#I would always have a box of pads or tampons under the bathroom sink if she forgets to bring some or whatever

[m4ggotm0ld]

i would be such a good boyfriend honestly

[spidey-bie]

Murder In The Morning

A/N: I am suffering. It's 2 in the morning. If there are errors then no there isn't. Hobie x g/n black reader  Summary: Your period came while sleeping over at Hobie's. Warnings: Blood (duh), Reader uses pads because tampons scare me

You should've known that it was coming. 

The signs were all there. The restless sleep schedule, the sudden shift in emotions, strange cravings, and the unusual forgetfulness.

You’d thought you had more time but, alas. 

Here you are, waking up in Hobie Brown's bed surrounded by a pool of blood.

"It's everywhere." Obviously you were exaggerating but you knew it was gonna be a pain to deal with later. 

"Oh my God." It was really bad.

"You alright in there?" Hobie calls from the kitchen. He's probably let you sleep in while he started cooking breakfast.

"It's a code red," You call back. This was a gag you both had started from the first time your period started at Hobie’s house. At least this time it wasn't on new sheets.

"What's the damage?"

"It was a massacre." You have to check to see if you bled through to the mattress. 

"Damn it." Unfortunately, you had.

"It's that bad?" Hobie 

"Captain, they ambushed us. We never stood a chance."

He ducks into the room, eyes widening at the scene. 

"Woah. All this came from you?"

You stare at him blankly. Sometimes you wonder if he says stupid stuff like this just to piss you off.

"Who else is there?"

"I just thought I was the only one with enemies to fight here." 

And if any of them popped up right now you would leave him to fend for himself. Spider-man values be damned.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't punch you right now."

"Because." He says waving a bottle of peroxide as he walks towards you. 

"While you take a nice, long, hot shower I'll be cleaning up this whole mess for you." He was standing in front of you now. You started to feel bad for your small outburst.

“But before that.” He opens his arms wide. An open invitation for a hug you so desperately needed.  

"Fine" You sigh and let yourself be enveloped in his arms.

"Thank you." You mumbled into his chest. 

"Of course." He pressed a light kiss onto your forehead. "Now off you go." 

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

After hopping out the shower and being met with the cold air of the bathroom you felt the cramps start to creep in.

"You got any ibuprofen or those para- whatchamacallits?"

"Paracetamols. Med cabinet." You grabbed a blister pack out of the cabinet and popped a pill.

You had thrown away the pants and underwear that you were wearing earlier; they were beyond saving. Thankfully, there were clothes for you to change into, courtesy of Hobie’s closet, and underwear from a previous visit. However, there was one thing that you didn’t have.

"Bie." You shouted. "You got any pads?" It was unlikely but, you might've left some behind before. If not you could always just send Hobie to grab some. 

“Umm. Check under the sink?"

You open the drawer and nearly cry from what you see. There sat a small box, clearly labeled in Hobie’s messy handwriting, Lovebug's Blood Kit. It held pads in a number of colors and sizes, as well as a variety of your favorite chocolates.

You put on a pad and headed to the bedroom, expecting Hobie to still be there. To your surprise, you were met with a bare mattress completely cleaned of the previous murder scene. "In here," he called from the kitchen. "Food's done." 

"How’d yo-"

"You were in there for ages, bug. I was starting to think you passed out from blood loss."

You roll your eyes and smile. You were in love with an idiot. A caring and considerate idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.  

"Thanks again for everything." You sit down and begin to eat.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he shrugged, glancing towards you with a smile.

You giggle. “Of course you don’t.”

The quiet hum of the washing machine continued in the background as you both sat and ate. 

(A/n I got lazy by the end lol. Thank you to my lovely lovely editors @whaliiwatching and @shuinami. This was truly a mess before they looked at it.)

[leclerced]

Sending Lando to buy pads. And his ADHD brain ofc doesn’t register what type of them his girl wants so decides that he’ll go for the typical rom-com move and buy lots of them so he comes back with like 30 packs of pads and she just stares at him defeated

(I think Oscar would know what his girl likes and always have it him. Always restocks for her)

i saw a video the other day and i dont wanna find it but its SO lando. gf asked bf to buy her pads with wings and he brought back pads and wings. like hot wings. that’s him u cannot tell me otherwise.

lando’s gf asks him to buy her pads with wings, so he buys pads and wings in various flavors bc she didn’t specify which. he’s really confused when she tells him he got the wrong ones, and that she didn’t want wings. she has to pull up a photo and explain to him what she wanted. there’s like 36 wings and at least a total of 300 pads on the counter. he bought a lot of panty liners and a few boxes of pads without wings. he goes back and buys the correct ones bc he feels so bad and donates the wrong ones to a women’s shelter after gf suggests it bc she won’t use them.

oscar keeps pads and tampons under his bathroom sink even when he’s single and it shocks every woman who goes over. he’s been accused of having a girlfriend before because why else would a grown man living on his own have those in his bathroom? but he’s just like, “well, i have sisters n a mom who visit, so yeah, you’re not the only woman in my life. only romantic one, yes, but not the only one.” its so humbling for her bc she really thought the worst of him. he even learns which ones his girl prefers and keeps them stocked, and even has a stash of sweets and such for her. unconsciously tracks his girls period and restocks the bathroom and snack stash before each one.

[andysims-keiproject]

some writing for haji bc he's the character i project onto

tags: trans man character, bottom dysphoria, gender dysphoria, menstrual cycle, descriptions of Period Things, blood and descriptions of it, kinda gross, author using his beloved oc to vent, hajitarou, gay men <3, probably more i just can't think of atm

"Guh," was all that came out of Hajime's mouth as he leaned on the wall for support. Fuck, he felt dizzy. And lightheaded. And his stomach was cramping and-- oh fucking hell, it was shark week. Just dandy. Gathering up his books, Tarou murmured, "Hajime? Are you okay? You look pale. And you don't normally do... that when you stand up." Shaking his head, Haji shifted himself back onto his feet with a groan, haphazardly cramming his laptop back into his backpack and zipping it sufficiently shut. "M' fucking bleeding," he grumbled, holding his head. "Gotta get back to our dorm." Worried about his boyfriend, Tarou reached out to support him before being waved off. Oh, he supposed he should have expected that. Haji never let anyone help him, especially when his period started. He always spent the first day grappling with dysphoria which meant he refused everyone's help because "he was a big guy and he could do it on his own." What an idiot. Tarou was really concerned.

At lease Haji wasn't so stupid as to take the stairs down. Instead he teetered and tottered his way to the elevator back to the bottom floor of the class hall, the sudden downward motion enough to make his head spin a little. He got back to the dorm a little sooner that Tarou did, halfway through changing into sweatpants with no small amount of wrestling by the time it dropped its bag on the ground. "Have you eaten at all today?" Tarou asked, clipping his shaggy hair back in a claw clip with one hand and rummaging for his makeup remover with the other. "If you haven't, that's probably why you're dizzy." It got a rather pained "reh" noise in return and the sound of its boyfriend flopping onto his bed, already accepting defeat.

Oh, how Hajime was sick of this. He'd only been dealing with it for about an hour and he was fucking tired of it. Because now he'd start getting crampy and uncomfortable and nothing he did ever made it go away and then he'd start cursing his own body and then it would just deteriorate into feeling gross and wrong. He didn't want any of this. What he wanted was a dick. And he knew it was possible but he was also very much a college student with barely a penny to his name. He couldn't afford it, and it ripped him apart. And he couldn't miss class. That was a death sentence in this school. With a groan, he rolled over on the bed, rubbing his aching stomach in the hopes the feeling would go away soon so he could function. But seriously, he never got lightheaded before. And Gods knew what the fuck that meant. Maybe Tarou was right. Maybe he just needed to eat. Then he shivered as he felt one of those stupid little blood clots and realized he should probably do something before he bled into his boxers. Which meant wearing one of the two pairs of underwear he had leftover from high school that he only held on to because you can't stick a pad in boxers. And there was no way in hell he was using a tampon. He didn't even fucking know where to stick the damn thing.

Heaving himself off his bed, Haji waddled to his dresser and into the bathroom to dig the box of pads out from the back of the space under the sink. As he set about putting the damn thing on, he grumbled, "Stupid fucking body. Stupid fucking shark week. Stupid fucking cramps. Stupid fucking dysphoria. Fucking stupid, stupid, stupid!" There. It was on. And there was minimal blood on his boxers. Good. "M' gonna get lunch," he huffed, pulling on a hoodie and a pair of slippers that probably weren't meant to be worn outside. "You coming, Tarou?"

The taller man stood and stretched, the way his nose screwed up really highlighting how different he looked sans-eyeliner. Well, that didn't change when he was bleeding, Haji supposed. His boyfriend was always so pretty. WIth a considering little hum, it eventually replied, "Yeah, I'll come. I wanna spend time with you anyway." So the two of them set off on the short trek to the cafeteria, the cold winds making both of them shiver.

"So are we gonna talk about why you always get so pissy when this happens?" "No." "You sure? Because it's, y'know, kind of important given how it happens literally every month." "Yes, I'm sure. I don't wanna fucking think about it. And I'm not pissy." "Yes you are. You're being pissy right now, actually." "It's almost like you want me to yell at you." "You know I don't, kinako." "I know."

When they got their food they ate in silence for a little while, Tarou leaning against Hajime a little on one of the plush couches in the dining room. Eventually, Haji sighed, "I just... I wish I was done with this already. I'm this far on T and it still isn't over. When the fuck is it gonna end? It's bad enough that I get sick to my stomach when I look down in the shower. Why does it gotta keep bleeding? I'm so tired of feeling like this. I wanna like myself." He swallowed back the lump in his throat and willed away the tiny tears in his eyes. He was a prizefighter for fuck's sake, he didn't cry. But the way Tarou snuggled into him and made him feel big and protective... okay, maybe he could cry a little. They spent the next 20 minutes totally not on the brink of bawling, both of them trying to catch their shaking breaths by the end. To Tarou, hearing Hajime talk about himself like that was a nightmare. It didn't care what Haji had down there, but it knew it mattered to him, and that was enough to make it sad on his behalf. "I love you so much," it breathed, "I'm so sorry. But I promise you'll get there eventually. And know that I'll love you then too."

For something so short, it made him feel a lot better. Sometimes he got scared that he was only loved because he could still bleed. That Tarou would leave because the surgery looked weird or was "too fake." But he wouldn't. And that was just enough to make him feel okay.

i made myself cry at the end

[kandoros]

So some conservative's complaint about this is "We don't care that he gave free tampons, we're upset that he ordered schools to put them in boys bathrooms too!"

Which, as it turns out, isn't quite true. Shocking, I know.

Here's the entire text of the actual law that was passed:

"A school district or charter school must provide students with access to menstrual products at no charge. The products must be available to all menstruating students in restrooms regularly used by students in grades 4 to 12 according to a plan developed by the school district. For purposes of this section, "menstrual products" means pads, tampons, or other similar products used in connection with the menstrual cycle."

That's it. It doesn't mention gender at all. It just says that menstrual products must be available to anyone that needs them and leaves school districts to figure out which restrooms that applies too.

If you think about that for longer than it takes to read a bumper sticker, that makes a lot of sense. Because it would be pretty unreasonable to expect the legislators in the state capital to know the plumbing designs of every public school building in the state and explicit detail in their law which bathrooms need what.

(Side note, that's also why the recent Supreme Court decision overturning the Chevron doctrine is nonsense; if a bill is written that says "navigable waters have to be clean and not give someone cancer if they swim in it" you shouldn't expect Congress to list every single carcinogen instead of letting the EPA figure out what to ban. Especially since new chemicals are invented every day. Side rant over)

Now, Republicans did introduce an amendment which would have limited this bill to only having menstrual products in girls bathrooms. It was voted down. For good reason, since saying "only bathrooms labeled as women only" would have missed a lot of bathrooms that women use. Gender neutral bathrooms, unisex, single occupancy. Better to let the schools decide - aren't Republicans always saying local control is best because they have more local knowledge.

Let me give you an example from my own life: my elementary school had no group bathrooms. Not a single one. Instead, every class has it's own bathroom in the back of the room. One toilet, one sink, whoever needs to use it uses it.

Under the Republican amendment, that bathroom which was not specifically limited to girls, might not have been covered by this law. Which meant every bathroom in that school would have been missed. Under the bill as passed, they would have been.

And yes, I can already hear it so I'll refute it in advance - some elementary school girls are old enough to have periods.

But let's assume that amendment was made it good faith. That it wasn't some poison pill designed to be voted down so that they could claim Walz wanted tampons in the boys bathroom. Let's imagine a scenario where tampons are in a boys bathroom and figure out what problem they were trying to solve.

Little Timmy needs to wee, so he puts his hand up and asks Mrs. Smith if he can go to the bathroom. She tells him he can.

So he goes it, lifts the toilet seat, and does his business. Then he goes to wash his hands (because Mrs. Smith is a good teacher who has taught her students to do so), and there he sees it. A box of tampons.

(Now, did this one box of tampons, replicated across every boys bathroom in the state, never to be actually used and so a single one-time purchase, break the state's budget. I really don't think so.)

But it's there, and it's caught his eye like some Lovecraftian nightmare. He can't look away. He picks it up and starts reading it. Maybe even there's a box of pads and he reads that too!

Confused about this new experience he goes back into the class holding it. He walks up to Mrs. Smith and asks her: "Ma'am, this box says it has wings - did it drink a Red Bull?"

Seriously, what is their gripe about tampons being in a boys bathroom. As far as I can tell, the only thing they would be afraid of is that the awareness of menstruation would be an opportunity for boys to learn some sex ed and maybe get some empathy for their classmates. Maybe they'd even learn that one of the boys in their class is trans and that he isn't something to be bullied or feared just because of that.

It seems that Tim Walz signed a bill requiring Minnesota public schools to stock tampons and pads in their bathrooms in case any of the girls needed them.

At the rate their going, Kamala Harris and the Democrats won't need to sell this man to me as a good vice-president. Conservatives are doing that job for them!

Seriously, who the fuck thinks that bill was a bad thing? Do they imagine that teenage girls are stealing bundles of the things every day to sell on some kind of menstrual product black market?

Are they going to complain about the toilet paper being free too?

[watermelonlovershigh]

You Have Severe Period Cramps & Harry Comforts You

This was requested by this ASK. Also a few others requested this so thank you to them as well for helping me choose a one shot idea.

AN- sorry if it isn't that good. me personally, i don't get bad cramps except maybe once a year and the rest of the months are mild cramps. so that's why i made the reader rarely have cramps. so basically in my 8 years of having a period, i've never had severe period cramps so it was hard to write this from personal experience. if it isn't that accurate, that's why.

Things to help you understand this better:

(Boyfriend/girlfriend/Any Harry era of your choice/You don't live with Harry but stay over a lot)

Its 4 in the morning and I'm woken up with terrible cramps in my stomach. It takes me a few minutes to realize the cause of my pain and as soon as it clicks in my brain, I jump up from the bed and make a dash to the bathroom, praying I haven't leaked on Harry's sheets.

When I get to the bathroom, I run to the toilet and pull down my panties. I didn't sleep in pants because of the intimate events that took place between me and Harry before bed last night. Once sat on the toilet, I look down at my underwear and see a tiny red stain. Thank God I didn't leak anymore than that or I would have embarrassed myself.

I use the toilet and clean up properly. Then I grab a tampon from the box Harry keeps under his bathroom sink for me and push it in. As I'm putting the tampon in me, I notice the cramps are getting worse. 'Fuck!' I internally scream. Why did I have to have cramps this month?

My period history- (My periods are always regular and come each month of the year. But my symptoms are very irregular. Some months I PMS and some months I don't at all. Some months I have horrible period cramps and some months I barely notice them.)

Harry doesn't know just how bad they get due to the fact we have only been together for 8 months and I haven't really gotten cramps since before our relationship started. Before we started dating we were friends but I never discussed my period problems with him in our friendship. Now that we are girlfriend/boyfriend, he knows about my period and when it comes. He always keeps pads and tampons located in his bathroom for me which I'm grateful for. But period cramps are new to him when it comes to me specifically.

I make my way back to Harry's bed and cuddle up to his warm sleeping body. I close my eyes and attempt to fall back asleep but my cramps are making it almost impossible. These may be the worst cramps I've ever had. It's like someone has a bladed spoon and is scraping my uterine lining out. I can feel tears start to form in my eyes and I'm afraid I'll wake Harry up. So I turn my body opposite of his and lay in the fetal position. My knees are brought to my chest and my arms are wrapped around my legs with my head tucked between. Now my tears run freely.

When I subconsciously let out a whimper, Harry wakes up and turns to me. He can't see much due to the rooms darkness but the little light coming from the street lights gives him just enough sight to see me basically balled up and crying. Sitting up and scooting closer to me, Harry worriedly asks in a deep morning voice, "My love, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" I can't even answer at this point from the amount of pain I'm in. I just point to my stomach. "Is it your stomach? Your stomach is hurting?" he questions again, needing to know I'm alright.

"No, period. Cramps." I whisper through tears.

"Ohh," he says, "I'm sorry. What can I do? Do you need anything?" Harry speaks back while coming even closer to my body.

I'm not even sure what I want in this moment honestly. I haven't had cramps in so long I've forgotten how to handle them. So the only thing I can think of in this moment is, "Just hold me."

"Yeah, I'll hold you darling." He replies sweetly. He carefully turns my body around and pulls me over so I'm cuddled to his side. Then with my face on his shoulder and my arms around his neck, Harry rubs one hand on my back soothingly and one hand slips down to my stomach. He rubs lightly pressured circles on my lower stomach and questions, "This alright?" I just nod my head while letting silent tears fall from my eyes and drip down the crease of Harry's neck. He doesn't care about his skin getting damp from my salty tears. He cares that I'm in so much pain that I'm crying. He hates seeing me cry.

"They hurt so bad!" I moan out in pain a few minutes later.

"I'm sorry. You must not get period cramps often? Unless you put up with this every month and are good at hiding it!" Harry coos quietly.

My tears have slowly dissipated and my words come out more clearly. "I don't get cramps with every period. Mostly every few months. But when I do get them, they are really bad."

Harry hates knowing I'm suffering and wishes he could take my pain away. "I know all about period cramps. Well not having them myself but Gemma use to have them bad when we were teenagers. I remember mum having to pick her up from school because she'd be in so much pain. Or her cramps would become so bad that she would feel sick from them. I have so much sympathy for women who go through painful periods. You guys are so strong." His low, deep voice has made me relax somewhat and sleepy, so my eyes droop closed and I fall back to sleep.

It's now about 8 am and Harry has woken up, just scrolling through feed on his phone. He hasn't got up yet because he didn't want to move my sleeping body. To him I just looked so comfy snuggled into his side and I look to be in minimal pain. What he doesn't know is that I'm still in a lot of pain actually. They eased up a bit when I fell asleep but came back full force 30 minutes ago and I've been pretending I'm asleep. Pretending and trying to ignore nausea stirring in my belly. Even on the days my cramps are the worst, I hardly ever get nauseous from them. Though  I have had that symptom in the past so I know it's from my period cramps and not from a stomach bug arising.

With my eyes still closed, I can feel Harry start to move which is not great for my swirling and cramping stomach. So barley opening my mouth I whisper, "Don't move please. I feel sick. Don't want to throw up on you."

Harry is startled by my awakeness. He puts his phone face down on the bedding and looks down at me on his chest. "Do you want me to get you a bucket incase you actually puke or do you think you're okay?" Harry questions me in a low whisper.

With my eyes screwed shut, I mumble out, "I don't know. I need to probably change my tampon but I feel too sick to move."

Harry thinks for a second and comes up with a slight solution. "What if I get you the heating pad to lay on your tummy and I'll get you some pain medicine to take. And if you accidently leak on the bed, I won't be mad. I'll help you clean up alright?! Hopefully the heating pad will calm your nausea enough to allow you to use the toilet."

I just barley nod my head and Harry slowly slips from underneath me and gets out of bed to get the heating pad, bucket, and medicine. I stay as still as possible while he's gone. A few minutes later Harry returns with all the items. He plugs the heating pad up and places it on my cramping stomach, then lays back beside me. After about 10 minutes of the heat on my tummy, my cramps have reduced enough where I don't feel nauseous anymore. So Harry helps me sit up and I take the pain medicine, feeling more confident it will stay down unlike moments ago when I felt I'd just throw them up. Then Harry helps me out of bed and walks me to the toilet to switch my tampons out. He steps out to give me my privacy and when I'm finished, he comes back in and says he's going to run me a warm bath to make me feel better.

Harry runs me soothing bath and helps me discard my clothes. He doesn't attempt to get in with me knowing I'd want to bath alone because of my period. But he does sit in there with me to keep me company, kneeling by the tub. Harry also massages shampoo into my hair and uses the shower head to rise it out. I request to wash my own body and he respects that. So while I'm washing my body, he puts my towel in the drier and warms it up for me.

After my white fluffy towel is nice and warm, Harry comes back to the bathroom and gives me the towel to dry off with. Once I'm in a fresh pair of pjs, Harry leads me to the movie room down stairs. We cuddle under a thick warm blanket and watch movies for the rest of the day. My period cramps left by nightfall and thankfully never returned again this period.

MASTERLIST & My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

[egcdeath]

aunt flo

summary: your monthly friend decides to visit you while staying over at steve’s.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: steve rogers x reader 

warnings: periods (so blood as well), awkward situations

a/n: this is definitely inspired by the *ahem* cycle that is currently plaguing me. it also hasn’t been thoroughly edited as this was the first time in a while that i’d written something, and i wanted to share it with you all as soon as possible! i hope you enjoy <3 

Sleeping over at Steve’s apartment was never a bad experience for you. He seemed to always be completely prepared for what the night would entail, whether it be a plethora of snacks, or your favorite scent of lotion.

However, when you woke up in what felt like a pool of your own blood, saying you were alarmed was a bit of an understatement. You mentally cursed at yourself for not realizing ahead of time that your cycle was set to start any time that week, and the fact that you’d bled all over your boyfriends sheets.

You attempted to slip out of Steve’s grasp and out of bed to assess the damage done in both your underwear, and on the bed. Once you were finally standing on the floor and gawking at the red spot in bed, you rubbed your forehead exasperatedly. While it wasn’t as bad as you’d expected, it certainly wasn’t good. The quarter sized blood stain seemed to be glaring back to you, and you decided to glare back at it before heading into the en-suite.

Before plopping yourself down on the toilet, you searched through cupboard upon cupboard for some sort of period product. Behind the mirror: aftershave, Advil, bandaids, a random bar of soap, nothing you could use. Under the sink: Epsom salt, your favorite body wash, an extra bottle of shampoo, but not a tampon in sight. Above the toilet: a few rolls of toilet paper, yet nothing even resembling a pad.

Seeing as Steve seemed pretty prepared for anything related to you, you were more than a bit surprised that he hadn’t considered that you were a menstruating human. You huffed as you sat down on the toilet, then assessed the damage control you’d need to do. First and foremost, you needed something to protect the rest of Steve’s apartment from your uterine lining. After you figured that out, you desperately needed to get that stain out of your boyfriend's sheets before he’d notice.

Maybe you could order some pads from a grocery store to his apartment. That seemed like a safe bet, but Steve would probably become concerned if he realized you’d been in the bathroom for 45 minutes. Perhaps you could just leave without a word to Steve. But that raises the issue of a random blood stain, and possibly, an upset Steve.

“Think, Y/N, think,” you muttered to yourself. You attempted to brainstorm more options for yourself, but ultimately ended up dozing off, and waking up to the soft rapping against the bathroom door, along with the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Sweetheart, everything okay in there? You’ve been in there for a while, and I saw some blood on the bed. Did you hurt yourself?”

You mentally cursed at yourself, at least now you’d only have to worry about obtaining a pad, and not addressing the mess on the bed.

“Oh yeah, I’m completely fine. Actually, I should probably head home,” you attempted to sound convincing, but didn’t exactly hit the mark.

“Are you sure? I thought we were gonna get brunch together this morning.”

You could’ve sworn you heard the frown in Steve’s voice. “Oh, uh, I’m not super hungry right now.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But about that blood, what happened? Are you alright?” He questioned.

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“Did the headboard scratch you? Did I sleep fight you or something? Did you hit your leg on the nightstand again?”

“Jesus Steve,” you scoffed a bit at the overload of questions. “I just started my period. And you have nothing I can use here, so I need to go home. That’s why there’s blood in your bed, and that’s why I’ve been in here all morning.”

“Doll, you should’ve told me! I’ll go get you something, okay?” He opened the door just a crack, and blew you a kiss. “Just stay right where you are. I’ll be back quicker than you can say period. There’s medicine behind the mirror, and I can grab you my heating pad before I go. Maybe taking a shower would help t-“

“Steve,” you giggled. “That’s plenty. Now go get my shit so I can stop bleeding all over the place.”

“Got it. I love you,” he smiled warmly at you before closing the door softly, and heading out.

—

Steve basically sprinted to his nearest convenience store, getting lost in the feminine hygiene section, then finding himself completely at loss with what he was supposed to buy. There were just too many options. He considered calling you to ask what you need, but he didn’t want to bother you more than necessary. Plus, you could be standing in the shower right now, and what if you heard your phone ringing, tried to get out of the shower to answer, and slipped? The thought of you hurting yourself made Steve shudder.

He ended up settling on three different varieties of pads and tampons. If you didn’t need them, he could always donate them to a local shelter. He then stopped by the candy aisle to grab you some dark chocolates (he’d heard in passing that it was good for menstruating women), along with a package of panties that looked like they could be your size, before hopping in line at a register.

In the midst of Steve’s menstruation mania, he failed to notice a random customer snapping a photo of him with the over abundance of women’s hygiene products. He was much more busy with checking out and getting back to you as fast as humanly possible.

——

Once Steve made it back to his apartment, he found you still in the bathroom, surrounded by a light mist of fog from the shower, and clad in an oversized sweatshirt with a faded SHIELD logo.

“I didn’t know what to get you, so I got you everything,” Steve blushed at his own unpreparedness, then passed you the bags of period products. “I’m gonna go change the sheets. When you’re ready, just meet me in bed, okay?” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving the bathroom, letting you handle your business.

——

A breakfast-in-bed and movie marathon later, you were still cuddled up in Steve’s bed, his massive body giving you an extra level of warmth that was soothing your cramps like nothing you’d ever witnessed before. You were probably more comfortable than you’d ever been. Except for the incessant vibrating of your phone on the bedside table.

You’d finally reached out for it, and were pretty shocked to see all of the messages you’d received. You opened the first message from one of your closest friends, and your eyebrows raised as you read it.

LMAO read this right now bitch

enews.com/caps-pad-problem

Curiosity got the best of you, so you opened up the article.

#Padgate?

If you've been anywhere on the internet in the last few  hours, you’ve certainly seen the word “padgate” trending. The reason why is more interesting than you’d think.

Early this morning, Captain America, America’s sweetheart was spotted buying out the entirety of the feminine hygiene section of his local convenience store.

From this, a huge question rises. Is he donating? There’s certainly enough pads and tampons to keep an army of women satisfied for a year. Is he seeing someone? She must be some lucky gal.  Either way, when we thought this man couldn’t get any more lovable- he did!

You blushed while reading the article, not exactly sure how to feel. After letting it simmer in your brain for a second, you began to giggle, deciding that more than anything, it was pretty damn funny. You texted a quick message back to your friend who’d sent the article, then finally began to speak to Steve, who was giving you a bit of a confused look at your giggling.

“Steve, you goof. Someone took a picture of you buying all of that period stuff, and now the internet has gone wild.”

“What? Let me see,” he reached for your phone, and you gladly passed it to him. He skimmed over the article, then furrowed his brows. “Tony and the PR department are never going to let me live this down,” he groaned.

“Don’t be so dramatic, maybe something good will come out of this!” You chided, giving him a mischievous grin.

——

As it turns out, the word good is subjective.

It’d been about a month post-padgate, and you’d been strolling through the store with Steve, working on getting your groceries for the week.

As you entered the wellness aisle, you looked at the shelves containing menstrual products, knowing that you needed to restock sooner than later.

When you first saw what you saw, you had to do a complete double take. Your eyes must’ve been deceiving you.

A Tampax box stared back at you, a logo with a shield containing a star clearly defined on the box, along with the text ‘Captain America approved!’

“No way,” you actually laughed out loud at the sight. “Steve!” you grabbed onto his sleeve, and pulled him in the direction of the box so he could see what you were seeing.

“No way!” He reprised. “Oh my God. I’m really never gonna live this down, am I?”

[atlafan]

One Last Time - One Shot

a/n: heavily inspired by Let Me Love You Goodbye lmao. I didn’t proofread, sorry!

Warnings: smut and angst

Words: 8K

After months of bottling things up, they finally had the discussion they needed to have. They argued a little, but never really raised their voices. Tears had taken over them at some point, and when they had both calmed down, they were able to think and speak more rationally. It was over. A year and a half over and done, just like that. It wasn’t from a lack of trying or a lack of love. They loved each other very much, it just wasn’t enough anymore. Sometimes when two part start to grow up, they grow apart instead of growing together. This is what happened with Harry and Y/N.

“I’ll stay in the guest room tonight. Meg said I could move in with her. She’s been looking for a roommate anyways.”

“So…you’ve discussed us breaking up with her before you even discussed it with me?” He was hurt, of course he was.

“She’s my best friend, Har. I told her how I was feeling and how I wouldn’t really know what to do if things ended with us, and well…she offered.” His eyes were still puffy. His lips part to say something, but there wasn’t much else left to say. “I’ll need some time to get all of my things, divide up the shared items…but I should able to do it while you’re at work.”

“I’ll stay in the guest room, you can stay in the bed.”

“No, I…I don’t want to.”

“Why not? Now the bed’s not good enough for you?” It was a jab, one that he needed it get in.

“The guest bed doesn’t smell like you, like us.” She says quietly, and his face softens more. She blinks away a few more tears and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I wish things could be different.”

“Me too.” She laughs to herself and he raises an eyebrow. “At least I can say the first boy I ever truly loved, loved me back, and it was good.” She stands up and wipes her face. “I’m gonna get settled for bed…not that I think I’ll be able to sleep much.” She sighs.

“Me neither. Go on, do what you need to do, I’ll give you your privacy.”

“Thanks.”

//

Every night when Harry got home from work there were more and more things missing from his home. First, she cleared out all her toiletries from their shared bathroom. Her special hair color shampoo and conditioner, her Dove soap for sensitive skin, all of her raisers, not even a box of pads or tampons. One would never know a woman had lived there. Then it was her clothes. She had about six different mental breakdowns packing her clothes, not that he would know. She had to stand there looking at the closet and decide if she wanted to keep any of the sweatshirts she had taken form him over the years. T-shirts, sweatpants, bandanas, scrunchies, so many things they just shared. She decided just to keep one of each, her very favorites, and leave the rest for him. This caused him to breakdown. He wanted her to keep these things, he wanted her to keep part of him. Her next task, he realized, was the kitchen. Her favorite mugs were gone. She had a knack for collecting them. They had a shared home office that she had to finish packing up. That was about it, though. He had all the furniture they needed when she moved in. He wondered what she was doing for a bed at Meg’s. He thought to ask her if she wanted to take the guest bed, but he knew she was would just say no.

Y/N knew the last time she would go to pick up her last bit of things, she would be leaving the keys to the once shared home behind. Meg said they could go out for brunch once it was done, so she made sure to doll herself up. She did her hair and makeup, and put on a cute red crop top with some mom jeans. She looked cute, yet casual. She took a deep breath as she pulled into the driveway. She took an even deeper one when she keyed into the house. She walks all the way to the back where the office is and gasps when she sees Harry at his desk, headphones on, typing away at his computer. He jumps when he turns and sees her.

“Christ.” He says, taking his headphones off. He looks her up and down. Why did she look so good? Did she always dress up like this when she’d come by to pick up her things.

“Why are you home…here?” She corrects herself. This wasn’t home anymore.

“I didn’t have any meetings today, so I thought I’d work from home. You didn’t tell me you were coming by today.” He stands up and rubs the back his neck.

“I didn’t think I had to.” She looks at her boxes and moves to go pick one up.

“Let me do that.”

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Please, it’s the least-“

“Harry, it’s too weird! I don’t want you helping me move out, okay? It’s too much.” She picks up a box and moves down the hall. He watches as she comes in and out four separate times. The last time she comes in she takes the keys off the key ring and sets them down on his desk. “That was everything, bye, Harry.”

He grabs her wrist just as he’s turning.

“You’re sure? You double checked everything?”

“Yes.”

“I think you left some clothes upstairs.”

“No way.” She shakes her head. “That’s impossible.”

“Will you at least come up and look?”

“Alright.” She sighs. “But then I need to go.”

He nods and gestures for her to go first. He watches her as she walks up the stairs. Why did she have to wear this outfit? She knew he loved when she dressed like this. It was so simple, but she made it look so good. And she was wearing a very particular shade of lipstick that he liked on her. She was also wearing the perfume she knew he liked most. What was she trying to do?

“Show me what you think I left.” She says, crossing her arms.

He looked good today too. He was just in a simple t-shirt and grey joggers. Those damn grey joggers.

“These sweatshirts, they’re not mine.” He tosses them on the bed.

“They are.”

“But you wore them more.”

“So that makes them mine? I don’t want them.”

“Neither do I.”

“So, get rid of them.”

“Nice of you to let me do that.” He huffs and shakes his head. “And why did you come around here looking like this, hm?”

“Looking like what?”

“Don’t act so innocent.”

“I had no idea you’d be home. I’m going to brunch after this, and-“

“Must be nice to have an appetite.” He scoffs.

“Hey!” She snaps. “This is a mutual breakup, Harry. Neither of us were happy, and noting we did helped.”

“Doesn’t mean this part doesn’t suck. You’re leaving, you’re really leaving, and…I’m never going to see you again.”

“We have mutual friends, we’ll see each other.”

“But we’ll do what all people do when they breakup. We’ll share an awkward smile, and then we’ll avoid each other the rest of the time.”

“What do you propose we do then? We agreed we shouldn’t really contact each other unless it was an emergency.” She looks down. “You’re dressed how I like too, you know? It’s not just me.”

“I literally had no idea you’d be coming here today. Also, I’m just in sweats, what’s so special about that?”

“What’s so special about a fucking crop top and jeans?!”

“It’s because you’re wearing it.” He steps closer to her. “We always makeup after a fight, and this time we didn’t.”

“Because we broke up, Harry. We don’t need to makeup.”

“I just don’t think we’re getting a proper goodbye.” He whispers as he cups her cheeks, making her look at him. “You’re about to walk out of my life…can’t we just…”

“Are you asking to have sex with me?” She was shocked. They hadn’t had sex in a really long time.

“Just one last time.”

She’s be lying if she said she didn’t want to. Why not go out with one last bang? All she does is nod her head yes. He leans in, but she backs away.

“Don’t kiss me.”

“Y/N.” He frowns.

“I can handle the rest, but don’t kiss me on the mouth, please.”

He moves some of her hair away.

“Where can I kiss you then?”

Her face flushes. They hadn’t had sex in a while, and they certainly hadn’t done that. Would it be so wrong to ask him to do it…just one las time?

“Anywhere but my mouth.”

His hands move to her hips to pull her close as he mouths at her neck, and just under her ear. Her hands move up to his hair to tug at it how he likes. His hands slides up her back to pull off her top. He takes his own and then unhooks her bra. He brings them both back to the bed for her to straddle him. He presses their chests close as he kisses on her neck. It was difficult not to kiss her, and that’s when he realizes he had taken it for granted. She rolls her hips down on him, causing him to groan. He needed this, he really did. He needed her so badly.

He grips her hips and places her on her back. He gets between her legs to undo her jeans. He pulls them down on her legs, she lifts her hips up to get her under wear off. She was breathing heavily. He knew what she wanted. He dips his head down to suck on one of her nipples while his fingers slide around her folds. When he pushes them inside her, she gasps and tightens around him. His thumb rubs on her clit as he works his fingers. She grips at his hair and pushes his head down further.

“Harry, please…I’ll return the favor, just please…”

He nods and moves down her body, finally wrapping his lips around her clit while he continued to finger her. Her hips move in sync with his fingers. Harry was always really good at this, there was no denying that.

“Oh my god, that’s ittttt.” She moans.

Harry felt like a fool. Why hadn’t they done this in a while? If they had would it have made a difference? Listening to her moan was almost torture because he knew after today he’d never get to hear the beautiful sound again.

“Shit, oh fuck, Harry!” She nearly screams as she comes on his fingers. He retracts them so he can suck on her center, bringing her way over the edge. “Fuck.” She breathes.

She watches as he sucks his fingers into his mouth to clean them off. He stands up to take his joggers off. He was commando under them. He lays on the bed next to her, and she gets between his legs. She spits into her hand before gripping him. She pumps him a few times before wrapping her lips around his tip. She listens to him grunt appreciatively. She sinks a little further down, but she doesn’t take much. She never could. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get her gag reflex under control. Harry never minded, felt best around his tip anyways.

“Feels so good.” He groans. “But I need to be able to fuck you.”

She pops off him, and crawls up his body, lining him up with her. She sinks down on him, and she nearly came from the feeling of him stretching her out alone. How the fuck was she supposed to move on and find someone else when Harry literally had the perfect dick. And she was just supposed to live with knowing that some other girl was going to be able to know him like this? It was bullshit. She was angry with him, and with herself. The entire situation was complete shit.

She bounces up and down on him at first, taking control of the pace, but he doesn’t let her for long. He pulls her close to him, and thrusts up into her. He essentially moves her up and down on him. She clutches at his shoulders, nails scratching at his tan skin. One of his hands snakes between them so he can rub her clit.

“Harry.” She whimpers.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” She says into his ear. “Faster.”

He rubs her faster as she moves up and down on him. She comes again, easily. Just as she’s coming down form her high, she’s being put on her back. Harry fucks in and out of her nice and hard.

“God.’ She groans. “So good, Harry.”

“Like it like this? Nice and hard?”

“Yes, fuck, yes.”

She can feel herself starting to tear up, so she grabs him by the back of the neck to pull him down. His face goes to the crook of her neck, and he rocks in and out of her.

“Can I?” He asks.

“Yes.”

His pace quickens and before she knows it, he’s coming inside her. Maybe it was a little irresponsible, but she was on the pill, and just wanted to feel all he could give her one last time. They were both glossy eyed when they looked at each other. After getting cleaned up and dressed, he walks her down to the front door. He hugs and holds her close, kissing the top of her head.

“Goodbye.” She whispers.

“Bye.”

He closes the door and rests his forehead against it, bursting into tears. She cried too, the entire way to meet Meg for brunch. She had tissues in the car, luckily, so she looked perfectly normal. She didn’t tell Meg about her abrupt and passionate romp with Harry. She didn’t want to be scolded or be told she was stupid for once again giving him exactly what he wanted.

//

“That’s impossible, I’m on the pill.”

“Sometimes birth control fails, Y/N.” Her doctor told her. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“Two months ago.” She groans. “With my ex-boyfriend. I don’t understand, I hadn’t missed a pill or anything.”

“It just happens sometimes.” She says, trying to be as sympathetic as possible.

“How far along am I then?”

“About ten weeks.”

“How could I be so stupid?! All the signs were there! I just thought I had mono or something, and maybe that’s why I haven’t been feeling well.” Her voice cracks.

“You know…you don’t have to…I mean, if now’s not the right time for you to have a baby, there are options.”

“I know.” She sniffles. “I just don’t think I could go through with it.” She takes a deep breath. “I’ll figure it out.”

Y/N explained to Meg that she was pregnant, forcing her to come clean about the last time her and Harry had sex. Meg was a really good friend, so she told Y/N they’d figure it out and make it work.

“Are you going to tell Harry?”

“No.” She sighs. “I can’t. He has so many plans, and-“

“So your life is allowed to change, but his isn’t?”

“He’d want to get back together, Meg…”

“I think he’d just want to help you.”

“You don’t understand, he has this thing…sometimes when we’d have sex we’d talk about having kids someday, it’s like a kink or something. If he sees me like this he’s not gonna let me go. I don’t want to be with him. I feel like I’m finally moving on, you know? My career is launching, I don’t want him in my life again.”

“Alright.” She sighs. “I just think he could help you…financially, that’s all.”

“I never wanted him for his money, and I certainly don’t intend to want him for that now.”

“And you want to have this baby? It’s okay if you don’t, Y/N…”

“Thanks.” She smiles a little. “I want to keep it. I’m already ten weeks along, I heard the heartbeat…I know it’s not even a thing a yet, but I-“

“Hey.” She squeezes her hand. “It’s your choice.”

//

Y/N gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Her parents were shocked when she had initially told them, but they supported her, they were going to be grandparents after all. They were right there in the hospital with her. Y/N named her Emily, having always loved the name. Meg was a saint, being perfectly okay with using their office as a nursery.

Y/N loved her baby girl so much. As she watched her grow she realized that she had Harry’s eyes and curly hair, but Emily also had Y/N’s nose and face shape. A perfect mixture of the two. Among all this, Y/N had become quite friendly with a guy she had only ever been friends with. He wasn’t scared away by Emily, he knew Y/N wasn’t in contact with Harry. His name was Kevin, and she was wonderful.

Things were going better than expected, and Y/N took to motherhood way better than she thought. She was greatly enjoying her maternity leave as well. She only had about two weeks left to milk it before she’d have to leave Emily with her mother while she was at work. She thought it would be nice to have some mother-daughter time, and go a nice walk in town. Y/N heads inside her favorite coffee shop. Still not able to really drink caffeine, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get a fun smoothie or something.

“One blueberry and banana please, with avocado, a little cocoa powder, and coconut milk.” She smiles. She has Emily strapped to her chest as she snoozes. It was pretty cute.

“Y/N?”

Her eyes grow wide as she steps aside to wait for her drink. She turns around and sees Harry there, in his suit, small coffee cup in hand, no doubt housing black coffee.

“Harry, oh my goodness, hi.” She says, almost in shock. This wasn’t exactly how she thought he’d ever meet his daughter, if she ever allowed it at all.

“It’s so good to see you.” He smiles. “It’s been…”

“A little over a year.”

“Miss?” She turns and sees her smoothie is done, and thanks the barista.

“Yeah, uh…” He looks down at the baby. “Did your sister have a kid or something?”

“No.” She giggles. “I did, about three months ago.” She could tell he was trying to do the math in his head. “Maybe we should sit.”

“I just came here quickly on my lunch hour…” His heart was racing.

“I really think we should sit.” She gestures to a table in the back. He sits down with her and watches as she takes the baby out of the little restraints she was in against Y/N’s chest. “Shh, shh, sweet girl.” She coos as Emily stretches out and yawns. “Harry, this is Emily.”

“Hi, Emily.”

The baby blinks and looks over at Harry. Harry puts his hand out and she grabs at his finger. Harry chuckles as he tries to get his finger out.

“Quite the grip.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty strong.”

“So…uh…” Harry furrows his brows as he looks at the baby. She almost looked familiar.

“She’s yours…” She says quietly.

“Pardon me?”

“She’s yours, Harry.”

“How is that even possible?” He searches for his inhaler on his person as now he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He takes it out and takes a couple of puffs.

“My birth control failed…after we…said goodbye.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice cracks as tears start to well up. “I could have…I mean…I would have wanted to be around for all of it.”

“I was selfish.” She admits. “I didn’t want to see you. I thought you might try to get back together with me, and I didn’t want that. I was doing really well, still am…and it’s not like she doesn’t have a male figure in her life, I’m sort of seeing someone. You remember my friend Kevin?”

“Kevin?! I knew I never liked him.”

“Harry.”

“Can I hold her?” He could scream. He could pout. Hell, he could punch her in the face for keeping something like this from him, or he could be the bigger person and do what he could now to get his supposed daughter in his life.

“Of course.” She passes Emily over to him. He holds her like he was always meant to. “I have pictures from every moment, even when I was pregnant if you want to see…”

“Could we find a weekend to catch up? I’d love to see everything.”

“Harry.” A woman walks over to them, clearly annoyed. “I’ve been waiting outside for fifteen minutes, what the…what’s going on?”

“Heather! Uh, this is, um, this is Y/N…and uh, Y/N, this is Heather, she’s my colleague, and-“

“I remember her.” Y/N says. “Hi.”

“Haven’t see you in quite some time.” She crosses her arms. “What’s going on Harry?”

“You may want to go back to the office without me…I’ve just got some news, and I don’t think I can make it back.” He gestures to the baby.

“Are you say that’s yours?”

“Yes.” Harry and Y/N say at the same time.

“She could be lying, you know? Probably just wants your money.”

“She doesn’t. If she did, she would have told me she was pregnant. This meeting happened by chance, I’m glad it did, now go back to the office and tell them I’m not feeling well or tell them I just found out I’m a father, I don’t care, just go.”

Heather huffs, but leaves.

“So, shitting where you eat?” Y/N smirks.

“It’s not like that.”

“So you haven’t hooked up wither?”

“No, I have, she’s just not my girlfriend or anything. We’re colleagues.”

“Wonderful.”

“You don’t really have a leg to stand on, you’re dating a guy I never trusted, and you never told me you were pregnant when you should have.”

“Fair.”

Harry looks down at the baby in his arms and then back up to her beautiful mother.

“Can we go somewhere?”

“What happened to meeting up on a weekend?”

“As you just heard, I’m not going back to work this afternoon. Come on, I can call a car.”

“No, I walked here from my apartment, and I’d like to walk back. You can keep holding her if you want, or I can strap her back in.”

“I wanna keep holding her.”

The walk back was quiet. Y/N sipped on her smoothie while Harry carefully held Emily.

“So…” He finally says. “Are you and Kevin, like, serious?”

“We’re taking things slow. We’ve been on a few dates, but I’m really not in a position to have a boyfriend. All my free time goes to her. I go back to work soon, and then she’ll be with my mom.”

“Oh boy, they must love me.”

Y/N chuckles and keys into her apartment. She takes Emily form Harry and grabs a bottle out of the fridge.

“I pump.” She tells Harry as they sit on the couch.

“Wasn’t judging. You’re her mum, you know what’s best.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you burp her.”

“You were never going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs. “There were a lot of times I wanted to call you…but…I wanted to do this without you. I wanted her to be a little older before I reached out to tell you.”

“How much older?” He scoffs. “Eighteen?”

“Harry.” She hands Emily to him, and puts a rag on his shoulder. “I know, it wasn’t a nice thing for me to do. I was sort of resentful.”

“Shouldn’t keep a baby from their father. I’m not a bad person.”

“I know.”

She takes Emily back and puts her down for her nap in the nursery. She comes back out and sits with Harry again.

“You look great, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I walk a lot, helped get rid of some of the extra fluff I put on.”

“Can I see the pictures?”

Y/N nods, and takes her phone out. Harry smiles at the pregnant photos.

“You were glowing.” He gasps when he sees the pictures of when Emily was first born. “Well, you’ve sold me. I’ll be setting up a nursery at my house. We’ll have to set up some type of schedule. Maybe I could have her on the weekends?”

“Whoa, slow down.”

“What? I have rights, don’t I? Is my name on her birth certificate?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” He shrugs. “I want to be involved in her life, Y/N. I want to be her dad, not just her father.” He frowns. Y/N knew Harry’s father wasn’t around much, and it really affected him. “Couldn’t we try to co-parent?”

“I suppose we could…you’re not too busy? I know you’ve moved up a lot at work.”

“I can make it work. I want my home to be her home.” He looks around at Y/N’s apartment. It was small, not tiny, but not big enough to have a child grow in. “Let me give you some money, you could get a bigger place, and-“

“You’re nuts!” She laughs. “She has her own room here.”

“What happens when Meg moves out, or doesn’t want a baby around, or whoever she ends up dating doesn’t want a baby around? Oh! I know, I have a guest house, you could-“

“Harry!” She puts her hands on his shoulders. It was the first time he had felt her hands on him in so long. “I’m not moving in with you. We’ve done that before, remember? Didn’t quite work out. We’re two very different people.”

“You wouldn’t be moving in with me, you’d be moving into my guest house. It’s sort of like a pool house, but larger. I have friends use it when they come visit, but it could be yours if you wanted it. It even has its own driveway and garage. It would feel like your own place.”

“One step at a time.”

“It would just make things easier.”

“Harry, what do you think other people do? Normal people don’t live within the same vicinity just to raise a kid.” She shakes her head. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

“What’s that?”

“If I move in there, you and I will start getting close again. Then some night you’ll suggest I just move into the main house, and before we know it, I’m sleeping in your bed, we’re married, and we have three more kids.”

It sounded like a dream to Harry, why not to her?

“Well, we did talk about having four kids.” He smirks, but his smile fades when he realizes his joke didn’t exactly land. “I don’t have any schemes. I just want you well taken care of, along with her.”

“You just found out about her. We’re plenty well taken care of. I take care of her, and soon my mom will be with her when I go back to work.”

“You’re gonna outgrow this place.” He sighs. “But I won’t force you to move, just think about it. In the meantime, let me…” He takes his checkbook out of the inside of his suit jacket. “I’m not sure how much all your hospital bills were, but I want to-“

“Put that away.”

“At least let me send you money weekly, or monthly? She must be costing you a fortune.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“It’s not about you, it’s about that little baby girl.”

“You really wanna help financially?”

“I do.”

“Start a college fund for her then. I make plenty to cover things, but I haven’t been able to start a savings account for her yet. Any time you want to send me money, put it into a college fund for her.”

“That’s a brilliant idea. I’ll do that.” He smiles. “When can I have her?”

“We can pick a day to go shopping, I can help set a room up for her, and then we can discuss a custody agreement, okay? I know how busy you get with traveling.”

“Maybe every other weekend for now? If I can get it on my calendar they won’t schedule me for anything.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “It would be kind of nice to have some weekends to myself.”

“Yeah, you can keep going out on dates with Kevin, and then eventually, she’ll call him dad. Won’t that be great?”

“You’re impossible.” She nudges his arm. “Harry…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I know how much  you love kids, and-“

“I get it. You thought you were doing what was best. And you’re right, I would have tried getting back together with you.” He shrugs and stands up. “Still might, you look really fucking good, love.” He winks at her and heads out.

He leaves her flustered as all hell. He always had the effect on her. She tells Meg all about the encounter when she gets home from work.

“You know you’re going to end up moving in with him.”

“Am not.”

“Sure you are. An entire guest house to move into for free? Fuck, I’d move in if he asked me.” She laughs.

“He’s different, but still the same. It was crazy just running into him like that.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t pass out when you told him.”

“He took it really well. He jumped at the chance to be involved. It was sweet. I feel guilty.”

“Don’t.”

“I told him I did it because I was being selfish. He made a good point that it was more about her than it was about me.”

“He’s smart, I’ll give him that.”

//

Y/N brought her mother with her when she met up with Harry at the baby store. It wasn’t as awkward as she thought. Her mom always loved Harry. He held Emily throughout their time in the store. They all drive back to his place so he can show them the room what would be hers. He already had it painted.

“Tell me again why you don’t want to live in that nice place out back?” Her mom whispered to Y/N while they let Harry change Emily.

“It would be weird. What about Kevin?”

“What about Kevin?” She scoffs. “You’ve got a perfectly great guy in front of you, and-“

“Mom, please.” She says.

“All done! Not too shabby.” Harry says, holding his daughter up with pride. “So, think this could be a place she’ll partially grow up in?”

“She’ll love it.” Y/N says, taking Emily from him. “Once you get all the furniture, we can figure out when your first weekend with her is.”

“Sounds great.” He smiles. “I can’t wait to have her to myself. Already got her picture on my desk and everything. I promise, I’m gonna be a great dad.”

//

The first weekend Y/N didn’t have Emily she felt conflicted. She missed her like crazy, but also slept better than she had in a long time, not being woken up by the crying and all. Harry did well with his baby. He enjoyed having her there very much, and nearly cried when Y/N came to pick her up.

“So…I’ll see her in two weeks.” He frowns.

“Harry, I can’t give her to you every weekend, then I wouldn’t have any of the fun time with her. She just gets me after a long day of work.”

“Maybe I could have her on Wednesday nights? A lot of people do that.”

“So, every Wednesday, and every other weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I think I could make that work. I could drop her off here after work.”

“You’re serious?!”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I won’t keep her from you, Harry. Not when I see how serious you are about all this.”

“You’re amazing, thank you.” He nearly almost kisses her, but stops himself, and gives Emily the kiss instead.

“Nice save, Styles.”

“Wait…uh…I had a thought the other day. If I needed to bring her to the doctor or something…is her last name mine?”

“Of course it is.”

“So, you were just going to let her grow up with my last name and not even tell her who I was?”

“No.” She chuckles. “My plan was to tell you about her when she was around six months. I just needed more time and courage. I’ll regret it forever, I can assure you.” She sighs.

“Well, what matters now is the present and the future. We don’t need to dwell on the past.” He smiles.

“Thank you.”

Y/N was exhausted from work when she had to bring Emily over to Harry’s. She mumbled under breath that he should have to come pick her up if he wants her so badly. She gets Emily out of the car, and Harry opens the door.

“Come on in, I’ve got dinner on the table.” He smiles.

“You’ve got a bottle of formula for her on the table?” Y/N smirks as she enters the home.

“No, silly.” He chuckles and takes Emily out of the car seat and gives her a big kiss on the cheek. “That’s on the counter in the kitchen. I’ve got dinner for you and I. A little thank you for being so wonderful to me.”

“I really don’t deserve dinner, Harry. I’m not wonderful.”

“You are. You could have told me to fuck off, or you could have told me Emily wasn’t mine when we ran into each other that day. I’ve never been so happy. I can’t shut up about her at work. Please, have dinner with me after I put her down. You must be hungry.”

“You’re lucky I am. I’ll help you put her down.”

Harry nods and goes upstairs with Y/N. They get Emily fed, burped, changed, and down for bed. They both go downstairs. Y/N’s mouth waters when she sees chicken, potatoes, and asparagus on the table.

“You made all this?” She asks, sitting down.

“Course I did, I’m a great cook, remember?” He sits down adjacent to her. A little too close perhaps, but oh well. “Want some wine? Water?”

“Wine, please.”

Harry pours her a glass, and one for himself. Y/N dives into the food and moans.

“Delicious, thank you.”

“Anytime. Maybe this could be our Wednesday night tradition? It could add some normalcy for Emily, and you wouldn’t be starved dropping her off.”

“Oh, so I always need to drop her off.”

“Makes it easier, I’m on the way. Plus, it gives me time to get home, and get everything ready.”

“I suppose as she grows it would be good to have some type of family dinner.”

“Exactly!” He smiles and takes a bite of the food. “So tell me, how was your day? What did you do?”

“Harry…the last thing I want to do is talk about work.” She chuckles.

“Alright, then how are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” She laughs.

“I’m great.” He smiles and sips on his wine. “Like I said, never been happier.”

“And how’s Heather been with all this?”

“Every day she asks me to get a paternity test. As if you could look at that child and not know she’s mine.”

“Are you two stil…?”

“Nah, probably another reason why she’s been so pissy with me, but, oh well. I got a kid to worry about now. No time for random late night hookups.” He looks at her. “How’s Kevin?”

“Oh, we stopped seeing each other.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t thrilled that you’ve come back into the picture, and he said he wouldn’t compete with you, and I told him there was nothing to compete with, and then he told me I wasn’t even worth it because Emily would never be his.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “He showed his true colors. I didn’t love him or anything, he was just someone to go out with.”

“Sad neither of us have met someone else we’ve wanted to take things to the next level with.”

“Well, I was busy being pregnant, what’s your excuse?”

“I was busy being busy. Threw myself into my work, moved up, bought this house as soon as I could. I couldn’t stand living at the old place. Too many memories. I love it here though, it’s amazing. It’s gated so I have peace of mind, and the guest house has been amazing.”

“You’re not lonely?”

“That’s what Heather was for.” He shamelessly admits. “I went on other dates, tried to meet new people, but none of them…well, none of them were you.”

“You say that like the breakup was all my idea.” She frowns and pushes her plate away.

“I had a lot of time to reflect after that day. As we were…saying goodbye…I realized we hadn’t had sex in a long time, and I wanted to punch myself for being so stupid, for neglecting you. It was like we had become friends.”

“The intimacy depleted, that’s for sure. We were un a never ending rut.” She stands up and brings her plate to the kitchen. “We grew apart, Harry.” She says to him as he follows her in, taking her plate to soak it. “I was really starting my career, you were doing you’re thing…”

“I just ignored things when they were going wrong instead of getting on it.”

“So did I. It was easier to pretend.”

“And look where that got us.”

“I was scared at first, but I love that little girl with my whole heart. I don’t regret having her. I’m not mad about it. I was…because I just couldn’t understand how my birth control failed, but I accepted it.”

“I love her too. I know I haven’t known her as long, but I love her too.”

“That makes me really happy.” Y/N starts tearing up. “I know you said we didn’t need to dwell on it, but I hold so much guilt and regret for not telling you. I should have told you right away so you could have been around for the doctor’s appoints, fuck, so you could have been there when she was born! I’m so sorry, Harry. How you don’t fucking hate me is a wonder.”

He pulls her in close to his chest, and lets her cry on him. He strokes the back of her head and her back to try to soothe her.

“I forgive you.” He whispers. “You don’t need to feel guilty.”

“Why are you being so nice about all this?”

“Because I have a beautiful baby girl…and you’re back in my life.” He blushes as he looks down at her. “Never thought we’d talk about again, let alone see each other. I know we’re not together, but we’re parents…always wanted you to be the mother of my kids, I meant it every time I said it.”

“Harry.” She presses her head back into his chest so he can hold her close again. “Thank you for saying all that.” She smiles up at him and then lets go of him. She looks at the time on the clock. “I better get going, it’s getting late.”

“Alright.” He sighs. “I’ll drop her off at your mum’s?”

“Mhm.”

“By the way…my mum and sister might plan a trip here soon.”

“Oh?”

“I told them about Emily, obviously. They were thinking of planning something around when her first birthday is. Like, we could have a big party here if you wanted.”

“That’s seven months from now, they wanna wait that long?”

“Well, they’d come stay for a month.”

“Well, I think a nice big party would be nice. You’ve obviously got the room for it.”

“Great…when’s her exact birthday?”

“July 10th.”

“Poor thing.” He cups one of her cheeks, causing her heart to skip a beat. “So pregnant during those hot months.” He pouts.

“I survived.”

“Wish I could have been there for you, could have given you lots of foot and back rubs.”

“Thought you weren’t going to make me feel guilty.” She leans into his touch for a second before backing away. “I really need to go.”

“Alright…have a good night.”

“You too, thanks again for dinner.”

Harry sighs heavily after she leaves. They were doing the right thing by putting Emily first, but he couldn’t help but feel traditional. He wanted to make things work with Y/N. He wanted to give Emily a stable house hold. Not to mention he fucking loved Y/N with his whole heart, but he’d work up to dealing with that later.

//

Things went on like that. Wednesday nights Y/N and Harry had dinner together at his place, and every other weekend they would take turns having Emily. It was a good system. Harry was able to take Emily to appointments when she needed to see the doctor. Y/N didn’t realize how much help she actually needed, and was grateful Harry was around for so many things. Sometimes when he’d drop Emily off on Sunday evenings, Y/N would make him dinner as a thank you. Sometimes when she dropped Emily off on Friday evenings she’d stay to watch a movie. Things went on for months like this. Y/N would find herself almost missing Harry, especially when she’d drive all the way back to her apartment. Meg would often stay at her boyfriend’s place, so she was alone. Maybe living in Harry’s guest house wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Harry, could we talk?” She says to him when she takes Emily from him Sunday evening. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Yeah, of course.” He smiles. Once she gets Emily settled, she sits down with Harry. “What’s up?”

“Is your offer still good?”

“Which one?” He smirks. Harry may or may not have cheekily offered sex up to Y/N a couple of the times they had too much wine.

“The offer to live in your guest house, smart ass.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” He perks up immediately.

“Yeah…Meg’s getting serious with her boyfriend, and I feel lonely sometimes. I thought maybe if you’re a little closer by I’d feel less lonely when you take Emily.”

“Yes, a million times yes! I could get it fixed up in a couple of weeks. We could move her furniture from here right away. You could just stay in the house until everything’s to your liking, and-“

“Harry! You always jump so far ahead.” She chuckles. “I should give Meg a month’s notice.”

“Right, of course. Sorry, I’m just really excited. Like, we could have dinner every night if we wanted.”

“We could.” She agrees.

“I’m so fucking excited.”

Y/N moved into Harry’s guest house a month or so later. It was so nice being able to just hand Emily over a few steps away instead of having to drive home afterwards. Harry and Y/N not only had dinner together, but they would try to do the morning feedings together at the same time.

Y/N was sleeping peacefully one night when her phone went off. She sees it’s Harry.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry to bother you, but something’s up with Emily, and I-“

“I’ll be right there!”

Y/N races out of bed, only in a large t-shirt, not even bothering to grab a robe or put other clothes on. She rushes across the pool area and in through the back door. Emily was crying loudly while Harry was rocking her.

“She just started crying like crazy, I tried feeding her, changing her, she won’t stop, I have no idea what’s wrong.”

“Let me see her.”

Harry hands Emily over to Y/N. She caresses her and rocks her. She furrows her brows and gasps.

“She’s teething!” Y/N walks over to kitchen and looks for something to stick in her mouth. She opts to just run a pacifier under some really cold water and stick it in her mouth. She calms down after a few months. “Poor thing.” She rocks her. “Must be in pain from the teeth coming through.”

“Christ, I could have figured that out. I’m sorry to get you out of bed.”

“It’s okay, I’m glad you called, here, I’ll make us some tea.” She hands Emily over to Harry.

Harry sits down at the kitchen table and watches Y/N. He just now notices the shirt she’s wearing.

“You still have that?”

“Hm, oh…yeah, it’s my favorite bed shirt.” She blushes and reaches for two mugs, revealing the underside of her ass. “Is that weird?” She asks as he turns around. Harry’s face was beat red.

“Not at all.”

She plugs in the kettle and gets some tea bags out from where she knew he kept them.

“How’s the house been?” He asks her.

“Great, actually. I’m grateful, really. Most people wouldn’t be so lucky.” She pours the now boiled water into the mugs with the tea bags and puts them both on the table.

“Thank you. I think she’s out.”

“I can bring her back upstairs.” She carefully takes Emily from Harry. He follows her up with his tea. He can’t help but take peeks of her underside.

“Y/N.” He says, just as she’s getting Emily into the crib.

“Hold on.” She whispers and shuffles him out of the room. “Sorry, I didn’t want to risk her waking up again.”

He grabs her wrist and yanks him into his bedroom, setting his tea down on his dresser.

“What are you doing?!”

“What am I doing?! What are you doing?!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not wearing any knickers!”

Y/N’s eyes grow wide. She was so concerned about Emily she had completely forgotten.

“I’m so sorry! I…I rushed out, and, and, I, oh my god, so you saw my ass?”

“And a bit of your other…bits.”

“Oh my god.” Her hands slide down her face. “So embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

“Embarrassing?!” He laughs. “Please, I appreciate it. Anytime you wanna walk around her half naked, feel free.” He smirks.

“Harry…I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You’re comfortable around me to rush out the door like that?”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Haven’t seen it in a really long time.”

“No.”

“What are you-“

“You’re not getting what you want, I won’t fall for you again.” She brushes by him and leaves his room. He follows her quickly down the stairs. She takes a sip of her tea before dumping the rest down the drain.

“So…you’re suppressing feelings for me because you’re scared, is that it?” He crosses his arms.

“I’m not suppressing anything. I just don’t believe in the breaking up and getting back together thing. We know this doesn’t work, and we shouldn’t try to force it just because a baby is involved.”

“I’m very different now, and so are you.”

“Exactly.”

“I like who you’ve become…a lot. I think I’ve gotten to know you fairly well again. Couldn’t you say the same for me?”

“I guess.”

“And you like what you’ve gotten to know?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then, so what the fuck is your problem? Oh wait, you know what hasn’t changed? You’re still the most stubborn fucking person I’ve ever met. You did the same thing the last time. I asked you to move in, and you said you weren’t ready. Then a month later, when it was on your terms, you asked if you could move in. Everything has to be on your terms! Great, so I’ll just continue waiting for the night that you decide to come over and crawl into my bed. Does that work for you?”

“I’m confused! I was done with you, I thought I was better off without you, and then you came back into my life, and it was like…you were never even gone from it. I feel safe when I’m with you, but I’m fucking terrified of falling for you again. There were so many things that went wrong, and-“

“But some many things could go right!”

“We have a baby involved! What if it doesn’t work again, and she gets a little older? She’ll see and hear us fighting. I don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that either. You of all people should know that. If I wasn’t certain about us…”

“So, what…we’re supposed to just jump back in?”

“No, I’d like to take you out on a proper date. Something nice and formal, maybe a night away from the baby, or fuck it, let’s bring her along, I don’t care. I want you, I want you back. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I let you slip away. I’ll never forgive myself. That day…I shouldn’t have let you leave after. I should have made you stay in my bed and cuddle and just talk everything through one more time.”

Y/N was crying now and so was Harry. She hated him, and she loved him all at the same time. She was stubborn.

“God damn it!”

She wraps her arms around his neck and crashes her mouth to his. He doesn’t waste a second to deepen the kiss. He hoists her up on the counter to stand between her legs, licking into her mouth. They both groan into each other.

“Is, is this smart?” She pants. “We have so much to talk about, and I don’t know if-“ She gasps when he lifts her shirt overhead. His eyes gaze at her body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you.”

“My boobs are saggy and I have stretch marks all over the place, how could you-“

“Shut the fuck up! For once in your life, just shut up, and take a compliment. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking, and it pisses me off to no end I never got fuck you while you were pregnant, alright?” He spreads her legs apart as she tugs at his shirt. He takes it off and she runs her hands over his chest.

“Even when I was sweating and as big as a house?” She pouts, knowing it’s only going to rile him up more.

“Especially then.” He pecks at her lips again.

“I want you too.” She breathes. “But you have to pull out this time. We’re noting bringing another baby into this world until we figure things out fully.”

“Excellent compromise.”

He drops his pants and runs his fingers over her center. She gasps at the feeling, especially when he pushes his fingers inside her.

“Oh fuck.” Her head rolls back.

“You’re so wet, why?”

“You just…you make me so…fucking crazy!”

Her lips slot over his again as he pumps in and out of her.

“Is this comfortable? You want me to fuck you here, or-“

“Put it in.”

He takes his dick out and pushes inside her. She wraps her legs around his waist to pull him closer.

“We’re so fucking stupid.” She grunts as he thrusts in and out of her.

“Idiots.” He sucks on her neck. “But I can’t help it, you drive me just as crazy. Always have.”

She tugs at his hair while he rubs on her clit.

“Harry, will you eat me out? You feel amazing, but I just…your tongue…it’s so fucking-“

He pulls out of her and she leans back on her elbows while his mouth attaches to her other lips. He sucks and licks, and does everything he remembers she likes. He rubs on her clit still while he fucks her with his tongue.

“Oh, that’s it! Fuck, Harry!” She pushes his head further against herself. He was nose deep and loving it. He groans against her, and she moans out loudly. “Don’t stop, please!”

One of his hands squeezes her thigh, pressing bruises into her. She comes on his tongue and he laps it all up. He plunges his dick back into her without warning. She was sensitive now, but she knew he needed to come too.

“You take it so well.” He grunts as he grips her hips. She tightens around him, loving the way his voice sounds in her ear. “How’d it feel, baby?”

“So good, thank you.”

“Anytime you want it, you have it, always.”

“Fuck.”

She was going to come again, and he gets her there. Just as he’s about to get there he pulls out and comes on her stomach. He rests his head against her shoulder as he catches his breath. He looks at her and kisses her before grabbing a rag to clean her up with. Neither of them say anything. He simply scoops her up, and carries her upstairs to his room. He lays her down, and spoons her.

“This just feels right, doesn’t it?” He says to her.

“It does.” She sighs and adjusts against him.

“I wanna be a real family with you.”

“I think I want that too. We just need to take baby steps.”

“I’d wait forever, Y/N. Just don’t walk out on me again.”

“I won’t.” She turns over to face him. “I may have walked out, but you left emotionally before I did. We hadn’t even had sex and-“

“I know, I’m not saying it was just you. It was me too, but never again, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I just wanna makeup for all the lost time.”

“We can.”

Harry hold her close as they both slowly drift off. Even though they had jumped in physically, it would take some time to mend things altogether. Neither of them minded because this time around they each were more willing to put the work in.

[charmingwords23]

Fanfic: Exponential Growth

Teresa hadn’t been expecting her family to grow by two members in one day. 

- OR - 

Teresa was already pregnant in the finale and I’ll prove it with this fic...

Link

Teresa couldn’t sleep. Each time she would close her eyes and try to relax, something would distract her. The side of the pillow against her cheek wasn’t cold enough, so she’d flipped it. James was too far away, so she’d snuggled closer. Then she was too hot, so she’d shifted away. Her back was aching from lying on it too long, so she’d rolled onto her side. The waves crashing outside the bedroom window were unusually loud - had they always been like that? Maybe they needed noise-reducing drapes. Did those exist? She had tossed and turned so much last night that James had eventually grumbled in his sleep and thrown his arm over her waist in a vain attempt at keeping her still.

By the time the dark of night started to fade to gray, Teresa had tried counting sheep, counting the seconds between the breaking waves, and counting the whiskers between James’s ear and chin (she lost count on that one). When nothing worked, she had mostly just lain with her eyes on the ceiling, mind racing but never settling on a complete thought. So when the clock turned to 5:30 AM and the seagulls outside started to squawk, Teresa gave up and decided she might as well just get up.   

Teresa turned her head toward the sleeping man beside her. James was lying on his side, his right arm slung lazily over the bottom of her ribcage so that his fingertips brushed her hip bone. His soft hair flopped over his forehead and jutted out in different directions, in a disarray still from when she had run her fingers though it the night before. She studied the way his dark lashes rested against his cheek and how his lips parted so slightly with his slow, rhythmic breaths that anyone who wasn’t looking wouldn’t even notice. 

He always looked so peaceful when he slept.

She didn’t know she could love a person so much. Teresa’s chest felt tight, compressed by the overwhelming urge to draw so close she wouldn’t be able to tell where she ended and he began. She wanted to wrap herself under his skin and tie their souls together. 

Instead, she gingerly reached out a hand to smooth her fingers over his brow, careful to keep her touch light as a butterfly wing. 

He didn’t stir. With a silent sigh, Teresa carefully withdrew her hand and slid her body out from under his arm. She perched on the edge of the bed and reached for James’s shirt on the floor. She remembered throwing it off of him the night before, and a ghost of a smile formed on her lips. She shrugged into the shirt and stood up, swiping her hand over the back of her neck to free her long curls from the neckline of the shirt. 

James groaned quietly behind her, rolled onto his stomach, and ran his hand over the bare sheets that were still warm from her body. “What are you doing?” His voice was low and muffled against the pillow where his face was half-buried. 

“I’m going to take a bath,” she whispered, shifting the shirt so that it sat evenly on her shoulders instead of gaping off to one side because of its size. 

James grumbled in protest. He grabbed a hold of the edge of the shirt and tugged at it. “Come back to bed,” he mumbled, never opening his eyes. 

Teresa shifted around to smile at him and shook her head. “Can’t. Too much to do today.” He huffed and buried his face further in his pillow. Teresa leaned down to kiss his bare shoulder once, then padded across the floor to the adjoining bathroom. She clicked the door shut behind her before turning on the light. 

As she drew the bath and added her favorite oils to the water, she drummed her fingers against her thigh - her restless energy increasing. She moved around the bathroom, collecting fresh towels and wash rags to set on the stool next to the tub. 

Today was the day. 

Finally, after four years, her entire family was going to be together again. 

She, James, Kelly Anne, and Kelly Anne’s daughter Lena had lived a quiet, content life together since disappearing from their old lives. They ate meals together, they played in the sun together, and they watched movies together; but no amount of happiness had been able to completely fill the Pote-shaped void in their lives. Since the moment James and Kelly Anne had joined Teresa at the beach, Teresa had felt both a happiness she had never fathomed and a longing for the day when Pote would be reunited with them to make their family whole. 

Teresa had teared up when they got the news last month that Pote would be released with time served in the upcoming weeks. 

In the present, Teresa dipped a hand into the bathwater to check the temperature. Satisfied that it was hot enough to relax her muscles but cool enough to not cause a sweat, she stirred the water around with her fingers and then shed James’s shirt, letting it fall to its most common resting place: the floor. She dipped her toes into the water, then slowly sunk her body in - letting the warmth caress her skin. 

Teresa tried to allow the calming lavender scent she had added to the water relax her. She began massaging her skin with her favorite scrub and making a mental list of what she needed to do today to get ready for Pote’s homecoming. 

She would need to refresh the sheets in Kelly Anne’s room so Pote would have a nice, fresh bed to sleep in. Kelly Anne had already washed the small starter-collection of clothes they’d purchased for Pote, so that was done at least. She wondered if she should ask James to go into town to buy a couple of bottles of Pote’s favorite Mexican whiskey? Teresa had already prepped the meat for the soup she would make tonight - letting it marinate overnight for extra flavor. She did need to bake the bread this morning so the dough would have time to rise this afternoon, but that wouldn’t be too difficult. 

Teresa had been making preparations for Pote’s return for over a week, and still she felt the nagging in the back of her mind like she was forgetting something important. 

She rinsed her face in the bathwater, then massaged her washrag over her forehead and cheeks. 

She had thought of everything, right? She had made his travel arrangements - all at a premium to ensure the highest discretion. Despite Teresa’s mixed feelings on the matter, James had successfully infiltrated the prison and passed off coded travel directions to Pote. Teresa and Kelly Anne had stocked up on Pote’s favorite foods and ingredients, and Teresa had even helped Kelly Anne start compiling a list of potential houses on the island where she and Pote could move with their daughter when Pote was ready. They had started leaving an empty chair at their dinner table and telling Lena it was where her Papi would sit when he arrived home, so she wouldn’t be confused. 

Teresa shook her head. No, she was sure she had covered her bases. Pote would be home today and everything was almost ready for his arrival. 

When she had scrubbed her skin clean and the water started to turn more tepid than warm, she swam her hand to the bottom to unplug the stopper, then lifted herself from the water. She grabbed her clean towel and patted it against the rivulets of water that trickled down her body. Shaking off as much water as she could, she stepped out of the tub and exchanged her towel for the fluffy white robe hanging on a nearby wall hook.  

Teresa made her way to her designated sink at the bathroom vanity and released her hair from where she had tied it up before her bath. The soft strands of curls cascaded over the shoulders and back of her robe. She ran her fingers through it and decided it might need a few spritzes of the leave-in conditioner she kept on hand. 

She scanned the vanity top - eyes passing over her most-used lotions, soaps, and moisturizers. Where had she put it? She glanced at James's sink. The only supply he kept out was his hand-soap, and Teresa knew she wouldn’t have put her conditioner in any of the drawers that held his razor, aftershave, nail trimmers, or any of his other things. Her lips pursed together in consternation as she started opening the various vanity drawers and rifling through them. 

Not with the nail polish; she would have never put it there. 

Not with the extra hand towels. 

Not with the cold medication, ibuprofen, and cough drops on hand for the occasional illness. 

She opened the largest under-sink drawer and began to root through the little shelves that held her blow dryer, hair straightener, and additional hair and skin products. In her digging, she bumped something onto the floor with her elbow. Teresa huffed and crouched down on her heels to gather up the tampons that were spilling out of their box and onto the floor. She made a mental note that she needed to get more of them soon. She’d been meaning to pick some up but - 

Wait. 

Teresa froze just as she was setting the little box back under the sink. She blinked a few times, her eyes flitting to the side, trying to recall a memory. 

What day was it again?

How long had it been?

She tried to count backwards in her mind and felt an uncomfortable crease forming in her brow. 

Wait, wait, wait.

She shut the cabinet door and scrambled to her feet. There was a buzzing in her ear, and she could feel her heart starting to beat against her ribcage. She swung the bathroom door open. James was still lying on his stomach with his face half buried in a pillow. He grimaced at the bright yellow light from the bathroom but didn’t open his eyes. The gray-blue light of dawn filtered through the drapes to illuminate the curves of his exposed back where the sheet had ridden down to his hips.  

“James,” she whispered, a hint of urgency in her tone. 

“Mmm?” 

“What day is it?”

“Wednesday,” he rumbled, his voice heavy with sleep and still muffled by his pillow. 

“No,” she prompted, “I mean the date.” She brought her thumb up to her lip and started chewing on her fingernail - still trying to mentally calculate the passage of time. Out here on the beach, everything moved so slowly that Teresa barely ever kept track of the day of the week, much less the day of the month. The only time she ever really checked was when she knew her cycle must be coming up - 

James frowned and opened one sleepy eye to glance at her. “The ninth.” Teresa’s gaze drifted down, lost in her counting. “Why?” he prodded, voice thick and lazy. 

The answer to the most important math problem she’d done in years - maybe in her whole life - sprung to her mind. It had been 36 days. James must have noticed something in her expression, because he started to shift himself up onto one arm. She swallowed. “No reason,” she whispered in a rush, backing into the bathroom and shutting the door again, resting her back against it for a second. She heard James huff and then settle back into the bed. 

She needed to be sure. 

She rushed forward to her vanity again and threw open the drawer where she knew she had stocked a few pregnancy tests in the back. Lena’s surprise appearance in Kelly Anne’s life had convinced Teresa to always keep one or two tests on hand. After all, she had always been one to plan for all contingencies. 

It turned out she had accumulated three slim boxes. Teresa scanned her eyes over the instructions and then yanked the packages open. 

The three minutes between when she set the last used test on the counter top and when she could pick them up to see the results felt like the seconds were wading through quicksand. Teresa sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared off into space. 

Her mind went back to a handful of weeks ago when she and James had watched from a short distance on the beach as Kelly Anne told Lena about her Papi and how he would be coming home soon. The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she’d even really registered them. I think I want that. James had assessed her, surprise and something else clear on his face. 

“A kid?” he’d asked. She’d nodded. He’d grinned and pulled her into his side, planting a kiss on the top of her head. 

They hadn’t been trying, technically. But they also hadn’t been not trying. 

When her birth control pills had run out shortly after that, she had just stopped refilling them. When the moment had come each time they had sex the last few weeks, they’d just skipped the condom. They weren’t in a rush, but they weren’t preventing anything anymore either. 

She always thought it would take longer. 

James was going to be so smug. 

When the three minutes had passed and it was time to look at her results, Teresa already knew in her heart what the tests would say. She stood, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand, and took the two steps to the vanity where the tests were laid out. 

Two lines. 

A plus sign. 

Pregnant. 

Teresa sucked in a breath and backed up to sit on the edge of the tub again. Her eyes pointed toward the bathroom door, unfocused, and her hand drifted absently to press against her stomach. A baby. A new life to love and be responsible for. Old Teresa rarely let herself dream of the possibility, but here in her new life, she was starting to get used to dreams becoming reality. 

She was going to be a mother. 

A soft knock rapped against the door. 

“Teresa?” James’s voice was gravelly, like he’d just climbed his way out of a deep slumber and his voice wasn’t ready to forfeit the sleep yet. Teresa wasn’t prepared to say anything, so she didn’t. Her mind was too distracted by a barrage of images: tiny toes, teddy bears, lullabies, pink lips and soft eyelashes. 

She heard the door click open and saw James stepping inside while scratching a hand over his bare stomach where the elastic of his sweatpants hung low on his hips. His hair looked like a charming mess, and he squinted his eyes against the light. Her vision was starting to smear around the edges. Somewhere in the depths of her mind she realized the blurriness was a side effect of gathering tears.

“Teresa, what -” She could feel the moment James’s eyes landed on her, and even through her blurry vision she could see him stop his movements. His voice was awake and demanding in the next heartbeat. “Are you ok? What’s going on?”

She blinked rapidly and lifted her eyes to his face. Her chest was starting to burn with something that even after four years, she was only just starting to recognize: joy.

His brow was furrowed and his lips were turned down at the corners. She supposed she’d be worried too if she walked into the bathroom and saw him crying in a robe on the edge of the bathtub. He crossed the distance between them and crouched in front of her. His hand automatically reached up to press the back of his palm against her forehead. “Hey,” he breathed, searching her eyes. “Are you feeling ok? What’s wrong?”

She planted her hands on the sides of his neck, his bare skin warming her palms. Her own lips wobbled into some semblance of a smile. “Nothing,” she exhaled. “We -” she cleared her throat and jutted her chin toward the vanity. “Look.” 

James stared at her for a beat, confusion written on his brows. He stood and stepped away from her grasp. She watched his eyes connect with what was on the sink and stop moving. He spun back around to face her, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping open slightly. She laughed then and clasped her hands together over her heart, the elation that had been bubbling in her lungs spilling over to the surface. “Teresa,” he murmured, turning to the sink again and stepping closer. His eyes scanned through the tests, and his hand reached out as if to grab one of them, but he pulled it back. 

He spun to face her again, taking steps toward her as if in a trance. She felt his eyes boring into her face. “You’re pregnant?” His voice was soft, like the words were a prayer. 

Teresa bit her lip, but even that couldn’t hinder the corners from turning up in a smile. James laughed and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes bright. In a moment, he was crouching in front of her again, his palms smoothing up her neck and his fingers cradling the back of her head. “You’re serious?”

Teresa bent her elbows to grab onto his forearms below his wrists. “Yes,” she confirmed, her voice sounding light and breathless. 

His answering grin matched her own. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, then kissed her nose and pulled back enough to meet her eyes again. “How do you feel?”

Teresa knew he didn’t mean physically. She blinked again, and the tears building up in one of her eyes finally snuck over the edge and onto her cheek. James wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Happy,” she admitted, her smile growing. 

“Me too,” he confirmed, the emotion in his eyes dancing. Teresa moved one of her hands from his arm to his face, smoothing her thumb over his lips and then brushing his hair back from his face. She hoped their child had his deep brown eyes and soft dark hair. 

Teresa leaned forward to capture his lips with her own. By now, kissing James was as familiar as breathing, yet somehow her stomach still turned over when one of his hands fisted in her hair and the other one skimmed down her back to steady her where she still sat on the edge of the tub. She planted one of her hands against his jaw, relishing the tickle of his short beard against her flesh. 

His lips against hers were joy. Adoration. Reverence. 

“We’re having a baby,” she mumbled against his lips, her own curving against his. When he pulled back a few blissful moments later and grinned at her, she mirrored his expression. He laughed softly and tucked some loose curls behind her ear. 

“What?” she wondered aloud, her skin barely able to contain the euphoria bursting forth from deep inside her chest. 

James focused on that same strand of curls and ran his fingers down it, his grin turning into a smirk. He met her eyes again. “I just remembered when you said we shouldn’t get our hopes up because it might take me a while.” 

Teresa wasn’t sure whether she wanted to pinch his side in rebellion or devour the smirk from his face. 

 ---

The morning and afternoon passed in a flurry of activity preparing for Pote’s arrival.  Kelly Anne was a basket of nerves, cleaning and then recleaning every surface in the house - wanting everything to be perfect. James had offered to take Lena swimming after lunch to occupy the little girl, and Kelly Anne had almost cried in appreciation. A few minutes later, James had changed into his swim trunks and had hoisted a cackling Lena onto his shoulders. 

He had squeezed Teresa’s hand and thrown her a wink when the pair passed her on their way outside. 

It was a miracle that Kelly Anne hadn’t noticed the dreamy smile that had clawed its way onto Teresa’s face, but then again, Kelly Anne had other things on her mind, Teresa supposed. 

A few hours later, Teresa decided she needed a break when Kelly Anne asked her opinion on the fifth outfit she had changed into. James and Lena had returned from their swim, and James had headed for the shower while Lena joined her mom and tía in Kelly Anne’s bedroom. 

“Is this one too much?” Kelly Anne was babbling. “It’s too much, isn’t it. Ugh, I knew it.” 

Kelly Anne started tearing off her most recent tank top despite Teresa’s assurances that it looked great. 

“Mommy, when is Papi coming?” Lena whined, kicking her feet over the edge of the bed. 

“Soon, baby. Why don’t you go brush your teeth?”

Lena pouted and flopped onto the mattress. “I did that already!”

Kelly Anne barely spared her daughter a glance in the mirror. “Well brush them again, then.” 

“But I don’t wanna!” Lena wailed. 

Teresa grabbed the little girl’s hand. “It’s ok. I’ll take her outside for a while. We’ll build a sandcastle.” 

Kelly Anne nodded at Teresa and mouthed “thank-you.” Teresa nodded at her friend, then let the tiny brunette out of the house. 

Kneeling in the sand and watching Lena dig around and build her dream castle, Teresa couldn’t help imagining a few years down the road when she might be doing the same with her old child. Lena prattled on about dragons and moats and princesses, and Teresa humored her - helping her decide on the best place for her drawbridge. Once, James had helped the girl build a sandcastle and had insisted that she place her towers and drawbridges in tactically sound places. Lena had no idea what that meant, so now she constantly asked “Here?” before altering her creation with additional structures. They scoured the beach together for shells to decorate the castle, and Teresa relished the feel of little Lena’s hand in hers. 

Not long after, Teresa looked up to see Kelly Anne waving to her from the back porch. Deciding she really did need to run inside and check on her bread before Pote’s arrival, Teresa ruffled Lena’s hair and made her promise to wait right there until her mom got to her. The girl nodded, and Teresa started walking back up the boardwalk toward her house. Kelly Anne gave her arm an appreciative squeeze as they passed one another on the boardwalk. 

When Teresa walked into her air conditioned living room, James set his glass of water down on the coffee table and stood up from the couch to meet her. 

“Hey,” he’d said casually, reaching out to grab her by the elbow gently. She’d stepped toward him automatically, letting her eyes roam over him. He wore a light button-up shirt with polka dots and the pink shorts with tiny lobsters on them she’d given to him for his birthday. His hair was soft and windswept, despite his shower not long ago. He looked as handsome as ever. She signed, a soft smile blooming on her face. James wrapped his arms around her waist, locking her in place in front of him. “You made sure Lena put the towers in the best strategic places, right?”

She threw her head back and laughed. He watched her with a grin on his lips. 

“You doing ok?” he added quietly, a secret smile lighting his eyes. 

She reached up and kissed his cheek in response. “Yes. I’m going to check on the bread.” She patted his cheek with her hand, and he turned his face to kiss her fingers before he dropped his arms and let her step away from him. 

Only two minutes later, just as Teresa was peeking under the dish towel she had draped over the bread dough while it rose, Lena ran into the kitchen. 

“Tía Teresa! Papi is here!”

Eager, Teresa had and made her way to the back door. She could see James hugging Pote just before she stepped out onto the porch. “Welcome home,” she called, her face breaking into a happy smile at seeing her dearest friend again after so long. She approached him and pulled him into a tight hug, the wind tousling her hair. 

“Teresita,” he said, crushing her against him. 

“Hola,” she breathed with a shaky voice, rubbing his back. She had gotten regular updates on Pote throughout the last 4 years, but having him back home with her was exactly the emotional powderkeg she had expected. Her insides screamed between excitement, guilt, happiness, and regret. The happiness was winning. She pulled in a breath and stepped back from him. “You look good,” she pointed out, keeping her hand on his shoulder. 

Pote regarded her with a smile for half a second. “You look different,” he appraised. Something about the twinkle in his eye made her blink. Could he tell? Was she...glowing...or something? She shook her head slightly, her smile basically permanent at this point. 

“Four years,” she mused.

“Better late than never,” he assured her. “Your plan worked, Teresita.” 

Teresa’s smile turned sad. “I’m sorry you missed so much time with your daughter.” For a moment, she thought about her own child. She had always felt remorse over Pote not being around for the first few years of Lena’s life, but now...the thought of James not being here for their child and how she knew it would tear him apart brought a new level of understanding to the pain. 

Pote shook his head and glanced around between the three people standing on the porch with him. “Nah. If something had to go wrong, I’d rather it be on my end.” 

“So Teresa’s plan worked,” Kelly Anne supplied, “We’re safe.” 

Safe. There were only a few loose ends left, and Teresa needed to know they were tied up. She had to make sure it was all really over. She wouldn’t let her child be born into a world where having Teresa Mendoza as a mother could be a death sentence. So she inquired about Boaz. About Chicho and Marcel. Pote assured her that everything was taken care of. No one suspected she was alive, and there were no past enemies left out there who would come looking anyway. 

They were really and truly free. 

Teresa could feel James’s eyes on her. She knew he would be thinking the same thing as her. How today their freedom meant even more to them than it did yesterday. 

When Pote rubbed his hands together and asked to be shown to the kitchen, the group laughed. Teresa’s brilliant smile bubbled up again. “Actually,” she pointed out, “I’m cooking for you tonight.” 

While Kelly Anne explained to Pote some of the biggest changes in their lives, James had pulled Teresa into his side and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. She laid her head on his shoulder and her palm on his chest, letting the familiar beat of his heart drown out the demons that had tried to peek through the crevices of her mind moments ago.  The biggest and most consequential change in her and James’s life was something neither of their friends knew about yet. In time, James and Teresa would tell them, but now was not the moment. 

At dinner, no one but James seemed to notice that she brought a pitcher of a local, tropical fruit juice to the table instead of the cocktail she had mixed up the day before. Kelly Anne and Pote were too distracted about being together to take in much else, but James had squeezed her hand under the table and given her a conspiratorial smile. 

When Pote talked about how happy he was to be eating as a family, Teresa zoned out. If only her past self could see her now, surrounded by her family and preparing to start a little one of her own. She imagined how a year from now there would be a high chair added to the table for family dinners, and she felt her lips tilt up at the corners wistfully. She thought the Old Teresa would be proud of her. 

Kelly Anne and Pote were lost in their own conversation. James, the one who always saw through her, squeezed her hand again and asked if she was ok. The knowing glint in his eye made her think maybe he had had the same flash to the future when envisioning how their family dinners were about to change. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, content, before leaning forward and connecting her lips to his for just a moment. An “I love you” kiss for no reason other than that, that she loved him and she was happy and she couldn’t stop herself. She caressed his cheek softly before leaning away, and he stared at her in the way that always turned her stomach over. Like he adored her. Like he was in awe of her. 

Pressing his lips together to keep his grin at bay, he turned back to the group. “A toast,” he proclaimed, grabbing his glass. Pote and Kelly Anne looked away from one another and grabbed their own glasses. Teresa followed suit. James raised his glass up. “To a new life,” he declared, a sly glance her way. 

Cheeky bastard, she thought, fighting to control her smile. 

---

That evening, Teresa sat side by side with James on the stairs of their private boardwalk. She was pressed into his shoulder, one hand hugging his bicep and the other held gently between his palms. The wind blew strands of her hair against her neck and cheeks. The late evening sun was starting to begin its descent, but she was snuggled close enough to James that the chill of the sea breeze didn’t bother her. 

Together they watched Pote and Kelly Anne play in the waves with their daughter. 

Teresa didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that she and James were thinking the same thing. The notion of parenthood had only lived inside of them for about 12 hours, but already she could see it so clearly. How they would hold their child’s hands - one of them on each side - and swing him or her over the tiny incoming waves. How their child would laugh, and play in the sand, and enjoy the feel of the cool sea water on his or her feet. 

How together they would move heaven and earth to make sure their child was safe, and happy, and loved every single day. 

Teresa looked over at James, and let her smile overtake her. 

This will be us, she said without speaking. 

She knew he would understand. 

His answering smile was one part bashful and one part enamored. She knew with certainty that his dreams of their future matched her own. He rubbed his thumb over her hand that he held, letting his eyes make his promises to her. 

She snuggled impossibly closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. “So,” she started, a hint of humor creeping into her voice. “I guess we need to encourage Pote and Kelly Anne to start house hunting sooner rather than later. I wasn’t expecting our family to grow by fifty percent in one day when I bought this house.” 

James chuckled and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “Do they call that exponential growth?” 

Teresa buried her nose in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of the sea that now permanently clung to him. “No, you’re thinking of one-hundred fifty percent.” 

He started playing with her fingers in his hands. He didn’t look at her this time, but the corners of his mouth turned up. “Yeah? So what’s that, like 3 more kids?” She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Give me some time and I’ll make it happen.” 

Teresa threw her head back and laughed. When he pulled her in more tightly and pressed his lips against her hairline, she thought exponential growth didn’t sound too bad.

[syrupness]

Jade’s gender dysphoria

@febuwhump Day 17 Prompt: self-inflicted wound

To Be One Of Us [AO3]

Summary: Jade buys a device to feel like a woman.

Content Warning: gender dysphoria electrical stimulation pain, painplay, pain with a purpose

I've never experienced gender dysphoria, so super big apologies if I have represented things wrong. Tell me and I’ll add more warnings and edit the AO3

Jade locked the door to the bathroom, not like doing that would really give her more privacy but it felt right as she turned to the parcel. It had arrived a few days ago and she’d had to hide it until her turn for an evening in the light. It had been a burning weight on her mind for the entire time. She tore open the box, not willing to spare more seconds with a careful unwrap.

It had taken months for her to save up her allowance to buy it, and even so she had overspent. Barry would probably kill her once he saw the credit card bill for this month, the others might also try to kill her if it turned out like she hoped. Not to mention all the time she’d spent studying muscle groups when she could have been on social media. Plastic and wires spilled from the box and she was able to see it for the first time in real life. A TENS unit.

The Transcutaneous Electrical Neuromuscular Stimulation instruction booklet lay discarded on the floor because Jade had already read all about this model, and every other model, about how and where it would have to be set up for the desired effect. Tearing the protective plastic with her teeth, an animal hungry for her prize, she made short work of getting the machine ready.

Swiping a space clear on the counter and unplugging the electric shaver it was soon set up and plugged in. Panting in anticipation, her tight stomach undulated as she pulled down the waistband of her pants and adjusting her crop-top. The one good thing about this body was the muscle definition, she had no trouble spotting where the pads had to go. If only her hands were as steady, but luckily they were mildly sticky and only stung slightly when she pulled one off to reposition.

Pausing, Jade took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. The horrible masculine-ness of the body. The flat chest and broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips. This was not her. This was Kevin’s, or Barry’s, or B.T.’s body, not hers. She was slender and delicate, wiry strong with a c-cup.

100% female.  

And now she would finally experience what all the other women throughout history had felt, and complained about, and bonded over….

Choosing a setting and starting the machine created an odd sensation that soon turned into a buzz under her skin, like ants crawling in her muscles. This was not what she wanted, not what she had seen complained about on blogs, articles, movies and chats. She needed the real deal. Hitting stop Jade dialled the TENS unit up to maximum. The number was drastically higher and just looking at it sent a shiver down her spine, fear and anticipation in equal measure. She hit start.

The feeling was immediate and she screamed in pain and shock. Lower abdomen muscles bunched like they were trying to tear their way free from her body. The others were restless, they knew something was going on, maybe even felt some of this, but she fought for control, gripping the light to the exclusion of all others. There was an awful feeling of a tightening burn so she stared at her bare stomach to make sure she didn’t catch fire or start bleeding. Braced against the sink Jade watched her body revolt against the electricity and she smiled thinking about bleeding. Finally she was experiencing what she always wanted. The abstract finally made real, sure they were a facsimile, but that was good enough.

She put a hand against her twitching skin and closed her eyes, let her thoughts drift to heatpacks and chocolate, tampons and moon cups. Through the pain there was pleasure in experiencing menstrual cramps.    

[builder051]

The talk

Chasing Ghosts

(I generally do not play in this arena; DO NOT ask for other stories with PMS, etc., as illness features. I do loosely plan to continue this thread, though. Or @mohini-musing might pick up for me.)

Warnings: weight (though not ED context), SA inc. prostitution, blood, emeto

____________________________

Tasha comes down the hall and stands like a ghost behind the sofa.

James is in the recliner across the living room, and he barely looks up from the textbook he's pretending to peruse. The quiet music he's had playing in one ear has long since captured his attention more than the multiplication of matrices. He's fairly sure he'll never use the skill lest he become a software engineer post-graduation, and the prospect of that's looking pretty slim.

He sees Tasha out of his peripheral vision, but doesn't move his head or lift his eyes for acknowledgment. She's probably drifted down from her weekend high, realized it's Sunday night, and gotten up for a Gatorade and maybe a glance at her homework.

Steve, though, who's lying on his stomach and taking up the whole of the couch, practically jumps to attention. He stands, scoots, and sits again in the amount of time it takes James to blink and make the first inhalation of a laugh.

"Sorry," Steve says, as if he's personally offended Tasha and just been called out. "I didn't mean... I was just, like, studying..."

Tasha shrugs. "Didn't come to sit with you," she says, in a voice that recalls the 'boys are gross' tone of young teenagerhood.

"What's up, then?" James asks, trying to bring back the balance of the room's atmosphere.

Tasha makes an ugly face. She opens her mouth, then shuts it. "Can I talk to you alone?"

James scoffs. "You think there's privacy in this apartment?"

"I can go, I don't know--" Steve looks around.

"Just talk," James says. He almost rolls his eyes, but the undercurrent of Tasha's affect seems to hold an air of seriousness. If there's something she needs to confess or ask for help with, he doesn't want her to feel less than secure.

Tasha lets out a breathy sort of sigh. "Blood," she says. "There's blood."

"Huh?" Steve responds first. "Where?"

James takes a little longer to contemplate the admission. Has she cut herself? There's no visible damage; Tasha's not holding an injury or howling in pain. Bloody vomit? That's nothing new, really, and even with vampire-red teeth, which she doesn't have, Tasha probably wouldn't come crying to him.

James is still thinking when Tasha points vaguely down the hall and to the left, which is, technically speaking, her side of the apartment. Or at least the bedroom and bathroom they'd parceled out for her when they'd unofficially moved her out of her dreary campus housing.

"What, in your room?" Steve asks.

"No." Tasha screws up her eyes. "I mean... I'm bleeding."

The cogs continue to turn in James's head, and just as he lands on an answer, Steve gives up, shaking his head and saying, "I don't get it."

"Fuck you," Tasha mumbles. "Both of you." She turns and starts to head back down the hallway.

"Tash." James jumps to his feet, his algebra book falling to the floor.

"You guys are fucking gay..."

"Hey!" Steve interjects.

James flaps his hand at Steve to shut him up. "Maybe we're gay, but I'm your big brother." He shoots a quick glance at Steve, hoping this won't surpass his no privacy promise. They've done some pretty wild stuff together: partying, puking, cleaning the carpet... Period talk shouldn't be too far out of their wheelhouse. At least, not if Tasha wants to talk about it.

Tasha huffs and rounds the edge of the sofa. She stands beside the arm, leaning her hip against it for a moment, before finally deciding to sit down, as far away from Steve as possible.

"I..." James starts, assuming it's his responsibility to keep the conversation going. "I assumed you hadn't been, um. You know."

Tasha's 100 pounds soaking wet. In her usual cutoff shorts and tank tops, he'd give her 95. Maybe 92 if she's detoxing. James assumes she has something like female athlete triad going on, except without the athlete. He doesn't like to think she's just too skinny to go through... normal biological processes. If he blames the drugs, sees them as wrecking her body instead of bringing her solace, then he'll have to turn eyes on himself, and there's no way in hell he wants to do that.

"Smart one," Tasha says. "And exactly how much thought do you give to the functioning of my uterus?"

Steve gives an 'oh shit' face, looking from James to Tasha and back again as if wondering how he's been so thick headed. James agrees, but is also relieved, in a way, that his boyfriend hasn't been thinking about his sister in, well, that way.

"Seeing as I have, more than once, pulled you out of an R-rated situation with iffy consent, and you have yet to become pregnant--" James starts.

"Yeah, ok, you don't have to..." Tasha shakes her head.

James decides not to stop his momentum. "Do you know how much sex you're having? How often you're using protection?"

"I said, you don't have to." Tasha glares at him. "I don't have one. A cycle, or whatever. I can't get knocked up."

"Well, I figured that, but you can still get an STD--

"I don't think you're hearing me," Tasha says. "I don't have one. I haven't. Like, ever."

"But--what?" James squints and cocks his head. "What about, what was it? Cheerleading camp?"

"That stupid summer program when I was 16?" Tasha bites her lip. "Yeah, that was a lie."

"You're losing me." Steve reminds them he's part of the conversation as well.

"What, didn't your mom send you to cheerleading camp when you were a sullen teen?" Tasha asks him, seemingly in all seriousness.

"Um. No." Steve withers a little under her stare. "There was a threat to beat it out of me with a bible when I was that age, but that never came to fruition."

"Mm. Fun times." Tasha scrubs her hair back from her face. "I told mom of the moment I started at camp, so then she couldn't go nuts about the moment I 'became a woman,' or whatever."

Tasha has always seemed like a little kid to James. Her stint at camp had only taken place... he quickly calculates... 3ish years ago. Tasha is a kid. She hasn't busted 20 years old yet. But, for the first time James wonders if other, more metaphorical factors are at play.

The idea quickly fades, though, when he remembers the actual topic at hand. "Ok, but Tash," James says. "What's actually going on right now?"

Tasha practically sinks into the couch cushions. She wraps both arms around her abdomen. "Blood," she says. "Kinda...everywhere."

"We'll clean the bathroom later," James says dismissively.

"And I'll do laundry," Steve offers. "I used to be the scrawny kid who got beat up a lot. I can do bloodstains."

"Not helping, babe," James tells him before Tasha can get a word in.

"Feel sick," Tasha admits, rather suddenly.

"Bathroom it is, then," James decides. "But, let's use mine."

Tasha seems to have turned into a shapeless blob on the corner of the couch, her chest meeting her thighs with her arms still wrapped around her stomach. Her face is in her knees, which James has to admit, would be easier to clean than the carpet.

"Come on," he says gently, taking Tasha's shoulder. "If you're gonna puke, don't do it here, please."

"But I already diiiiid," Tasha complains, drawing out the last word and adding the hiccup of a fake crying fit.

"Sorry." James hooks his flesh arm across Tasha's chest and lets her cling to him down the hall. He takes her into his and Steve's disorganized yet bleach-shined bathroom. Cleaning was practically Steve's hobby. Yet keeping down the clutter? Not his strong suit.

Unsure of exactly what kind of sick his sister intends to be, he sets her down, fully clothed, on the toilet, which, of course, has the seat up. Then he dives for the trash can and shoves it into Tasha's chest.

She gives James an appreciative glare, then sets her chin on the edge of the trash can, ostensibly to wait for an upcoming retch. James can practically see it, rising from the bottom of her spine, up her back, to her neck and throat before finally pushing a pitiful amount of spit and bile out of her mouth.

"Ok..." James sighs. If she's down to just that, she's been at it a while. Lost a lot of fluids already.

"Gatorade?" Steve asks in a chipper tone, putting voice to what James is thinking without a trace of delicacy.

"Hmph." Tasha spits. "If it'll... make it stop burning..."

"Lemme guess, vodka last night?" James tries to make her laugh. Maybe cough.

"Fuck you."

"Eh, we'll talk about that later," James says, hoping he doesn't sound threatening. "For now, how about I go with you?" James pulls on Steve's arm and heads for the bathroom door.

"Hey, you said no privacy here..." Tasha's irritated and sickly voice trails after them.

"Yeah, well, puking people aren't allowed to leave the bathroom," James says. "That's the house rule that trumps all the others."

"But I puke on the couch all the time--"

"That's because it's too hard to get your fucking limp-ass octopus body into the bathroom in the first place." James rolls his eyes. "Just sit tight."

He quickly drags Steve into the kitchen. "Ok," he says. "You have to know about this stuff. You took health class in high school, right?"

"I've lived with a woman," Steve reminds James, a little shamefully. "But Peggy was super private. You know, like inhibited, about, like, um..."

"Yeah, I get it." James shrugs. Then, "Did you know you can stem a nosebleed with a tampon?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know..." James shakes his head.

"Why do you?" Steve looks a little take aback now.

"The field. Desert air's pretty damn dry."

"Ah. Ok."

"We'd get donations of shit from the states. Care packages, Costco overstock, you know. Just, whatever. When we got pads and stuff, whoever was unloading the box would just hold them over their head and yell 'who needs them?'"

"And I'm assuming people would just raise their hands?" Steve postulates.

"Yup." James pops the P. "No privacy. Everyone knows everyone else's bathroom habits. When you're deep in the field, there's no men's and women's facilities. Half the time the privies don't even have doors."

"Ok." Steve nods. "Experience, then. You have lots of experience."

James shrugs again. "You have to be chill, ok?" He opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Gatorade. He holds one to either side of Steve's neck, as if to physically cool him. "This is, like, super weird and awkward for her. She's really scared, I think, and her brave face just looks...jerk-ish."

"Yeah." Steve takes the Gatorade. "I can be good with this. I really care about her, even if she doesn't think I do."

"I know you do," James says. "It's all in the presentation right now, though. She's skittish. But, also, for some reason, willing to talk. We have to tease it out. And you can't ruin it, ok?"

"Ok, ok." Steve seems to understand, even if he doesn't appreciate the words.

They head back to the bathroom, where Tasha has, for whatever reason, decided to heave into the toilet instead of the trash. She squats awkwardly, sitting on one heel. From the angle he's at, James can see a spreading stain on the back of Tasha's shorts, which has made an imprint on her ankle and the bottom of her foot.

"Don't move," James says, reaching for a towel.

"The fuck would I?" Tasha coughs, holding her stomach and moaning.

"Well, when you're done, stand up slowly and wipe your feet."

"...Shit..." Tasha spits. "Like I said. It's fucking everywhere."

"Yeah..." Menstrual blood, James has no experience with. But blood in general, yeah. It does get fucking everywhere. There's that first moment when the entire body and all its systems are still in shock, like when the arm is first blown off, and then all he can see is red. Even the bone that was white just a second ago is lost in a sea of scarlet--

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," Steve says with a grin, clearly trying to be friendly, but missing out on one, or more, of the points. "You're not pregnant."

"Well, of course I'm not, you dingbat," Tasha replies, rolling her eyes so hard that James is sure it must give her a headache. If she doesn't already have one. "And besides. He used a condom."

"Wait," James says. He's been preoccupied by not looking at Steve. "You know that?" he pokes cautiously. "For sure?"

"...Yeah..."

"Every time?"

"To be honest," Tasha starts, spitting and pushing herself away from the toilet. She crab-walks to the towel, wipes her feet, then sits on it, criss-cross like a little kid. "I don't know if he actually gets off every time." She draws her mouth into a straight, defensive line.

"The fuck does that have to do with anything?" James asks.

Steve looks very much like he wants to get the bleach from the cabinet under the sink, pour it into one ear, tip his head, and see if it comes out the other.

"He pulls out," Tasha says bluntly. "And there's never any, you know. Gunk."

"Wait, he does both?" Steve's eyebrows disappear into his hair. "A condom and--"

"Ok, ok." James puts up his hands to shush them both. "And this is, what, this is your dealer we're talking about?"

"Yeah, I guess, if you want to call him that," Tasha says with a shrug.

"What else would we call him?" Steve now looks disgusted. "That'd be stupid to let him just, like, defile you every week."

"He doesn't--" Tasha starts, but then she hiccups, and maybe thinks better of what she was going to say. She still stares Steve down, though, then looks to James as if grasping at straws of support.

"He's, like, a manufacturer?" Tasha turns her gaze sideways.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." James puts his hand over his face. He'd assumed Tasha was getting her stuff on the street, through a framework of various interlopers. Now he's getting news that his kid sister is taking substances thrown together in some coed's bathtub? This is too much.

"Tash--" James starts, trying hard to keep his bubbling anger and concern from spilling over.

"He's a PhD candidate," Tasha says defensively. In Chemistry. And--" her eyes flicker from side to side as she seems to wonder what's appropriate to spill. "I won't tell you his name. But... I'll tell you that he got kicked off the football team for being too violent, but he still wears his green jersey all the time to prove how much better and calmer he's become since that happened, which was only in the freshman year of his undergrad..." Tasha babbles on.

The more she defends the guy, the more James hates him. He feels bad for him a little, slinging synthesized crack to get by. He feels better for Tasha, knowing that what she's taking is most probably pure. But the sex thing is--

"It's kinda creepy," Steve says, taking the words right from James's mouth. "Like, how much older than you is he?"

"I don't know." Tasha shrugs. "Not that much, I don't think. Started school early, finished fast. And I'm not sure this is his first post-graduate program..."

"Maybe shouldn't've added that last part," James says, screwing up his eyes. "So he's had, like, however long to prey on girls who are barely legal. Who might not even be legal..."

"Well, I'm legal, and I can do what I want." Tasha crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah," James sighs. "Unfortunately."

"But what about the thing with the handcuffs? The gang rape? Losing your bra?" Steve blurts out.

"Wait, you..." Tasha's eyes flash with anger. "You told him?"

"What did I say about privacy?" James quickly reminds her. "The non-puking kind? And, um," He looks to Steve. "Maybe a little respect?"

"Sorry," Steve mutters. "But--I really do--"

"I don't really remember that stuff," Tasha says.

James studies her face, but he can't tell if she's lying.

"Probably just party stuff that got out of hand."

'You mean you were too stoned to know the difference between your regular and some random dude off the street,' James thinks. 'What do you do at parties? And how the fuck do you slip past me?'

"He's your pimp, too, isn't he?" Steve asks, pointing at Tasha rather accusatorially, in James's opinion.

"No!" Tasha leans forward and brings her arms down to cover her clearly still sore abdomen. "Bruce wouldn't--" She swallows. "I didn't-- You didn't hear--"

James hasn't been a student long enough to know who was on the football team 4, 5, 6-odd years ago. He supposes he could look it up, crossing the name with accounts of any violent incident that amount of time ago. He's not sure he wants to, though he'll probably wind up looking it up later. Either that, or Steve will. James still has his ex-mil connections, a few of which were absorbed into the local police force. Steve, on the other hand, is better with social media and navigating the niceties of such mysteries as SnapChat and TikTok.

"Ok, fine," James says, just ameliorate his sister's panic.

"He doesn't even drug me at parties," Tasha goes on, probably unaware of how terribly young and desperate she sounds, making lame-ass excuses so she can keep her boy toy.

"And you've had other guys who did?" Steve asks incredulously, even though James shakes his head frantically at him to try to get him to shut up.

"You know Rumlow?" Tasha asks, since apparently she's now all about spilling names.

James shakes his head, but Steve screws up his eyes and says in a disgusted voice, "him?"

"Yeah..." Tasha sighs and looks down at her fingernails, which are stained rust-red at the root. "Remember the night I didn't come home?"

"Yeah, and scared the living shit out of us because your phone was off," James fills in the blanks.

"Well, I didn't turn it off."

"You mean that asshole kept you overnight without any means of getting yourself out of there?" Steve looks downright sick. "I mean, I know he looks slimy, but that?"

"I think Maria accidentally slept on the couch and found me at, like, 6am trying to stick my head in the linen closet because I couldn't find the bathroom." Tasha laughs, though the situation is anything bur funny.

"And I was so pissed at her for having you out all night..." James trails off.

"Yeah, maybe respect my choices a little more?" Tasha glares at him. "I mean, Maria's studying to become an EMT now. You can't think that badly of her."

'Great,' James thinks. 'Someone who'll drug Tasha to the gills every weekend.' She'll be less likely to overdose, but James has seen it all too often in the field. Newly minted medical personnel eager to sow off their skills and rushing into action.

"Yeah," James says, trying not to smirk. "So you got a girlfriend and a boyfriend now?"

"Ew, no," Tasha replies. "Friends with...benefits, I guess. If you even want to call it that. Folks who look out for each other, using a barter system?"

"Did you recently take World History?" James can't help but poking at her vocabulary.

"Fucking-a, I don't know. Once I pass, it's in my past."

"That's actually a good motto," Steve points out.

"Anyway," James says, bringing the conversation back to topic. "None of your...friends... are invited to this house."

"It's not like I want to bring them over for dinner," Tasha replies. "I guess drop off and pickup might happen, since, well, you know now, and I don't have a car." She shrugs. "Cool?"

James hates the idea of someone inebriated driving a car in which his sister is a passenger, despite the fact that he's done it before. Regularly, actually. Maybe he just hates the idea of the driver being someone who Tasha just fucked. The air might be heavy between them. They might smell like each other's deodorant and musk. They might kiss each other good bye. The thought makes James's stomach turn.

But, "sure," he says. "That's fine.” At least she'll come home.

James shares a glance with Steve, which seems to confirm the same sentiments, "Yeah," Steve echoes, as if his opinion counts for anything. "Fine."

[libsterslobsters]

What Is and What Should Never Be...

A Bucky Barnes/reader fanfic

Summary: Things between the reader and Bucky have never made sense. From the unlikeliness of them meeting to their strange powers, to their relationship surviving misunderstandings, separations, and most of all, Thanos, the odds are always against them, and yet things always sort them out. This time though, they face the biggest obstacle of their lives. Will this be what breaks them, or will they, yet again, pull through?

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of sex, no editor

Author's note: Guys, I am a fluffy bitch who happens to love characters with a tragic back story. My family has saved my life, so I had to give our favorite black lab puppy of a super soldier a happy ending.

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

It’s half past two when she finally convinces herself to do it. The other alternative is to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling for the next three hours until her alarm goes off. And… a quiet mutter in another language… Russian, she immediately realizes as her mind translates the nonsensical phrase… reminds her that she’s unlikely to have an opportunity in the weekend ahead to go out on her own without that wonderful, loving, over-protective husband of hers worrying or offering to go with her.

Slowly, she pushes back the sheets and climbs from the bed (a monumental task, since somehow, in his sleep, he always ends up touching her in some way; this time it’s an arm slung over her waist), padding softly towards the bathroom. It’s not ideal, pulling clothes out of the hamper to wear again, but she doesn’t want to risk opening the closet to dig around and the noise waking him, light sleeper that he is, so it’ll have to do.

The townhouse is familiar, so she doesn’t worry too much about stumbling in the dark, but still she clutches the stair railing harder than usual, more to calm herself than any real fear she will fall. She’s trying her best not to access that part of her mind, the one that grants her an unwanted view into the immediate future as, finally on the bottom floor, she shoves her keys into her purse and her feet into her shoes, then pulls open the door.

The city never sleeps, which is a mercy, because the porch light has already been turned off. There’s no reason for either of them to venture out again until morning. At least, that’s what he thinks. Her hands shake as she turns the key, bringing the car’s engine to life. If this goes the way she’s nearly certain it will, she’s going to have to trade it in for something bigger than it’s fuel-efficient two seat capacity.

It’s a familiar drive, and a short one. If the sun were out, she’d walk! But as it is, she parks three blocks down from where she lives and, taking a deep breath to hold back the panicked tears threatening to flow, steps out into the night.

The cashier is rubbing at his eyes wearily, and doesn’t so much as blink as she places her items on the counter to be scanned. Three boxes, because if she’s going to potentially risk upending her life, his life too, she’ll be damned if she’s not absolutely certain of her reason. She briefly wonders if she’ll even be capable of using all that she’s bought in one go, but dismisses the thought almost as soon as it appears. Well, it’s unlikely she’ll be getting any sleep tonight. That’s plenty of time to make damn sure of the result.

She’s not aware of anything as she drives back. Thank God everyone else seems to be watching themselves, or else she’d be in trouble. Well, she chuckles bitterly to herself, more trouble than she’s already potentially in. Again, the quiet dance of easing key into lock, of softly closing the door behind her and slipping out of her shoes. This time, she pads towards the downstairs bathroom. May as well get it over with.

As it turns out, if you pace yourself, you can indeed manage to use three of the tiny plastic sticks all at once. They’re all different brands, but the wait time is the same. She sets her watch to three minutes and, closing her eyes, tries to concentrate on anything but her visions of the future.

Instead, she focuses on the past. They met out of nowhere, while he was on the run and she was in hiding. That was the one time she was happy to be blessed with precognition; it allowed her to pull him around that street corner just before the man she didn’t know anything about other than a forboding sense that he was no good would have recognized the lost stranger with the metal arm.

That should have been the end of it. She saved him, and ran as fast as she could when he asked, “Who are you?” But he’s always been stubborn, this Winter Soldier, so of course he chased her down until she had nowhere to go (or rather, until her visions kicked in yet again and informed her that there was no way out; no matter where she ran, he was more than capable of finding her).

There were awkward introductions, a distasteful cup of tea he still claims is their first date, and the admission:

“I see the future. Little shards of it. And I never can control when I see it.”

Again, that should’ve been the end of it, but his response was,

“I’m nearly 100 years old, have super serum running through my veins, killed hundreds of people, and I have basically no memory of the past fifty years of my life.”

She should have run, but she didn’t. And how glad she is, no matter how this turns out, that she stayed.

There were so many times they should’ve fallen apart. When she told him, “This has to stop. I’m so sorry. You’ve been nothing but a good friend to me and you don’t deserve this, but somewhere along the line, I got my wires crossed, and I accidentally fell in love with you.” , there’s no logical explanation to him telling her, “Wait, I’m a little confused here. I thought we’d been dating for the past six months. And you thought… oh.” It shouldn’t have worked out, shouldn’t have led to both of them doing what they’d wanted to for so long: sharing a kiss, just an innocent peck to the lips, which for her, felt like taking her first breath.

He should have left her behind when Steve came for him, shouldn’t have insisted, “I’ll go, but I’ve got someone we’ve got to bring with us. Someone important.” Or she should have stayed, but the danger of what lay ahead didn’t seem like that big of a price to pay if she got to stay with the man she was beginning to suspect was the love of her life.

When he went to a small African country, she shouldn’t have insisted, “Of course I’m going with you! You didn’t leave me. What makes you think I’m going to leave you?” He shouldn’t have given in. They shouldn’t have weathered the long breaks between seeing each other while he was having his mind rewired and she was learning, learning about Wakanda and teaching so little by comparison about the language she speaks, or come out on the other side stronger. When the call came once again for the white wolf to return to battle, it made no sense for her to go too even with the years of training she had, or that as soon as they were settled on the helicarrier, he sighed and informed her, “I was planning on doing this at a nice dinner, but since we have no idea what we’re getting into, I thought I’d go ahead and ask.” pulling out a small box with a delicate ring inside, asking, “Marry me as soon as this is over.” Going into the unknown, she shouldn’t have said yes.

She shouldn’t have survived Thanos’ armies, the multiple injuries she sustained, the snap that followed, or as a last-ditch effort to save her life, the mad scientist’s cocktail, the one that turned an innocent boy who only wanted to serve his country into the Winter Soldier, being administered by Natasha’s shaking hands. He shouldn’t have been the one who turned to dust. When she woke up, one thought on her mind, “Where is Bucky?” her heart should have given out when Steve told her, anxiously holding her hand, “I’m so sorry. He’s gone.”

Five years later, she should’ve been past it, should have moved on. Not been there to answer the call when her phone lit up and an excited spy told her, “There’s a chance we can bring them back.” None of it should have worked- the time travel, Bruce snapping his fingers, them once again fighting Thanos. When it was all over, she should’ve been so broken, so changed, that when she saw him, her first words were not, “You came back to me.”

There should have been too much water under the bridge. They shouldn’t have been able to make it work, him relearning the woman he used to know because, “You kept it on.” “Of course I did.” It made no sense, and they were warned against going through with trading vows only six months after the world righted itself again. They shouldn’t have been able to work together, continue to “fight the bad guys” without growing to resent each other. The marriage should’ve ended within a year, not grown stronger, been full of loves and laughs, lazy morning sex and breakfast for dinner, until now.

Her watch starts beeping, and although she’s quick to silence the alarm, she wonders if he’s heard it. When no footsteps sound over her head a full ninety seconds later, she stand and examines the tests on the counter. Three different brands, three different options for telling her one simple answer. A plus sign. Two pink lines. One simple word: pregnant.

The tears finally do fall, and even though she reaches out to the gift, the curse, the future, it’s unclear. Well, she tells herself after burying the results in the box of tampons under the sink (unused for far too long) which she knows he’ll never look through, none of this should have worked so far, but it has. Maybe this will be yet another exception.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Sam’s jokes have stopped being funny, or maybe he’s just stopped paying attention. All Bucky knows is that he’s paying more attention to the clock across the room from him, or rather it’s hands than his partner. Finally, the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the five. He thinks he says something about getting home, the plan sounds great, they’ll talk more about it tomorrow, but he can’t be sure. He’s too busy trying to remember which streets are the least busy this time of day so that he can get home sooner.

She’s been off for the last week or so. There was the food poisoning (odd, because they’re both “super soldiers”, they don’t get sick, but she also doesn’t lie so that had to be what’s going on) Sunday morning, which didn’t seem to be much better on Monday, even if she still went in to work. “I’m fine. These people work so hard to learn English. The least I can do is show up and grade their papers.” He should’ve insisted she stay home, but that wouldn’t have done any good.

Tuesday, she was asleep on the couch when he arrived from work. Wednesday is when she started jumping when he entered a room, freezing when he touched her, and later that night when he tried to pull her closer to him in bed, her muscles tensed under his palm, even if she did settle against his chest. Thursday she was awake before he was and came to bed hours after he’d already turned in. This morning, she was out the door before he could so much as say goodbye, and after six days, enough is enough. He’s determined to figure out what’s going on with his wife.

She’s usually at the community college late, tutoring students after class, but to his surprise, as he steps inside their house, the lights are on, and what’s more, the smell of meat cooking and several spices mingling is in the air.

“Long day?”

She barely looks up as he steps into the kitchen, but does smile when he places a kiss on her forehead, so that’s something.

“It was alright. You?”

She shrugs. “I’m glad to be home, let’s put it that way.”

He wants to sit her down, take both of her hands in his, ask her what’s going on, but he doesn’t get the chance before she suggests,

“Why don’t you go up and get a shower? Dinner should be ready by the time you’re done.”

He is sweaty, he supposes, so he nods.

“Alright.”

Half a flight of stairs is behind him before he thinks to add, “Love you, Doll.” “Love you.” Small assurances, but he needs them. His mind is swirling with all of the worst possibilities he can think of. She’s dying. She’s leaving him. He’s done something to make her feel afraid or unwanted. No. She still loves him. He’s just paranoid.

He decides to use his time in the shower to come up with a plan. After they eat, he’ll take care of the dishes so she can relax. More than likely she’ll want to get a head start on grading papers, but since it’s the weekend, that’ll only last for half an hour or so before she decides that the rest can wait and Netflix is much more appealing. He’ll get the snacks ready (more than likely popcorn, but last week it was some sort of trail mix that included, of all things, parsley) and once they’re cuddled up, well into whatever mindless tv show they’re watching this time, he’ll press the issue.

A flash of orange catches his eye as he’s rinsing off. He calls out her name, thinking maybe she’s come upstairs for something, but there’s no reply. Paranoid again. He really needs to get to the bottom of this.

It doesn’t take him long to change into his weekend wear: sweatpants and an old tshirt, but as soon as he’s down the steps and into the kitchen once again, he wishes he’d put a little more effort in. Now he knows what the flash of orange was: the dress that always reminds him of summer. She’s changed clothes, taken her hair out of its “teacher” knot at the back of her head, and refreshed the makeup she could easily do without. Not only that, but-

“We’re eating in the dining room.” He thought those dishes looked a little nicer than paper plates.

The food is good. He’s certain of it, but he’s not tasting anything. Neither is she, he’s fairly certain, because she just picks at what’s on her plate. Neither of them say anything, on his part because he’s trying not to blurt out, “What’s wrong?” On hers… he’s not sure.

Finally, enough time has passed to warrant getting up. He starts to stand, but she grasps his hand.

“Wait. I-” She bites her lip. It’s brief, but it’s an obvious sign that she’s nervous, a tell that she’s never completely lost over the years. “Sit. I have something I need to do, and if you get up, I’ll talk myself out of it.” It’s all connected. He can feel it.

She’s only gone for thirty seconds (he’s counting to give himself something to do other than worry), and then she’s back, visibly trembling, with a small, white box in hand.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I thought-” She stops short and, a little hesitantly, offers the item to him before sitting. “-open it and hopefully you’ll get the gist.”

It’s the wrong shape for divorce papers, too small to hold anything else he can think of, and the yellow ribbon tied around it seems to suggest it’s not a bad thing.

“Okay.” He nods and, tugging gently at the ribbon, removes the lid.

It doesn’t make sense. A pair of white, soft leather shoes, so small they look like they should belong to a doll. Underneath, an equally doll-like white hat. And… oh. A silver rattle. He’s not stupid; he can figure out what this adds up to, but still, gazing into her eyes, he has to ask.

“Are you…?”

She nods, and although she immediately lifts her hand to wipe it away, a tear slides down her cheeks. “Yes.”

Suddenly it all makes sense. The odd behavior, the secrecy, the fear. They’ve never talked about having children, even taken precautions to make sure it doesn’t happen. In their line of work, with her extra abilities and their combined genetics with the serum, it doesn’t make sense to have a child. He’ll be a terrible father. He’s a murderer- no, he chides himself, a soldier forced to do things he regrets- and still, for all intents and purposes, in the service. He’s got so much baggage. Steve is the one who would be good (hell, was good, from what he’s gathered) with the wife, the family. But now that he knows, now that he’s aware that, between the two of them, they’ve created a new life, he’s never wanted anything more.

“We’re having a baby.” It’s not a question, but she nods, sniffling slightly.

“We are.”

He can’t wait anymore. She may still be afraid, unsure of what the outcome will be of this accidental miracle, but he has to at least assure her that through it all, he’ll be with her.

Carefully, he slides down from his chair to kneel beside her, and just as he was planning to do later tonight, takes both of her hands in his (well, one of them; the other is resting over where their baby, his baby, is growing).

“That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard.”

The tears fall fresh from her eyes, but her smile is bright, a real one he hasn’t seen in the past six days, and as she leans down, he presses his lips against hers, ignoring the mistiness in his own eyes. None of this makes sense. It shouldn’t work, or even be possible. But it is.

[pettyrevenge-base]

How I made bratty Thumbelina stop flirting with my boyfriend

Back in high school, I dated a guy who we'll call Jared. After school Jared and I would hang out at his place with a group of 3-5 friends.

One girl in our group of friends was...interesting. We'll call her Trixie. Trixie was a petite girl whose entire personality revolved around being cute and petite. Also, despite being in a relationship herself, she was clearly into Jared. She would claim that things were too heavy and ask only him to carry them, comment on how tall he was compared to her, ask him for piggy back rides, just general nonsense that made us both sort of uncomfortable. I wouldn't tolerate this now, but we did at the time because we liked hanging out with her boyfriend.

Well, it being that time of the month, I bought a new box of tampons to keep under the sink. It was one of those variety packages that includes different sizes (important for later). Later that afternoon I went to grab one and noticed that 6 or 7 of the "light" tampons were already missing. What the hell? Then I realized Trixie had been going to the bathroom A LOT. Being so aggressively petite and adorable, I guess she considered it beneath her to use regular tampons.

When we hung out the next day, she finished all of the light ones. I was wondering what she'd do when she approached me off to the side and asked if I had any more. I quietly told her no, sorry, but she could always use a bigger size so she wouldnt have to change them so often. She answered very loudly, looking right at Jared, "Oh, I can't use those jumbo tampons like you, I'm way too tiny!" What. The. Hell. I guess she thought it would sound sexy or something...

So what did I do? I hid the entire box of tampons in his room and replaced it with a box of diaper-thick maxi pads that I only wear to bed. The next time she went to the bathroom, she was in there a long time, probably searching for the tampons I'd moved. When she finally came out wearing one of the diaper sized pads, she crinkled like a fucking NEWSPAPER wherever she walked. Jared, knowing full well, asked the room at large "What's that sound?" She left shortly afterward.

She also cold-shouldered me from then on, which was just an added bonus as far as I was concerned. As a cherry on top of the cake, I heard through the grapevine that she's gained at least 50 pounds since high school. Bet you don't ask other people's boyfriends for piggy back rides anymore, huh Trixie?

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[crazymarvelsuperfamily]

A Trans Peter Ficlet

because I have a million and one things that I should be doing, but I wrote this instead. Its about Periods so there’s blood (so kinda TW). There are no spoilers for anything in this. I’m now ignoring endgame :) its just over 1k long

“Peter, come on, wake up now,” Natasha’s voice coaxed him awake. Peter groaned miserably. “You’ve been asleep long enough now, malen’kiy, I need you to get up.” She said, gently shaking his shoulder until his eyes blinked open.

Peter sat up slowly and scanned his surroundings. He had obviously fallen asleep watching a movie in the common room, his limbs sprawled across Tony’s pale grey sofa. “Yeah ‘Tasha, I’m awake now. Wassup?” He yawned, rubbing his eyes roughly.

Natasha smiled sympathetically and crouched down next to him, causing Peter to wonder what had happened. She leaned in close to him, so that Clint and Scott messing around over in the kitchen had no chance of hearing her. “malen’kiy, your period must’ve started.” She whispered.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock, and he looked down. Sure enough, his cotton basketball shorts were stained red, and a small patch of blood had started to pool onto the sofa. His face dropped, struck in terror, and his hands started to shake. He gasped for a few breaths, as a bead of sweat rose from under his curls. “I-I-errr.” He stuttered. He hadn’t told any of the team so far, and he really wasn’t ever planning on. The Avengers were the first people who he met shortly after he came out as Trans – the first people who never knew his dead name, or ever knew that he wasn’t always a guy. And it was amazing. Like, sure he was quite short for someone his age, and hadn’t ever had a real voice break, but no one seemed to suspect anything. And now, all of that was blown completely, just because he forgot about his stupid period. His hands tremored as he tried to stand up, to run away, but Natasha stopped him, cupping his cheeks with her small cool hands.

“Don’t worry Peter; you are not the first person to bleed all over the couch. Ask anyone. Do you need to borrow a few things?” She asked him quietly. Peter nodded shakily. Natasha helped him to stand, and threw down her jacket over the sofa to hide the blood stain. She guided Peter to her apartment, standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders to hide his shorts from the back. Peter wanted to cry in thankfulness at Natasha’s response. She was one of the first people to find out he was Trans and treat him with no difference what so ever.

Natasha led Peter straight into her spacious bathroom and handed him soft, but black towel. “Take a shower, while I wash your clothes out. Pads and tampons and things are in the cupboard below the sink.” She said.

Peter tried to object, “Tasha, you really don’t have to wash my clothes or let me shower or anything, I just need a box of pads – that’s all.”

But Natasha leaned in and kissed him on his forehead, “Kid, I’m an assassin, I bet I’m much more efficient at getting the blood out.” She smirked, “so stop being silly and throw out your shorts in a second.” She turned and left him on his own in the bathroom.

Slightly against his will, he threw his clothes out of the bathroom before he tentatively stepped into Natasha’s shower. And by the time he had stepped out again and dried off, his clothes were clean and dry, and stacked in a neat pile next to the bathroom door. Peter almost double took at Natasha’s skill – how on earth could she do that in 10 minutes? He struggled back into his binder and slipped his shorts and T-shirt back on, and found Natasha in her lounge watching TV.

She gestured for him to come and sit with her, so Peter gingerly did so. She passed a hot water bottle and mug of hot chocolate to him, and with a gulp, he gave a nod of thanks. “How do you do that?” He asked quietly.

“Do what?” Natasha asked.

“All of it.” Peter whispered.

“I don’t know. I’ve always made a mean hot chocolate, and been good at laundry, it’s not that hard. Then again, with Tony as your father figure, it isn’t hard to believe that you’ve never learnt.” Natasha said offhandedly.

“Not what I meant.” Peter looked at her timidly. “Did you know already?”

Natasha sighed heavily, “if it’s any consolation, nobody else knows, not even Tony.”

Peter nodded silently, chewing on his lip. “How have you always known though?” Peter twitched.

“Because I’m trained to see everything, and I act like I know everything all the time.” Natasha shrugged. She shuffled across the sofa so that she was sitting next to him.

Peter briefly rested his head on her shoulder, before sitting up again, to tentatively meet her eye line. “Are you going to tell anyone?” Peter asked hesitantly.

Natasha shook her head. “Not unless you want me to.”

“Why would I want you to though?” Peter tilted his head to the side.

“If you talk to Bruce or Dr Cho, they can give you T, and there are surgical options – you don’t need to ever have a period again – if that’s something you want.” She suggested.

Peter sighed. “I looked into those kinds of things, but they’re really expensive and I didn’t want to put that burden on May, and I’m not sure I’m really to tell Mr Stark, or Dr Banner.” He looked downcast and almost guilty.

Natasha outstretched her arm, and pulled Peter’s head back onto her shoulder, mindlessly carding grow her fingers through his damp curls. “Hey, don’t get upset, that’s super valid and up to be a man understandable. And you know that I don’t think you’re any less of an awesome kid, who’s going to as smart as Tony, strong as Steve, and funny as Clint.” She smiled at him.

Peter cast his eyes up to her face, nervously smiled back, “Thank you.” His eyes started to well up a little, she was the first person who Peter (although unintentionally) came out to who he felt truly accepted him for who he really was.

[gingers-writing]

Clint Barton and the Period

I hope you guys enjoy this, a little info for reader suffers with some pretty bad cramps and heavy bleeding. Although taking medication it still can get pretty ugly. I hope you all have nice periods and even nicer lives.

Master List

You always booked the week off from work, this call of nature incapacitated you every time. Yes you can walk around, cook some food, but no way in hell could you do a mission. Things reached a point where you bought a Livia in some attempt to make life bearable again. And it did help, cramps were manageable and now you only had mood swings, hot and cold flushes, unending hunger and being constantly tired to deal with.

Clint and you had a strange relationship, it wasn’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you wouldn’t call it friends with benefits. You were beyond that, you just hadn’t given it a title, he was your boss. Brought you in from Hydra, trained you, worked with you closely. Loves you everyday and in every way.

You woke that morning, bled thought you’d pad in the night, blood down your thighs and across the bottom sheet. A towel was laid down and you changed your pad. The rest could wait till you had the energy.

Around 8am you felt a dip in the mattress, gently breathing against your neck and a certain archers fingers caressing your stomach. His hand slowly reaching your waist band and rubbing a finger under. Mumbled something then got up again. You were awake, but didn’t open your eyes. He carefully placed the pads on your body attracting you to the tiny box and starting it up. He knew you used setting four, then attached it to your waistband and got comfortable again. His hand rubbing down your leg, rubbing in a slow up and down motion.

You must have slept because you heard the shower running, when you opened your eyes, 9:32am. Dragging yourself out of bed and into the bathroom, he was in the shower humming away.

“Good morning gorgeous, you look beautiful today…” He did this every period, a different compliment to start your day. Not that you ever believed him.

“I got the usual supplies out if you want to do that this morning…” By the sink was an extra safe condom and silicone lube. When you told Clint sex can help cramps, he was all for it, anything to help him help you.

“Extra safe?” You frowned and looked at him, you felt like he didn’t trust you, the thought would have never crossed your mind before, but now, it was all you could think about.

“Nearly every condom I use I break in someway, which is fine normally. You’re on the pill. But while your body is doing its thing, I don’t want to put any stress on you, the last thing you need to worry about is if the condom rips…”

You turned the Livia off putting on that cabinet, beginning to get undressed, picking up the supplies. And heading towards the shower.

“If it’s extra safe, won’t it be thicker?” Stepping in, his arms engulfing you, a kiss placed on your forehead.

“Yeah, that’s how they make sure it doesn’t rip…” his damp hands sticking to your hair, his right hand slowly going down your back, it settled on your lower back, his calloused fingers rubbing a small circle.

“But that means it won’t feel as good for you…” Your eyes big and looking up at him, you felt like you were about to cry, you didn’t know why, it was like you looked at a cute photo again.

“Oh well, I get three weeks of every month with an ultra thin condom, one week a month with an extra safe won’t kill me, I’m sure I can handle it…” His lips met your forehead and soothed you.

And he did handle it, you were lucky to be graced with a large walk in shower, the perfect size for him to lay down and had you ride on top. That allowed you to control your pleasure, him groaning and scratching at your back as you grind down on him making him feel weak, that’s all he wanted, it was you feeling better.

You never had to ask twice, anything you wanted during sex, he would do it. No matter how strange you believed it was.

“Clint I want you to press me against the cold glass, wank off and finger me…” He happily got you up, pressed you against the glass, and let his fingers do the work, his own hand stroking his length.

“Like that baby?” All you could do was nod, pleasure clouded everything, even the pain. Clint had no problem with your period, sex was sex and a period was something that happened. He always looked forward to your period, it was the one time in the month you let him dote on you in public.

You orgasmed for the third time and you were shot, you couldn’t do it again. Panting you turned and faced him. “I can’t anymore...sorry…” He smiled, kissed your lips and looked down at his length.

“You can watch me finish if you like?” You nod eagerly, as much as you didn’t want anymore didn’t mean you didn’t want to watch him finish himself off thinking about you. He unwrapped himself, and began to touch it skin on skin. Your name was a pray across his lips. Whimpering and moaning and his hand against the glass next to you and he stained it white, his hips jerking and his legs shaking in excitement.

He rinsed the glass, removed the condom and lube from the shower, than he washed his hand and got back in. You both cuddled under the warm water. He washed your body, the blood and the sweat. He massages your scalp, the shampoo smell filling the room, he wouldn’t stop until you were nearly asleep. Conditioning your hair was easy, while you let your conditioner set he would wash himself and give his hair a quick shampoo.

Washing your hair out then turning the water off, drying you down. He helped you sort yourself. He knew each day was different and he respected that you can change your mind.

“Diva cup, tampon or pad?” He opened the top draw straying on his deodorant, handing you the item you requested. He handed you a pair of his boxers.

His boxers don’t push down on your swollen stomach, they made everything feel like it was well in place, and they remind you of him.

“You look good in them…” he pouts watching as you wriggle into the blue boxers. “I look like a whale…” you retort feeling unattractive. “I think you look like a dolphin.” He teased, pulling his shirt on. Then sports shorts.

Breakfast was easy, you only ever craved one thing, celeminites. You ate five celeminites and he didn’t mind, he had his ‘bird feed’ as you lovingly labelled the box. “How’s your feed?” He rolled his eyes. “My granola and oats are lovely…” his hand rubbing your leg, your pulled on a soft bra, his big grey sleep shirt and no pants.

Nat dropped by while Clint had to go train some recruits. “When are you going to make it a real thing?” She questioned, she was drying your hair, then began to straighten it. “It is a real thing, he spends most his time here…” She rolled her eyes and you saw it in the mirror. “We’ve been doing this for a year and a half, never once have I felt the need to stick the label on it. I don’t think we will, we are just happy as we are…” She nods, a smile breaks through and you looks at her, “good, if you never label it that’s fine. But when you finally get married, I better be a bridesmaid.” You nod. “I was planning on it…”

Now with hair done, you were sprawled across Natasha’s lap with YouTube on. “Who do you think will ask first?” Looking up at her. She shrugged, “I reckon Clint, he’s an old fashioned guy...likes that tradition, I reckon he will beat you by something like four days.” You nod. He walks through the door.

“Who am I beating in four days?” Toeing his shoes off in the hallway, hanging his jacket on the rack and walking into the living room. “Y/N, on proposing, I think you’ll ask first...but I reckon she’ll have been planning it.” He nods and hums, pouring coffee, he smiled when he smelled how good it was. “That sounds expensive…” He looked at Natasha, “and when you keep coming and stealing our food, we’ll never afford a wedding…” Natasha was halfway through a pint of ice cream.

It was a small thing, Clint had slowly changed from ‘your flat’ to ‘our flat’, he would offer to pay for the ingredients he used. Now he’s go shopping and fill the cupboards. He lived there every weekend, and every weekday except Wednesday’s. It wouldn’t be long until he was fully moved in, if he was truthful, he was so ready for it.

Natasha left soon after finishing her ice cream, then just you and Clint remained. He was rubbing your legs, he would have commented on your bad tastes in YouTube’s, but for one week he could handle it. A smile cracking his lips when you began to tug him next to you, time to spoon. This is when he could just relax, he didn’t  need to play with part of your body, or fiddle with something. When he spooned with you, then it was just relax. His body let go of all the tense it held throughout the day.

His nose was nuzzled into your neck, his breath was hot and gave you goosebumps, his legs tangled into your and his arms wrapped around your rib cage. You fiddled with that Xbox remote changing video, he would mutter something about keeping you comfortable, but he was slipping away into sleep. You’d eaten lunch with Nat, he’d probably grabbed something from the base he was training at.

Soon it came time for food, your stomach told you that, the pit had opened and demanded satisfying. You grabbed your phone off that coffee table and laid in Clint’s arms, quietly ordering take away for the two of you.

It was when you had to escape his hold and answer the door he woke up, his hair fluffed in strange directions, tiredly walking as you took the Chinese and gave the person money, closing the door and trying to sneak into the kitchen.

“Y/N, what you got there?” You looked over and smiled, his hair was a fluffy mess, his eyes half closed and drool still could be seen on the corner of his mouth. “Chinese, our favourite…” he pulled himself off the sofa, the smell of you serving up pulled but from the daze.

Once food was beginning to be eaten, he demands you sat on his lap, at first you complained, but you moved out snuggling into him while eating your food. He was warm and comfortable, it was very agreeable.

[queerhargreeves]

hi again :)) Trans!diego is near and dear to my heart and this is me projecting/venting my dysphoria onto my angel boys and nb love. this could be really triggering so pls read w caution ! yet another fic written too late at night on little sleep

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Diego woke up with a jolt as he frantically eyed his room. He looked over at the clock which read “2:26 AM”. He sighed, running a hand down his face. Waking up during the wee hours of 2 - 4 AM had become an unfortunate common occurrence lately. After successfully avoiding the end of the world it was sort of difficult to think about life clearly again. He’d become a bit lost on what he wanted to do. He knew he couldn’t play pretend cop forever just like he knew the Umbrella Academy couldn’t last forever. Even if they had come together to save the lives of billions.

However it took about two more seconds before he registered the dampness beneath him. He froze, the smell of dead skunk quickly slapping him in the face.

Silently, Diego stood up. The sticky/damp feeling growing to be too uncomfortable. He turned on a lamp to assess the damage. His baby blue sheets looked like a murder scene.

When he had his first period, Grace was the person who helped him. Diego has had to walk into the kitchen with stained sheets in hand and eyes red on more than one occasion. She would understand immediately every single time. She’d put a hand on his cheek and wipe any tears that remained.

“Accidents happen Diego - even to big, strong men like yourself. I’ll go ahead and put these in the wash. Go have a seat and I’ll make you some tea.” She’d kiss his forehead and would go off with her duties. Diego always would go back to bed feeling more content than he did when he awoke.

Diego let out a whimper and immediately wrapped his hands around his stomach. Diego’s cycles were always the worst out of the Hargreeves siblings. He had hoped that going on testosterone would stop his mensuration but alas he wasn’t so lucky. Of course he wasn’t. Testosterone did however make his periods far and few between. He had gone a year and a half without a period just to have a 2 month long cycle. The unknown was the worst part. When he had his unexpected periods he suffered all of the symptoms and then some.

He quickly disposed of his underwear and sweat pants and threw them in a bag along with his sheets to inspect the damage. He came to the conclusion that shark week took victim on yet another pair of perfectly good underwear, pj’s, and sheets.

He set the bag aside and walked over to his dresser. He got ahold of another pair of sweatpants and underwear and shuffled into the bathroom, uncomfortable in his now complete nudity. Once inside he took a look at himself in the mirror. His face was rugged, jaw sharp. He had facial hair, thick brows, and two scars underneath his chest. His flat chest. He looks like the epitome of masculinity. Diego should see a man looking back at him. But all he sees is the little girl his father oh so wanted him to be. He saw the little kid with bangs and long hair in that stupid uniform. He saw that little kid that hated being called “she”. His vision started to blur and he blinked violently. He let the tears stream down his face as he choked back a sob. He couldn’t do this now.

Diego shook his head and slapped his cheeks, focusing back to the task at hand. He quickly opened the sink drawer and found the black box hidden in the very back. Opening it he grabbed a pad and placed the box back where it belonged.

For Christmas one year Klaus had bought Diego special briefs that were made for pads. His sibling learned that tampons made him even more dysphoric - the thought of anything being “inside” of him was too much to handle. They were 17 and Klaus had helped him get through a particularly bad episode. He was always thankful for him for that even when Klaus insisted on calling them his “best sibling ever rescue briefs”.

Diego placed the pad in his underwear and slipped the pair on, sweatpants quickly after. He washed his hands and made his way out of the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. His reflection was a little too much to handle right now.

Without the damp clothes on he already felt a bit better. Diego knew he probably wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon; he never did when he had these accidents. Diego grabbed the bag and walked out of his room and made his way towards the kitchen as quietly as he could.

As walked down the stairs he saw that the kitchen light was still on.

“Huh.” Diego thought to himself. His mom was already asleep as is everyone else in the house. Or so he assumed.

He turned the corner and into the kitchen to find Klaus in nothing but tiny silk shorts that probably belonged to Allison. They had a cup of tea in their hands and they were chatting softly to the seat next to them. They seemed to be in a pretty deep conversation seeing as they didn’t notice Diego.

Finally Klaus made a little “wha” sound and whipped their head around.

“Oh! Guten morgen brother!” Klaus chimed with a grin on their face.

“What brings you down here?”

Diego swallowed, his voice and brain trying to process what he wants to say.

“I-I uh,” Diego shifted his gaze, not wanting to make eye contact. Even after all these years, after all that Klaus had seen, he still felt ashamed when he was vulnerable.

“Shark week.” Diego signed, sliding his pointer finger straight across his palm. He didn’t quite trust his words yet.

Klaus’ smile quickly turned into a look sympathy, their muscles softening. They knew how bad their brother hurt when this happened. They got up from their seat and walked over to Diego, linking their elbow with his and walked him over to the table.

“I’m going to get you some Advil and make you a cup of tea, alright? You sit tight, sir. Ben will keep you company.” Klaus took a deep breath and clenched his fists. Blue light emitted from them and slowly their brother appeared in the seat across from Diego. Over the months of sobriety and training, Klaus had gotten a lot stronger in their abilities. It didn’t take nearly as much out of them to manifest their brother. They just couldn’t do it for 12+ hours at a time. Klaus took the bag from Diego’s hand and disposed of the remnants of his items.

Ben had a welcoming smile on his face as he pat Diego’s shoulder.

“How are you?” Ben asked softly, his eyes never leaving Diego’s gaze.

“P-pai-pain.” Diego choked weakly, wanting nothing more than to look away. But he knew his brother wasn’t there to judge or hurt him. Ben, other than Klaus, was the only other person who could understand some what of what he was going through. Ben never felt at peace with his body either, his “demons” hurt him. Physically and emotionally.

The hooded man nodded, “You know what I mean Diego,” Ben started. He chose his next words carefully, “How are you dealing with this? It’s been what....7 months since your last one?”

Diego shook his head, “N-nine mo-onths. Glor-g-glorious months.”

Klaus walked over to their siblings with 3 advil PM’s in one hand and a hot cup of chamomile tea in the other. They placed them in front of Diego, taking a seat next to him. He popped the pills in his mouth wordlessly and swallowed.

“If you don’t want to talk about this it’s fine, I understand. But,” Klaus put their finger under Diego’s chin and turned his head so they were making eye contact, “you know we’re always here for you. The even numbers gotta stick together, yeah?” They winked, removing their hand from his chin and back into their lap.

Diego’s vision blurred once more and he felt his cheeks heat up. He took a shaky breath as he tried to regain his composure.

“Diego it’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” Ben reassured his brother. He knew he needed time to process his thoughts when he got like this.

“Y-you’d th-th-think aft-after all th-these years I-I-I,” he let a sob escape his lips, his whole body jerked as he did so, “I’d b-be u-u-used to th-th-this. I’m f-f-fucking thirty!” Diego exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table.

“Diego you shouldn’t have to get used to feeling like your body doesn’t belong to you.” Klaus took their brothers hand, leaning down so they could attempt to lock eyes.

“Your body is yours and it’s a wonderful body. It’s a strong body. Its a talented body, one that can do things not a lot others can. It’s saved the world before too, ya know? It has a lot of memories written on it.” Klaus ran their thumb along the scar on Diego’s eyebrow.

“You are you and that’s all we could ever ask you to be.” Ben expressed, his tone steady.

His siblings kind affirmations were proving to be too much for Diego to handle. He broke down even more, his body shaking violently. Ben got up and walked around the table to his brother. He immediately wrapped his arms around the sobbing man, cherishing the fact he was able to comfort his siblings again. Klaus quickly followed suit.

Klaus and Ben gave each other an expectant look and then a nod. After a few minutes of their embrace, Diego’s sobs slowly started to subside. They silently stood up and put their hand on their brothers back.

“Diego we’re gonna have a cuddle pile, okay?” Klaus inquired even though they knew Diego would have no problem with it.

Diego nodded and they made their way up the stairs and into the “cuddle room”, a term Ben coined. It was one of the many guest rooms in this giant house however this one had a full king size bed. Aka a bed big enough to fit 3 grown adults.

This room had been their safe haven growing up. It had been Klaus’ when he woke up screaming, his nightmares not having left him in his sleep. It has been Ben’s when his demons were hurting and taunting him so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And it had been Diego’s when his body worked against him. They were always there for each other.

Ben opened the door and they made their way to the large bed, the three of them finding comfort in the familiar fluffy light yellow comforter. Diego crawled in first with Ben to his left and Klaus to his right.

“Is this okay?” Klaus asked, their voice barely above a whisper. Their arm hovered above Diego’s mid section, ready to back off if needed.

Diego mumbled out a “Mmm” and Klaus happily dropped their arm. Ben nuzzled up on the other side and followed suit, wrapping his arm around his brother.

The three of them fell asleep within minutes. Klaus nightmare-less, Diego content, and Ben relishing in their touch. This was the best night sleep they had gotten in a while.