#WORDS FROM A CRYING BABY: SOMETIMES IT HURTS TOO MUCH TO BE SURROUNDED BY ART WHEN YOURE A FAIL POETASTER FUCKING… FART

[warriorfujoshi]

google, how do i kill an algorithm? because on twitter im being swamped in poetry literally knee deep in the shit from people ive never heard of and its such an evil fucking trick you know showing me human faces showing me lives and each time i go fuck no i don’t want to see more poetry let me out of this swamp but each picture of a page is like a sexy hot bog witch i think will fix me and ahhh but no its just more poetry and my life is enriched but no happier. whatever. i didnt take my iron supplements bc im scared they’ll push my guts out my mouth again.

[givemaycoffee]

It seems you're feeling better today. I'm glad! Have some more questions :)

11, 39, 47, 78, 90

I am! :) And capitalizing on it as best as I can. Thanks for more of these 🥰

11. Do you have any strange phobias?

I don’t know if it’s strange but I have trypophobia. It’s strong enough that I have developed coping mechanisms to deal with it. It can become like an intrusive thought once it’s on my mind. I filter for it on here, and I’m always grateful when someone I follow actually uses the tag so I don’t have to see it. I also haven’t bothered to internalize how it’s spelled (even tho looking at it now it’s really not complicated), but I have the word saved in my notes app because originally I had to Google it and let me tell you… not a fun experience!

39. What time is it?

Aha, speaking of geography. It’s 4:53 pm :3

47. Do you have any obsessions right now?

Not really! Thank goodness tbh. I hyperfixated on Fire Emblem: Three Houses pretty hard when I got into it (June or July), and went down the Dimileth rabbit hole first, then Sylvix. I’m still enjoying Sylvix, but it’s not compulsive like it was when I was well and truly hyperfixated. I’ve been avoiding finishing the CF route, tho, so I’m currently playing Spiritfarer.

78. Can insanity bring on more creativity?

Uh oh! You’ve unlocked Opinions™. The first of which is that insanity is a word I find uncomfortable because it isn’t an official psychological term anymore, it’s mostly used in law these days to indicate severe mental illness, and when the average person genuinely uses it to describe another person they’re often using it to demonize said person’s mental illness. However, I don’t think anyone involved here intended that, so I am just mentioning it because I have met a lot of folks for whom it is a word that personally hurts them, and thus I feel the need to say something.

To answer the actual question, I think it’s looking at it wrong, really. Rather than bringing on creativity, I think mental illness tends to result in unique experiences, both positive and negative, and art is an outlet for all of it. Van Gogh had what seems to be manic depression, and art was a way to express himself. Art therapy is very much a thing for folks with all sorts of mental illnesses. It allows you to explore life, yourself, whatever you want in a way that doesn’t require words (or does, if you express yourself through writing), and can maybe communicate some of what’s going on in your head to someone else who otherwise might have very little understanding. And it can even help you understand yourself, too, sometimes.

So yeah, I think ultimately unique experiences and perspectives make a person more creative, especially in the eyes of someone whose own experiences are very different. It’s all relative, baby! This is also why diversity is super important (beyond just being fundamentally a good thing), because diverse people have diverse ideas and diversity of thought leads to creativity and innovation :3

90. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

First of all - this one is hilarious. Secondly… cry. Fun fact about me, if a zombie apocalypse were to happen, I would like to die, thanks! Don’t wanna deal with it, too scary and depressing. Anyhow - after crying, I would probably do the boring thing which is see if they react to anything, including movement and speech, and go from there. If no movement, J and I get up and leave and probably call my in-laws because they’re the real adults around here. 😂

[firstbeachgoblin]

Hey! I hope you’re well, can i request an imagine where reader is Embry’s imprint and they haven’t seen eachother in months because reader has a life she can’t just drop for him but she comes back when the pack is blowing up her phone ? Thank youu and don’t worry if you don’t write it, it’s fine!

Thank you for the request! It took a Long time But It's now complete with a total whopping 5k words!! Any way I hope you enjoy the fic.

I put it under the cut because it's so long but it's my brain baby at the moment lo.

Returning to you.

Embry Call x Reader

5058 words

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Most of my life has been spent in the Forks area so getting to travel to Europe for six months to see the art and culture was a dream come true. The past four months I’ve been travelling through Europe, starting in Greece and ending my trip in the Irish countryside.

The old art and architecture filled me with a joy that I could not get anywhere else in the world. The smells, sounds and sights all played their own part into the experience. I got to see the moon rise over Mount Olympus, the David by Michelangelo in the Vatican, tour through the Louvre, drink wine on the beaches of France and so much more. I’ve been living my best life.

It's been a dream to see the world, I've met so many new people and tried so much food. I’ve enjoyed every minute of my trip, but there was a part of me that longed for the beaches of La Push.

That part is Embry. Embry Call. My boyfriend, my pal, my love and my light. To me Embry is my everything and to him I’m his everything. That is one thing that has been made perfectly clear the past four months I’ve been away. Every day he’s told me he misses me and I know he means it, I’ve been told not just by him but also the rest of the pack.

Everyday I’ve woken up to ‘Good morning I miss you.” Sometimes he phones to tell me that he feels like he might die if I’m away for any longer. I always chuckle and tell him he will survive, it’s not like I’m going away forever; but that's what he feels like it is. This usually earns me a long winded whine from the other end of the line.

My phone buzzed against the smooth surface of the bedside table while Embry’s face flashed across my screen signalling that he’s calling. A smile graces my lips as I pick up the phone to be greeted with his loving voice.

“Hi (y/n)!! I miss you so much.” sadness was laced in his usual cheery greeting, it hurt my heart to be away from him but I would never trade this experience for anything. I’ve been planning this for years and I wasn’t going to pass up cheap plane tickets.

He filled me in on the pack's shenanigans, complaining about how they keep teasing him for being glued to his phone awaiting any updates I would send him. The later it got the heavier my eyelids seemed to feel, my speech started to slur with exhaustion of time zones while Embry continued to become more energetic with each passing minute.

“Em. . .” A yawn interrupted me mid sentence, a low whine emanated from the phone as he knew I would want to get to bed to have the energy for the long trip I’ll embark on tomorrow for Ireland, which is my last stop. I’d be spending the remaining two months of my trip in the lush countryside.

“I think I should get to sleep, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” I mumbled into the phone.

“But (y/n)!” he dragged out. I knew he wanted to talk longer but I physically cannot do it. Even though Embry and I don’t live together officially yet, we’d talk into the early morning till one of us fell asleep.

“But (y/n) what?” I dragged out the ‘a’ matching his whine.

“I miss you and want you to come home.” I could hear him pause over line before he continued.

“Besides, sleeping isn’t the same without you.”

I ran my hand through my hair gently tugging on the roots easing the tension that’s built up over my trip. As much fun as I’ve had, he does have a point. Sleeping just isn’t the same without Em. My nights have been spent restless in beds that aren’t mine without the comforting touch of my boyfriend; but that doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and go back home.

“Em you know I can’t just pack everything and go home. . .” I looked at the painting that hung over the tv that sat opposite of my bed. A puppy-like whimper fell from his lips when he spoke again, his voice cracked like he was going to cry. It broke my heart hearing him upset.

“I-I know I just really miss you.”

“I know Embry I miss you too, but it’s only two more months then I’ll be home.”

We chatted for ten more minutes before I fell asleep on the phone. As much as I missed falling asleep in his warm embrace I can’t just fly back home, not yet at least.

The blaring of my alarm woke me from my slumber. The clock face read 6:02 a.m. taking everything within myself to peel back the blankets that encased me in their warm grip. I patted through the bed sheets to find my phone only to knock it onto the floor in the process.

My lock screen adorned a photo of Embry with icing smudged across his face from his birthday party but a swamp of text messages from the pack covered my favourite photo of him. Five texts from Leah, seven from Jake, nine texts from Paul, 12 texts and two missed calls from Sam and a whole group chat titled ‘(y/n) come home.’

The group chat kept pinging with the members of the pack who were still awake discussing the logistics of flying out to Ireland to take me back home. Was Embry really causing that much strife in the pack for them to create a group chat? Knowing him, it couldn’t be too far from the truth.

Leah and I call once a week to check in and make sure the other is doing okay since I left. It’s one of my favourite parts of the week being able to have a one on one with someone sensible. Every week she fills me in on Embry begrudgingly, she does it because she knows it makes me happy which I appreciate.

Reading through her texts she didn’t say much in regards to Em’s behaviour the only message relating to him was “come get your man child please, he’s getting snot on the floor.”

I listened through Sam’s voice mails which were begging me to come home, he informed me that once Em knew I was asleep he started moping around Emily’s house again for the fourth consecutive night in a row. This was news to me.

The texts entailed that Embry was becoming a pain on patrol and that Paul ‘couldn’t take another minute of the incessant whining.’ I told them the same thing I told Embry; I’m not dropping everything and rushing back home to sooth the wails of a love sick boy. There isn’t much I can do from across the ocean anyway.

I stretched my body and headed towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower before I had to leave for the airport.

I packed the few remaining things I left out to prepare for the flight and headed my way to the lobby to check out. I enjoyed travelling but I wasn’t going to miss sleeping in hotels and hostels.

Two weeks have passed since I touched down in Ireland and to say I’ve been having the time of my life is an understatement; I’ve been having a ball living my best life.

The land was capped in a luscious emerald green sea of grass that waved in the wind, the roads were lined with hand built stone walls that marked the division of farmers fields.

Sheep and cattle grazed in pastures, and old castles dotted the countryside. It was gorgeous. It was a view that I wanted to see again, a view I want to see with Embry.

It felt like time was flying by between sight seeing, trail hiking, museum tours and calls with Embry and Leah. It has already been a month. I had one more month before I was to jet set back to the U.S. and see my Embry.

One more month before I was back in La Push surrounded by the scent of sea water and trees with the looming threat of rain constantly overhead except in the summer. For two months of the year La Push was bright and sunny with the expected summer storms that happened.

I had fallen asleep on the phone with Embry again when I realized my phone was lost in the sea of sheets as it buzzed with an incoming phone call.

I couldn’t find it until the call had gone to voicemail and my phone landed on the ground when I gave up and ripped the blankets off of the bed but whoever called must have felt it was really important. Picking up my phone the most unflattering photo of Jacob was plastered on the screen, his name in white.

“Hello?” I asked groggily into the phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I looked over at the clock which said in bold red numbers 1 am.

“Hey (y/n)! You sound like you just woke up.” I heard him chortle from the other end.

“That’s because I just woke up Jake, it’s one in the morning.” a yawn escaped my lips, I know I’ll have a rough time getting over jet lag when I go home.

He occupied twenty minutes with idle chatter and borderline interrogation about all the sights I’ve seen before I asked him why he was calling me so early in the morning

“Embry has spent the week at my house, you need to come home there’s nothing we can do anymore to occupy him till you return.” He sighed, Jake knows I want to finish my trip but we made a deal that I would come home early if there were absolutely no options left to keep Embry from sending the pack into hysterics.

I knew he was buttering me up for something.

“Are you sure you can’t figure something out? It’s just another month!”

“Another month of him eating my cereal and getting dirt on me from my dad!”

I snorted with laughter at the fact that Billy was telling Embry every embarrassing detail from his childhood.

“Jake please just let me think about it okay?” I sighed, flopping back into my hollowed cave of blankets and sheets.

“Okay, I’ll let you think about it but don’t think I won’t be telling Sam.” he warned.

We laughed together and he wished me a good night before hanging up the phone, before I slipped back into slumber I sent Jake one more text.

‘You wake me up at one in the morning again and it’s over for you.’ in which he responded with ‘Oh no I’m so scared lol.’

I reached over to the bedside table and plugged my phone in before the sweet embrace of warmth and slumber took over my senses.

The next three days I was bombarded with texts from Paul whining about the wolf mind link and how every patrol shift he had with Embry was spent tuning out his constant thoughts of me.

Standing in the shower with hot water running over my skin soothing my tense muscles I heard my phone buzz against the granite countertop. I rolled my eyes and continued to bask in the endless hotel hot water.

As bad as staying in hotels could be, the hot water made up for the early breakfast and sheets that were tucked in a little too tightly.

I had shampoo in my hair when my phone started buzzing again, this time with a call. I grumbled under the stream of water washing away the soap before it could get in my eyes; whoever's calling can wait.

I moved on to conditioning my hair, letting it sit while I wash the rest of my body with a lightly scented lavender soap.

I refused to use the complimentary soap because it dried out my skin and the lotion just left me feeling sticky instead of moisturized.

Watching the soap run down the drain my phone rang again, I clenched my fists, who could possibly be calling me now? I still refused to get out of my steamy heaven to answer my phone.

My gut told me that whoever was calling wouldn’t let up until I answered. I washed out the conditioner from my hair and wrapped it in a towel.

The mirror was coated in a layer of steam, the tiles were cool against my feet. I wrapped the plush towel around my body, mopping up the droplets of water that remained.

My phone started vibrating with rapid fire text messages from the pack’s group chat they made a month ago. I sighed, picking it up to sift through the messages. I read a message from Jared telling me he’d pay me to return.

The pack always made me laugh, together they’re a walking sitcom. There is never a dull moment with them, someone always had something witty or sarcastic to say.

I checked to see who had called me and it turned out it was Sam, I listened to his voice mails and immediately phoned him back.

As soon as I hit the call button it only rang for half a second before he picked up.

“Thank you for calling back, I thought I’d have to call two more times.” he chuckled.

“Well I was in the middle of a shower, can’t really take a call there.” I moved through the room with my phone pressed between my shoulder and cheek. Stopping at my suitcase to pick out what I was going to wear for the day.

“I’m going to be frank with you, I need you to come home. . .” I let out a huff before he continued.

“Embry needs you badly, he’s just a pile of mush on the floor now. It’s a chore to get him up to go on patrol. Please?”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do Sam, I’ll try to book a flight for the earliest date I can find.” I knew I was giving in but from what they were telling me and the constant texts were getting to be difficult to manage.

“Thank you, when you get back I’ll buy you take out for a month okay?”

“I hate that you know what my weakness is.” I laughed through the phone, a month of free take out? Hell yeah. It made the prospect of going back a little brighter since I wasn’t going to complete the rest of my trip.

I wasn’t losing out on too much though, I had seen and done everything that I wanted. It wouldn’t be too bad to go home early.

We talked for a couple more minutes before parting ways, I threw my phone on the bed and watched it bounce a couple times before turning my attention back to getting dressed. Since I had a flight to book it was okay to spend the rest of the day lounging in pj’s.

The soft fabric of my pj’s brushed against my skin as I jumped into bed with my computer in hand, and now it was time to book a flight back home. Maybe text Paul and tell him he can quit complaining as well.

I woke up the next morning with my flight booked for take off in the afternoon and my daily good morning text from Embry. I felt a little sad to be leaving such a beautiful country but the trees, ocean and Embry all called my name.

Pacing through the room I grabbed the comfiest set of clothes I packed for my return flight back to Seattle, I had enough time to sleep on the plane to be conscious enough for the three and a half hour drive back to La Push.

I was set for a long day ahead of me but it was going to be worth it in the end, seeing the bright and happy face of my boyfriend, getting to hug him and kiss him again.

I made one last check of the room before I gathered my clothes and toiletry kit and made my way into the bathroom to shower before my long flight. As I was stepping into the shower my phone pinged from the counter with a text from Sam.

“Have you booked that flight yet?” it read.

“Yeah I’m due for take off at 1. I should be back in La Push some time tomorrow!”

My fingers brushed the cool surface of the counter top as I put my phone back and got into the shower, hot water immediately running down my back; this time my phone wasn’t being blown up by a desperate wolf pack trying to get my attention.

I can’t sit in the shower for hours on end this time, I have a flight to catch and a boy to surprise. Embry was currently still under the impression that I would be coming home in two weeks. Boy would he be in for a surprise.

The residual steam wafted out of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth revealing my towel wrapped body and hair in the mirror behind the skin. I checked the time and noted that I had two hours to check out, make my way to the airport, and check into my flight back home. Two more hours before I could smell the trees and ocean, two more hours before I could see my friends and hug Embry.

The time managed to move by in a blur by the time I was shutting the trunk of the yellow cab that was going to drop me off at the airport. I got into the back seat and the driver peeled away from the hotel front onto the winding roads.

“Aye where are you headin’?” The driver inquired in a thick Irish accent.

One thing I noticed in my stay here was that the accent changed in every town or village I passed through. It added to the charm

“Well, I’m on my way home after spending six months in Europe.” My eyes scanned over the green hills that rushed past in a blur.

“My favourite places I’ve been have definitely been Ireland and Greece.” I smiled towards him.

The lines around his eyes crinkled with the smile that graced his face at the mention of Ireland.

“Well that’s good to hear innit? Glad you’ve enjoyed your stay. We welcome ya with open arms if you return.”

We held a light conversation until we arrived in front of the drop off area for passengers, thanked him and grabbed my bags before heading into the crowded lobby.

The front of the terminal was metal and glass that reached towards the heavens with automatic doors gaping open like a mouth. Inside was a dull white with light grey floor which my shoes clicked against with each step.

It was packed with people like a can of sardines, I weaved my way through the masses towards the check in desk which thankfully only had a short line to get through.

Under the mix of fluorescents and natural light the desk lady’s bags that donned under her eyes glared with visible exhaustion from the mass amounts of people that swarmed the terminal.

Despite her clear drowsiness she still greeted me with a warm smile and a soft hello.

I grabbed my ticket and thanked her then turned and pushed myself through to the security check, dropped my luggage off and took a seat to wait for the boarding call for my flight.

As I waited grey clouds started to fill the sky blocking out the little sun that was once shining in its place.

My eyes grew heavier by each minute that passed, waiting could be hard, but waiting in an airport where there’s no sense of time is worse. So I distracted myself by people watching.

A lady was bouncing her baby, the old man across from me was snoring. A businessman paced back and forth speaking urgently into his phone, a family chatted excitedly for their family trip to the Canary Islands.

I pulled my eyes away from them as the call for my flight rang out over the crowded terminal, grabbing my suitcase and making my way towards the gate.

Excitement filled my every step as the anticipation grew and bubbled inside me. I gave the greeting flight attendant a small smile and made my way to my seat, for being last minute I managed to get a window seat.

We sat on the tarmac for twenty minutes before taking off and before I knew it the seat belt light pinged off and I was fast asleep jet setting my way back to America, back to my home.

I couldn’t tell what time it was when I woke up but the clock on the tv screen said 2 a.m. and that we’re due to arrive in an hour. I sat up in my seat and gazed out the window into the starry night sky.

Energy started to course through me as I watched the arrival time tick closer and closer. A light rain misted down over Seattle as I left the Seatac terminal and made my way through the maze of cars in the night that was made darker by the rain.

I spotted my blue Subaru and popped the trunk so my interior and seats wouldn’t get wet. It had been a long six months since I last sat in my driver's seat, the wheel almost felt foreign in my hands as I turned the key and listened to the engine roar to life.

I drove through the winding roads of the city to the Seattle-Bainbridge Ferry to take the 45 minute ride into Bainbridge and headed North to get on the 101 then turn onto 110 which would take me back into the heart of La Push.

The closer I got to Forks the brighter the sky became; well as bright as it could be on a gloomy day. The clouds became painted in the glow of purple and pink as the sun rose over the horizon, the rain had let up and left me with an overcast sky for the remainder of the drive back.

Since I slept virtually the entire flight back I didn’t feel the weight of exhaustion at all, but surely when I arrived back in the arms of Embry I knew I’d hit the wall with sleep deprivation.

As I barreled through the corridor of trees I passed the signature ‘welcome to Forks’ sign and turned right onto the 110, twenty minutes to home. I was so close but my soul felt like it was light years away.

The clock on my radio told me that it was currently 6:45, the pinks and purples that coated the sky faded away to the typical grey that fills my senses with delight. Sea salt and washed up kelp started to seep into the air that circulated into my car making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Closer to Beach Drive I got the stronger the smell of the ocean became. The turn signal clicked as I turned onto the road that gave way to Sam and Emily’s house so they could take me over to Embry’s in the off chance that he happened to be awake at this hour.

It’s highly unlikely that he would be up at this hour but it’s not something I could be one hundred percent positive about. I stepped out of my car and turned around to see Emily running as fast as she possibly could towards me with open arms and a huge smile plastered across her face.

Dropping my bags I dashed across their lawn into her embrace.

“Oh (y/n)! I missed you so much, you must be so tired.” She released me from her hug and settled her hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I missed you too Emily, I knew I’d be tired but not this tired.” I chuckled while wiping at my under eyes in a feeble attempt to wipe away the exhaustion.

She put her hand on my lower back and led me inside for the awaiting cup of tea while Sam moved my bags into his truck.

The warmth of their home embraced me, the comfort of their kitchen was familiar. The only thing missing was the rowdy group of boys that made up the pack who usually occupied every available seat in the home.

I took a seat at the kitchen table where three cups of tea sat waiting, I should have expected a q and a when I returned. Wrapping my hands around the mug the warmth that radiated from it filled my hands.

Emily took a seat beside me and Sam entered through the door and sat adjacent to both of us.

“So how was the trip?” We sat around their table chatting until our cups were empty and filed out of the house into the early morning air.

“Emily and I will drive your car back to your place after I drop you off at Embry’s, the kid’s been sleeping in my living room more often than I’d appreciate.” Sam’s eyes crinkled with a smile, I knew he was joking but at the same time there was truth to his words; and honestly I couldn’t blame him.

“Thank you for putting up with him while I was gone, I owe you guys one and you owe me take out for a month.” He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair turning into the Call's driveway. Embry’s mom had already left for work leaving him to his own devices; which meant he would sleep in as late as his heart desired.

We got out of Sam’s truck and he dropped my bags on the doorstep. I turned and gave him a quick hug and a thank you before sticking my key into the lock.

The door creaked open and I dragged my suitcases to a stop in their front entry way and shut it behind me.

My shoes landed on the floor with a soft thud and I gingerly walked up the stairs to ensure I wasn’t too noisy while making sure to avoid the one squeaky stair.

I got to the top of the stairs and hung a left down their light beige hallway that gave way to the oak door that guarded Embry’s room. His soft snores filtered through the door, it’s door knob was cool in my hand. Making an audible click with the turn of my wrist.

Dark mahogany brown hair peaked up from beneath the sheet that tucked Embry’s body out of view. One pillow was on the floor while the other was tucked firmly between his cheek and arm, I smiled at the sight of my sleeping boyfriend which filled my every inch with the utmost joy.

My sock covered feet pressed into the carpeted flooring with each step I took towards his bed making sure to step over the piles of dirty clothes that were scattered around the room.

The sun filtered through the gaps in the window blinds casting pools of golden light on the floor and along his walls causing the crystal prism that hung above his closet to sweep dashes of colour across his walls.

I pulled back the grey top sheet to reveal his peaceful face and I swear my heart was going to burst with the amount of love that I feel for him. His hair was tousled in every direction and a cow lick stuck straight up on the left side of his head.

My hands ran over his hair, smoothing it out while I whispered his name. Embry groaned a bit and rolled over, I whispered his name a little bit louder and moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders running them along his arms finally waking him from his slumber.

“Hi Em!” I gushed out as his brown eyes opened and focused on me. His face split with his toothy smile and his arms shot around me, pulling me down into his chest.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” Embry mumbled into my hair.

“I figured a lot with the amount of texts I got from the pack.” I reached up brushing the hair from his face.

“You can never leave me for that long again. . .I didn’t know what to do without you here.” He ran his hands through my hair placing a gentle kiss upon the top of my head.

“I was so worried about you. I couldn’t protect you and make sure you were safe.”

“Well next time I’ll make sure you can come, then you don’t have to worry.” Craning my neck up I placed a kiss upon his lips which were still a bit swollen from slumber.

“The important thing is that I returned safe and in one piece. The other important thing is I get to spoil you with the gifts I brought back!”

His laugh filled the room sending vibrations through my body.

“Hey! That’s my job to spoil you, not the other way around.” He ruffled my hair causing us both to laugh. I peeled off my socks and wiggled my way under his blanket.

“I think it’s time we catch up on six months worth of cuddling.” I poked a finger into his side.

“Yeah I think that’s a good idea, you owe me for being gone so long.”

“What? I came back early!” His hands made their way under my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back sending waves of heat through my body from being pressed into him. Oh how I missed my heater.

“Yeah, by like what? Two weeks?” his silky voice chuckled out.

“I missed you Embry.” I told him, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“I missed you too. Now let's go back to sleep, you look tired.” He said to me as he rested his chin atop my head and pulling me closer.

[ellana-ravenwood]

The art of taking care of the woman you love - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : You’ve always had really bad period pains. You learned to live with it, and to take care of yourself during those times...Up until a certain Bruce Wayne came into your life, and made it his mission to be there for you. 

For @meghan-maria​, who gotta be the sweetest out there :), and for anyone who ever had really bad period pains. I hope you will like it : 

TW : periods. It’s obvious given the theme, but I guess we never know and better safe than sorry. 

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

_________________________________________________

The First time it happened

It’s the fact you cancelled your planned date with him without an explanation that makes him worry. 

“Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Will see you tomorrow !” 

You never did that before, and you two were so busy neither of you would miss a date really. Not unless something bad or important happened. But then in that case, you would’ve told him, no ?

It made him so anxious. And he was starting to clearly overthink things. 

Were you maybe...having second thoughts ? 

You and Bruce made your relationship official not long ago, was the media’s pressure becoming too much ? You told him you’d be fine, but after a few months experiencing the plague that were paparazzi and invasive questions, did you change your mind ? 

Or maybe it was because of the whole Batman thing ? You discovered that a while ago, even before making your relationship official so...why would you change your mind about it now ? 

Maybe he came home with too many cuts and bruises. Maybe you were freaking out ? He would understand if you did. 

Or...There was a last option that came to his mind : he upset you somehow. 

It was entirely possible, sometimes he could get stuck in his own mind, and be a jerk without even truly realizing it. He knew that fact very well about himself. It was often the reason of how he ruined multiple relationships, friends or more. 

The way he sometimes just got too focused on his vigilante work. Too obsessed. And could be stuck in a “dark mode” like you’d say...

But, he also knew that you never took any of his shit. You would’ve told him if something was really the matter, right ? 

Right ?!

Should he ask Alfred if he noticed anything ? His butler, and surrogate father, always saw things that escaped him. Especially when it came to feelings. 

This was a less known trait about Bruce, but ever since he was a child, he’s always been anxious. He was usually really good at hiding it, and his “Brucie Wayne” persona made everyone think it wasn’t possible for him to be anything else but confident and cocky but...it wasn’t true. 

Especially when it came to those he cared about. Especially when it came to you. 

You loved him despite his flaws, accepted him fully, without any conditions. It was the first time it ever happened, that he LET it happen...So, with this simple plan cancellation that was quite unlike you, he freaked out a bit.

In the middle of the day, he finally decided to call you. One. Two. Three tones before you picked up, and oh. Oh he felt so relieved to hear your little “hello ?” 

At the same time, his worry peaked. Was it just him, or did you sound really weak ?

“Hey honey, just wanted to check if you were alright ? Your text was a little short, and I know you don’t owe me any explanations of course, but I just wanted to check on you. You know. I-um...” 

Clumsy Brooshy. 

It made you smile, the way he could be a little flustered and lose his words, when with you. And it made you smile even wider that he chose to call you to make sure everything was ok. 

Sweet Broosh.

If you really didn’t want to talk to him, you wouldn’t have answered. And he wasn’t the kind of man to “insist”. He would’ve left a voice message, and leave you alone until you felt like calling him back. Bruce was most definitely not invasive...but at the same time, you’d never leave him worrying for no reasons, knowing how anxious he could be.

The truth was, your text was short because...You didn’t know how to tell him the reasons you needed to cancel your date. You didn’t want to embarrass him. Men didn’t really like to talk about what you currently were suffering from. 

You also were a little embarrassed yourself, because the entire society surrounding you made you feel wrong for having periods. 

Periods. 

One week a month. Every single months. That was a lot. 

Especially for you because...you always had complicated and difficult periods. Painful. Making you feel like you couldn’t move. The pain making it impossible for you to even get out of bed for long. 

You and Bruce had been dating for a while but...weren’t periods sort of a taboo subject ? You didn’t really know how to tell him. Especially since most men really seemed uncomfortable with the all thing. 

Of course, you should’ve know Bruce wasn’t “most men”. 

“Baby, are you there ?” 

“Um yes yes, sorry I was lost in thoughts.” 

“Are you ok ? You don’t sound right.” 

The most observant man in the World was obviously going to realize your voice sounded weaker than usually. The truth was, you were trying really hard to keep it steady as pain filled your being. 

“Yes yes, I’m ok, just feeling a bit...under the weather ?” 

“Is there anything I can do ? Is it a cold or something ? If so, I can bring you buy some chicken noodle soup, and pick up any meds you might need.” 

You almost cried at his words. 

Super busy bee Bruce Wayne was telling you he’d go out of his way to bring you what you needed...It made you crack a little. 

He was too damn nice. And your hormones were in shambles. It was very easy right now for you to cry. 

This. How willing he was to help you, how he immediately asked if he could...Was what made you say the truth without thinking twice : 

“I’m-I’m on my periods. They’re usually- They’re usually bad.” 

“Oh.” 

His response scared you a little bit. Were you right, was this maybe too much, too soon ? You were about to add something when he said : 

“I’ll be there in about an hour, if it’s ok with you ? If you prefer to be alone I can send-” 

“No ! No, I would love for you to come. I just-I wasn’t sure-I-”

“It’s ok. I understand. See you in a bit, love you.” 

“Love you, too.” 

On that note, Bruce hung up and leaves you with a wild beating heart. 

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

Exactly an hour later, your doorbell rings. 

With difficulties, you stand up, and go open the door. Surely enough, it’s your boyfriend. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

He has a bag in his hand, and you melt a little at the soft look and smile he gives you (even if there’s clear concerns behind it). You let him in, and go sit on the couch, even if just sitting up is already too much. 

“Do you want to lie down ?” 

“No. No I’m fine. You came all the way here, I can’t just stay in bed haha.” 

“Of course you can.” 

There’s a small silence for a little bit. Not awkward, you’re just not quite sure what to do. Should you go back to bed ? You really want to. And clearly, he understands. He always does. 

“Ok.” 

You stand, and wince because moving really makes everything worst. He approaches you, worried, but doesn’t dare to touch you and just follows you into your room. You get back in your comfy bed, under your comfy comforter. 

Another silence. Until he breaks it, taking something out of the bag he was carrying and saying : 

“So. I wasn’t sure you had a hot water bottle, I don’t ever recall seeing one in your apartment. So I bought one on the way just in case. Sorry if you don’t like the color, I can pick another one up later. It’s just, the woman on YouTube said that heat pads and hot water bottles were great.”

“The...woman on YouTube ?” 

“Yes, I watched a video on menstruations on the way here.” 

For a few seconds, you just stare at him, stunned. Never EVER in your entire life did you think you would hear THE Bruce Wayne say those words one day.

“A video on menstruations ?”

“Well, yes. Obviously, I don’t have periods. So I have no idea what it feels like. So I watched a video, to understand the process. And also so that you wouldn’t have to explain anything to me. You know what periods are, you don’t have to educate me on it. It’s not your job. And I definitely don’t want to sound patronizing about it. So I watched a video, and read a few articles. I won’t say I know how it feels, but I understand it more. Tell me if I ever step my bounds at any moment..” 

You can’t help but smile, even as your lower belly is on fire. Ah. Of course he would search things about it. Bruce was the kind of man to be thorough in his researches before tackling a problem. As Batman, he always tried to know everything there is to know about a situation before finding any solutions. But he was like that in real life too. 

And it particularly touched you that he did it so you wouldn’t have to explain...You had an ex, once, who sat down with you to talk about menstruations and it sort of drove you crazy. He thought it was nice, but your hormones were wreaking HAVOC and he was trying to explain to you how periods work and what it felt like ??? Give you advice about it and that it would be fine if you did what he said ?? Excuse me ??? As if you didn’t try everything already to feel less pain. And as if, as a woman, you didn’t know what it felt like or what it was exactly...

And there came Bruce. Reading up on it. And knowing he would never quite know how it feels. But educating himself so he won’t say something that could trigger you in any way. 

Sweet sweet man...If only people knew. 

He caressed your cheek softly, before whispering : 

“Then I-I watched something on endometriosis, because I read in a previous article it felt horrible. And you said your periods were bad, when we were on the phone. It sounds awful. Do you-...Have endometriosis ?” 

You shake your head weakly. Endometriosis was one of the reason why your periods were so painful and dreaded. And the worst ? It was a sickness many people said didn’t even exist. 

A woman being in pain during her periods ? Drama queen. Right ? It didn’t hurt that baaaaad. See, some women didn’t feel anything, just bled for a bit and moved on with their months. So obviously every women felt the same. Some were just being too sensitive...

Endometriosis was still, even to this day, a rather unknown illness and one that was rarely taken seriously. Some people just couldn’t even fathom you being in pain because of your periods, so much so that you couldn’t move. 

That you occasionally fainted, that you couldn’t eat much because it made you vomit, that you had awful migraines, stomach ache and back pain. That you couldn’t focus or sleep because of it. No. 

No those were just “made up symptoms” because you were “weak”...What awful things to say, right ? It was even worst to hear. Someone telling you this, as you felt like you were dying because of the pain, made you feel GUILTY to have painful periods. 

But it wasn’t your fault ? IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT ?! Nor were the moodswings, the cravings, the fatigue...

You hated going to the doctors when you were younger, because you knew he wouldn’t believe you when you said your periods hurt...

Anyway. Even without endometriosis, women who had bad periods pain were rarely taken seriously. Unless they met another woman who felt the same. Then they’d feel like they weren’t alone, or crazy. Like there were others who felt bad too. 

Every woman was different. And you unfortunately never met someone else with the same problems than you...

You felt very alone, for so long, and it was enhanced by your hormones going crazy and the pain being unbearable at times. 

And then, in come Bruce. 

Your Broosh. 

“Ok. Well. I brought you some of your favorite food. And um, I picked up some snacks if you want to do a movie marathon ? I brought all The Lord of the Rings extended editions. I got heat pads and a hot water bottle like I said. We can also just cuddle and relax if you prefer, I read that physical comfort was good ? Or, I can leave everything here, settle you in properly, and leave you alone. Just, tell me what you need my love ?” 

What did...you need ? 

Nobody ever asked you that. Nobody. Not even your parents. 

What did you need ? 

The answer came quickly. 

Him. You need him. His warmth. His large and soothing hands. His comforting presence. His calming voice. 

You knew you were in love with him since a while now. You exchanged “I love yous” already. But never did you feel as much love for him as right now, seeing him sitting in front of you, asking you what you needed...

A simple action. Simple words. And yet, it meant everything. 

“What do you need, honey ?” 

The concern in his eyes, and how he was very obviously ready to do whatever you wanted him to. 

It already made you feel better. The physical pain didn’t go down, that’s not how it worked unfortunately. But the emotional anguish ? Gone. 

Because he was there. 

Without even realizing it, you started crying. This was too much for your heart, too overwhelming. It meant the World, in that moment. 

It meant the world, to you and your overworked hormones. And so you cried. You cried hard. 

Without thinking twice, Bruce moved towards you. Taking his coat off and leaving it on the floor (Alfred would scold him about this for sure), he climbs in your bed and engulfs you in his arms. And it’s so warm and comforting, comfortable, too. 

“Just tell me what you need..”

He whispered to you, in his deep calming voice, his fingers running soothingly through your hair. 

“Could you just...keep holding me ?” 

He smiles softly, and says : 

“Of course.” 

He never, and never would, shy away from comforting you in any way. If you needed to have a good cry in his arms, so be it. And if you just needed him to be there, he would be there. 

You cuddled for a bit, the soothing circles he rubbed on your back doing wonders to make you feel relax. He brought some essential oils, that he massaged on your belly before filling the hot water bottle and laying it there...It relieved the pain a little bit, as you started a marathon of your favorite movies.

He took great care of you all day long, answering your every need even as you didn’t dare to ask...as if he could read your mind. You almost suspected he really could. You never felt so in phase with anyone before like you did with him.  

You had been together for less than a year. Although your anniversary was right around the corner. But him coming over as soon as he knew you weren’t feeling well. Him educating himself on what was it that hurt you...

If you weren’t sure yet that he was the one...You knew now. 

It sucks to be a woman, sometimes 

Bruce never knew periods could be that bad. Well, of course, he was a guy. And “periods” was never really a subject he talked about with anyone. He never really paid attention to it, like many men really. 

Until he saw you while on it. 

He knew you. He knew you were a tough lady. Once, you broke your leg while on a date with him. A silly accident really. Involving an ice rink, and an overzealous you chasing a hockey puck...Long story short, you ended up with a bad break. And you barely said a word about it. 

Bruce had his bones broken many times, he knew the pain of it. It was one of the pain he hated the most, along with burns. One he dreaded the most. And you took it like a champ. 

The break was bad enough you even needed surgery, yet you kept smiling at him (he might’ve feel bad that he let his over-competitive mind take over, “pushing” you to really want that puck...but of course, it was not his fault, after all, you too were very competitive, it was a pure accident). Saying you were fine, and that it’d be ok. 

He always hated seeing you hurt, it hurt him too. Inside. And scared the Hell out of him, to even think about you being harmed. So that day, he was rather frantic. You staying calm helped him, which made him feel a little guilty that even as you were the hurt one, you reassured him. 

But then you reminded him the roles were often reversed when he came back hurt from a rough vigilante night...You always had the right words to ease his mind. 

Anyway. That one time, after badly breaking your leg, you stayed rather calm and collected. But when you had your periods ? 

He never knew it could hurt so much. You couldn’t hide your pain, or pretend everything was alright. 

It was clearly a really bad moment to go through. 

He knew about the terrible migraines, being unable to sleep which made everything worst, feeling like your lower belly was being twisted from the inside, being sore all over for no reasons, not being able to move... 

Seeing you, was enough for him to know that periods sucked. 

“Being a woman is the worst, sometimes!” 

You’d often say during those moments, and he’d just soothe you, wishing he was in your place...

He hated when you were hurting. It hurt him too. Inside. 

And never. NEVER would he doubt that you were in real pain. Because unlike the doctors who kept telling you it was in your head, he knew you. He saw you get injured before. He knew you were tough. So for you to not be able to pretend everything was fine... 

You were hurting. Badly. And it was awful. But he believed you. He believed you and that’s all that mattered to you. 

Space

He also knew how to give you space when you needed it, though. 

He would be here if you needed him, bring you any food you craved, giving you relaxing massages, rubbing essential oils on your belly, filling up your hot water bottle etc etc. 

To be honest, his reaction to you being on your period is what made you sure he would be a great father one day...And you were right. 

Not a perfect father. 

But oh. Oh he cared. And wanted so much to do good...

And he knew. 

He knew exactly when he had to be there, and when he had to give you space. 

His hoodie

Bruce couldn’t always be with you when you had your periods, of course. 

He often took time off to be. But it was unrealistic to think he could be 24/7 with you the entire week. 

And sometimes, when he was away, you really suddenly craved his presence...So you came up with a trick. 

You stole his clothes. 

Particularly, hoodies he often wore when hanging out casually in the Manor. 

First of, they were very comfortable. And second, and most importantly : they smelled like him. 

They were warm, had his scent, and you could fall asleep feeling like he was almost there. 

Bruce couldn’t count the number of hoodies he lost to you....Then again, after a while, you’d ruthlessly abandon one because it stopped smelling like him, and would steal another one. 

Of course, he never minded. In fact, beyond the fact hoodies were nice and comfortable, he started to wear them a lot while in the house or during times he didn’t need to wear a suit (in every sense of the term), specifically because he knew you’d steal them when you felt lonely. 

It was cute. And it made his heart beat faster just thinking about it. 

Nobody. 

Nobody ever needed him that much before. Nobody ever loved him so much that sometimes him not being around was distressing. 

Of course, he felt the same. And the knowledge that you too, would sometimes feel lovesick when you were separated for too long...Filled his heart to the brim with the best feelings. 

For so long, he thought someone being dependable of him, and him being dependable of someone was bad...Oh, how he was wrong. 

It’s not because you open your heart to someone that you’ll get hurt, or that they’ll use it against you. You just have to find the right person... 

So. Yes. He will always cancel plans just to be with you. 

To bring you hot water bottles whenever you need. To cook your favorite food and snacks. To be there during all your mood swings, and endure even if you’re not the nicest to him (it’s not your fault). To watch your favorite movies. To let you sleep in and run your errands...

Periods sucked. 

He didn’t need to be a woman to know that. 

So he was there. Right there. For you. Taking care of you. And he would forever be there for that. 

But when he wasn’t ? 

Then he’d strategically leave one of his hoodie near the bed, so you could steal it, and comfort yourself with his smell...

Mood Swings 

“Brooooooooooosssssh...” 

You’re crying. You’re crying ! 

And it makes Bruce panic. You cry very rarely, so when you do it means something really bad must’ve happened or..or...

Bruce makes a quick calculation in his head and...Yup. 

It’s that time of the month again. 

Already ? Poor you.. 

This means that tomorrow, you’ll be a mess as everything will hurt too much, and today, the eve right before, you’re overly emotional. 

Hence you clinging to him right now, sobbing while repeating “I love you so much Bruce, I love you soooo much”. 

Hormones could really turn your head around. Right at the start of your period, before the pain, you had a rush of many emotions. 

You could either get very irritated for no reason (like “WHY IS THIS FLOOR ON THE FLOOR ?!”) or cry at everything. Right now, you were crying because you realized you loved your Broosh to death and you just had to tell him and you didn’t want him to go that night and...ah...

“It’s alright, it’s alright my love. You’re ok. We’re ok.” 

He lets you cry in his arms, of course. And already made the decision to not go out tonight, and stay with you. Kate could take over. He couldn’t leave knowing your emotions were doing quite a trick on you...

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

Your mood swings during your periods were particularly bad. 

You guessed it went in pairs with all the pain. Of course, not just one thing had to be exacerbated. Oh no. EVERYTHING bad about periods had to be turned to the max for you. Otherwise, were was the fun, right ? Sarcasm. 

You’d get irritated for no reasons. Then feel bad and cry for hours. To then feel ridiculously giddy once again for seemingly no reason...and then suddenly a burst of anxiety would attack you. 

It was a circus in your mind, and in your body. 

You couldn’t focus on anything. You couldn’t sleep properly. You felt awful all the time. Everything hurt. God...

And there he was. Bruce. Taking the brunt of your bad moods without saying a word. He knew it wasn’t your fault. That you didn’t mean it. That your hormones dictated your behavior against your own will. 

He knew. 

And he was there. 

He was there. 

“Every little moment is important, Son” - Thomas Wayne, to Bruce during the Flashpoint events.

“Bruce ? What are you doing here ? Thought you had important meetings ?”

“They weren’t that important.” 

“Really ? Lucious said-”

“Lucious is overdramatic. Anyway, Tim is taking care of it.” 

“...You’re letting our sixteen years old son taking care of the future of your company ?” 

“To be honest, he’s probably more competent about it than me.” 

“...That’s actually pretty accurate. But, why did you cancel things ?” 

“Because it’s this unpleasant time of the month, right ?”

“Oh. You don’t have to-” 

“I absolutely do.” 

Disappearing for a few seconds, your husbands comes back, wearing one of his favorite silk pajamas (and by “his” favorite, he really means : he knows you love them and think they look good on him, but won’t ever admit it because they’re “damn pajamas, it’s silly”...but he likes to please you). He then climbs in bed with you, and settles comfortable against you. 

“So, what’s the program today ?” 

This wasn’t unusual, for him to do this when you were on your periods. 

In fact, it was almost a ritual. Delegating his works to others, so he could take care of you. 

Ever since that first time, all those years ago, things didn’t change much. He would ask you what you need, you’d tell him, and he would do it happily. 

He knew it was a tough moment for you, physically, hormonally, mentally...Having your periods sucked. So he was there. Right there. 

The words his father...Well, not really his father. The “Thomas Wayne” of another dimension. What his father would’ve become if he died that fateful night, instead of his parents. Regardless, to him, it was his father. 

The father that never saw him grow up and became the man he was now...Yet who had important words for him. 

“Take advantage of every little moments, you never know when it’ll end.” 

Those words stuck with him. Because it was true. It only took a few seconds in an alleyway for his whole world to turn upside down...Why would it take any less for it to completely change now too ? 

What if something happened to you ? And he didn’t spend enough time by your side ? Or to his kids ? 

There was a time, being Batman was everything to Bruce. Because he was angry, lost, and devastated. 

But over the years...Over the years this role stayed important. But he expended his vision. He included others in it. 

So. Yes. He would treasure those small moments with you. And if it meant taking a day and night off to take care of you during a rough time, then he’d do it. If it meant missing work (both his works) because one of his children was sick, so be it. 

He was Batman. But he was also a husband. A father. 

And now...Now he knew his priorities. 

He’d never stop being Batman. Never. 

But he knew now. He knew there was more to life than this dark world he thought he’d get stuck in till the end of his life. 

“I was about to watch a movie.” 

“A movie it is. If you want me here, of course.” 

“Do you even have to ask ?” 

“To make sure you’re ok ? Always.” 

“-sigh- Yes. Yes Bruce, I want you here. I want nothing else, in fact.” 

“Ah, not even pop-corn ?”

“...Once we’ll have pop-corn, I’ll want nothing else.” 

“Um, why is there tampons in your drawer ??” 

One day, one of Bruce’s associate, Carlton, needed some paperworks to finish a deal, and came into his office. Bruce was on the phone, and gestured to him to just pick the papers up in one of his desk’s drawer. 

Only the man misunderstood and opened the wrong drawer and...

“What the-Why is there tampons and pads in your drawers ?”

He asked, half-bewildered half-amused. Bruce finished his phone call, and answered : 

“Why wouldn’t there be ?” 

“Um, are you a woman ?” 

“No, but my wife, who often come to this office, is.” 

“Jeez Louise Bruce, never pegged you to be such a simp haha ! Oh man, they’re even “organic”, how far can you go for one woman right ? Haha joking of course, or maybe..haha !” 

There was something in the tone Carlton took that brushed Bruce the wrong way. Something disrespectful and irritating. Not disrespectful to him, as if he cared to be called a “simp” (by a grown ass man by the way, which made it even more ridiculous). No. He didn’t care. But..This was his wife, they were talking about, in the end. 

“A...”simp” ? Because I have items who can be useful to my wife in my desk drawer ? A place in which she often comes, as I already said ?” 

His voice was cold, and Carlton definitely noticed. He always thought Bruce was an affable man, but sometimes...Sometimes he had something almost scary in his eyes. 

Ah, but Carlton wasn’t the kind of man to really take this things seriously. And he added : 

“Come on Bruce, don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous ?”

“No.” 

“I just think it’s funny you have a drawer full of those things.” 

“As I said, my wife comes by often, and might need it sometimes. I keep them here for her. It often came in handy you know.” 

“Don’t say that, that’s so gross.” 

“Why ?” 

“Just thinking about it.” 

“Just thinking about something my wife, but also yours by the way, have no control over ?” 

“My wife doesn’t- We just don’t talk about it.” 

“Well I guess yes. Or you wouldn’t react that way. Do you not take care of her when she has her periods ?” 

At the word “periods”, the man opened his eyes wide, which made your husband roll his. It truly TRULY baffled him that this dude was being grossed by OBJECTS and most likely didn’t take care of his wife ? How could you love someone and not want to comfort them ?! 

“Well, I don’t think she- I- She doesn’t - I ...It’s embarrassing, no ?”

“No.” 

“Well, maybe it’s not with your wife but with mine it has been. She asked me a few times to buy pads for her.” 

“Why would it be embarrassing ? I can assure you, nobody is going to think it’s for you.” 

Carlton’s face was steadily going red. He said : 

“It’s just something we don’t talk about.”

“Why not ?” 

“It’s just...gross and...” 

“Why is it gross though ? Why do you think that way ?” 

“I mean, you know what periods are right ?” 

“Of course I do. It’s something happening to a very large chunk of our population, and that is a natural phase in their life. Do you think your wife wants to have periods ? Most likely not. Mine definitely doesn’t. But she does. So I do keep pads and tampons here in case of an emergency, in case she has nothing else on her.” 

“Nothing else ?” 

“Do you think only pads and tampons exist for women’s periods ?” 

“I-”

“It’s not hard to read up on it a bit. Especially when someone as close as your own wife is a “victim” of it."

Awkard silence. Clearly, the man was uncomfortable. Bruce sighed, and said : 

“Just go take care of those papers.” 

Evidently relieved, his associate almost ran out of the room. 

Bruce kept thinking about how funny Carlton thought it was to have pads in his drawers. How he was about to mock him further before he got called out. “Simp”. If taking care of the woman he loved meant being a simp, then whatever. 

Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about his associate’s words. And it gave him an idea...

The next day, every newspapers and local news channel talked about how the (Y/N) Wayne Foundation gave millions of dollars to every school and public places in the country to provide free tampons and pads to women. And how Bruce Wayne became a huge advocate of the “period positivity” movement his wife started. 

“Periods shouldn’t be taboo.”, he said in his speech for the grand-opening of thousands and thousands of free pads distributors. 

When the kids are around. 

Dick 

Dick was little when he first witnessed what your periods did to you, and he downright panicked when you fainted in front of him while you two were shopping for Bruce’s birthday present ! 

That morning when you woke up, you knew you were going to have your periods. You always felt it in your bones, a little bit before it truly started...But you also promised little Dickie you’d help him chose a gift for your husband. 

You hated breaking your promises. Especially the one you made to your kid. He was just nine, and already experienced so many heartache...You couldn’t just break a promise you made to him, no matter what. 

So you went anyway, knowing there was a high chance you’d feel ill during the day. You were hoping, in fact, your periods wouldn’t truly start up until the evening, and so you could spend the day with your son. 

Alas...

“Mom ? Mom !? Someone help !!” 

Your fainting during your period never lasted long. Just a sudden drop of energy, feeling dizzy, and falling...you woke up fast. Opening your eyes to see your baby boy with tears in his eyes. You knew what happened, and reassured him immediately. 

You refused to call an ambulance, and instead called Alfred to ask if he could come pick you two up (you would NOT risk driving while in this state). 

And there you were, sitting on a bench with your son while waiting for Alfred who would be there as soon as it takes to get from Wayne Manor to Gotham’s City Center. 

“Are you sure you’re ok ?” 

“Yes, don’t worry, this is normal.”

“Fainting is not normal !” 

Dick looked so distressed...Should you tell him what was going on ? But he was such a young child. 

Ah. But you were amongst the people who thought that kids weren’t as stupid as many people thought. And that they could handle the truth, especially this kind of things. 

Understand what was happening to you would surely easy his mind. And make him understand, and act accordingly in the future. Wether with you, or a possible girlfriend ? 

So you do just that. 

You explain to him what is going on. You don’t give too many scientific details, but you explain as best you can so he understands. 

“And every women has it ?” 

“Every women have periods yes. But not everyone’s hurt.” 

“Why do yours hurt ?” 

“We don’t really know. I guess I wasn’t lucky ?”

“Scientists don’t know ?” 

“Well, research on it are rather recents to be honest.” 

“Why ? Women had it long ago too no ?” 

“Yes, but it was a little taboo.” 

“Why ?”

“Patriarchy.” 

“Oh, damn patriarchy.” 

You laugh. You knows he didn’t understand your answer, said as a joke to yourself. But it’s absolutely adorable how he immediately sides with you anyway. 

“When I grow up, I’ll be a scientist. So I can help.” 

“Ah, I thought you wanted to be an adventurer like Indiana Jones ? Or “whatever dad is doing I want to do it too” ?” 

“Well. I can do more than once things at the same time, right ?” 

“Sure you can. You can do anything.” 

He smiles at you, and get closer for a little cuddle. And that’s how Alfred finds you two, your son hugging you, and you hugging him back, on a bench in the streets... 

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

After the initial panic, Dick made it his mission to take care of you. He got really scared when he saw you faint, and would actually be a little...overbearing. 

When he knew you were on your periods, he’d literally forbid you to walk around, and would make sure you had everything you needed. 

His attentions, plus Bruce’s, made you feel like periods weren’t so bad in the end ? 

Even as a grown up, Dick would often come by the manor with your favorite cake, for example, when he knew you didn’t feel well. And he would still get strict with you if he saw you roaming around and getting too busy while he knew you were in pain. 

He’d do whatever you had to, for you. Wether it was cleaning things up, picking groceries...Running any errands for you, so you could rest. 

You were definitely grateful. Even if sometimes, you wish you could just tell him to ease up a bit...Ah. But how could you really ? 

The trauma Dick felt when loosing his parents made him overprotective and rather intransigeant. This was just how he was. And you always loved all your children unconditionally. You could take him being a bit too overprotective sometimes, because oh, oh he brought so much in your life...  

Jason 

You having really bad periods is the reason why when Jason, as a child or an adult, heard anyone say to a girl : “Jeez, why you so moody are you on your periods ?!”, would get mad. 

It was cute to see his little ten years old self lecture grown adults about it : “Periods are really tough on a girl ! It’s not their fault is they don’t feel well or have mood swings, be more empathetic !”. 

And it was still cute to see him as an adult glare at those who’d say this and give them a sermon about why it was wrong, and they better not say it again “or else” (and when a man like your son said the words “or else”, literally no one wanted to find out what he meant by it). 

Once, someone told him, sarcastically : 

“Wow, you drunk a lot of “respect women juice” huh ?” 

“What is that even suppose to mean ? I’m being a decent human being. You should try it sometimes. If respecting women is so foreign to you, that hearing me say what I said is funny and ridiculous, reassess your life mate.”

It’s really not like anyone really wanted to argue with your son. Besides the fact he was very tall, and as a vigilante definitely worked out a lot...he had a “dangerous” air about him. It was his eyes maybe, daring anyone to argue and making them understand he wouldn’t back down without a fight ? 

Ah. But if only people tried to look beyond that. If they only tried to know your son. 

They’d realize he’s the sweetest little buddy around.  

It surprised people that you still called him “little buddy” even as he was fast approaching his mid-twenties. But for you... 

For you he was still that little, sweet Jay he was before he died. The one that you could still see sometimes, behind all his anger, trauma and hurt. 

Ever since he was a child, Jason always felt everything more than anyone around him. He was an “hypersensitive” child. When he was angry, he was enraged. When he was happy, he was the happiest boy on Earth. When he was sad, it was hard to console him. 

When he grew up, and all those bad things happened to him...This trait of his got even more enhanced. It was sometimes hard to reach him under all those negative emotions...Yet. Yet you managed to do it. 

Bruce too...But that was another story. 

For now, you just always felt extremely proud that your son was actually not as harsh as some people thought (the same mistakes they all kept making about your husband...you hated this kind of assumptions). 

He always stood up for the underdogs. And was always respectful, and would voice his opinions. 

Like how he hated when people told women : “ugh are you on your periods ?!” if they were being just a tiny bit difficult (sometimes, not even). 

As a kid, Jason would worry a lot about you when you were on your periods. He hounded Bruce to know if you were ok, which your husband didn’t mind, of course. But he never quite dared to “bother you”. 

Of course, he would never bother you. But Jason was a complicated kid who always worried too much. He didn’t want to get in your way, or annoy you. 

So he had little quiet actions for you. 

Like getting your slippers warm when you’d wake up, by placing them near the radiators all night and putting them right beside your bed before you’d wake up. Or bringing you hot beverages. Baking your favorite treats, and leaving them in strategic places so you’d see it. Or scolding his dad when he thought he wasn’t taking care of you enough haha. 

Jason was a good kid. Nobody would ever change your mind on that. He was a good kid, to whom bad things happened. Yet he never strayed from his principles...No matter how people could see his recent actions. 

Jason was a good kid. 

He was your kid. 

As a child, he hated this week during which you had your periods. He dreaded them as much as you did. Just like Bruce, he had a hard time standing you being hurt...

As an adult. It was the same. And he still had little silent actions to make you feel better. To make your day easier. 

That was Jason for you. 

Such, such a good kid... 

Tim 

Tim, very much like his father, was a boy who needed to always have a plan, and to know everything before finding solutions. 

When you were on your periods, he’d always know. Because he kept a calendar about it. 

Some people might find it weird, but...Why ? He kept count of the days to know when you’d have your periods, so he could act accordingly. So he wouldn’t be caught off guard by one of your mood swings. And so he could take care of you ?? 

It was an act of care, to keep track of your periods. Sometimes, he even knew before you when you were going to have it. 

People who thought it was weird to kept such a calendar, were the same people who thought periods were gross and a taboo subject. 

Sure, it was definitely not very glamorous. But it was part of half of the World’s population life ?? Why keep it taboo and refusing to talk about it ? 

Tim immediately, just like his dad, did a lot of research on women’s menstruations...Which got you to be called in his principal’s office once. 

The man was worried, and unhappy that your son was reading a magazine “for woman” about “menstruations”, he thought the topic was vulgar and inappropriate. 

Your son was 13. Which was also the age many of his girl friends were experiencing their first periods. And that principal was out there, scolding him because he talked about it, making an entire generation of little girls thinking they were wrong for having periods ? 

Needless to say, you got rather mad. And the principle never called you ever again (if he had to call, he was always making sure to get your husband on the line, and not you).

And so Tim kept learning everything possible about it, in the hope also to find the perfect remedies to ease your pain. He tried a lot, to help you out. Gave tricks to Bruce, too. 

And so, kept a calendar. 

This allowed him to know if something was wrong, as well. 

He was the first one to guess you were pregnant with Thomas, because of his calendar. And one time, you had hormonal problems and he’s the one that told you you should check an endocrinologist because you’d been too irregular with your periods time ! 

Yes. Just like his dad, Tim needed to know a situation fully before acting. And seeing him trying to know as much as he could in order to help you was...why, it was the most adorable thing in the world. 

Cass

Cass’ periods were not painful, and you were so glad for her. 

To her, it was a mild annoyance, there was no pain, it was just irritating. And yes, she had mood swings and could easily get mad, but it was nothing major. 

She never even knew other women could have it so bad...The education about periods was really lacking ! They never talked about it anywhere ! 

Cass was a woman of few words...but she knew how to pass her emotions through her body language. Oh, how she knew. 

“Momma.” 

Just like your other kids, she’d come check on you when Bruce couldn’t take care of you. You wanted space sometimes, which they all understood. But honestly, during your periods, when you were so sensitive about everything ? You also wanted them around almost all the time. 

A paradox. Very fitting of those damn periods time. 

Cass would just sit with you, and make sure you were comfortable. She wouldn’t say a word. Lay her head on your shoulder, and hold your hand. Watch movies with you. Hold you close. 

She was delicate with you, as if afraid to break you. 

Just like your husband, her presence had a soothing effect ? As if nothing bad could ever happen to you as long as she was there (and that probably was right, Cassandra would never let anyone touch her “momma”).

She didn’t need to talk. She didn’t need to do anything more than stay with you when you didn’t want to be alone. 

She never experienced the pain you had, but if even to her, who had painless periods, it was annoying and a damn plague ? Then to you... 

She didn’t need to do much. 

Just her being there already meant a lot. 

Her holding onto you, even as she stayed afraid of anyone’s touch for so long. 

“Momma.” 

Cassandra was your only daughter. And oh you were glad her periods weren’t as bad as yours. That’s all that really mattered to you. 

“Momma.” 

You often fell asleep with the warmth of your kiddo right there. Next to you. Knowing she wasn’t going to leave unless you wanted to. Knowing she wish she could take your pain on. 

Ah. But no. No even if it was possible you’d never allow that. You were the mom. YOU were supposed to take their pains on. 

And knowing that Cass never suffered on her periods as bad as you did, was enough. After all, your baby suffered enough in the past...She could get a little lucky, right ? 

“Momma.” 

That word was music to your hear. Cass’ first word to you. 

She didn’t need to talk anyway. Being here was enough...

It was more than enough. 

Damian 

Everyone who saw Damian around you would notice that he wasn’t quite the same boy than "normally”. 

He was calmer, nicer, and sweeter. 

You’d argue that it was his real self. That this was his “normal”. That he was just never allowed to show his true heart before, and wasn’t used to trust others and open up. And you were definitely more than happy that he finally managed to do that after arriving into your home. 

That none of you ever gave up on him. 

You especially had a calming effect on him. After all, he never had a “conventional” mom, who could take care of him when he was sick, kiss him good night and make sure he always had everything he needed. 

Some would say you coddled him too much...And you didn’t care. Because that boy lived 10 years being the opposite of coddled. So what, if you’d cut the crust off of his sandwiches, or read him bed time stories every single night ? 

Damian loved it. As he often said, being a momma’s boy was “hardly something he was ashamed of”. He never felt loved and safe before, you bet he’d take every chance he got to be cared for. 

He never got to act like an actual kid. You allowed him to do just that, AND you made him feel like he belonged. Finally. Like he had an actual family. 

So...The day he heard about your absolutely awful periods, what did he do ? 

Every single day of your life with him, you had at least one nice intention to him. Wether it was baking his favorite cookies, or telling him how proud you were of him, you always had nothing but kindness for him, often going out of your way for your son. 

It was normal for you. Of course. And you did it with all your children...but you had to admit maybe Damian had just a little more of it, because he really never had anything like that to him. 

And to him, it only felt normal then, when you felt at your worst, that he’d be there for you exactly like you were there for him. 

During any mood swings, he’d have comforting words for you. He had little attentions for you that just made life easier. 

Again, it would greatly surprise anyone but his family, but when you had your periods, he did a lot of overly sappy little things. 

Like for example : every month, he wrote seven things he found extraordinary about you and would put them in a jar. Seven. The number of day in a week. And usually the number of day, give or take, your periods would last. 

The jar would be sitting right on your bedside table on the first day, with the indications you had to read one paper every morning, or every time you felt down (it was supposed to be one paper a day). Sometimes, you’d go through his seven messages in less than a day...and magically, the next day, the jar would be filled again. 

Damian made sure of it. 

This was just a small example. But it showed exactly what kind of boy your son really was. 

If he was heartless, a killer, someone destined to destroy the World...would he really put that much effort into making you feel love ? Into making you feel better any way he could ? 

You didn’t think so. The only way your son could ever “turn bad”, was if you (and Bruce) stopped caring for him. Left him alone (A/N : this is a CLEAR jab at current comics canon, if you know what I mean :I ). Only if he felt abandoned, unloved, and rejected. 

You knew your boy had, just like you, “rejection dysphoria”. It was hard for him to accept any kind of rejection, and it made him act out and hurt. But that was another story... 

Right now, all that mattered to you, is that you knew your son was always going to be there for you, just like you’d always be there for him. 

That he finally learned how to love, and care. That he would never unlearn it, as long as you lived. 

Your periods sucked. 

So bad. 

But Damian was a ray of light in the darkness of those seven dreaded days...

Duke 

Duke’s mom also had endometriosis. 

Over the years, he perfected a “special remedy” he always made her when she had her periods. 

He hesitated to make it for you. After all, it was something that made him bond greatly with his own mom...was making it for you, now, acceptable ? Did it mean he forgot about his mother ? 

No. No of course not. 

Duke scolded himself for even thinking that. You too, became his mom. He learned over the years that it was ok, to have two mom. That when they’ll find a cure for his parents, it wouldn’t take away the years you filled in for the mother role, and took care of Duke as if he was your own. 

So here we go. 

Some ginger. Some lemon. A dash of his little secret ingredients. Your favorite blend of tea. And it was done. 

He brought it to you, saying it always soothed his mom...

And just that. 

Just those words. It meant so much. 

“It always used to soothe my mom. Used to do it all the time, ever since I was five !” 

He said with a smile. 

It was something he used to do for his mom, and now he did it for you. Just this. Just that fact, it was enough to make you feel better. 

It didn’t take away the pain, but mentally ? It felt amazing. 

You drunk his concoction and...Oh god. 

Oh god it was disgusting. And...Ah. Yes. His mom probably pretended she liked it. “Ever since I was five !”. Ha. So cute. But also, it really was gross. 

At the same time, you felt a pleasant warmth spread through your body as the terrible aftertaste slowly faded. Duke smiled to you, and with a little mischief in his voice said : 

“It’s really gross, isn’t it ? But it does the trick haha” 

There was a few seconds of silence. During which you blinked at him, not quite registering what he just said. Until... 

You burst out laughing. The little mischievous smile, and the way he said “it’s really gross, isn’t it ?” was just too funny. 

Your communicative laugh spread to Duke, and as he laughs it makes you laugh even louder too and...You forget. 

For a moment you forget about your periods. The pain. The anguish. The emotional labor. This damn week of hell. 

You forget.

And you just laugh. 

You laugh alongside your son. 

Thomas (if you wonder who the H is Thomas, you can check my “Batmom” masterlists, he appears from the story “the great mall adventure” ^^)

Thomas must’ve been about four, when he first saw you having your periods. 

Your littlest baby was also one of the most sensitive out of them all (right along with Jason, the two of them cried their eyes out when they watched “Inside Out” and Bing Bong disappeared). Bruce always said he took that after you. And honestly, you couldn’t disagree. It’s true you could be very sensitive. 

So one morning, when he woke up and went to breakfast and heard you weren’t feeling right, he immediately went to you and...

Bruce found him an hour later, crying in his room. 

“Oh wow hey hey, what is it buddy ?” 

He asked, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Thomas might’ve been sensitive, but he rarely cried. He was just a very empathetic boy. But also a cheerful one, and he had a knack to see the good even in the worst situations. 

So seeing him sob like that, made Bruce’s heart drop. 

“Is mommy going to die ?!” 

It took Bruce a few seconds to get a hold of his racing heart. His son crying. And asking if you were going to die. It shortcircuited his brain for a few seconds. Until he realized what Thomas was talking about...

“Oh, oh no champ, no, mommy isn’t going to die.” 

Your kids were used to see you strong and fierce. Of course the first time your little one would see you on your period, he’d think something big was wrong.

He had just recently learned what death really mean (you can read about this here : The day he understand what Death means), and since then was so scared it’d happen to his parents. Or his siblings. Or anyone he knew, really... 

Picking up his son and slowly and softly tapping his back in soothing circles, he walked around the room and rocked him until the boy calmed down a bit, before trying to explain as best he could why mommy felt bad, without going in in too many details. 

Once Thomas understood this was just like when he got a fever that time, that it would pass, he felt much better. But also worst. Because his mommy wasn’t feeling well ! And it happened often ! 

Bruce reassured him that there were ways they could help you...And soooo : 

Thomas brought you hot water bottles, with the help of his dad (the bottles were almost as big as him), and ended up falling asleep  on one as it laid on your belly (he heard that humans’ body heat was very strong and wanted to “help the hot water bottle”). 

The water in the bottle became cold, and you removed it..Your son didn’t woke up, so you laid him back down on your belly. And he was warm and so tiny, and you loved him so much...It made you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, to be surrounded by people like this little one. 

And all your kids. Alfred. Your friends. Broosh...You fell asleep with sweet dreams made of warmth and cuddles. 

Not long after, Bruce came by to check on you, finding both you and Tommy deeply asleep and...An overwhelming feeling of happiness took him over. 

You weren’t the only one feeling lucky. Except for Bruce...For Bruce it was even stronger, because after his parents died, he never thought he would be happy ever again. 

This was why he’d always be there for you. You gave him another family... 

His schedule was freed, and he had a busy day. A nap sounded perfect. Especially while nestled against you, with his little one right there. 

Dick came by in the afternoon, and found all of you like this. Bruce holding both you and his son, Thomas taking way more space than such a small body would make you thing he’d take. 

Dick snapped a picture, and send it to the group chat he had with his siblings and some other close friends and such (like Clark, Wally, Conner, Diana etc etc they used the group chat to gossip about Bruce, mainly). With the caption : “Big bad bat tamed by a four year old”. 

Cass send multiple hearteyes emojis. Jason said it was adorable and send a crying emoji, and didn’t care one bit what anyone would think of him saying such things. Damian yelled at Dick that he should’ve put the comforter back up on his baby brother and mom because it wasn’t properly put on !! Duke send a : “I’m downloading that picture for the next time he gets mad at us and we need to soften him up”. Tim replied with a gif of Maes Hughes from Full Metal Alchemist saying : “dis dad”. Clark said “they look so peaceful, you wouldn’t believe he threatened me just yesterday to punch me because I made a joke” to which Diana answered : “that joke was so bad I wanted to punch you to. Cute pic btw, give kisses to Tommy for me, you should come see me more, I just stocked my freezer with nothing but ice creams”..Everyone send a little comment about it. 

Because even superheroes, could have normal conversations about those they love. 

Suffering alone is a thing of the past

It’s funny. You couldn’t even remember, now, what it felt like “before”. 

Before. 

Before you met Bruce.

Before that first time he showed up to your apartment to take care of you. 

How were your periods before that ? The worst. 

Definitely. 

Actual Hell.

Not that they were feeling better now. Oh no. There were time your overdramatic self exclaimed : “uuuugh just kill me alreadyyyy” when the pain was too grand...But you weren’t alone anymore. 

That’s what made it a bearable moment of the month. 

It still felt as bad as it used to when you were younger. 

But it wasn’t just you agonizing in your bedroom all alone anymore. 

It wasn’t you wishing you’d have someone to take care of you, and to try and ease the pain. Not anymore. 

It wasn’t you crying with nobody to dry your tears anymore...

No. You had an entire army of people right there just for you. 

Alfred, your children, and most of all...Bruce. 

Your Broosh. 

Ah. If only some people could see this side of him you and your family knew. The caring and loving one. In a way though, it was rather comforting and made you feel special, that only you and your kiddos knew the real Bruce ? 

Of course  nowadays, some of his closest friends like Clark and Diana weren’t fooled anymore either. But they’d never see him the way you did, when you were in unbearable pain, and he was right there, drawing soothing circle on your back, keeping you warm and safe... 

This was only privy to you. 

Your Broosh. 

Yes. 

Your periods were still as painful as they used to. But now...

Now you weren’t alone anymore. 

The end. 

________________________________________________

Hey guys ! I hope you liked this :). As usual, feedbacks and reblogs are always welcomed ! (Especially lately, the reblog ratio seems at its worst haha). And again, I really hope you liked this. I was finally able to sit down and write after weeks of  being stuck in a depressed mood, so I’m quite excited about sharing this. But as usual, always a bit nervous that you’ll be disappointed blahblahblah low self-esteem and all that haha... :). I just hope this is to your liking. Thank you.  

[dreaminpetals]

Uhh um uhh sfw and nsfw headcanons of a maid s/o who became attached to Andrew? 👉👈 thank you for carrying the idv x reader tag you absolute legend

🧺 andrew with a maid s/o

art credit

SFW ;;

♡ the new survivor, the maid, had captured the attention of nearly everybody in the manor for how selfless and hardworking they were.

♡ your role in battle was to aid anybody who requested assistance by ringing a bell. whether it was someone to open the gate or rescue, the maid can appear out of thin air to help in a pinch if they're summoned.

♡ this seeps into how you behave outside of matches. you're an excellent listener and eager to solve the problems of anybody who needs help, whether they ask for any or not.

♡ although the entire manor has their eyes on you, there's one person you want to get to know better more than the others. that would be the gravekeeper, andrew kreiss.

♡ no matter how wounded he was, andrew would never request your experienced hands. even the more reserved survivors would ask for help with menial tasks, but even when risking hospitalization andrew wouldn't want to bother you.

♡ your interactions with him started small. handing him an umbrella on a sunny day, noticing he missed breakfast and bringing him some croissants.

♡ he doesn't like it one bit.

♡ andrew surmised you were only giving him the special treatment out of pity. he notices you giving him extra food? clearly it's because you think monsters have two stomachs rather than one.

♡ you never falter though. no matter how many times andrew pushes you away, you're only filled with more nerve to help him out. also... you have a crush on him.

♡ the most stressful moment of your life was when you were still only friends and you introduced him to sunscreen. you applied it on his face and neck and could feel how hot he was under your fingertips.

♡ being so close to andrew made your cheeks aflame as well, and you prayed that he didn't notice the bead of sweat trickling from your forehead. he was just so handsome and he was trusting you to apply a foreign substance to his face to help with his condition. your heart couldn't take it.

♡ little did you know, andrew was thinking the same thing. he found your furrowed brows adorable and he was grateful that you were helping him, even if it was out of pity. he was so glad someone was there, intentions be damned.

♡ he stopped suspecting you when you kissed a wound on his hand better and pulled him into a tender embrace when he was cold. it took nights of pondering for him to accept that the maid, one of the most attractive and magnetic survivors, liked him for who he was. with the exception of his late mother, nobody had ever cared for him with such love before.

♡ when you finally start dating, you can't stop clinging to him. he towers over you. it's rare for you to be seen not attached to his arm, you're like a koala.

♡ once he's completely certain that your attachment is out of genuine love, he welcomes your help with open arms. he yearns to be understood and nurtured, so someone who can always listen to him and hold him in their arms is a godsend.

♡ andrew is always encouraging you to take breaks and look out for yourself once in a while. he might surprise you with breakfast in bed and a day off if he notices you've been pushing yourself too hard lately.

♡ he admires the help you give everyone else, but he'd be a liar if he denied that he felt jealous sometimes. when you offer people room service he doesn't like your warmth leaving the bed to deliver some tea across the manor. he wishes he could be selfish and cuddle you forever.

♡ when andrew is hurt he loves to be babied. coddle him, feed him, help prepare his medicine. sometimes he feels like he doesn't deserve rest, but he agrees with anything you say, so if you tell him to relax then he's napping on your shoulder.

♡ your attachment to him sends butterflies to his chest. he still can't fathom that you want to be around him as much as he wants to be around you.

♡ when you look up at him with your innocent, loving eyes, he asks you to pinch him in case he's dreaming. life before the maid came to the manor was bleak for andrew but now he has a new reason to keep waking up every morning, his lovely partner and their desire to make everyone's lives better.

NSFW ;;

♡ your dress. he's addicted to your dress.

♡ how it feels to hike the fabric up your thighs is a feeling he'll never grow old of. when it pools right above your stomach and his eyes meet your lacy undergarments he gulps.

♡ the laces and frills are nothing short of intoxicating. he's pumped himself plenty of times to the thought of you slowly removing the dress for him.

♡ he asks you to keep it on for as long as possible. at first you think it's because of modesty and andrew being a gentleman, but really it's because he feels an uncontrollable lust at the sight of you spreading your legs and the fabric revealing more & more.

♡ bonus points if your outfit comes with thigh highs, when you peel them off or he hooks his fingers under them to stroke your warm skin andrew is in paradise.

♡ your role as a maid seeps into your sex life, eager to be ordered around by your partner and give them everything they ask for.

♡ poor andrew can't bring himself to vocalize what he wants.

♡ your dress splayed over his thighs, you ask what he wants and he turns scarlet. the gravekeeper can't say unholy words like dick so all he can do is motion down to the painful bulge in his pants and whimper.

♡ "andrew, i can't help you unless i know what you want!" you chirp with a mischievous grin as he trembles under you. you'd think he was stuck in a blizzard from how intense his shivering was.

♡ "i, hn... inside you," is all he can muster.

♡ when the bows adorning your hair graze against his thighs as you suck him off he'll cry from the featherlight contact.

♡ start off palming his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace to see him come undone. make him beg for you to strip him down and stroke him until he can't take it anymore. he wants to cum so badly but knows he needs your permission first, and he can't ask.

♡ his hands meet his face to hide his raging blush and the drool that spills from his lips every time.

♡ i've touched on this before but andrew loves bath sex. when you're surrounded by pink bubbles and your bodies are connected as one through the warm water, he longs for it.

♡ plenty of times you've bathed andrew and it's lead to you grinding down on his lap, the gravekeeper enamoured by your foamy chest and your forgotten maid dress strewn over the side of the tub.

♡ if he's feeling ambitious, he might ask for you to join him in the bath with your dress still on so he can see it cling to your soaked skin.

♡ the splashes that match his thrusts invoke a downright sinful reaction in andrew. something about the wet slaps of his hips plunging into yours make him want to kiss you deeper and never pull out.

♡ if you call him master kreiss or sir or mister he's cumming, one hundred percent.

♡ when he bends you over his lap and fingers you as a reward for all the hard work you do for others, begging for your master to go deeper and faster sends a blush all the way to his ears.

♡ it's so easy to get him to cum with just your words or a twirl of your dress. he has no clue how to control it, it's like you put a spell on him.

[enmy-writes]

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

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They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off;  barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body. 

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff. 

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest. 

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

[lambourngb]

day 6: lesser known creators and creations- the hidden gems of fandom

Belated for @roswellnewmexicocreate [last few days have been challenging!]

New creators are the lifeblood of fandom, because not everyone stays in fandom or stays inspired to write for it. While there are times I just want to re-read a classic, there really is something fun about clicking on a new name to see what they think of our beloved alien show.

We have very long hiatuses, and sometimes people pull away until the show comes back, so I thought I would also highlight some lessor known creations as well from our last hiatus. As we are blessed in the malex side of fandom, there’s a small but mighty group of fans and creators, churning out new works every day, so maybe you might have missed these works.

***

calamitous by @bubblesyoh (3,962) - Two times they apologize to each other and three times they are so in love they can't even fool one another. 

why i like it: most of us know bubblesyoh as being a supportive friend, reblogging and commenting so prolifically- but they are also an author! Malex have without a doubt hurt one another in canon, and there is an art to writing a good apology fic and this story does it well.

***

kill me tonight, darling by u1ltsa (4.867)-Alex and Michael have a memorable first meeting at a party. They keep running into each other and can't seem to get enough of one another.

why i like it: It’s a human AU where over the course of months, these two keep running into each other. Michael is so smitten in this story and can’t help chasing Alex and how Alex makes him feel. It’s sexy and kinky and ends happily ever after. My favorite meeting is still the bar scene that ends up at a hotel- wow.

***

next time will be the last time by kit alridge (1,715) "It's not how it's going to happen, next time. Because next time will be the last time we do the falling-back-together thing." After a close shave, Alex and Michael come close to falling back into old patterns, but have a much-needed conversation instead.

why i like it: I’m so weak for the “we survived let’s fuck to celebrate” trope, and this story explores what it means for Malex to fall into it, and how closely it mirrors some of their past, unhealthy behaviors. Anyway this hits all the notes that I pray we get in the second half of season 3, where these two finally talk and admit what they want. 

***

tell me what you’ll do, please by @entropychanges (3,054) So, Michael, dripping like a wet mop on the restaurant’s tile floor, stood silently as he looked between the sister of the girl whose murder he covered up only two months ago, and his lover who would rather be sent off to war than be with him. Great. He swallowed, figuring he may as well break the silence.“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if-”“The kitchen is closed,” Liz interrupted, looking him up and down before saying, “but you can stay until the storm lets up.” Or, in which Michael gets caught out in the rain while sleeping in his truck, and ends up taking shelter in the last place he wants to be.

why i like it: Sometimes I like to cry about Michael, especially Michael at 17-18, after the shed. This story serves up all the angst of what his life looked like then, along with the grief that Liz was living in and the grim determination that Alex had about his own fate. They were all such babies and they were in such pain, and ugh that breaks my heart.

***

I’ll take care of you by @cosmiceverafter (2,055)  When Alex stops by Michael's airstream to confess how he's feeling, he ends up taking care of the alien he loves so much instead. 

why i like it: classic hurt-comfort here, which I always eat up with a spoon. Highlights for me in this story was Michael was hurt working on a project from a natural disaster, and not anything self-inflicted, and then Alex finding that iconic picture of the two of them in the desert with guitars. Ooof so many feels!

***

look after you by @ravens-words  Everyone checks in on Kyle. 3x04 Coda

why i like it: well before we had it in 3x06, EJ delivered the whole found-family feels of everyone coming together to make sure Kyle is okay. As they should. Kyle holds the only brain cell. EJ has been a coda-writing machine since returning to RNM with the show, so definitely check out the whole collection for season 3, and not just the chapter I linked to because they are all so good.

***

honey, i’m going to love you all my life by wwwjudedotcom (3,729) Alex leaves Michael a voicemail after he loses his leg because he doesn't want to die without telling Michael that he loves him. 

why i like it: this part of a great little series of fics surrounding prompts about ‘ways to say i love you’ - I’ve probably imagined Alex’s life post-injury in Iraq a million times, I so badly want to know if he dared to call Michael, did he call out for him in his morphine daze, is that how Greg knew about Michael? And I’m unsure if the show will ever answer this question, so it’s up to fanfic writers. Anyway, I love this little AU that lets Maria know just how important Michael is to Alex right from the start and where Isobel sends them to be with Alex in Germany. Ugh what a sweet thought (probably too sweet for the angst machine that is RNM).

[speechlessxx]

Mailing Back The Memories

(Chris Evans x Reader)

Summary: In which the reader reminisces on what was…  

Warnings: self-serve fic, breakup, emotions, slight nudity (but SFW)

Word Count: 2.6k

I hope you guys enjoy!

Your newly purchased bed – that was a full instead of the queen that you grew accustomed to sleeping in – felt too big. Your apartment felt emptier now that his things had been packed up into boxes (that you put off mailing). You never realized how much of his things essentially became yours when he left them behind. He’d always say “keep ‘em, what’s mine is yours” when you brought them up.

You remembered when you came home to your apartment for the first time without him. His jacket that was hung on a kitchen chair welcomed you. Photographs framed were hung on the wall. Polaroids strung through twine like the Pinterest posts you copied. Your cabinets and fridge stored his favorite foods and snacks – that soon became your favorites when your relationship transformed from a fling to a promising future. Even your queen-sized mattress had a Chris-sized impression.

For the first few months, you wallowed in your sorrows. No one could blame you. The relationship was strong, healthy. Neither you nor Chris brought in any toxic traits that nipped at your bond as time went on. Your bond was strong and it felt unbreakable. Communication was effective. Emotions were pure. The intention was to end up at the altar although the question was never officially asked – but everyone knew that’s where you both wanted to go with each other.

None of your friends or family wanted to ask about what led to the relationship’s demise. They were curious, but no one wanted to pry. It wasn’t their business after all. Of course, there were assumptions, but no one truly believed infidelity or toxicity was the cause of the breakup. You and Chris loved each other – anyone could tell just by the way you both would look at one another.

But in truth, every good thing comes to an end. The phone calls became shorter. The getaways were always interrupted. The prying eye of the public wasn’t an issue in your relationship’s earlier days, but when they poked and prodded at your insecurities, it just became too much. When the “I love you”’s felt clipped and forced, you both had to admit something was off. The fire that glowed bright between you slowly faded. And as much as both of you tried to reignite it, the damage was done. And like perfect matches, the relationship had burned out.

It hurt to live in your own apartment, to be surrounded by the memories – his clothes in your dresser and closet, his cologne in your sheets. Hell, even your body didn’t feel like yours. You could still feel his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. Your heart still called out his name on those lonely nights.

But eventually, you found the courage or a faux sense of it – whatever could get you by. With shaky hands, you cleaned up your apartment. You scrubbed at the tiles of the bathroom until they gleamed. You wiped down the wooden floors until they sparkled in the sunlight. You took out the photos in the frames that reminded you of a happier time. The frames were now empty, hanging pictureless on your walls. The twine of Polaroids was taken down completely. The snapshots stored away in a shoebox under the bed. You bought a new mattress – telling yourself you were due for a new one anyway. You opted for a smaller bed, so that it wouldn’t feel as empty (not that it worked. You still felt alone).

You even packed everything that was his into those boxes that sat dauntingly in the corner of your apartment. And although you could fake the confidence – you could tell your friends and family you were doing fine, you could post on Instagram and tweet about new beginnings – you just couldn’t mail back the memories.

It felt like you were closing the door on Chris forever by giving back the pieces of him that you still had.

Like his Red Sox baseball cap –

You laughed and gently slapped the visor of the cap down after Chris made an attempt at a stupid joke. “Hey, hey! Watch it I’m driving!” He retaliated, letting go of your hand to fix the hat. “I’ve already got speeding tickets to pay off. I can’t get into an accident, especially with you in the car.”

You reached over and took his hand in yours, fiddling with his fingers. “You know the hat is a really stupid disguise, right?” You asked. You had the urge to flip the cap off just to annoy him but decided against it, knowing he’d overreact.

“That’s why I’ve got sunglasses,” he said.

“That you don’t wear?”

“There’s no sun.” He clicked his tongue. “I could get you the same hat. We can match!”

You scoffed. “I prefer the Yankees.” You honestly didn’t. You just liked to push his buttons.

He gasped with mock offense. “I think I should just pull over and tell you to walk home.”  He pushed your hand away. You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join your hysterics.

Chris looked over at you. The moonlight was hitting you in a way that made your skin gleam. Your head was thrown back as you laughed, and your eyes squinted from your smiles. You didn’t realize he was still staring at you when you had calmed down. You looked forward and gasped. “Chris, red light!”

His head snapped back towards the road as he passed up the streetlight that glowed the angry color. Thankfully, there were no cars or pedestrians. No one but you and Chris (and maybe the street camera) witnessed it.

“I’m gonna pretend you never said that because I love you.” He told you.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t run the red because I love you … and the Yankees.”

“Ignoring you.”

Or the Montblanc timepiece you bought him for his birthday that he left the very last time he was over –

“You didn’t have to!” He shook his head as he stared down at the watch in awe. “Seriously, babe!”

“No, no! I wanted to get this for you!” You beamed and kissed his cheek.

It was a simple watch. A chestnut brown leather band with gold hardware. It was simple, versatile. Something he could wear on his day to day or for formal events.

“Look on the back!” You urged as he unboxed the watch.

He shook his head and gave you a look of disbelief. He wasn’t into overly flashy things and he didn’t like to put down thousands of dollars on material goods – like a watch. (He owned the same sweatshirt in 2 different colors). Chris loved to spoil his loved ones – he loved to spoil you – but he didn’t know how to react when the tables were turned and he was on the receiving end of expensive gifts.

On the back of the watch, was a small engraving. The man at the store told you that they didn’t do message engravings – “only names and initials,” he told you – but you insisted even when he said that the message would barely be seen.

I love you forever and a day.

It was a stupid, cheesy saying that Chris drunkenly confessed to you one night over the phone back when you two were barely serious. As the relationship heated up, it became a catchphrase, sometimes an apology, a promise. Words that meant the world to both of you.

He began to tear up. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. “Chris, baby, noo! Don’t cry!” You pleaded. “I didn’t think you’d cry!”

He put down the watch and turned his body towards you so that he can engulf you in his arms. You felt wet tears on the skin of your neck where his head took shelter in. You shushed him and robbed the back of his head, soothingly as he cried. You loved how emotional Chris was. He was never afraid to be vulnerable in front of you.

“I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you, baby… Forever and a day.”

Or the painting of you he painted which you had hung over your bed –

“Stay still, (Y/N)!” Chris scolded.

You groaned. “I’ve been posing for the last 2 hours. Are you done, yet?”

“Painting takes time.” He told you. “Stay where you are!”

“The sun’s going down, Christopher.”

Chris had mentioned that he wanted to be a painter when he was younger. You teasingly asked if he was any good – you knew he was (he was good at almost everything). Of course, he never backed down from a challenge.

You regretted saying yes to becoming his personal art model. You didn’t realize you were signing up to sit on an uncomfortable stool nearly stark naked for hours on end. Your arms were aching from holding up the thin scarf that teasingly covered your breasts and draped over your front. Your bottom was sore from sitting on the wooden stool. “I’m getting tired,” you whined. “Couldn’t we just take pictures?”

“No, you wanted to know if I was any good, and besides, painting you in only a scarf is much more intimate.”

“But pictures are intimate, too!” You argued. You had several explicit, teasingly explicit, intimate Polaroids stashed away in your room to prove that. “Plus, I feel like you’re making a Picasso-esque painting and I’m going to be very offended when I take a look.”

“I’m almost done.” He laughed. “And you’re not going to be offended. I promise.” You gave him a playful glare. He seemed a little too confident.

“So, if you’re almost done, can I put on clothes now?” You muttered.

Chris laughed as he glanced up at you from his canvas that was propped up on an easel. He looked you up and down then licked his lips before smirking. “I think I prefer you like this.”

“Perv.”

“Only for you, babe,” he winked before picking up his paintbrush again. He swiped for a few more minutes despite your complaints before dramatically throwing his hands up in the air. “Magnifique!” He exclaimed in – what you assumed to be – a fake French accent. “Come look!”

You hesitantly got up from the stool. Your legs had fallen asleep several times throughout the two hours you were sitting. You covered yourself as best as you could with the sheer scarf – not that Chris minded the view. You made your way over and gasped when you looked over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

Saying that it was “magnifique” was an understatement. No words could describe the artwork in front of you. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Chris had painted you or if Chris painted it at all. He could’ve just bought a painting and had you sit naked in front of him for two hours.

“You did this?” You gaped.

“Duh.” He laughed. “I need to add a few finishing touches. A couple shading here and there. But it’s done. And my poor baby,” he pulled you over to sit on his paint covered lap, “was getting sore and tired.” He kissed your shoulder. “You like?”

“I love!” You said. “I don’t even look like that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you do. You’re a goddess.” He kissed the part of your neck where it met with your shoulder. “You should model for me more often.”

“I think I just might. It’ll boost my ego.” You joked. “I love it, Chris, really.”

“I love you.”

The boxes were full of memories. Memories you couldn’t just ship off. You couldn’t just let them go.

But months after the breakup and several encouraging speeches from your friends, you finally caved. With a nervous sigh and shaky hands, you put the shipping labels on the boxes. You weren’t sure if you should’ve added a letter – a piece of closure for you and maybe for him – but you decided against it. You weren’t sure if you could write down how you felt without breaking down again and backing out of sending them off.

You needed to do this. If not for him but for you.

-=+=-

When the packages arrived, he was very confused. Who sent him boxes? Did he order anything and just forgot? But when he read the labels, his heart sunk. Your name and address printed in small letters on the corner of the label.

He slowly went through the things. The memories unfolding before him as he unpacked. The baseball cap he thought he had lost, the watch he was desperately looking for days ago to wear for a red carpet (it brought him a sense of comfort. It soothed his anxiety knowing he had a part of you with him during big events – during anything really.), the painting of the goddess that ruled over his heart – and still did.

It hurt him thinking that you spent months probably packing away things he had left in your apartment. It hurt him thinking about you crying as you rediscovered each item again. It hurt him staring at the watch that boldly read the promise you both swore to keep.

Dodger, as if sensing his dad’s anxiousness, nestled against his leg. He looked up at Chris with sad eyes and nudged his leg as if to tell him it’s okay, dad, don’t be sad.

“I should call her, huh, bud?” Chris asked his dog. It’s been months. Months since the relationship ended, since the story was over. The pain should’ve dulled by now – for both of you. But it was still there. A sharp, ache that raged in your hearts.

Chris fumbled with his phone. His finger hovered above the telephone icon with mobile written underneath it. Your contact picture smiled brightly up at him.

Don’t do it. Your picture said to him. Let us heal.

Chris sighed and locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he should shoot you a text and thank you for his things back. He wasn’t sure if he should call you and ask for a second chance – would you even want a second chance?

But instead, Chris decided to do the same.

In the next few days, he packed up each and every one of your items that you left in his house. Toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes, Polaroids that you took of him, of you, of both of you. Everything. He shipped them off with a letter thanking you for sending his things back, telling you that if you ever needed him that he was one phone call or text away. He thanked you for your time together, telling you that it was, truthfully, the best time of his life. He ended it with an I love you forever and a day although he wasn’t sure if he should’ve – if you would’ve wanted to be reminded of your sacred promise to each other.

When he shipped it off, he felt as if his home was hollow. He didn’t realize how much of you he still kept around. But he took a deep breath and nodded to himself. It needed to be done.

Chris walked back up to his bedroom. But he didn’t send everything away… He wasn’t ready to shut the door on forever and a day just yet. He pulled the top drawer of his dresser open and pulled out the scarf from the painting. He inhaled. Your perfume was still strong. It still smelled like you – like happier times. He couldn’t let go of every part of you – not yet.

Similarly, you kept one of his sweatshirts. It was an old one that he slept in. It was years old – you often joked it was older than you. You sometimes slept in it. It still carried his scent. A part of Chris you still kept. Similarly, you weren’t dead set on goodbye either. Perhaps – and you hoped – that this was just a see you later.

But nevertheless, this was a new chapter – for both of you. And if the story were to bring you back together, then you would both welcome that. And if not, you’d welcome that, too.

[roses-ruby]

BTS as types of Yandere

Warning: Yandere themes, Abusive relationships, Psychological manipulation, Selfharm, Submission, BDSM mention

The Gentleman.

Seokjin is the perfect man.

Sure, he acts goofy but he’s also handsome and polite. He jokes around with you, he cooks for you, he doesn’t even befriend other women and he’s even a big romantic at heart. Your friends want him and your parents adore him - you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend! So, in return, when he kindly asks you not to talk to other men or not to go out too much, it’s only natural that you listen. You taunt him about his slightly conservative and traditionalist nature. But what kind of a man who was raised with high standards and morals wouldn’t have one? When he tells you not to wear something in public - you don’t fucking wear it. When he tells you you’re going to be a stay at home mom - then that’s the end of the fucking discussion. And if you disobey him, then you deserve to be verbally berated until you change your mind. People call it abuse, but he calls it love. Trust him, he only has your best interest at heart. It’s the only way you’ll learn to obey your man and gain value as a female.

It’s the only way you’ll become his perfect woman.

Lowkey.

You never expected a grown man to be so whiny, especially not one who seemed so intimidating initially. “You were gone too long.” - “Why do you have to leave so often?” - “Who were you with?” - Holy shit, the way he was bombarding you with questions made you feel like you just came back from committing a statewide murder spree, even though you were only gone grocery shopping for approximately thirty minutes. But it’s fine, your husband was harmless. It was definitely strange being married to a rapper. You heard most of their true feelings and inner thoughts only came out when they wrote or performed. So it did worry you when he wrote a song about binding you in a cage and keeping you chained like his little pet. But you passed it off as kinks or some shit. And it definitely worried you when he freestyled about torturing and killing your guy best friend in graphic detail on stage, which ultimately led to said friend cutting off all contact with you. But you passed it off as adrenaline-filled, in-the-moment jealousy. Sure, Yoongi was either testy or silent for the majority of your relationship - but that didn’t mean the “real him” was a temperamental and obsessive psychopath.

...did it?

My way or the highway.

Hoseok made his standards clear for you since day one. This relationship will go by his terms, and only his terms. Which meant he got to go out whenever he wanted, yet you never did. He got to touch you when he felt like it, yet you had to ask permission. He got to have female friends, yet you didn’t get to have any - of any gender. You’ll understand one day, he tells you, but you think years will pass before that time arrives, because the truth was you didn’t and might never truly understand him. It terrified you how Hoseok, the friendliest, most carefree man you’ve ever met, can turn into someone so menacing. Someone who threatens your well-being when even the slightest part of his rule is broken. A section of him was detached, while the other section was a pure freak. All of his punishments were sexual, from bondage to torture. Sometimes you think he punished you on purpose just so he could teach you your place. You’re not sure if he had an addiction to total domination or if he just craved mummification and impact play.

All you know is that he had certain habits, and they all happen to revolve around you.

Daddy.

You roll up the door to your room.

Namjoon knew everything. At least that’s what it seems like. He was the smartest guy in your city - actually no - the smartest guy in your whole country. No other man could ever compete with the intellect and raw talent he possessed. You greatly admired him - which he also knew, of course. The one thing he understood the most in the world was you. He memorized your habits, every inch of your curves, the moles in your skin and even the pattern of your breath. He told you when to eat, when to sleep, who to [not] meet, and what to do for the day. Your needs had never been fulfilled to such an extent until he appeared by your side. And you knew then that no one could understand you better than him - not even yourself, which is why you took his words for scripture. Since then, you’ve done everything he told you to do without question. Crawling into your room, you turn around and roll the cage door back down before settling into one of the cushions in the corner.

It was almost 7, which meant daddy would be home soon, and then you could eat.

Kerosene in my hand.

Today in psychology class you had learned about psychological manipulation. You didn’t want to think like this, but the definition of the word reminded you of your boyfriend. Like when the professor talked about using underhand tactics to change social perceptions, you thought about the time Jimin kept flirting with your best friend until she fell for him, even while knowing you liked him. It led you to completely ostracize her from your life. Or when the teacher mentioned using deceit and lies to influence the thoughts of others, it made you remember the time Jimin told you about the things people were saying behind your back until you lost trust in everyone but him. Somehow, the whole ordeal of being gaslit really resonated with you, and you’re not even sure why. Jimin only did these things to protect you from others, you reason. You shouldn’t think like that - not when Jimin is the only person in this world who cares for you. Regretting what you just did, you beat yourself in the head with your fists in dismay. What kind of horrible person thinks these lies about the person who loves them more than anything?

The pain from your head and heart surrounded you in an agonizing heat as you began to cry, sitting down on your bed to text Jimin. You wanted him to come over, you wanted to tell him what you did and you wanted him to forgive you, so you could forgive yourself. He’d be able to tell your bad thoughts to go away, he’d be able to make you feel safe again. Jimin was right all along - the only thing you ever needed was him.

Artist at heart.

“Say ah~”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh my! Doll, you’re too pretty to be cursing.” Taehyung replies with a gasp, feigning shock as he places the caviar back on his plate. You roll your eyes and scoff. It’s usually a good thing if your boyfriend treats you like a priceless artifact, right? Well, not for you. Not when your boyfriend can actually place a price on you. $10,000 to be exact - $10,000 to a random thug so he could break the arms of the man who asked you for your number in the coffee shop.

“I heard about the man you hired, Tae. How many times will I tell you I’m not an object?”

“Everyone’s an object, doll.” Taehyung smirks, casually wiping his mouth with a linen napkin, “Some are just more...costly than others.”

You stare at the unbothered man in annoyance. His whole room was filled with original paintings, marbled statues, golden gadgets and silver trinkets. And in between it all, you had also started to feel like one of his art displays with the way he dressed you silk and bathed you in luxury - refusing to let others sully you by their dirty looks or touches. But then again, it isn’t too bad, you think as he brings the caviar and cream up to your lips yet again. He never hurts you - he’s never even raised his voice at you. You’re too precious for that, he says. And well, at least you’d never get injured or feel lonely with all the love and care he gives his possessions. So, with a sigh, you bite into the dessert he was offering you and watch him break out into a boxy grin.

He wasn’t so bad - just a little artist at heart.

Baby Boy?

(Are we surprised? No)

Your boyfriend was an enigma. Baby-faced, but with the body of Apollo. But he wasn’t just physically confusing. You had a hard time understanding him mentally as well. For one, he’d sternly tell you to do something but then get all teary-eyed if you dared say no. Then there were times where he’d swear he wasn’t jealous but he’d become green, red and purple at the mere mention of a guy in your life. In bed, he always preferred to be on top but the slightest pressure you applied turned him into a crying and whining bottom. You just didn’t get him, but it was definitely fun to press his buttons. It never occurred to you just how much you might enjoy making a tall-ass, jacked man into a whimpering and pouting mess, but you definitely enjoyed it nonetheless. Other girls would kill to be in your place, you were just so lucky. Everyday you’d get braver with your tests, whether it was flirting with other men or wearing skimpy outfits. His jealousy was endearing and his possessiveness made you squeal with glee. The bolder you became with your crusades, the more you failed to realize that everyone had their limit. And once they’re pushed past it, the consequences can be jarring. Especially if they’re someone as mysterious as Jungkook.

Then again, there was no better way to find out then to try. So keep trying him...just so we can see how lucky you truly are.

_

A/N: I’m back I think? This is for the rock anon, I hope you like it doll ;). anyway i wrote it in an hour and i was telling myself not to make it basic and sht readers read like 100 times in this tag but whaddya know i failed. lmk what you think cause i need a compliment.❤

[ughseoks]

i love you. | knj

— pairing; namjoon x reader / slice of life!au

— genre/rating; fluff / PG

— word count; 1.8k

— warnings; periods (joon buys tampons & brief mention of blood), allusions to pregnancy

— summary; a series of important moments in your life alongside namjoon.

this is a birthday gift for my wonderful, amazing, perfect friend @interludemoonchild​! since it’s her special day, i wanted to write something i knew she’d like. that’s why i compiled all of the joonie drabble prompts she sent me a month or two ago into one singular story! i hope you enjoy, tay :) ilysm!

「 masterlist 」

going on a date with namjoon to an art gallery

On your first date with Namjoon, he took you to an art gallery.

At first, you’d been a little surprised-- art galleries weren’t the most common destinations for first dates. But any apprehension you’d previously felt had melted away almost immediately when Namjoon picked you up, his calm and caring nature immediately feeling like home.

As you perused the gallery, you didn’t share many of your thoughts, the silence of the building settling over the two of you like a blanket. Instead, you moved between the works alongside the taller man one by one quietly, spending more time staring at him than the art itself.

Something about him enraptured you. From the adorable dimples that appeared when he smiled to the way his boots clicked against the wooden floors, you were caught-- hook, line, and sinker. But more than anything, you were awestruck by the way he appreciated the art.

If you were being totally honest with yourself, you could never really appreciate art galleries the way others could. The art was undeniably beautiful, but you’d never had the special reaction that people often talked about-- the one that Namjoon was having. Every so often, he would stop in front of a piece, his eyes growing wide and his breath catching in his throat. He’d stare at it with stars in his eyes, mouth slightly open as the world faded around him, the world reduced to just himself and the work of art.

Without fail, he would look at you a minute later with a sharp turn of his head, apologizing with a shy smile every time it happened. You’d reassure him that you didn’t mind, and you weren’t lying. It was fascinating to watch, and something about the behaviour tugged at your heartstrings.

He’d taken you out for dinner later that night, ears turning red when he accidentally knocked his silverware off the edge of the table with a clang. You’d simply giggled, his clumsiness warming your heart just a little bit more.

When the night was over and the two of you were standing on your front porch, he’d awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning red as he looked anywhere but you.

“I-- I had a really nice time tonight,” he’d admitted, finally making eye contact with you, “Maybe we could, uh, do this again sometime?”

A huge smile had crossed your lips at that, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, giggling when his face flushed completely red. “I’d love that, Namjoon.”

--

sending namjoon to the story to buy things and he’s a wreck, but gets through it with your help

You loved Namjoon. You really did. It’d been about six months since your first date, and you’d never been this happy in your life. Really.

But for someone so smart, he could be very, very stupid.

When you’d woken up that morning to terrible cramps and an almost empty stash of tampons, you’d sent him out on an errand. The task was simple: buy a box of tampons from the convenience store a few blocks away.

It really shouldn't have taken that long, but Namjoon was Namjoon, and he’d apparently never bought tampons before. So, there you were, practically on the brink of death as you texted your boyfriend instructions.

When he finally got home, you’d nearly cried in relief, heart bursting when you realized that he hadn’t only bought tampons-- he’d also bought a pack of Tim Horton’s kcups and a family sized box of honey bunches of oats.

“I knew these were your comfort foods, so I got some,” he’d commented, holding up the grocery bag in one hand with a nervous smile on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long, I just wanted to make sure everything was right--”

He was cut off with an oomph when you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his torso in a bear hug. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, the fabric of his shirt becoming soaked with the salty drops.

“I love you,” you’d cried into his chest, your heart a few seconds away from exploding because of how much love you felt for the man in your arms, “I love you so, so much.”

He’d immediately dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a gentle squeeze as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too, _____.”

--

helping namjoon cook because he’s a mess

“I have a movie request for tonight.”

“If it’s Wall-E, I’m revoking your movie suggesting privileges. We’ve watched it twice just this month.”

“I no longer have a movie request for tonight.”

Namjoon laughed at the pout on your face, reaching over to ruffle your hair playfully before turning back to the stovetop. It was your second anniversary, and Namjoon had insisted on making you a romantic dinner from home.

At first, you’d protested-- after all, neither of you were very skilled in the cooking department. Your microwaved ramen incident had definitely proven that. But Joon reassured you that he wouldn’t burn the house down in the process, along with a promise to order takeout if his endeavors failed.

The dish of the night was simple, but classic: pasta. All he had to do was boil the water, wait for the noodles to cook, and let the sauce heat on the stove. There was almost nothing he could mess up if he simply followed the instructions word by word.

But alas, he was only Kim Namjoon, and thirty minutes later, you were watching Namjoon dip his fries in his shake, giving him a judgemental glare. If he noticed your distaste for his food combination choice, he didn’t comment, opting to press a salty kiss to your pouting lips instead.

--

playing in the rain with namjoon because he loves it

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

You lifted your gaze from the book in your hands, making direct eye contact with Namjoon as raindrops began to patter against the roof of your shared home. They grew louder and louder as the seconds passed, and just moments later, Namjoon grabbed your hand to drag you off of the couch.

Once you were outside, the raindrops kissed your hair and cheeks as you spun around, a childlike giggle falling from your smiling lips. Water splashed up against your red rain boots, the shiny rubber squeaking with each one of your twirls.

Normally, by this point, Namjoon would have already grabbed you around the waist, spinning you around before pressing a kiss to your rain-soaked hair. But after a few moments, you were still spinning alone, and the familiar giggle of your boyfriend nowhere to be heard.

Slowly coming to a stop, you turned your head in search of the familiar mop of brown hair, only to let out a small noise of confusion when you saw him kneeling before you. His baggy jeans were soaked where they pressed into the concrete, wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

He looked ethereal.

“Joonie?” you half-whispered, realization dawning on you as he pulled a small black box out of his drenched pocket. Tears began to mix with the raindrops slipping down your cheeks, your lower lip trembling as you tried to contain your sobs of happiness.

“____,” he exhaled, words barely audible over the downpour surrounding you. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, peering up through his wet bangs to give you the most loving smile you’d ever seen. “I love the way you insist that pizza is pie. I love the way your eyes sparkle while gazing at nighttime cityscapes. I love the way you listen to salsa music until all of the songs begin to blend together. I love how you take care of me; how you pick up the broken pieces of glass without getting annoyed when I accidentally break something. I love you. You are my everything, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You couldn’t control your sobs anymore, shoulders shaking as he opened the box to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you settled for nodding enthusiastically, a grin spreading across Namjoon’s face in response. He immediately stood up from his spot on the ground, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a crushing hug.

Both of you were soaked from head to toe, but you couldn’t be happier when he slid the ring onto your finger, rain kissed lips moving against yours when you captured them in a tearful kiss.

--

namjoon being nervous about having his first kid thinking he's gonna hurt the poor baby but when he sees child his worries are gone

“Joonie,” you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Something’s bothering you. Talk to me.”

Your husband let out a long sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you onto his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck before mumbling. “Do you think I’m gonna be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation, bringing a hand up and carding it through his soft brown locks.

“But I’m so clumsy,” he whispered. You could feel drops of liquid hitting your neck, your heart breaking when you realized he was crying. “What if I drop her? What if I assemble the crib wrong and she gets hurt? I’m just an accident waiting to happen. How can I possibly be responsible for another person? I can barely go a day without breaking something, _____. I’m destined to fail her.”

“Woah, woah,” you hushed softly, pulling back so you could wipe away the tears staining his cheeks, “Joonie, you’re psyching yourself out. You have nothing to worry about, baby. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

“But--”

“Joon,” you pleaded, taking one of his hands and moving it so it was resting on your baby bump, “I have never believed in anything more than I believe in you. I know it’s scary-- even I’m nervous that I’ll fall short-- but you can’t give up before we’ve even tried. Once she’s here, everything will fall into place. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

--

“Hey sweetheart,” Namjoon exhaled, extending his hand out for his daughter to grab. She was beautiful, just like her mom.

Her little finger wrapped around his larger one, tears threatening to spill over as a huge smile spread across his face. Suddenly, all of his worries were gone, any trace of nervousness or fear replaced by an all-consuming love; the kind that felt like it might swallow you whole in the best way possible.

With you and your daughter by his side, he could do anything. He would do anything.

“It’s me. Dad.”

「 masterlist 」

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[fckinsupreme]

Masterpiece - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader - One-Shot

Description: Xavier drops by your art studio and distracts you from a deadline.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Female reader, oral sex (female receiving), breast and nipple play, spanking (brief), dirty talk, unprotected sex, choking (light, brief), and paint use during sex. 

A/N: Anonymous requested -  Hi! Could you do an Xavier x reader where the reader love painting and Xavier appreciates her art along with having kinky paint sex? 

Sorry if this has been done before! 

No copyright infringement intended! Any rights belong to proper shareholders and they deserve the ultimate credit.

__________________________________

The evening pinned up inside of your art studio had been slow, monotonous. You had been there for hours, working to complete a portrait that your local art gallery wished to display for their upcoming exhibit. They had commissioned a portrait of your choice, which meant that you were on a deadline; it also meant that you had to cancel date plans with your boyfriend, Xavier Plympton. You hated having to do it, to see the look of sadness & disappointment etched into his handsome face, but you needed to do this. It was of the utmost importance, something that was very near and dear to your heart, and he understood that. Even still, you wished that you could be with him instead tonight, to be in his arms, to feel his body on yours, to relish in his lips and hands traveling over your entire body…

But the plus side was that you weren’t entirely without his company. The portrait that you had chosen to paint for the gallery was of him, a full-body one with the most exquisite of detail. Bringing him to life on canvas had proven distracting at times, his beauty staring back at you as it became more and more realistic upon the easel. You had to remind yourself, more than once, of the precious seconds that ticked by the longer you ogled it, and how many of those wasted ticks of the clock would result in more time here. He was grinning in the painting, adorned in his favorite lavender jacket, dark purple crop tank top, nice-fitting blue jeans, and his trademark cross earring. It had been his requested outfit, and he’d modeled it for you recently during a lazy Sunday afternoon. The Polaroid of it rested on your easel, tiny flecks of paint scattered about its surface, but not enough to impact the photo itself. You were grateful; you planned on hanging that little picture in your room when this was all over.

Presently, you’re so focused on your work that you don’t hear the studio door open.  You don’t pick up on the footsteps behind you, nor hear the breathy laugh as those feet approached. You thank your lucky stars that your brush was away from the canvas as those familiar arms, muscular and strong, envelop you from behind in a tight hug, nearly lifting you from your seat. You cry out in surprise, ready to elbow the mystery man, before he chuckles lowly in your ear. 

“Surprise, babe.” 

“Xavier!” you cry, both in surprise and playful anger. “What are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t wanna sit at home bored all night without my best girl,” he answers as you turn around. His eyes were on the painting, an awed expression on his own, real-time face. “Wow. That looks really, really good.”

“You really like it?” you ask, tilting your head. “I wasn’t sure that I was doing justice to the Polaroid.”

“I love it,” he breathes, refraining from touching so as not to smear the wet, fresh paint. “You’re so talented, Y/N.”

You can’t help but blush at that remark, watching as he walks around the studio. He observes some of your other works--a monarch butterfly perched upon a red rose, a lighthouse based on a photo you took during a trip to Maine in 1980, a portrait of your best friend that won first prize in a contest a couple years ago. He pored over each one as if they were sacred works of Dali or Picasso, face lit up as he glances at you. He slowly strides back to where you’re standing, his hands on your waist as he gives you a tender kiss. 

“I love your work,” he murmurs against your lips, giving your waist a squeeze. “I’m pretty lucky to have such a talented girlfriend.”

That comment results in you bringing the brush, still covered in a small bit of paint, across his cheek in a playful swat. You both giggle, with Xavier gathering a tiny amount from his face and smudging it over your cheek in return. You offer him a look of faux shock, gliding the brush across his other cheek as he howled in false derision. You drew your hand back as if you were going to paint his nose, but he grabs your wrist in order to still your movements. He lowers it slowly, his breathtaking blue eyes on yours as he leans in for another kiss. 

You expect nothing less than his needy, raw kissing, the type that became something of his trademark. That’s why you’re stunned when he starts the kiss off slow and gentle, his large hands still planted firmly upon your waist. Your hand, the one holding the brush, creeps up one toned arm, settling there as his lips move against yours. It doesn't take long for that familiar style to show itself, his lips parting as his tongue darts over your closed mouth. You open your lips to grant him access, his tongue swiping past your own as your hand moves further upward. The brush falls to the ground behind Xavier with a dull clack!, lying forgotten as you mewl lightly into his mouth. He tastes of vanilla and a hint of cinnamon, and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no better taste in the whole world. 

“God, I fucking missed you today,” he pants, fisting your hair as he presses his hips to yours, his lips attacking your neck. You can feel that he’s already started getting hard, and you move one hand between your bodies to palm his forming erection. “Mmm…yeah, baby. Do you feel that?”

You nod with a smirk, grabbing the belt loops of his pants before unfastening them and tugging his belt off. “I missed this,” you say in his ear, tugging his cock free from the confines of his pants. “I’ve been aching to touch you all day.”

“Maybe you should paint that next,” he suggests jokingly, moaning as you begin pumping him. He hardens even more in your hand, and encourages you to push his pants & boxers around his ankles. He steps out of them, cock now fully freed. “Or...mmm...sculpt it. Make your own dildo with my cock as the prototype.” 

“Why would I do that when I have the real thing?” you purr, tugging your shirt off before he does the same with his. “The most amazing dick in the world, and it’s all mine.”

“Damn right,” he says, pulling you close for a messy kiss.

The rest of your clothes and his soon fall to the floor, between sloppy, breathless kisses and your hands wandering all over each other’s exposed skin. His mouth trails down your bare chest, his face buried in your breasts as he peers up at you. Looking into those eyes, so full of raw desire, makes your heart flutter. How had you been so lucky to have someone like Xavier? He was like a dream and yet, here he was--as real as air and all yours. Gazing at him and getting lost in the feeling of his mouth, now moving down your stomach, almost made you forget--

“Fuck,” you say with mild panic. “Xavier, I need to get back to work.”

“Mmm,” he hums, his open mouth situated above your pubic mound. “Later, babe. Right now, I want you to relax with me; you deserve it.”

“I have a deadline,” you say, but make no attempt at stopping him.

“It isn’t due for, what? Another four or five days? You can pull an all-nighter sometime if you need it, but it looks almost done to me. Come on, baby. Let me take care of you tonight.”

You chew anxiously on your bottom lip, but you realize he’s right. Two more days, tops, and it would be complete. What was one night of some much-needed fun going to hurt? Especially when you were fully aware of how much fun sex with Xavier actually was. He wasn’t like any other man you’d ever been with: He wasn’t afraid to be funny during the act, he giggled when it was appropriate, he wasn’t afraid to be loud and vocal, he absolutely loved making you feel good, and he felt like heaven inside of you. He also wasn’t an asshole when it came to going down on you, unlike most of the other men who only did it to get their dicks sucked in return. He truly enjoyed it, he was enthusiastic about it and never expected a blowjob for it. 

How could you turn him down any other time, but especially in an instance when you needed it most? It was the best way to de-stress that you could think of, and he was offering it to you. Why not take it?

“Okay,” you finally say. “I think letting my hair down tonight is just what I need. I wouldn’t be able to focus this far in, anyway.”

His grin was beatific, nearly splitting his face as he stands from the paint-splattered concrete floor. He coaxes you toward a large, wide table with paint bottles & plastic sheets strewn about its surface, pushing you onto it after sliding the sheets to the ground. An open bottle of bright red paint is knocked onto the table amidst the chaos, and any other time you would have been irritated. But you were too lost in the moment and in your own lust to care, and you delight in the fact that more bottles remained within reach. They’re mostly closed, but the ideas that form in your head surrounding them are numerous and spectacular. 

The cool, liquid feeling of red paint fills your entire back, and you pull Xavier on top of you in a heated, saliva-filled kiss. One idea that you had only seconds before comes to the forefront of your mind, your tongue exploring the roof of his mouth as you reach for some paint. You grasp a bottle of standard blue, and squirt some onto his back once the cap was popped open. He gasps in shock against your lips, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he only kisses you even harder, your hands smearing the paint to form a blue canvas on his skin. You bring your hands around to the front, trailing streaks of blue over his chiseled torso. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes as you tweak his nipples. “Do you like that? Do you enjoy making a mess out of me?”

“You know it,” you tease, licking over his tongue as you wiggle a bit. “You kinda started it, though. You knocked over the red and now I’m lying in it.”

“And you covered me in blue,” he says in amusement as he catches sight of your paint-covered fingers. “Do you wanna make purple?”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. “That’s the corniest line I’ve ever heard, Xavier.”

“It may be corny,” he whispers, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “But my perfect cock pounding into your pretty, dripping cunt won’t be as much.”

You whine, biting your lip as he flips you over. You’re on top of him now, his back in the puddle of red. He gathers some on his fingers, massaging your breasts as you moan appreciatively. You grab the bottle of blue again, handing it to him with a mischievous grin. He gets the idea, squirting some onto one palm and rubbing his hands together. He swipes them over your breasts, relishing in your lewd moans and the way that the red paint on your skin soon turns purple. You reach down to place your hands in a small amount of red, running your hands over his blue chest to achieve the same effect.

“So pretty,” he marvels, eyes glued to your erect nipples as he gives your ass a hard spank. His fingers ghost over your clit, before pinching and rolling one nipple between his fingers. “All painted up, desperate, and soaking wet. Did you know that purple is my favorite color? It looks so damn good all over those pretty tits.”

“Xavier,” you mewl, head falling backward. “Don’t be a tease.”

He winks at you, shifting you onto your back again. He ducks between your legs, mouth immediately settling over your clit. Usually, he’s more into the build-up, in absolutely doing everything in his power to rile you up past your limit, but tonight he’s wasting no time. He grips your thighs like a vice, leaving lines of purple in his wake as he begins to devour your pussy. His skilled tongue flicks over the small, sensitive bundle of nerves, soon massaging your folds with his mouth as he gazes up at you. Your eyes meet his, the lust in your eyes mirrored in his own, as your hands bury in his hair. He gives a soft yelp in protest, not wanting to get paint in his hair, but upon seeing red paint clinging to your own (h/c) locks, he’s less prissy about it. He guides his tongue along every crevice, every lip, every inch that he can reach, his chin coated in your juices. You groan, tugging his frosted hair before running one hand down his pierced ear. The cross earring that you love so much is smudged with a tiny bit of blue paint, and you hum as you admire it for the smallest second. 

“You taste so good,” he remarks. “As always. I missed your sweet taste, babe.”

“I missed your mouth,” you say, rutting into his face before he shakes his head back & forth rapidly against your core. “Xavier!”

“Y/N,” he purrs, smears of red paint on your hips from where his fingers had yet again dipped into the running puddle. “You’re so hot.”

“Not as hot as you,” you purr seductively, arching off the table as his full lips envelop your swollen, drenched clit. He sucks generously, tongue swirling madly as your legs begin to quake. He hums loudly against you for vibration, and your eyes roll back slightly. He wipes his painted fingers off on his thigh, making sure there’s no fresh remaining before pushing two of them inside of you. His hot, wet mouth is still on your cunt, his hums growing louder as his tongue swipes more urgently against your clit. His fingers pump and curl against your spot, juices spilling onto his hand as you feel your stomach beginning to tighten. “Xavier, I’m gonna cum. Please--”

“Not yet,” he growls, running his free hand up the entirety of your thigh. “You can’t cum yet, baby girl.”

“But--” you begin, whining softly when he withdraws his mouth & fingers, crawling up your body in a slow, teasing manner.

He says nothing as he grabs a bottle of yellow paint, squirting it into his hand. He uses that same hand to grab your throat, but not too hard; just enough to keep a firm hold on you. Ravenous baby blues scan your face, smirking as you grin around his grip. A green color, mixed with swirls of red and purple, starts to form on your neck, and Xavier admires it as if it’s the most beautiful color he’s ever seen. And maybe, just maybe, it actually was. 

“I want you to cum around my cock, babe,” he says as he releases your throat. “I’ve been craving it all day.” 

He pins your hands above your head by the wrists, and you give him a consensual nod. He keeps your hands pinned with one of his own, the other gliding down to guide his cock inside of you. You both groan in satisfaction, and you don’t even care about the fact that he had some paint on his cock as it went in. After all, he still had some on his fingers earlier, a bit drier than that on his dick had been, so what was a little more? How could you give a fuck, anyway, when he felt this damn good? He throbs inside of you, and you could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulsation of his erection as he pushed even deeper within. You clenched around him instinctively, soaking in his moans as you did so. 

“So tight,” he groans, letting go of your arms. “Fuck.”

“You’re so big, Xav,” you gasp, leaning forward to press kisses over his neck and clavicle. “I love it.”

He purrs at the praise, thrusting sharply to fully seat himself inside of you. You grab the back of his neck, looking into his eyes before observing the painted, cum-soaked mess of his face. His hair and upper chest are also covered in paint, swirls of the various colors used decorating him like a living, breathing canvas. You can feel drying paint on his back as your hands explore the muscular expanse, your cunt squeezing him again before he starts properly thrusting. One of his hands begins to roam your side and your thigh before gripping your throat a little harder than he had previously. His other hand supports his weight, although he struggles one-handed as his hand slides in the congealing paint on the table. He presses forcefully on your throat for a moment before using it to prop himself better, absolutely pounding into you after finding his newfound footing.

“Jesus,” you whimper, moaning in his ear as your hold switches from the back of his neck to settle in his hair. “You feel so good pounding into me, Daddy.”

He chuckles breathlessly at the nickname, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in harshly. Your hand is still paint covered as it fists in his hair, some a bit fresh and other old and drying, coloring the locks purple, red, and even a small bit of green. He isn’t objecting, still mercilessly fucking into you as he kisses you hungrily. His noises of pleasure vibrate against your lips, your own noises filling his mouth as his cock brushes repeatedly against your sweet spot. He pulls back after a little while, completely admiring you. He looks at you as though you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen, his hips slamming into yours. His balls slap against your ass, so big and heavy, and you can’t wait to feel him cumming inside of you. It becomes a craving so intense that it’s an itch you can't scratch; the only way to satiate it is for him to cum, to give you exactly what you both want him to.

“Xavier,” you mewl. “I can’t wait for you to cum, and I want it you to do it so fucking deep. Will you do that for me? Will you cum inside of me? Will you let me milk that perfect fucking cock of every drop?”

“Fuck yes,” he pants, the hand that had previously been planted within the red puddle now grasping your jaw. “As long as you scream my name when you cum. I want anyone close by to hear you. I want them to know how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Back at it with being cheesy, I see,” you joke, and you receive a light warning tug to your hair in response. “Mmm...okay, okay. I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” he praises, mewling hotly in your ear as your nails dig into his painted back. “I fucking love your pussy, babe. I can’t say it enough.”

“I know you do,” you say, the red paint beneath your back making a squelching sound with each thrust. You were surprised that any remained on the table’s surface, or that it was still wet enough to produce such a sound. Then again, maybe you were confusing it with the noises of him fucking into your sopping cunt; it was shockingly similar to your ears. Then, another idea forms in your head to find out what the sound truly is: “I wanna ride you.”

“I won’t complain about that,” he says, flipping you over so that you were on top of him, his cock still deeply embedded inside of you. “You look like a goddess when you bounce on my cock.”

You set a steady pace, trying to keep the fast one that he had set. You soon realize that the noise was not, in fact, caused by the paint but by the sex itself. It almost echoes in the surrounding space, along with the sound of both of your moaning & heavy breathing that signaled your upcoming climaxes. You move up and down, slamming onto him with every movement downward. You make sure that he rams into your G-spot each time, wanting to feel his engorged head against it with each bounce of your hips. Xavier’s hands, now a red-green-purple mix, explore your waistline and hips, traveling to your breasts eventually and giving them a fresh splash of color. You rest your hands over his, losing yourself in the sensation of the dried paint on his hands against your sensitive nipples.

Your head lolls back, soft sighs of ecstasy spilling from your lips. He tugs your nipples, rubbing them in circles before pulling you down. You keep working your hips, chest level with his face at this point. Painted tits bounce in his face with the momentum of you fucking yourself onto his massive length, one of your hands above him to brace yourself as the other toys with your clit. He runs his tongue along one hardened nipple, paying no mind to the taste of the paint. The amount was minuscule, but you know it had to taste like shit; it was fucking paint, after all.

“I guess it’s fortunate that I only use non-toxic, acrylic paint, hm?” you tease, which causes him to hum. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking softly. “Isn’t the taste of that pretty nasty?”

“It isn’t the worst thing ever,” Xavier replies, face now positioned between your jiggling breasts. “It’s not pussy, but it’s alright. Pussy is the best flavor in the world, you know that.” 

You laugh softly at his comment, sitting back up and swiveling your hips as you toss your hair from your face. He moans thickly, and your hands bury in your own paint-covered hair. His hands continue to run over your body in a colorful pattern, your own finding his chest as one rubs wildly at your clit again. You know that he wants you to cum first, you can sense it by the look in his eyes and his attention on your sensitive breasts, his fingers working magic on them. He pinches and rolls the nipples, occasionally giving your tits a hard squeeze. You know that your orgasm is quickly approaching, and you open your mouth to warn him of it.

In response, Xavier forcefully grabs your tits, holding on so hard that you fear they may bruise. It doesn’t really faze you that much for long, though; in fact, it only fuels your orgasm and you finally cum so hard that stars begin dancing across your vision. You scream his name as you promised, scratching down his chest through the valley of red and purple, nail marks revealing pieces of his pale skin underneath. His hold is on your hips now, holding you firmly in place as you soak his cock in your sticky, milky essence. Your head is swimming, and as you hit your high, you’re vaguely aware of him guiding your hips along his cock to chase his own release. 

“Babe,” he rasps, darkened eyes drinking in the sight of your body atop of his. “God, you’re a fucking porn star. Look at you.”

“I know,” you say, a dazed grin on your face. You clench around him, trying to coax him to his own orgasm. “Go ahead, Xav. Cum inside of me.”

He bites his lip, eyes on your heaving, moving breasts. He can no longer contain himself at the sight, shooting his hot load deep inside of your pussy. You feel his cock twitching, his balls nearly draining completely within you as he gives you all that he can. It feels too damn good, and you don’t want to move off as he finishes. He moans your name before it falls repeatedly from his kiss-swollen lips in a breathy chant. You smile, reluctantly lifting your hips as you feel him becoming flaccid. He hugs you to his chest, lying you next to him in order to hold you. His painted fingers play with your stiffened hair, and he’s laughing after a small beat of silence. 

“What?” you ask, propping your chin on his chest.

“Nothing,” he says, running his fingers down your cheek in a tender manner. “It’s just that you’re officially the prettiest piece of art in this room.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say teasingly, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re on a roll with the corniness tonight.”

“It’s true!” he says in protest with a mock pout. “You know I’m right, babe.” 

“No, you’re wrong,” you say with a wink. “The prettiest artwork here is you. You already look like a statue of Adonis, and that dick? That is a work of art in and of itself.”

“Don’t forget my balls, too,” he jokes, and now you’re rolling your eyes for real.

“Dork,” you laugh, leaning up for a gentle kiss. “But honestly, the real art is your pretty face and that bone structure.”

He’s silent for several minutes, both of you basking in the afterglow. Then, his laughter rings out again--this time, more of a chortle. You look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion over what he could be laughing about now. You almost speak, but he answers before you get a chance to. 

“You know how they have those paint canvases that are, like, huge?” he asks, and you nod. “Well, I was reading in Playboy awhile back that people have sex on them, covered in paint, and it makes really cool art. Like sex art made by real sex.”

“And why were you reading Playboy, Mr. Plympton?” you tease, trying to hide your smirk and failing. “Hm?”

“For the jokes and the articles,” he says, putting up a serious act that backfires when he scratches the back of his neck. That’s how you always knew he was lying, that damn neck scratch. “And okay, yeah, for the naked chicks. Who, by the way, aren’t as hot as you. They have fake hair, fake tans, fake bodies, and then there’s the fact that some of them don’t even--”

“I get it, babe,” you interject with a chuckle. “I actually have canvas like that here. It’s like a sheet and it’s pretty big.”

“You’re saying you wanna try it?” Xavier asks, eyes big with both excitement and surprise. “For real?” 

“Why not?” you say, sitting up with a wide grin. “It could be fun, and I could display it in here. Tell people who may stop by that I made it with my boyfriend.”

“Mmm,” he hums, licking his lips. “Go get it, baby.” 

You offer another wink, sliding from the table. You know that you’ll be cursing the whole situation later in the shower, trying to scrub layers of dry paint from your hair and skin, but for now, that didn’t matter. You desperately needed this night of letting loose and having the fun that you’d been deprived of lately. Trying new things was definitely an option, and you were determined to make the most of it. A sex canvas seemed to be the icing on the cake, and as you retrieve a spare canvas and some extra paint from your storeroom, you knew this night would be unlike any other.

To hell with the deadline. If you somehow didn’t meet it because of this, you had a feeling it would be more than worth it. 

___

Taglist!

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[mahizli]

Sparks of Hope (Obi-Wan, 1 BBY)

Art by agarthanguide and final part of ‘Sparks of Hope’.

***

The stars had adorned the evening sky once more, and the desert was painted in inks of azure and violet. The suns had set, and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting alone on a rock, watching the jewelled sky.

But he was not alone.

He had never been alone, not even as a tiny infant. Not in all these years where he had breathed in, and breathed out, the Force bathing each of his atoms with light, and love.

The Force was infinite, the Force was everything, and Obi-Wan was just a small, breakable vessel who would return to its currents once more.

Soon, my Padawan.

Qui-Gon’s voice echoed in his mind, reverberating deep within his chest where strength and steadfastness lay, and Obi-Wan breathed out.

“I know, Master.”

There had been such holes in him. Such cracks, and scars, and wounds, and fissures. There had been times where Obi-Wan had felt so lonely, so cold under the unforgiving heat, alone with the ghosts of people he had loved, and lost.

But he had not.

And the Force had filled those holes, one by one. Cradling him, first, curling around him, kissing his tears away. Embracing his infinite sadness until all was left was silence. Then wonder. And finally peace.

Obi-Wan had longed for peace, more than anything – almost ever since he could remember. Even as a tiny-limbed boy, he had sought for it – in the Temple’s Gardens, in Master Yoda’s eyes and silvery Force-signature. In the Archives, bathed in azure light, where knowledge used to sing. In Qui-Gon’s silence, whenever his Master closed his eyes, basking in the moment.

And later as a Jedi, through his very crystal, immersing himself into Soresu, finding a rare form of elation as he practised the katas, travelling unknown ways along with Luminara.

You are my twin moon, Obi.

“And you my twin moon, Nara”, he whispered, like so long ago, feeling the cool, serene Force-brush on his very brow, shuddering slightly, even though it did not hurt anymore.

It did not hurt anymore, because Nara was right there, within him and around him. As was Kit. And Quinlan. And Mace. And Plo. And Shaak. Adi. Aayla. Vokara. Ki-Adi. Jocasta. And Ahsoka.

Do not weep, Obi-Wan. Do not be sad.

“I am not”, he whispered, but even now, after all these years, tears still sprang to his eyes, because Obi-Wan was human, and frail, and mortal. “I am not sad. I cry because I love you. Because you are still there.”

Sweetest pea of Coruscant...

Obi-Wan smiled through his tears, and reached out for Shaak in the Force, feeling the ghost on fingertips run through his hair, like so long ago, when his hair had not been white, but fiery and baby-soft.

We will never leave you.

This was Mace, steadfast Mace who had stood like the pillar he was against the raising darkness. But it was also Plo, who had fallen under the fire of Men he loved. As had Ki-Adi. And Aayla. And so many more.

At the beginning of his stay here, Obi-Wan had whispered all their names, like an endless litany, like pearls of an ancient rosary, every night, on and on, until his voice was hoarse and his eyes burning with exhaustion instead of tears.

He had shed so many tears for the children, for the small Initiates and the young Padawans, during the night and even under the searing suns, until his body felt like nothing more than a dry well.

Until he planted the seeds Beru had given him, and watched the Funnel flowers blossom, green and tender as they all had been.

Master Obi-Wan…

The voices rose like silver bells, and Obi-Wan wiped his cheeks, facing the stars once more, because this – this still hurt, deep within.

Master Obi-Wan, what is the lesson we tried to teach you?

“Oh, dear ones…”, Obi-Wan breathed out. “I… I know. I am… I am so sorry.”

Can you say it aloud, Master Obi-Wan?

The tiny voices were playful, and Obi-Wan straightened, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, immersing himself deep within the Force.

“What happened to you is… it is not my fault.”

Force, how the words felt wrong in his mouth still.

It does not count if you do not believe it, Master Obi.

“I… I still struggle. Forgive me.”

We know… We forgive you…

It still made him cry. Because he had struggled so much to forgive himself, was not even sure to have achieved it entirely yet.

You forgave me.

The voice was fierce in the Force, and Obi-Wan exhaled, opening his eyes once more, reaching out through the Cosmic Force once more.

“Yes. Of course I did.”, he said, very softly, remembering yellow eyes in a gaunt, dark and red face.

Eyes that had turned to gold, as the Force had finally welcomed him back.

“I broke you. And you broke me back. It was an unending circle, Maul. And you were not the one spinning it.”

The Force was silent for a while, and Obi-Wan thought back of this moment, a year ago, when he had drawn his lightsaber for the last time. For Luke. For the Light.

His crystal had stayed silent and hidden ever since.

He had tried to bring balance once more. Tried to mend what had been broken.

The Sand people, first, who were still making offerings to their secret shrines, fearful of the desert demon Anakin had become in their minds. Obi-Wan had meditated close to these shrines, countless times, diffusing the Force with calming, peaceful currents.

You are safe. He will not harm you again.

There had been no more raids towards moisture farmers either, Obi-Wan had made sure of that. No more fighting for dominion in the desert – but protection towards everyone.

I told you so, Obi’ka.

“Yes, dearest”, he whispered. “I know you abhorred violence, and preferred neutral solutions. I suppose using Force currents isn’t entirely neutral, though…”

Well, it depends…

He loved the playfulness the Force always conveyed through Satine’s presence. It felt like a gentle warmth, against his spine. Something to lean on.

Padawan. One day, you will have to face him.

Qui-Gon’s voice was a grave reminder, and brought Obi-Wan back to the night and the desert once more.

Him.

His Padawan, who had committed atrocities Obi-Wan still struggled to believe, even after decades. Who was still alive, in a black, terrifying armour, circling the Galaxy and coming nearer and nearer in the Force, forcing Obi-Wan to shield, fiercely, and mute both his and Luke’s presences.

There is still goodness in him.

“I know, Padmé.”

Anakin had burned like the fiercest light in the Force. His Padawan had harboured the raw, explosive strength that came with true power – but there had been wounds and cracks in his soul Obi-Wan had failed to see and mend.

No, Padawan.

Obi.

Master Obi-Wan.

“He was… too attached”, Obi-Wan whispered. “To those he loved. To you, Shmi. To you, Padmé. To you, dearest Ahsoka. And… to me.”

The night cradled Obi-Wan, the stars kissed his hair like every eve, on the high peaks of the Western Dune Sea. He was cloaked in his brown robe, the one marking him as a Jedi, but could as well be a farmer’s or a traveller’s.

“It sprang from love. I know it sprang from love. But he was misled. Darkness surrounded him from the very first day.”

Sidious.

Once more, Maul’s fierce whisper echoed through the Force, the name resonating like a curse.

“Sidious. And fear. And loneliness. And pride. And a sense of exception that turned into expectations so crushing and contradictory it breached his very soul.”

Do you pity him?

Ah. This was the stern voice of his Grandmaster, who spoke very rarely to him, but whose words Obi-Wan had learned to mark.

“I do. I do feel nothing but compassion and love for Anakin. But, if I have to strike down Vader to free him, I will.”

Are you willing to lay down your life, for him?

It was a test – one more test. Obi-Wan knew it, had been used to the Force’s teachings, who often chose to spoke through voices he loved. So Obi-Wan searched his heart, thoroughly, and let the Force flow through him before he answered.

“Not for him. But for balance, for peace… I am.”

The voices were silent, for a while, becoming one with the Force once more. They were all so close. So close to Obi-Wan now. Sometimes his very atoms seemed to resonate with theirs, separated only by a tiny veil from their very essence… Parts and sums alike.

Soon, my Padawan.

Qui-Gon’s voice echoed once more – a prophecy, a warning, perhaps. But to Obi-Wan, it sounded like a promise.

Like small sparks of hope, shining like a beacon in the infinite darkness of the sky, flooding the Force with light.

FINIS.

[wof-reworked]

Moonwatcher + plants

-Moon is used to being alone. It doesn’t really bother her to spend her time somewhere away from other dragons, if anything, it’s a bit of a relief to be away from them, to get some silence both mentally and literally.

-This leads to her spending a lot of time in her room or the library, eventually just turning into her periodically borrowing scrolls and then returning to her room to read them

-With all this time to herself, she starts to notice how barren and closed in it is, not the most friendly environment. 

-She starts gardening at a certain point, beginning with small, shade friendly gardening pots in her and Kinkajou’s room. It’s nice, to be surrounded by living things that don’t demand anything from you except some water and sunlight.

-Kinkajou is delighted by it, being best friends with Tamarin means she knows a healthy amount about plants, and is more than willing to help push Moon in the right direction in the beginning.

-This also brings Moon and Tamarin closer together too. It’s... nice, to be included and to feel like you have something in common besides just both having a mutual friend, and Moon finds herself really enjoying Tamarin’s company. Slowly, Moon starts joining Kinkajou and Tamarin’s hangout sessions together.

-(Most of these hangout sessions involve lying in a pile together braiding flowers together and exchanging information while snacking on fruit. It’s the most relaxed fun Moon’s had in years)

-When she’s older and has her own place to live with Winter and Qibli, she starts filling the house with plants,

-It’s lovely at first, and then turns more into clutter, especially since there’s only so much sunlight to go around, with every window and patch of sunlight crowded full of pots, each reaching to the sun.

-With a small intervention from Qibli and Winter, she transfers quite a few outside, lining their house with bright flowers and thick leaves opening out to create a soft little wall of green. 

-The crown jewel of her gardens is the greenhouse, built as a surprise gift from the combined efforts of Qibli/Winter/Kinkajou

(Qibli distracts her by taking her on a celebratory birthday travel to the Sand and Sea Kingdom to look at rare books and say hi to Turtle while Winter puts his scavenger sanctuary building skills to use and Kinkajou, in her words, “provides moral support”.)

-Moon adores it. The humidity and the greenery remind her of the rainforest, and if she closes her eyes, it feels like being a small dragonet again, waiting for her mom to come and see her. 

-It becomes her baby and stockpiled full of her favorite jungle plants, each one cared for meticulously until they fill the whole space, leafy vines crawling up the glass over neat beds of verdant plants and bright flowers. 

-The more she works on the greenhouse, the more it becomes her safe space when she’s stressed, or angry, or especially: worried or anxious. 

-At her worst, she’s fallen asleep there, curled up between the rows of plants and letting their soft rustling coax her into rest.

-(There’s a bunch of scenarios you could do with this, maybe her greenhouse burns down sometime or w/e, go wild)

-Moonwatcher also learns how to cook through her garden, having plenty of herbs/vegetables/fruits now to make into... something.

-Since cooking in Pyrrhia is more for show than every-day life, a lot of what she makes is simple snacks for Qibli/Winter, things like jam/dried fruits/fried vegetables/occasionally little tarts and pies.

-(Qibli snacks on all her carrots and she pretends to be mad about it but makes a note to plant more for him and not-so-secretly leaves them out in their common space)

-Qibli is keen to learn along with her and help, though his baking skills in the kitchen are a bit... lacking.

-(you cannot possibly tell me this man would have the chops to follow a recipe properly, I’m sorry but Qibli is 500% the person to go “we can just add [vague, nonsensical amount of necessary ingredient] and it’ll be fiiiiine” and have his baked goods turn out completely weird, if he doesn’t manage to set on the oven on fire in the process anyway cause he forgot about it. He’s not hopeless but he can only cook like maybe basic cookies and any sort of thing that follows a “just fry it for like 10 minutes” recipe and that is it)

-Moon kind of balances this out, but most of her cooking sessions with Qibli are more about them just having a good time together rather than,,,, producing something edible. 

-Winter is better, but doesn’t really enjoy cooking that much, though he’ll help if asked. Mostly he’s happy to eat what Moon makes, as well as occasionally (of her own volition) getting her to help cook food for his scavengers

-Since both Qibli and Winter are away quite a bit (Qibli’s still very much dedicated to Queen Thorn, and Winter has been known to spend days away at the scavenger sanctuary), part of Moon’s way of welcoming them back is by presenting them with pre-cooked food she’s made

-(Both of them also bring her food along with them, just Winter pensively snacking on some fish jerky when he’s focusing or Qibli popping raspberries in his mouth while he flies)

-Moon also keeps a bowl of fruit out for guests, which Kinkajou gleefully exploits 

-(Kinkajou and Tamarin (slash now with Anemone) start having their hangout sessions at Moons house solely for the fruit, like yeah there’s probably more in the rainforest, but is it filled with the same kind of love and attention??? I think NOT)

-Moon hesitantly but still firmly and kindly helping teach Peacemaker about strawberry growing,,, observing him carefully always out of the corner of her eye,,,, always unsure of what to make of him or what to do,,,

-Peacemaker and Moon’s relationship starts and somewhat rotates around their gardening together, he views her as an older sister/mentor and Moon,,, doesn’t know how to feel about him, but always makes room for him anyway, and tries to do right by him

-He can’t understand why she keeps him at wing-length away, for a while he doesn’t even know to be hurt by it since he just assumes that’s how Moon is, but the older he gets and the more he sees her with her partners and her friends it starts to unnerve and frustrate him, especially because of how much he looks up to her and respects her

-Hope will always be his mom first and foremost, but Moonwatcher’s been there in his life basically since he was hatched, she’s basically family to him so why does she always act so weird around him? Did he do something to her that he forgot?... Why does she look scared of him sometimes? What does she even have to be scared of?

-Despite her failings, Moon isn’t truly cold with Peacemaker, and she’s definitely a wonderful teacher. What she is with him is calm, patient, and empathetic, but also occasionally too quick to scold/shut him down, and doesn’t engage with him as much as he, maybe, wants her to. 

-She knows, deep down, that Peacemaker is a completely different dragon, she’s seen his future and knows what he’ll become (a peaceful, relaxed strawberry farmer who dies happy and loved), but it’s so hard to not catastrophize about him somehow turning out like Darkstalker, or the spell on him somehow being broken/worn down

-Whether Moon ever tells Peacemaker about Darkstalker is up to you tbh, I’m not really sure if she would or just let it hang there uncomfortably until Peacemaker accepts it or gets so frustrated he either makes her tell him or stops seeing her

-Either way, she has her garden, her friends, and her family, and it makes her happy and keeps her safe and centered

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This was supposed to be pride content about Qinterwatcher but I couldn’t get it out fast enough (thank you June, for completely kicking my ass. How homophobic of you >:/ ) and it turned into a study on Moon (as well as me trying to figure out what the jade winglet would do after school). I hope you enjoy this anyway, even if it is now July!!! I tried to sprinkle in a bunch of Qinterwatcher anyway, though a lot of it is Moon-centered (you can also read some Kinkamoon into this if you’d like lol)

(as always I encourage you 500% to use this headcanons in your writing or your art or w/e, no credit needed but please send it to be me if you do I Will Actually Cry)

tl;dr: how to grow a social circle and two excellent boyfriends in 6 easy steps, starring Moonwatcher and her fam

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Nine

chapter nine

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: date night!! this is very fluffy, very emotional and extremely horny. edgar allan poe is rolling in his grave at what they did in his enchanted garden

exhibitionism, public sex (no ones there tho), drug mentions at the end (let me know if I should tag anything else!!!!)

word count: 5.4k

from the beginning <3

He spent all of Thursday afternoon with Penelope in Richmond, setting up for his date that night.

Stringing lights on the trees, mowing the grass and trimming the flowers back, the staff ensuring that the museum was in pristine condition for them tonight, it was perfect. The cats were brushed, there were rose petals the fountain and the most beautiful picnic set up in the garden.

Penelope packed their dinner for them, keeping it in the museum fridge for when they finally arrived, it was the only thing Spencer needed to remember.

Y/N: just got home, about to get ready! Can’t wait to see you at 6 ♥︎

Spencer smiled at his phone, about to text her back when Penelope laid a hand on his back, “change into your suit and head back to her, traffic might be bad?”

“Thank you, for everything. You’ve always been my best friend, more of big sister actually,” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly as to not get emotional. “You’re wonderful Penelope, thank you.”

“Awe!” She swooned, wrapping him up in a big hug. “I will always love you, Spencer, you deserve all of this and so, so much more, now go before I cry.”

He laughed, pulling back, hand lingering on her shoulder as he walked into the museum. They let him change in the backroom, it felt incredibly strange to be putting on a suit inside Edgar Allan Poe's house to go pick up his wife. Not too long ago he dreamed about bringing a girlfriend here someday, life was moving too quickly, he needed a breather.

He kept his suit jacket folded and on the passenger seat as he drove home, where he lived with his family. Even just thinking that as he paid attention to the road made him smile. The wind hitting his face, his hair blowing in the breeze, he felt free at last.

He was where he was supposed to be, all roads lead to here.

Travelling up her driveway with a smile on his face as the dust followed him to her doorstep. She was waiting in a red dress on the porch, Amoreena and her nanny eating pizza on the steps as they waited for him.

Stepping out of his car, he straightened his tie and pulled his pants up more, looking at his wife like she was a star plucked from the sky, landing in this Virginia field for him.

She stood then, her satin dress flowing and exposing a leg as she walked down the steps to him, “Is this what you wanted?” She twirled in front of him to show it all off, her hair getting stuck in her lipstick and making her laugh.

“I love you,” is all he can say as she leaning in with a wide grin, surpassing the smile to kiss him gently, using her thumb to get all the lipstick off his bottom lip and chin.

“Love you too, cutie,” she winked, taking his hand and turning back towards Amoreena, “listen to Nanny, remember we love you and we will see you no earlier than 7:30 tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” She saluted, mouth full of pizza.

“And what are the new rules about coming into our bed in the morning?”

“Knock first, wait till you respond, don’t come in unless you say it’s okay,” Amoreena replied, sticking her tongue out at her as she remembered it all.

“Smartie pants,” Y/N smiled at her, “come give us a hug, don’t get pizza on my dress, please.”

Amoreena wiped her sleeve over her mouth before running into her mother's open arms, they shared goodbye kisses before it was Spencer’s turn. She held him so tight it felt wonderful, “goodnight Lovey, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, have the best sleep ever for me?”

“I’ll see you in dreamland,” she replied, kissing his cheek gently before she pulled back.

“Have fun!” Nanny called from the porch as Amoreena skipped back to her.

“We will,” Spencer replied, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her to the passenger side, he opened her door and helped her inside, insuring her dress was inside before closing the door.

Jogging back to his door, he got in and put on his seatbelt. He threw the car in reverse and turned around by the barn, heading down the driveway, not saying a single thing as Y/N stared at him.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” She shook her head, licking her lip before biting it as she huffed.

“We’re going to Richmond, Virginia, to read,” he gave her one hint.

“Hmm,” she smiled, “I’m sure you won't tell me the title, so Mr. I can remember every book ever, what’s a random line in it?”

“You’re smart,” he teased her, “but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves that spread from their summits in long, tremulous lines, dallying with the Zephyrs—”

“We’re going to the Edgar Allan Poe Museum!” She cut him off with a cheer.

He slows down on the barren dirt road, mouth wide open as she got it right, he turns to her as they come to a complete stop, “how the heck did you get that?”

“Yes!” she laughed, tossing her head back as she clapped and kicked her feet a little, so proud of herself, “I’m a librarian, Spencer! Did you think I wouldn’t know Eleonora?”

“That’s the most random sentence in the whole poem?” Spencer was shocked, she recalled it faster than he thought he would be able to if she read a line to him.

“My brother’s first motorcycle was a Zephyr,” she smiled at him, raising her eyebrows. “My brain is kinda like a filing cabinet, if you give me a word I can remember everything I’ve ever heard with that word included.”

He started to drive again, shaking his head as he paid attention to the road but still astounded by how amazing she is. “Amoreena gets that from you then, she could have both our eidetic memories together, that would be very interesting to see.”

“Eidetic memory?” She questioned.

“It’s what most people call photographic memory,” Spencer explained. “You can remember everything you hear which is why you and Amoreena are able to recall songs, books and movie facts so fast, while I can read back to you anything I’ve read without having to see it again, it’s forever in my mind.”

“So we’re both geniuses, cool,” Y/N smiled at him again, “sorry I ruined your surprise.”

“You just know where we’re going,” he reminded her, laying his hand on hers, interlocking their fingers as he drove.

They had an hour alone before the real date started.

So she showed him all of her favourite songs, including some of Amoreena’s playlists so he could get familiar with them before their trip to Rhode Island. Her voice was impeccable, she knew all the words and harmonies, often opting to cove background voices he wouldn’t have even known were there if it wasn’t for her.

She loved music in a way that intrigued him, she enjoyed music with a story. Much like the reason she loved books so much, she enjoyed picturing the happy places in her mind that the songs were able to take her to, they filled her with glee and hope as she sang to her heart's content. Taking short breaks to explain the meanings of songs, to recite the best lyrics and why the songs are close to her heart.

“Do you want to hear the song that reminds me the most of you?” She asked between songs, pausing so that nothing else would start.

“Sure,” he blushed, nervous for what it could be and how she imagined him in her mind, hoping he could live up to it.

“I'm perfectly fine I live on my own, I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone. We met a few weeks ago, now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes,”

She stares at him with a beautiful smile as she waits to see his reaction to the opening, finally singing when the beat drops, dancing softly in her seat as she belted the words out to him.

“So prove to me I'm your American Queen, and you move to me like I'm a Motown beat, and we rule the kingdom inside my room,” She brushed her hand across his jaw, teasing him as the words flow from her lips to his ears, she loves him and he can feel it with every syllable.

“And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for, King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa! And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa,” she sings so softly, with a purpose, turning it down a little so that he can talk to her.

“I love you,” he reminded her, “so much it hurts sometimes.”

“It’s like your heartstrings are tugging on each other, right?” She agreed, “like they want to jump out of our chests and run to each other.”

He nodded with a soft smile, reaching for her hand again holding it as he brought it to his mouth for a kiss, “queen of my heart.”

“Hmmm,” she thought over his words, “I’m pretty content with being princess still, Lady Amoreena is in line for the thrown, it’s part of her namesake after all.”

“Does the kingdom have a name?”

“You know the Elton John song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road?” She waited for his nod, “my grandma called it Ozellous so it’s like wizard of Oz but I added the 'ellous' because people always said they were jealous of our farm.”

He’s trying his best to keep his eyes on the road when all he want’s to do is look at her smile, to see her pupil change as she recalls the loving memory, it’s his favourite thing to do. Better than any movie or play, seeing her face was better than looking at the most expensive art piece. He was so in love with all of her.

“Were you like Amoreena as a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “bullied hardcore for it too, kids always told me to shut up cause I’d add facts to conversations I wasn’t a part of.”

“I would have loved to listen,” Spencer replied softly, knowing the feeling all too well.

They were only a few minutes away now, turning into the small town and passing quaint little homes and cottages. “Amoreena would love this drive, these are some interesting townspeople homes for her imagination, we should come back sometime this summer.”

His heart was going to actually explode, she was everything he never knew he needed.

“I’d love that,” he added as they pulled into the museum. “I’m a museum member and I’m a patron, so sometimes I donate rare pieces I find, they love me here.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her eyes got caught on the twinkling lights in the distance, mesmerized by everything. Old cobblestone streets, brick buildings and wooden gates, it was straight out of the 1800s and absolutely fantastical.

“And it’s all ours for the night,” he put the car in park and turned to her, “wait here?”

She nodded, speechless as she continued to look out the window at everything. Spencer got out of the car, opening the back seat to grab and put on his jacket, straighten out his suit before opening her door and extending a hand to help her out.

“Princess,” he extended his arm for her to tuck her own under, he closed her door and escorted her through the gate and towards the garden.

The sun was just starting to set, 7 pm in early June being the most beautiful time of year in rural Virginia, the sky was a perfect purple as he leads her through the stone arches towards the picnic.

Her eyes sparkled with all the lights, wide and pupils blown as she took it all in. It was a fairytale, she was in a princess dress, he was the king of her heart and this was just the beginning of happily ever after.

“Spencer, whatever your middle name is, Reid,” she gasped, swatting his arm lightly with a smile growing on her face.

“It’s Walter,” he smiled right back.

He let go of her hand then and walked over to a table, turning on the record player and dropping the needle in the right spot. He did his research into some Taylor Swift songs, finding one that reminded him the most of Y/N and how much he loved her.

“May I have this dance?” He asks as she notices the all too familiar guitar strumming.

He reaches a hand out for her, pulling her in as she takes it, “I was so so lost before I found you in the park,” he explains the first verse, barely a whisper beside her ear as they start to sway.

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place Walls of insincerity Shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face

“All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you,” he whispers once more, feeling the goosebumps bursting on her bare arms.

He spun her around, extending both their arms as she twirled out and then back into his embrace again with a giggle. She swayed back and forth, dancing with him like the night they got married in her field.

Your eyes whispered "have we met?" Across the room your silhouette starts to make it's way to me The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

“And it was enchanting to meet you, All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you,” he sings them this time, spinning her out again as the chorus hits, her eyes widening as she began to smile wider than he’s ever seen before.

They sang the words together as they danced, smiling and laughing as they moved around the cobblestone. Finding a rhythm so perfect, so them, it was silly and not on beat in the slightest, mostly spinning, it was a spinning song if the album cover was any indication.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

“The lingering question kept me up, Two a.m., who do you love? I wonder till I'm wide awake! Now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door, I'd open up and you would say, hey! It was enchanting to meet you, all I know is I was enchanted to meet you,” Y/N’s voice softer than ever as she sang her anxieties into his ear, remembering the day at the museum where she wondered if she could have him all to herself.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you

Spinning around in circles she leaves his grasp, dress circling in the wind and he watches her. She takes both his hands and spins around with him in a tight circle before pulling back in, their chests bumping as they laughed, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life, and she’s made him pretty happy in the last few weeks.

The girl of his dreams, dancing around him with a smile like she was making her own music video. This was a dream of hers he didn’t know, making it come true as it became a dream of his own.

He places his hands on her cheeks as he stares into her eyes, “this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends. My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon, I was enchanted to meet you,” he whisper’s the words, barely singing, more talking.

“Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you,” she sings right back to him, staring into his eyes as they stand still in the garden.

She pulls him into a kiss, breathing in deeply through her nose as they hold each other’s cheeks, unable to get closer as they kissed. Pulling away with a loud smooch sound, smiling before taking her hands in his, once more.

Spinning her around again as the beat drops once more, her smile more beautiful than the first time he saw it. He was so madly in love, he firmly believed he was in heaven.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew!!

This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you

“Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did,” Taylor Swift's voice cuts into the beautiful moment as her songs change and the mood drastically changes.

Y/N bursts out in laughter, jumping lightly as she enjoyed the song, head-banging along as she danced by herself until Spencer turned the music off once again, “you’re so cute.”

“Thank you,” she bowed, “this is cute!”

“There’s a picnic basket in the fridge inside, and some wine if you think that’s a good idea?” Pointing towards the main house, she followed him towards the door.

“Oh, hello?” Her voice changed as she noticed the two black cats on the window, letting Spencer head inside for the basket as she talked to them.

“That’s Edgar and Pluto, the groundskeeper found them in the shed in 2012,” Spencer explains as he comes back out, basket in hand but she’s too busy with the cats to notice.

Petting both their faces, they stretch into her reach and bask in the feeling of her nails on their skin, Spencer would agree it felt nice. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, he must have been a cat in his last life.

“Amoreena wants her own indoor cat,” Y/N smiled wide at him, “she always wanted to call him Hercules like the Elton John song, almost like she knew you were her dad all along.”

She took his free hand then, following him towards the blanket in the grass, “how?”

“There’s a line in the song about Greek gods, but it says Hercules on her side and Diana in her eyes, and she does have your mom's eyes, right down to the colour of her iris,” Y/N looked at him like he was everything to her.

Spencer couldn’t speak, he just set the basket on the ground and ushered her to sit down beside him. She held the skirt of her dress up so she could sit crisscross applesauce on the blanket, draping her dress over her legs so she didn’t show anything off just yet.

“Every time I look at you I understand all her quirks and her facial expressions,” she added like she was trying to make him cry, “I’ve been looking at her for almost 8 years now, wondering who you were and now I know, and you’re so much better than I ever imagined.”

“Would you have looked for me when she turned 18?” Is all he can ask through his sniffles, trying to hold it together for her.

She nodded, “I was going to tell her soon anyway, she asks a lot of questions I’m not sure if you noticed.” Her giggle was priceless, “she had lots of questions when the goats were born this year and that meant her asking more about making human babies and I just said a special man helped me make my dreams come true, and she thought it was Rumpelstiltskin.”

Spencer couldn’t fight the laugh that erupted from him, leaning forward as he chuckled, making her laugh too. “Does she even know the whole story?”

“She’s only seen the 4th Shrek movie with him, she has no idea that he also takes the babies,” Y/N placed her hand on his knee gently, “If I get pregnant again, I’m going to tell her about how it all works as simply as possible, I want her to feel included in this and she’ll be less jealous if she sees this as a learning opportunity.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed, “I still can't believe she almost punched Michael for hugging me.”

“Oh, I can,” Y/N laughed again, “she was being bullied last year by an older kid and I said if someone upsets you or hurts you, sometimes it’s not that bad to hurt them back. Make them know you’re not weak and you care about yourself, and she gave a kid a black eye for tugging on her braid.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, “that’s my girl.”

Y/N opened the picnic basket then, taking everything out with a smile as Spencer stared at her, thinking a million different thoughts about future kids, how Amoreena would grow up, seeing her as a big sister to hopefully many.

They both leaned forward and kissed softly, smiling as they pulled back, “so you like charcuterie?”

She laughed, “Amoreena called it shark coochie once, I can’t not think of that now.”

“How many kids do you want?”

“Have you ever read cheaper by the dozen?” She teased him. “As many as I can have, I have the funds thanks to my job and the farm and not having to pay a mortgage, I was going to have another baby next year anyway, I had an appointment and everything scheduled, I even tried to get them to contact Amoreena’s father for another sample but they said they couldn’t ask you outright for me.”

“They asked me if I wanted to give another sample when I asked if I could know my kids,” Spencer remembered the words exactly, “she said ‘You have four offspring so far, none of the other samples used have produced a child, the women were all IVF as well so it wasn’t your swimmer's fault if you wanted to donate again.’”

“I don’t want to know the truth, are you okay if we let her decide if she wants to find out at 18?” Y/N asked softly, “I’m content thinking you’re her father, I don’t want to know if it’s some other tall who-lookin’ genius, okay?”

“That’s perfect actually,” Spencer agreed, “and on the kids front, you don’t mind me being in my 70s when they all start going to University?”

“My dad is 68 with no signs of stopping, and he’s still fantastic with his grandkids,” Y/N always had a fact to combat his anxiety. “You have a lot of life left in you, I’ll take good care of you so that they have the best dad ever for as long as possible.”

Spencer was so in love with his family he felt like he was floating, laughing and smiling all meal long as they shared facts back and forth about their lives. Getting to know each other more and more as the seconds passed, he imagined it would be like this forever. She was like a bottomless pit of information, facts, stories and secrets. He loved every single one she shared with him.

She poured herself a second small glass of wine, “you know they say that one glass of wine every once in a while is actually good for the baby?”

“It doesn’t work that fast,” he reminded her, more like he reminded himself. He didn’t want to hope in the chance it didn’t happen right away.

“I had a nightmare last night for the first time in a long time, so I think it worked,” she teased him. “I won't know till June 10th, that's when my next period would be.”

“Nightmare?” It was the only part he picked up on, worried for her and wondering why she didn’t wake him up.

She nodded softly, “I found out I was pregnant and you never came home, and I got lost in the forest looking for you and then I remembered I could wake up.”

He rests his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb against her bare skin softly, “I’m always coming home to you.”

“I know, when I got pregnant with Amoreena I had bad dreams in the first few weeks too, mostly about giving birth to nothing and being alone all over again, the subconscious and pregnancy hormones are mean as fuck when they hang out,” she laughed away the pain, “I know none of it is real.”

“Good,” he whispered, not knowing what really to say, he wasn’t used to soothing other people yet. Most people didn’t want his facts or concernment when something happened, just a hug normally.

She took a deep breath, pushing everything away, “good news, either my anxiety disorder is back in full swing or something’s working in here,” she laid her hand over her stomach, “either way, I’d like to try again tonight?”

He laughed, “we don’t need to make a baby every time you want to have sex?”

She got onto her knees then, crawling over the blanket and sitting right in Spencer's lap with her hands on both of his cheeks, “I want all your babies.”

He held her waist, pulling her in closer to his chest, “right now?”

She nodded, moving her dress out of the way to undo his belt, “no one is here right? It’s not like anyone would know?”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, kissing her neck as she unzipped his pants, moving his underwear out of the way just enough to free his hardening cock, she stroked it right there in the middle of the garden, staring down between their bodies in awe as he came to life.

Sitting up on her knees more, the slit of her dress made it a lot easier for her to show him her underwear. She was wearing just a thong, perfect for pulling to the side as she lowered herself onto him, ever so slowly.

She fixed her dress around them, completely calm and composed as he was fully inside of her, “you’re okay with this?”

He huffed a laugh out of his nose, dropping his forehead to her shoulder so he couldn’t buck into her and ruin the moment she was making, his hands moving to her hips, guiding her back and off him slightly before back down again, making her gasp.

“I thought you wanted to read?” She teased him as she started to ride him more, moving her hips in a way that took him in and out of her at just the right angle, her hands on his shoulders as she bounced on him lightly, he couldn’t even think straight. “Go on, read to me.”

He took a second to remember the words, mind totally somewhere else and not interested in a book at all when her boobs were right in his face.

“I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion,” the first sentence slipped past his lips as she kept going, he took a moment to kiss right under her ear before continuing.

“Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence—whether much that is glorious—whether all that is profound—does not spring from disease of thought—from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.”

“Shit,” she moaned, pushing his hand down towards her clit, “you can multitask, smartie pants.”

His thumb was on a mission then, rubbing small circles against her pleasure point, she tossed her head back with her eyes closed as she continued to ride him, “I don’t hear you reading?”

He moaned softly in her ear at the feeling, and the fact she wanted to get off to hearing him recite something from memory, it was more euphoric than he could have ever imagined.

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in ah- awakening, fuck,” he was trying his best to stay as composed as she was when he really just wanted to lay her against the blanket and fuck her into next week.

“to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret,” Y/N whispered the end of the sentence, grinding down on him harder than before.

“In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good,” she whispered into his ear, biting his earlobe softly with a moan and he kept rubbing her clit, “you’re so good, Spencer, so so good," she paused to enjoy the moment before whispering in his ear once more, "And more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compass-less into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.”

Her words softer than ever and they were never going to get to the end of this poem, he'd never know how the rest of the words sound on her tongue, she pulled him into a kiss then, moaning into his mouth as they ground against each other, finding a perfect rhythm to bring them to the end.

“There, yes, fuck,” she whispered against his lips, pushing against him as she arched her back slightly, slipping away from his mouth as she did so.

He slammed into her then as he chased her lips, making her whimper one last time before she was shaking in his lap, her legs quivering as she finished on him, sending him over the edge and stilling as he came with a shudder. He held her so close, both of them breathing into each other's mouths as they came down, kissing and smiling as they stayed connected.

“We’ll name her Eleonora,” Y/N teased, pulling off him and laying back against the blanket.

He made sure her underwear was back in the right spot before covering her with her dress again and sliding himself back into his underwear.

“Amoreena and Eleonora have a good ring to it, we just need 10 more names,” he teased right back.

“Hopefully we have a little boy one day too,” she smiled as she tugged him down beside her, cuddling into her side as they stared up at the newly dark blue sky and the array of stars that decided to join them this evening.

“Even if it’s just Amoreena, I’ve never been happier in my whole life than when I’m with you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She asked, purely to keep hearing his voice.

“Making me want to get up in the morning again, giving me a reason not to buy drugs for something euphoric to happen to me, showing me real love and proof that happiness is possible if you just chose to be happy,” he gave example after example.

“I thought I learned everything the world had to offer, but you’ve been showing me new little life hacks that make the world so much better, I see a future of bright colours and happiness and laughter for the first time ever, so thank you.”

She held him closer, “it’s been a pleasure falling in love with you, together, you deserve to love yourself. You’re so wonderful Spencer, it breaks my heart to know that anyone has ever made you feel the opposite.”

He couldn’t speak anymore, turning to kiss her neck and cheek so he had something to do that wasn’t crying. He loved her so incredibly deeply that he felt like he was an anchor, dropping to the bottom of her deepest ocean, without a single plan to leave.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[euclarisse]

⟨  CAMILLE  RAZAT.    CIS  FEMALE.    SHE  /  HER.  ⟩    though  the  mist  might  prevent  some  from  seeing  it,    CLARISSE  PROUVAIRE    is  actually  a  descendant  of    K H I O N E.    it’s  still  a  question  of  whether  or  not  the    TWENTY - SIX    year  old    ART  HISTORY  MAJOR    from    AVIGNON,    FRANCE    has  taken  after  their  godly  parent  completely,    but  the  demigod  is  still  known  to  be  quite    EBULLIENT    &    HAUGHTY.

                  ❄    DOSSIER.      ❄    PINTEREST.      ❄    PLAYLIST.

PERSONALITY.

a  sunny  disposition  offsets  clarisse’s  frosty  lineage.    while  one  might  expect  her  to  brush  you  off,    the  girl  is  rarely  seen  without  a  smile  on  her  face,    and  is  welcoming  to  all  she  meets    ⸺    just  as  long  as  they  treat  her  well.    after  all,    her  name  means    ‘  bright  ’,    and  she  is  ever - determined  to  prove  herself  as  such  ;  clarisse  is  always  happy  to  lend  a  hand  where  needed  or  offer  a  shoulder  to  cry  on  if  someone  is  upset.    she  is  a  force  of  positive  energy,    forever  trying  to  find  the  silver  lining  where  there  may  not  always  be  one.    while  she  rarely  lets  things  get  to  her,    clarisse’s  desire  to  trust  and  see  the  good  in  all  means  that  she  is  often  misled.    she’s  not  always  the  best  judge  of  character,    and  she  has  been  hurt  because  of  it  in  the  past.    people  tend  to  mistake  her  trust  for  naivete,    and  while  she  can  be  quite  oblivious  to  people’s  intentions  at  times,    she  won’t  allow  them  to  walk  all  over  her.

          as  the  middle  child  in  a  family  of  three,    clarisse  has  often  felt  like  she  has  to  prove  herself  in  order  to  be  seen.    a  perfectionist  at  heart  and  a  dancer  for  most  of  her  life,    she  tends  to  focus  on  the  smaller  details  and  gets  frustrated  when  things  become  misaligned  or  fall  out  of  place.    she  is  extremely  studious  and  hardworking  as  a  result,    and  has  always  been  at  the  top  of  her  classes.    she  refuses  to  let  herself  be  anything  less  than  number  one,    and  can  occasionally  come  off  as  something  of  a  snob  when  something    (    or  someone    )    doesn’t  meet  her  standards.    once  clarisse  sets  her  heart  on  a  goal,    she  will  always  see  it  through,    no  matter  the  outcome.    she  sees  mistakes  as  a  reason  to  learn  and  better  herself.    improvement  is  never  out  of  reach  for  her  and  it  is  something  that  has  always  been  encouraged  by  her  loved  ones.

          being  surrounded  by  people  is  one  of  clarisse’s  great  joys  in  life.    she  is  fond  of  large  crowds  of  people  and  seldom  likes  to  be  alone,    having  always  been  lucky  enough  to  have  at  least  one  friend  by  her  side.    clarisse  is  usually  seen  as  the  mother  figure  in  her  friend  groups,    and  has  frequently  been  described  as    ‘  the  sensible  one  ’.    there  is  nothing  she  wouldn’t  do  for  her  loved  ones,    but  be  warned,    once  you  have  betrayed  her  trust  and  shown  her  your  true  colours,    she’s  not  so  easily  swayed.    she  is  a  firm  believer  that  second  chances  should  be  earned  through  actions,    not  freely  given,    and  no  one    ⸺    not  even  herself    ⸺    deserves  to  be  excused  purely  on  words  alone.

FACTS.

clarisse’s  mother  is  an  art  collector,    often  acquiring  rare  and  exquisite  pieces  to  sell  to  museums.    both  philippe  and  madelyn  are  benefactors  of  several  large  and  infamous  art  galleries  in  france    (    including  the  louvre    ).    their  donations  are  annual,    significant,    and  their  names  are  almost  synonymous  with  some  of  the  most  prominent  art  communities  in  europe.

clarisse  has  a  grey  long - haired  cat  named  basile.    he  is  of  the  norwegian  forest  breed,    and  was  chosen  with  the  knowledge  that  norwegian  forest  cats  are  adapted  to  colder  climates,    much  like  the  siberian  husky  or  alaskan  malamute.    the  name  basile  means    ‘  regal  ’    in  french,    and  clarisse  frequently  calls  him  her  little  prince.    he  is  her  emotional  support  animal  due  to  her  anxiety.

khione  has  visited  her  daughter  many  times  over  the  years,    though  she  would  often  disguise  herself  prior  to  clarisse’s  official  claiming,    as  she  wanted  to  give  her  daughter  some  semblance  of  normalcy  until  then.    she  always  brings  her  small  gifts,    often  in  the  form  of  jewellery,    and  was  usually  introduced  to  her  as  a  distant  aunt.    one  gift  in  particular  arrived  on  the  eve  of  clarisse’s  sixteeth  birthday  and  was  a  silver  necklace  featuring  a  pendant  of  intricate  snowflakes.    clarisse  has  never  taken  it  off  and  she  treasures  it  immensely.

clarisse  speaks  with  a  heavy  french  accent,    and  it  can  be  quite  difficult  to  understand  when  she  is  speaking  quickly.    her  language  preference  is  french,    as  it  is  her  main  tongue,    and  it  pleases  her  greatly  when  she  runs  into  other  people  who  can  also  speak  french  as  she  doesn’t  have  to  be  so  self - conscious  about  her  speech.

clarisse  was  a  summer  member  of  camp  stark  from  2010 – 2012,    and  left  the  camp  when  she  was  seventeen  years  old.    she  went  on  one  quest  in  the  first  month  of  her  final  year,    and  was  accompanied  by  two  other  camp  members.    their  task  was  to  seek  out  and  return  the  diadem  of  mnemosyne  to  calliope,    the  leader  of  all  muses.    they  were  successful.

before  arriving  at  eonia  university,    clarisse  attended  the  ballet  de  l’opéra  national  de  paris,    where  she  went  on  to  become  one  of  their  principal  dancers.    at  the  age  of  twenty - three,    she  was  forced  to  quit,  after  a  trio  of  harpies  attacked  her  and  several  audience  members  during  a  performance.

POWERS.

aerokinesis    :    perhaps  the  one  power  clarisse  has  used  before  but  still  has  yet  to  fully  refine.    occasionally,    on  a  cold,    stormy  night,    when  the  wind  rattles  the  windows  in  their  frames,    she  is  able  to  brush  it  away  as  it  it  were  a  mere  fly  hovering  about  her  head.    she  has  summoned  gusts  of  wind  in  the  past,    the  most  recent  that  she  can  recall  being  her  final  performance  with  the  ballet  de  l’opéra  national  de  paris.    audience  members  and  staff  will  say  that  it  came  from  the  hole  in  the  ceiling,    but  she  knows  what  she  did,    what  she  is  capable  of  doing.    the  wind  swept  from  her  body  as  sharp  as  knives,    whipping  through  the  theatre  like  a  winter  gale.    it  tore  a  hole  through  the  roof  and  blew  the  creatures  away.    she  cannot  forget.    she  will  always  remember  what  she  is  able  to  do.

cryokinesis    :    it  comes  as  naturally  to  her  as  breathing.    at  five  days  old,    she  was  creating  small  blizzards  in  her  room.    by  eight  years  old,    she  was  making  slides  down  the  staircase  by  pouring  water  over  the  steps  and  freezing  it  to  ice.    clarisse  never  found  it  particularly  strange  or  peculiar  that  she  was  able  to  manipulate  the  cold  with  such  ease.    in  fact,    when  she  was  younger,    she  assumed  it  was  something  that  all  children  could  do,    and  was  left  astonished  when  her  brother  informed  her  otherwise.    she  learned  to  embrace  her  unique  gift  from  a  young  age,    and  taught  herself  how  to  hone  her  abilities  without  expert  instruction,    almost  to  the  point  of  perfection.    she’s  learned  how  to  create  beautiful  figures  made  of  ice,    sculptures  that  her  parents  would  proudly  display  during  dinner  parties  and  family  gatherings.    she  uses  her  cryokinesis  habitually,    and  it  is  something  she  is  completely  unashamed  of,    even  if  the  frequent  demonstration  of  her  power  has  brought  her  trouble  in  the  past.

fearspeak    :    clarisse  is  too  fair  and  too  kind  to  ever  willingly  use  this  ability  on  someone  who  doesn’t  deserve  it,    and  every  time  she’s  ever  used  her  fearspeak  in  the  past,    she  has  felt  nothing  but  the  deepest  of  regret.    for  her,    it  is  a  shame  she  must  carry.    she  never  wishes  to  incite  fear  in  anybody,    but  she  can  sometimes  perceive  what   they  are  feeling.    it  speaks  to  her,    calls  out  to  her,    and  when  it  does,    she  can’t  help  but  inform  them  of  the  worst.

other  abilities  :

heat  sensitivity    :    the  first  ability  that  ever  manifested  in  clarisse  was  a  sensitivity  to  heat.    her  mother  could  never  understand  why  her  baby  would  cry  relentlessly  in  the  middle  of  summer,    or  by  the  fireplace  in  the  living  room  when  it  was  lit.    the  hottest  days  of  the  year  were  an  endurance  for  the  entire  family.    while  she  was  as  obedient  and  easygoing  as  they  came,    it  was  the  one  time  of  the  year  where  she  would  fuss  and  stick  up  her  nose.    she’s  gotten  in  frequent  trouble  with  her  father    (    who  has  a  weak  disposition  and  bad  circulation    )    for  turning  down  the  heating  during  the  coldest  winter  nights.    extreme  heat  makes  her  skin  feel  itchy,    like  she’s  about  to  break  out  in  hives  or  burn  to  a  crisp  on  the  spot,     but  she’s  learned  not  to  complain.

immunity  to  cold    :   clarisse  has  never  felt  the  cold  the  way  that  she  felt  the  heat.    she  says  it  brushes  over  her  like  water    ⸺    almost  unfeeling,    rippling  over  her  skin.    in  the  depths  of  winter,    she  can  walk  around  in  single  layers    ⸺     the  thinnest  silk  dress,    the  shortest  sleeved  t - shirt    ⸺    with  a  smile  on  her  face,    as  if  it  were  any  other  day  of  the  year.    she  seldom  wears  thick  winter  jackets,    but  if  she  does,    know  that  it’s  for  everyone  else’s  sake  than  for  her  own.    it’s  better  to  fit  in  than  be  judged.

OUT  OF  CHARACTER.

it’s  your  fave,    nixie    (    24,    gmt,    she  /  her    )    coming  in  with  muse  number  two    !!!    very  happy  and  excited  to  finally  be  writing  clarisse,    who  I  have  thus  dubbed  as  my  lil  sunshine  winter  baby.    I  know  I’ve  been  hyping  her  up  for  the  last  few  weeks,    but  I  absolutely  cannot  wait  to  write  her,    so  come  and  plot  with  me    !

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Shiraishi Yoshitake

Long live the King! You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Relationship for Shiraishi is more about friendship with intimacy than a long tradition-based order of courtship and conventions. His affection does not manifest in standard gestures like buying flowers or singing serenades, acting all gentlemanly and saving the day pompously like a romantic novel protagonist. If he ever does anything from list above, it is his daydreaming that he doesn’t try to bring to life.

One of Shiraishi’s main goal in the relationship is to keep his partner happy, and the main sign that they are happy is their shrill laughter. It doesn’t matter if they are laughing because stray toothy animal bit his head or because the joke was funny (yay!), mission accomplished and he is satisfied.  Seeing them cry is worse than being hit hundred times with a baton.

Every single soul in the one kilometer radius know whom Shiraishi loves and why he loves them and how amazing, adorable, lovely, cool they are. Sugimoto and Asirpa are making earplugs because Shiraishi can’t shut the hell up. He managed to piss off the men who kidnapped him with bragging about his loved one. Kiroranke puts maximum effort not to bury him in the nearest snowdrift. His admiration doesn’t die down through years.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best friend to get dumb with. Sing inappropriate songs, prank others, annoy boring elders and all this jazz. His jokes are never offensive because Shiraishi wants to have good time only but they are unpredictable and never repetitive. His instinct of self-preservation goes m.i.a. in the process so it’s literally life-saving to have a reliable person by the side.

If you need a friend to gossip with Shiraishi is you best choice. He got hot tea on everyone, I mean e v e r y o n e, from old man Hijikata to naïve Koito and he needs best friend to spill it. Damn, Shiraishi is definitely that bih with neon acrylics and golden hoops.

Probably the friend that introduce you to people and brings you into new circles. Wide range of characters, social statuses, affiliations gives a chance to meet potential partners. There is one unspoken rule though: you come here as Shiraishi’s bff, you leave this place as Shiraishi’s bff.

Speaking of which, he comes across as possessive friend. Restriction of other’s social circle and constant need in validation aren’t his behavior traits, but Shiraishi is sensitive to subtle changes in communication. Sole possibility of losing the established connection gives him extreme anxiety. To avoid it he can make concessions and sacrifice his own interests for them.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Eeh, indifferent? He doesn’t seem like a big fan of cuddling but will do it on occasions. When lights are down and they are in a private of the room, Shiraishi may spoon them to feel the comfort of another person and a little bit of safety he finds in their touch. He doesn’t have a preferred position as well: whatever his loved one wants he will do without hesitation.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The closest home equivalent that Shiraishi knows is a dark prison cell and this is how he sees the stability in its best light. Yep, same food every day, funny inadequacies behind the adjacent wall, and a guy in not-so-sexy uniform who checks his asshole now and then. What a paradise. Seriously, he needs time to get used to concept of comfort zone. Maybe, after few years Shiraishi himself will offer to find a cozy place for both of them. Average cook. Doesn’t know how to hold a broom.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Breaking up with Shiraishi is a whole three-ring circus because he is hot and then cold, yes and then no. Get ready to prepare sad clown look for both you and him because it will be a long story: as soon as the idea settles in his head, Shiraishi will turn into giant wreck. Everybody around notices him walking in circles as well as asking Sugimoto how to properly show person that he is not interested. Of course, he ignores rational “just tell them, set a record straight”. Of course, Shiraishi plays dumb and tries to distance himself in all ways possible and impossible. The only way to end this agony is to break the relationship yourself before the mutual sympathy and respect turn into disgust and tension.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Doesn’t experience a burning passion to get married but doesn’t completely discards this possibility either. If person seems to be the only one, the meant one, Shiraishi will pop a question after 3-4 years of stable relationship. Cruel push and pull game, sudden break ups and get backs together kill his will to settle down. He may stay with them but Shiraishi will never bring up thought of marriage, wedding bells, and family.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Even the prison could not knock softness out of Shiraishi: he is utterly gentle with his partner, dreading hurting them or jeopardize their life with the hunt of tattooed skins. Choosing the right words is a little more complicated so translation of an emotional mess in his head does not always convey implied sentiment. That’s the reason why Shiraishi may be unintentionally harsh when it comes to serious conversations: he is torn between being tender and showing firm character.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Somehow, loves hugs but rarely initiate them. He is almost always cold, his skin feels cold and rough like papyrus paper, therefore, his partner frequently serves as a living heater. When they are busy with work or chores, Shiraishi catches their hand and embraces their arm, practically immobilizing it. Hints fly left and right when Shiraishi wants a hug: he really comes to the partner with puppy eyes and  index finger pointing towards one another because no, he won’t go for it himself, he want his loved one to do it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Mentally, he already did it when they met for first time but it takes at least a month for Shiraishi to say three magic words aloud. Two would be even better. He's not serious enough to wait for the friendly phase of a romantic relationship when people have already got used to each other. The longer the relationship lasts, the more serious Shiraishi gets though. You can hear it in the changing of his voice when his playful “I love you so so much” shifts to calm and earnest confession.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Easily jealoused walking disaster that will follow his partner like a poodle if they give him a reason to doubt their faithfulness. Sometimes Shiraishi overreacts, he even thought Sugimoto was looking at his loved one somehow weirdly but quickly brushed this idea off just for it to come back to him next day. Shiraishi gets extremely needy and tries to show everybody that this is HIS person. He is NOT sharing. They love ME. He gives them extra kisses, hugs, grabs their hand and squeezes it few times, smiles at them as much as he physically can.

If his loved one is the one being overly flirtatious, Shiraishi feels awful. Wave of insecurity knocks him off the feet and he doesn’t know what to do. He is overthinker so without proper explanation Shiraishi comes up with the worst scenarios possible. In this case he distance himself until person reassures him in their relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In the beginning, Shiraishi seems the worst kisser in the world. He has little experience, almost no experience to be honest: yujo do not have time to teach clients the art of kissing. So, yeah, he is pretty average, goofy, sloppy and eager. Wants to kiss everywhere anyhow.  

After a little bit of training his kisses become more sophisticated, and Shiraishi himself doesn’t try to jump on his partner with smooches. He is still impatient when they put their hands on him and tends to get touchy even in public places. When Shiraishi gets in the mood for kissing session, he is unstoppable.

There is a sweet spot right under the earlobe kissing which send Shiraishi on the cloud nine. One kiss and he surrounds to the will of the partner. Ask whatever you want. Besides that he doesn’t care where to be kissed. Likes to give his partner gentle pecks on the nose and cheeks.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you remember chart going around the Tumblr with categories like “wine aunt, great at babysitting, mediocre at babysitting” Shiraishi would fall both in “God is dead, house is on fire” and “Is a baby”. Kids absolutely love him because they are on the same level *cough cough* and he is overall funny guy unlike the most adults around. Shiraishi likes active games and never sits still. For every crying child he got a candy and few tricks in his sleeve. He would love to be a father one day so he has few more minions to annoy grumpy people.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

People who sleep in together stay together. This is the rule of Yoshitake house. No matter what time his partner wakes up Shiraishi wakes up later. Nine in the morning? He is in the bed until noon. Three in the afternoon? He is still sleeping, squeezing his partner tightly in his arms. Even after waking up Shiraishi stays under the blanket. He playfully asks the loved one if they want to keep him company and cuddle too but if they are in hurry, he will lazily crawl out of bed and cook something for them.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Prefers to spend night outside gambling or drinking, skinny-dipping, lying in the grass and telling fables with varying percentage of truth. In the cold season Shiraishi still likes to go downtown but mainly to meet old friends and have dinner with them and his loved one. Rarely he chooses to stay in the comfort of home. Shiraishi teaches his partner different board games, and soon playing turns into a competition. From time to time Shiraishi loses on purpose, gifting sweet victory in shogi/igo/karuta to the most significant person in his life.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You don’t have to ask anything unless you want to spend next hour listening to Shiraishi’s biography. He will tell you about the relationship with parents, about childhood scar on the knee, about search of Sister Miyazawa, and what a bastards his cellmates were. The list is endless, and every day Shiraishi remembers one more story he forgot to tell. There are only two things that can stop him: firm “no, not now, Shiraishi” from the partner and lack of mutual openness on their part.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It is impossible to piss Shiraishi off. His ability to reduce everything to a joke does not help only in advanced cases where person wanted to break his neck from the beginning. Even when his patience runs out, Shiraishi cannot explode in anger, he just grimaces, stomps, and spits sarcasm. In everyday life, he avoids conflicts as much as possible and does everything to find a convenient compromise so you won’t catch him slipping. He would rather go for a walk and leave another person to cool down than get involved in heated argument.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t remember shit if his partner doesn’t indicate that it is important information. Worth remembering. Shiraishi, please, listen. At the same time he notices slight changes in their appearance, from new haircut to ring, and keeps in mind such details like eye color, favorite clothes, maybe, particular qualities like never buttoning shirt up completely or writing notes on the wrist. Anniversaries? Baby, he doesn’t remember what day it is today. Just give up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first kiss. Not only did it happen completely by accident due to a bet, but it was so awkward and unexpected that Shiraishi forgot how kissing works. Yep, he froze feeling their warm lips on his, only eyebrows slightly raised up in disbelief. After this incident, Shiraishi could not stop thinking about them. God, he is disgrace, to embarrass yourself in front of the person you like. It could not be otherwise. To remedy the situation, Shiraishi pulled himself together, remembered the cheesiest lines in the reserve, and suggested to try again because he was astonished by their daring attitude. He has no idea what happened after that but that spontaneous kiss with a touch of childishness and innocence stayed with him forever.

Oh, one more moment! Meeting them after coming back from Karafuto. Honestly, Shiraishi didn’t believe he will make it out alive. Ogata or Kiroranke could slice his throat, hide the body, and tell Asirpa he left with his tail between his legs. Therefore, it is miracle to see their adorable face again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Let’s be real, he is the one who needs protection. He also needs some ass-whooping for getting in troubles regularly too but that is not the point. Shiraishi rarely stands up against obviously strong opponents and chooses famous Joestar backup plan – run for his life with loved one under his arm. Another option includes involvement of threatening allies, mostly Sugimoto, to save them both. Sometimes courage overwhelms him, and Shiraishi comes up with risky but bold plan how to save them without outside help but it happens much less often.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Most of the time, Shiraishi hopes that everything will be fine by itself, every event will run like clockwork without excessive effort. Dates are unpretentious: no fancy restaurants, exquisite gifts, long intricate confessions of endless love, etc. To his credit, Shiraishi takes chores more or less seriously and does his best. For the anniversaries he transforms in person you've never seen before: dressed immaculately Shiraishi holds a small bouquet of bright moss phlox and box of sweet sakuramochis, his face glows with happiness and love, however, you can sense a nervousness behind the wide smile. On days so special, he is afraid to ruin the mood with usual tomfoolery.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Canonically, Shiraishi is not the tidiest person around. For some it may be stumbling block because constant battle with desire to throw him in hot springs and scrub ingrained dirt with the hardest sponge can be too tiresome. Also Shiraishi bites his nails until they bleed as well as pulls the hangnails until his fingers start to hurt.

A sense of proportion leaves Shiraishi as soon as a bottle of sake appears on the horizon. Even though he is funny and harmless drinker, he goes overboard with alcohol to end up throwing out behind the nearest pine.

Little lies always slip through the conversation no matter what it is about. When the truth is revealed, it is too late to blame him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Shiraishi doesn’t care about his appearance but likes to get compliments on it. He knows bunch of tricks how to remove different stains from clothes in the wild and doesn't know how to avoid them. One look is enough for Shiraishi: he could wear his old prison uniform for life time because it is strangely comfortable and universal for any event. Except the pursuit by guards, of course.

Has mixed feelings about his tattoos. Living with them is to sit on a powder keg: you never know when the new man with the gold rush will try to scalp you alive.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Gets very, very attached to the friends and loved ones so break up feels like punch in the gut. Unlike the rest, Shiraishi basically refuses to let go. He gets clingy, keeps acting like nothing happened, like they are still the best friends, just to cover up growing emptiness inside. No matter how hard he ignores it, Shiraishi can feel how part of him fades. Sometimes even abrupt refusal doesn’t work, but it’s simply his way to deal with sadness.  After few weeks, he has an insight that things will never be the same and that when it hits him. Shiraishi tries to distance himself and it takes all of his strength since by this time he becomes easily distracted, irritated, and whiny. He needs months to get over it.

If they died or were killed, Shiraishi puts effort to maintain his clown image. Only closest people can notice small detail that give away his sorrow and melancholy. Doesn't attempt to get revenge. The time to recover increases to year.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Do you think Shiraishi went to jail so often because of negligence? Partially, yes. Besides the fact Shiraishi is being hopeless fool, he finds prison cell a great place to take a break from fleeting life. If you think about it time slows down behind bars. There’s no point to worry what tomorrow will bring, how to survive and make it through another scuffle, and his impressive skills guarantee him easy escape.

Shiraishi has joint hypermobility syndrome which helps him bend joints at unusual angles and even pull bones out of the fossae. Prolonged arthralgia is a side effect that Shiraishi had to deal with from the first conscious days. There are days when the pain becomes so excruciating that he just wants to lie still and stare at the sky for 24 hours.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Continuous scolding when there is a reason and when there is not. Yes, with his behavior it is difficult to resist the urge to say a couple of strong words or raise your voice, and Shiraishi is totally okay with it until rebuke becomes daily tradition.

Shiraishi's thoughts are always in motion, usually Brownian motion, his body twitches even when he tries to sit calmly in one place so stagnation in any form would be the death of him. This includes repetitive thoughts, boring behavior, and general passivity.

Shiraishi is genuinely upset if his partner doesn't like children. This is an inexplicable feeling, he really hurts if they ignore little ones or, worse, openly express dislike for kids.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Prepare yourself to unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, you will have a lot of them. Shiraishi keeps running from guardians of the law even in his sleep: he kicks, turns, throws his arms out to the sides for the most part of the night. Accidental elbow blow to the nose is not uncommon either. Worst of all, he does not wake up after that!

In the morning Shiraishi likes to sneak closer to his loved one and just presses him onto them. Like, completely. He throws his leg over them, hugs them, presses his cheek to their back, and if it feels just right in winter, in summer such cuddle can be a real test.

Abrupt sleep schedule changes do not bother Shiraishi at all. His organism is so adapted to the crazy lifestyle that he stays fresh even after sleepless night, after waking up at 3 a.m. and going to bed at 3 p.m.