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witchthewriter · 2 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: sorry my posting is outta whack, I’m in a hotel without a laptop charger so I’m doing my best✌🏼

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

・You were not royalty.

・Nor were you a princess/prince...

・You were what some called a privateer, and others... well, they just called you a pirate.

・But you didn’t care what they called you, as long as said people didn’t notice their valuables were missing

・Arthur thought he knew chaos, he was pretty chaotic himself. He was used to it, he grew up with it. Chaos was embedded into his very blood.

・Yeah, and then he met you.

・Maybe you felt safe to him; as if you reminded him of home, of his childhood.

・But you were a hindrance to his trading on the seas, especially through certain ports; where you liked to plunder the most.

・And King Arthur knew he had to do something about that.

・He didn’t think it would end in a betrothal.

・Well, when he first met you - that was the furthest concept from his mind. The first was anger, then impressed, mixed with a hint of jealousy. You had your freedom.

・And although Arthur wouldn’t trade his position for the world, he did miss his freedom.

・But leadership was in Arthur’s blood, so jealousy soon dissipated with responsibility taking its place

・You were an odd couple, well you still are. And many people question why the King would betroth himself to a criminal

・But your betrothal initially wasn’t about love- it was to unite your world with his, so that those seas were safe and other pirates would see Arthur as trustworthy

・So basically he’s marrying you for everyone’s peace

・And then there was love. It peaked its head around the corner and then all at once, smothered the two of you.

・Your love can feel overwhelming, and yet, it was something that you never wanted to lose

・You weren’t used to having such a secure person in your life. Someone who was bound to you, who would never leave you.

・He proposed the idea the 4th time you met. On the first meeting, you nearly killed him. And on the second, he stormed off your ship. Something happened on the third that you couldn’t understand. And on the fourth ... well ... here you are

・You moved into the castle, although many of your belongings were still on your ship. Arthur swore to never take anything away from you, to never belittle you or take away your freedom.

・In all honesty, you felt as if you had hit some kind of jackpot. And maybe you did feel a bit like a traitor for betrothing yourself to a King, but that meant extra protection for you and your crew.

・You wear a (insert your favourite gem: ruby, emerald, sapphire, diamond, opal etc,) ring on your left-hand ring finger, which signifies your engagement to the King

・You already sleep in the same bed; with Arthur usually being the first to wake each morning.

・He likes to kiss your forehead while you sleep

・You wear his clothes, and he loves it

・And you’ve taken him sailing on your Frigate ship

・Your crew was wary of Arthur at first - they didn’t know what to expect, well they were expecting to be jailed for piracy. But Arthur’s motto has wrung true,: “Why have enemies when you can have friends?”

Relationship Tropes:

Dumbass x Oh God I Guess That’s My Dumbass

Arthur: “Y/N NO!” You: Y/N YES!!!”

⸻

Arthur: Put it back

You: But -

Arthur: Put. It. Back.

Crazy Anti-Hero (You) x Hero Maintaining Their Partner Is On The Good Side (Arthur)

Troublemaker (You) x YOU DO YOU KEEP GETTING IN TROUBLE!? (Arthur)

#king arthur #king arthur x reader #king arthur charlie hunnam #king arthur legend of the sword #king arthur legend of the sword headcanons #headcanons #would include #dating would include #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam headcanons #king arthur headcanons #soa #jax teller #charlie hunnam king arthur #king arthur fanfic #witchthewriter #witch the writer headcanon's

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messmikkelsen · 1 year

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CHARLIE HUNNAM as Arthur King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

#charlie hunnam #chunnamedit #charliehunnamedit #filmedit #filmgifs #perioddramaedit #king arthur #king arthur legend of the sword #*m

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texaschainsawmascara · 4 months

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Charlie Hunnam, Papillon

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cinemapix · 1 year

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king arthur and the legend of the sword;

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author-morgan · 3 months

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Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead.

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him.

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow.

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you.

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?”

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck.

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal.

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence.

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been.

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly. “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles,

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief.

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure.

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch.

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart.

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine.

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms.

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Arthur Pendragon #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #King Arthur: Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam Fanfic #my writing #wow i havent written and posted anything in a while #yet again im blaming you for this claire lol #how about we all petition to get this movie the sequel it deserved #also 10 points if you can spot the rdr2 reference

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tygerland · 4 months

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coppoladelrey · 7 months

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Charlie Hunnam as King Arthur in King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) dir. Guy Ritchie

#king arthur #king arthur: legend of the sword #charlie hunnam #filmedit #dilfsource #guy ritchie #filmgifs #filmtvcentral #dailytvfilmgifs #cinemapix #dailyflicks #cinematv #userstream #coppoladelreygifs

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pandalikeelf · 7 months

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bbc merlin // king arthur: legend of the sword

#this took long enough #but im satisfied #im actually surprised that there are so many parallels between them #merlin #bbc merlin #colin morgan #arthur pendragon #king arthur #bradley james #king arthur (2017)#king arthur legend of the sword #charlie hunnam #merlinedit #merlingifs

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thisriver1swild · 1 year

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“it’s my comfort movie” it’s charlie hunnam wearing slutty little outfits.

#charlie hunnam #pacific rim #triple frontier #william ironhead miller #king arthur legend of the sword #the gentlemen #raymond smith

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ifuckinglovefingerlingpotatoes · 7 months

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#gif hunt #gifs #gif #charlie hunnam #king arthur legend of the sword #king arthur #jax #jax teller #sons of anarchy

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fassophy · 4 months

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charlie hunnam as king arthur

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam avatars #king arthur #king arthur: legend of the sword

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severinevolkova · 1 year

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#charlie hunnam #king arthur #mine

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 1 year

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Happy 43rd Birthday Charlie Hunnam!

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warning: talks of blood/bleeding, because periods, mention of drugs, and ugh sometimes nsfw but not in a sexual way ... just in a ... honest way? like if someone peered over your shoulder and read this they would b kinda confused I guess, idk

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤

・Doesn’t know a lot about periods, but doesn’t have a single problem picking up tampons/pads for you

・messages you while he’s at the store:

“what size r u” “how many packs? will one do? wait how long do u bleed 4?”

・if someone gives him a weird look he smirks and says “what? you don’t help your girlfriend? prick.”

・Sorts out dinner every night and makes sure you aren’t doing the cleaning around the house

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

・”I don’t think I can get you any chocolate, but I will not stop until I find it”

・Asks Raven what he should do, and she replies: “just ask her? talk to her?”

・He’s embarrassed, not because he’s disgusted or anything. But because he doesn’t know what to do or how to handle the situation

・Trades some of his things for treats

・When he brought everything back, you cried because it was such a lovely gesture. And he panicked because he thought he did something wrong

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

・Gets ALL the snacks

・Chocolate, lollies, chips, your favourite soda or coffee/tea

・ “I hate that you’re in so much pain”

・Offers you drugs if your cramps get really bad

・Constantly trying to hug you

・ “Lay down I’m going to massage you”

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞

・He’s not so efficient that he tracks your period, but he does notice when your mood and demeanour changes

・Without being asked, he’ll go to the store and pick up your favourite things

・Endless hot-water bottles

・Gives you his most comfiest jumper, or his favourite blanket

・Doesn’t like that you’re experiencing so much discomfort

・Always puts extra pillows around you

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

・There’s a drawer in your place that has a collection of period-related things. Found during runs, Daryl has found pads, tampons, and unopened old lady sweets (it’s the best he could find, and those things last for years)

・the first interaction with your period, Daryl was so awkward. He had no idea what to do, or the right thing to say. He couldn’t run out and grab you some chocolate from the store

・Lets you vent and rant, to get all the aggression out

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐞

・Makes sure you have enough rags; tears up some of his clothes if you’re running low

・Will wash them and hang them up to dry so you don’t have to do it

・Does the chores so you don’t have to move as much

・But he does all this silently, because he doesn’t want to talk to you during this time ... he’s a lil scared of you tbh

𝐉𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫

・Is absolutely comfortable with periods. He was married before, so this isn’t his first rodeo

・Made the mistake of arguing with you while you were at the height of your ... blood-letting? bleeding time? It was the peak when the blood felt like it was gushing out of you, you had a headache and the cramps were excruciating

・Now he shuts the f up and agrees with everything you have to say, or someones he just nods and smiles

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫

・He grew up surrounded by women, so he’s washed blood from rags and gotten herbs to help with the pain

・Even before your period, Arthur had already gotten a collection of items that would help you

・He didn’t want you to have to get them yourself, and since he’s King, he knew he might not have the time to get it himself

・So the best thing was for you to always have those items stocked

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

・Epitome of perfect

・ “My love, are you hungry? Thirsty? I’m sure I can find some sweets-”

・Will rub your stomach and leave his hand there (because a. it’s big and b. it’s warm)

・Nothing disgusts him so he doesn’t cringe or feel gross about your period

・The first time you bled on the sheets, he told you it was okay, have a bath / or clean up, and relax. He had changed the sheets and made the bed.

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢

・ ”At least you’re not pregnant?”

“aT lEaSt yOu’Re NoT - I think I might kill you, Loki.”

・Brings you hot water bottles and enchants your cup so it never empties

・Tries not to ask you too many questions because he knows how irritable it makes you

・He uses his magic a lot more during these times of the month, either by trying to ease your pain, to distract and/or entertain you

𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

・You think he’s oblivious but he’s just trying to keep the peace

・The first time he asked if it was your time of the month... was the last time he did so.

・Makes you endless cups of tea

・Helps you get dressed/undressed

・Unties your shoes and takes them off at the end of the day. He’ll sit on the couch with you, moving your legs so that your feet are on his lap. He’ll rub your feet until you tell him to stop

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝