?” He shook his head as if he had to remind himself why he was here. Then it came to him, his expression turned angry. He walked up to you pushing a plate with food into your hand but you did not take it. “My men are not your servants. You want one? Then you should have brought one with you.” You looked at him shocked. “My apologize Captain Syverson if I have given this impression but I had no idea the food was ready or else I would have gotten a plate myself.” The longer you spoke the more your voice took on an edge. You wanted to scream at him how dare he enters without knocking, and not leave immediately when he saw your state of undress. He snorted. “Yes because you got yourself coffee and tea, or new wash water.” Your arms fell to your side, chest heaving. Taking a step forward you now was directly in front of him. “Unlike you, I am not in the habit of barging in anywhere unrested the established practices of people.” He was about to talk over you but this time you were not having it. “May I explain myself to the offenses you so strongly presented?” You did not wait for an answer. “Cook Jordan came to my tent of his own volition I did not ask him to bring me anything. He simply wanted to know if I wanted some. He saw I had a light on. I told him not to get me new water and that I would do it later but he insisted. As for the plate I have no idea why you brought it or if anyone else would for that matter, as I did not ask anyone to do so. And now that you have so rudely interrupted my bath, turned a fellow soldier's action from kindness into entitlement it is time for you to leave.” His face had changed from anger to, shock and then shame throughout your rant. You on the other hand still looked angry. Instead of your false polite face or the blank one for the matter you had a fire in your eyes. Syverson felt like it was the first time he had seen something real from you. Drops of water still clung to your neck and cleavage. Your chest was heaving and your nipples were hard almost visible underneath your nightgown. Syverson could not help but notice this. As well as your hair. It was not in the net you had worn yesterday. Syverson had observed that the woman from your country usually kept their hair put up or in a net. It was so different from his own countrywomen who liked to braid their hair, let them loose, and do whatever they wanted with them. Your eyes still had a little sleep in the corner of their eyes, but your lips looked as lush as yesterday. Goosebumps littered your arms. His hand twitched and his body leaned closer to you. You had been staring at each other for a while. Syverson was in a simple white tunic. Chesthair was coming out at the top. His sleeves wear rolled up as if it was not freezing cold, at least you thought so. He seemed like he had been awake for hours already. The smell of pine trees and fresh air was enticing and you felt almost like you wanted to lean into him. He suddenly stepped back. “My sincere apologies.” He looked like he wanted to say more but his gaze landed on your almost exposed chest and quickly left with the plate still in his hand. You did not realize you had held your breath until your lungs started to burn. Gasping in the fresh air you missed the smell of pine with it.                                          

  You quickly washed and put on a gown you could lace up yourself. You did not bring a maid because you knew non wanted to wander in these dangerous times and not into the Woodlands. They were still a dangerous territory.                             You went outside in search of food, as the Captain had taken your plate with him. The tents were already taken down and the men were getting ready to leave. The man with the long hair came towards you. “Morning my Lady. We would take your tent down now if you wish. We are leaving soon.” “Thank you my things are packed away. But I fear I have not heard your name yet.” “My apologies I am Ocre the second in command to Captain Syverson. There is some food by the fire Jordan kept it warm for you.” “Thank you Lieutenant Ocre.” He was walking past you but halted. “We should thank you.” You turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean?” “The breakfast was really good, almost as if it was for a Princess.” He smirked. You smiled. “A trick someone taught me, always befriend the cook.” You winked, turned around, and walked towards the fire. You could hear a rough laugh behind you. “I’ll keep that in mind Princess.”               Syverson’s head snapped up when he heard Ocre’s laugh and calling after you. He watched you walking towards the fire, his eyes wandering to your hips. You walked with a grace he had not seen before, at least not in his lands. His horse nudged him waiting for him to finish brushing it. “I can’t figure her out.” He mumbled to the horse. He almost blushed when thinking about this morning. He had not been scolded like that since he was a boy. He did not even dare think about your cleavage. He would not do his friend Imrahil a disservice by looking at his daughter this way. Imrahil had not shared the exact concerns about why he wanted you desperately to come to Warhorse. But Imrahil was concerned about his daughter and it was now Syverson’s task to take care of her. So he needed to start acting like it.          

  Everyone was ready to go. You had made your way to your carriage when you were about to enter someone had grabbed your hand helping you in. You flinched slightly but then looked down at the big, rough but warm hand of the Captain. He had an expression on his face you could not read, it was not anger like this morning. It was soft but you could not pinpoint what it meant. When you were seated he let go of your hand. “We will take a rest in a couple of hours. We need to pass some woods before we can do so. If you need anything say to the rider to hold your carriage.” He closed the door and left towards his horse. Your hand was still warm.

Part 1

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