Children of the Water (Yandere M. x F. Reader)

Delicate Flower

A/N: As usual, I would recommend putting the video on loop.

     

By the time that Will came back inside, her tea had been finished. She had remained on the chair and had huddled into the blanket. Granted, she hadn't fallen asleep. Frankly, she was far too worried to do so until he went to bed.

"You must be very tired ... Why, I don't believe that you've told me your name," he voiced, leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom.

Personally, she didn't wish to tell him her name, but would he catch on if she lied about it. Already, she was thinking too long on the request. So, she brushed it off as being hesitant and shy. She twiddled her fingers and kept her gaze on her hands. A light chuckle reached her ears. "If you don't desire to tell me, how about I give you a name? Besides if your husband is still out there, it wouldn't be wise to go around towns with your actual name in use."

He pushed himself off of the frame and moved a chair closer to her. Taking a seat directly in front of her, he leaned forward and rested his chin on his intertwined hands. (F/n) instinctively went to move back on her chair, but she was already pressed as far back as she could go. Mentally, she became annoyed. This man was invading her personal space. To top it off, this wasn't the first time either.

His gaze stayed fixed on her, however. Eventually, her (e/c) orbs met his. A small grin pulled at his lips. "I know the perfect name for you, Bluebell. The color suits you, and you did ring for my assistance like a bell. Besides, sometimes the flower is associated with gratitude, and I'm sure that you're quite grateful for being allowed to stay here. It's perfect."

She didn't object to the nickname, but mainly it was because she wouldn't have to give him her real name. Still, he didn't know how wrong he was about her gratefulness. If she were grateful for anything, it was that she wasn't dead yet. The bluebell, though, had a meaning of constancy to it as well. (F/n) wondered if he was again putting that to the challenge. Should her husband not be dead, which he definitely wasn't, would she remain faithful regardless of his behavior, or would she give herself over to the kind mage in the cabin?

There was that challenging and sadistic twinkle in his eyes for a split second before he stood up from his seat. "Well, what do you think? I can always shorten it to blue or bell if you would like. Of course, I might do that anyways." Remaining silent, she simply nodded. "Excellent. It's been a long night for us both, so why don't we head to bed?"

Instantly, she shook her head. "I'm comfortable on the chair. I can remain here for the night. This is your home. You should have your own bed, and I'm not sharing a bed with you. I appreciate your kindness, but I'm not comfortable with that."

"Truly, your husband lost a wonderful woman. Even after threatening your life, you still have some hope in your eyes that he'll take you back if he's alive. Such a devoted woman but I understand where you're coming from. We're still quite new to each other, and it would be wrong to share a bed even if I wouldn't try anything on you. Still, I must insist that you take the bed. I can sleep on the ground during your stay here."

Before she could answer, he took hold of her hands and lifted her from the chair. She nearly cried out in protest, but the sound was muffled by his shirt. Her hands ended up pressed against his chest. Immediately, she pushed herself back as his hold on her disappeared. "Now, I just want you to have a decent rest after your run from your husband. Please, indulge me that much. I only wish to help."