#it's the hormone fluctuation of course

[famewolf]

I forgot to do my shot for a couple of weeks, whoops. but it's always so wild to me how calm and centered I feel afterwards. not having T makes me feel neurotic and all over the place. I can always tell when it's time to do my shot because the day before I get a little irritable.

[esote-rika]

More of you to worship | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Category: fluff, mild angst

Summary: Spencer Reid has insecurities about his changing body, and you assure him you love him regardless.

Content: body insecurity, established relationship, one mention of New Year

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Quick little oneshot to end the year! You can thank @reidgif for this one because this gif rekindled my hyperfixation on his tummy. And then I saw a clip of Aisha (Tara’s actress) saying MGG weighs 11 pounds and has the metabolism of a rabbit on speed (lmfao) anyway, I took that and ran with it and now here we are. As someone who struggles with dysmorphia, I did my very best to be as sensitive with this as possible. Last fix of the year, I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer had begun to notice it a few weeks ago. At first, he had foolishly thought that there was simply something wrong with the shirt he had worn. Tactile sensitivity had always been something he dealt with, and this was no different. There had been a certain peculiarity in the fit of his shirt that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Days continued, and it became a persistent bother, impeding his movement when he aimed, and inhibiting his general comfort.

It wasn’t until today, sitting in the bed—one he shared with you—that he finally had the time to inspect what was going on. The two of you had just gotten home from Rossi, who had graciously hosted a New Year’s dinner at his mansion. Spencer had admittedly eaten more than his fill, and that’s when he realized—it showed.

At once, the problem appeared. He was gaining weight. His shirts were bothering him because they were growing too tight, digging into places where they had previously been loose. The realization made him pause, as he stared down at himself.

Sitting on the bed, his stomach had gathered into a bulge, straining against the cloth. It was a new sight, not necessarily unwelcomed, but it seemed to send his mind reeling (to be fair, a lot sent his mind reeling nowadays, he was running on fumes, his only reprieve being you.)

He had never been muscular, had never found the need to be muscular. The team was nearly faultless because everyone filled a role, and they executed that well. He was, has always been, the genius, the expert on everything, as Hotch had called him once. Being the genius of the BAU meant that he had value. Relevance. It brought him great deal of pride, being able to contribute and pick up on patterns and little details that the majority of the team might miss.

It made him feel like he mattered. Needed.

So what if he couldn’t tackle a man down? They used to have Derek and Hotch for that, and now that role was being fulfilled by Luke and Matt, both of whom were utter specimens of the male physique.

But his time in prison had proven to him that he couldn’t rely on just his brains. Not when he had three burly inmates looking for trouble, looking for someone easy. It pained him that someone easy meant someone that looked like him. Tall, gangly, defenseless.

He took another breath and frowned as the fabric around his stomach grew tighter, taut at having to contain this belly that had formed over the course of the evening. A food baby, you liked to call it, because your own tummy was bonded to several factors as well—hormones, food, water intake—that made it fluctuate frequently, normally.

Normal. He tried to remind himself that this was normal, gaining weight was normal, but then again, how could someone tell what was normal when their—his—whole life, he had little experience with the word? Growing up a genius and taking care of an ailing mother skewed whatever sense of normalcy he could have developed.

Besides, his normal meant lanky, thin. His body, the way it was framed and built, had always been long and erring on the side of delicate. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to bulk up, it was that his muscles were lean; that was simply how his anatomy worked. It would take a lot more effort to gain more muscle, effort that he, admittedly, didn’t want to exert. It wasn’t his role.

And now, he looked down at his stomach with a crease on his brow, mind whirring with explanations. Weight fluctuations are normal, and they were okay, and he was nearing forty, anyway, of course his metabolism was beginning to slow down, human adults’ bodily functions tend to do that, it was scientific and —

“Honey?”

He looked up, and there you were, your loveliness framed by the plain doorway. Somehow, you made it seem more magical, less boring, as though your very presence just made everything better. He smiled, holding out a hand for you, forcing the wave of insecurity down his throat, down his chest, trying to bury it deep in the recesses of his body.

You walked closer, and the thoughts punched through his attempts to silence them—you wouldn’t find him attractive anymore.

Something must have shifted on his face, a sliver of that anxiety creating fresh lines between his brows, because you paused. A hand ran across your cheek, and he felt the weight of your concern in the action.

“What’s wrong, Spence?”

He drew you closer, pulled you onto his lap. He couldn’t lie to you, not out of his lack of skill, but due to your incessant ability to somehow sniff out the truth from him, one way or another.

“I think I’m outgrowing my shirts.” he said, softening the words with a chuckle. He was ashamed to admit that it was affecting him more than he anticipated; maybe humor would lessen its significance.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be going through puberty?” you asked, matching the teasing tone of his voice. The difference was glaring though; his voice was awfully strained, and yours was lighter, more at ease.

Still, he laughed, buried his face at the nape of your neck. “They’re getting tight around my stomach.”

At that, you pulled back. He swallowed the whine that threatened to leave his lips; he was already being so pathetic over a little pudge, he was reaching max capacity. With bated breath, he watched as your gaze ran over him, eyes flickering with recognition when they landed on his torso.

“Oh they are,” You replied, hands going up to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric there, “Here too. Huh, I guess we’ll have to go shopping then.”

He looked, patiently waited for more.

“What?” you asked, eyes crinkling oh so prettily at the corners that he couldn’t help but press a kiss over them.

“That’s it?” he murmured, disbelief coloring his voice. He had anticipated more of a reaction, maybe a suggestion of ‘oh maybe you should go to the gym’. But you took it with such stride that he was a little confused.

“Yeah, that’s it.” you laughed, brought a palm down to his stomach, that one place that’s causing him to basically break down, “Should there be more?”

He shrugged.

Perched on his lap, you frowned as you watched emotions flicker through his eyes. “Spence,” You murmured, kissing his temple, “Talk to me.”

“I just don't want you to think I'm unattractive anymore.” The words felt bitter in his tongue; it was a relief to release them, get them out of his system. “I was never - you know - sexy before, and now I'm gaining weight.”

“Spence,” You interrupted him gently. It wasn't something you did often; his rambles were one of the things you loved about him after all, but it pained you to hear him get so insecure about something so insignificant as his weight, especially since his body wasn't even the thing that made him attractive to you in the first place, “Belly pudge or scrawny, I think you're hot.”

His eyes softened, looking so impossibly hopeful that you couldn't stop the urge to lean in and kiss him. “Seriously,” You murmured, “It doesn't matter to me. You're handsome, but you're also so intelligent and passionate and sensitive, and those are so much more important than how you look.”

He sagged with relief, arms tightening around you. “Yeah?” He asked as he buried his face in your hair.

“Yeah, honey. I'm not with you because of your looks,” You replied, then with a little laugh, you added, “Although, they certainly are an added bonus.”

His shoulders shook as he chuckled, and you can feel his lips giving you tiny kisses at the crown of your head.

“Besides,” You continued, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “The way I see it, there's physically more of you now - more of you to hug, and to love, more of you to worship.”

He was silent, but his grip on you never faltered, breath fanning gently over your hair. “More of me to love.” He whispered, “You're right, that's - that's one way to look at it.”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, “But you really do need to go shopping, can't have you ripping your shirts while you're out on a case. You wouldn't want your team to think you're doing an impromptu strip tease.”

He bursted out laughing, and exhilaration filled your chest. You always took pride in making him laugh, and this was no exception.

“God, I love you.” He said, pulling back and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You smiled, then added, “Besides, I think the pudge is cute. You're on your way to a dad bod.”

He laughed again, and if you could hear that sound on loop forever, then you would be in heaven

[pomegranatelifethis]

The first excitement

The day you found out you were pregnant, Bruce first hugged you tightly, then, with deep seriousness, said, "I will provide the best environment for you and our baby." At that moment, you didn’t fully understand what that meant—until a few days later, when you started noticing that everything you loved and found cute was piling up in the house.

At first, you liked it. Knowing Damian’s fondness for kittens, one day, you casually said, "Little cats are really adorable." The next day, at least five different plush cat toys arrived at the house. Then, you mentioned that you liked the tiny penguin design on Tim’s coffee mug. Bruce heard this, and within a few days, the kitchen was filled with penguin-themed utensils.

But things spiraled out of control when Dick showed you a baby elephant video to cheer you up, and you exclaimed, "That’s insanely cute!" A week later, a corner of the Batcave was overflowing with elephant-themed baby toys. Even Jason walked in, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Even I think this is too much."

At some point, the house became suffocating. In the peak of your hormonal fluctuations, you stood in the middle of the living room, looking around. Plush toys everywhere, tiny blankets, cute animal figures on the walls… And suddenly, your eyes welled up.

"ENOUGH!" you exploded.

Everyone froze. Dick stood still, holding a tiny teddy bear. Damian, petting the new kitten Alfred had just brought him, looked at you. Tim slowly set down his coffee mug. Jason leaned back on the couch, watching the scene unfold with great amusement.

But the biggest reaction came from Bruce. "But… I was trying to create the best environment for our baby," he said, his eyes wide with confusion.

Between hiccups, you cried, "Yes, but our house looks like a toy store! I’m hormonal, I’m exhausted, and everything is overwhelming me!"

Silence. Then Dick bit his lower lip to keep from laughing, but Jason let out a loud, mocking chuckle. "I wish I had recorded this. The mighty Batman, completely lost in the middle of an emotional crisis."

Bruce quickly composed himself and gently pulled you into his arms. "Alright, alright… I went overboard. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?"

Taking a deep breath, you mumbled, "Just… let’s scale it down, okay?"

That’s when the Batfamily sprang into action.

Tim immediately started making a list. "Alright, we can return the unnecessary stuff."

Dick grinned. "And we can donate some toys. The kids at the orphanage will love them."

Damian, with a serious expression, declared, "The cats stay. They’re non-negotiable."

Jason shrugged. "I’d personally burn half of this, but donation works too."

Bruce sighed and nodded. "Alright, everyone, get organized. We’re sorting this mess out."

In the end, the house became livable again. And you realized that, no matter how chaotic they were, the Batfamily always came together in moments of crisis. And maybe, just maybe, a little extra cuteness wasn’t so bad—at least, in moderation.

The Batfamily’s attempt to systematically resolve the “excessive cuteness” crisis had turned into complete chaos. Tim was sorting out items to be returned, checking his list, while Jason, clearly bored, was tossing some plush toys into the air.

"Let’s donate this one."

"This is unnecessary—trash."

"Can we keep this one? It’s so cute!"

Then, Damian turned to Bruce, holding a tiny plush bat. "I’m keeping this one. Because it makes sense. We are bats."

Jason sighed. "Yes, of course. Because logic is what truly matters here."

Bruce, however, still didn’t seem ready to part with anything. As Batman, he had stopped countless criminals, fought in Gotham’s darkness for years… but now, the real challenge was getting rid of plush toys without upsetting his loved ones.

Noticing Bruce’s hesitation, Dick stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you’re getting used to being in dad mode, you know? Don’t panic. We got this."

Bruce took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. But… let’s keep a few things. For our baby."

Sitting on the couch, watching the scene unfold, you felt your emotions fluctuating—thanks to your hormones—but at the same time, a warmth filled your chest. Sure, Bruce was going a little overboard, but that was because he just wanted you and your baby to be as happy as possible. And now, the entire family was involved.

Eventually, most unnecessary items were sorted out. Tim and Dick organized the donations, Jason planned to dispose of some in his own way, but Alfred stepped in to ensure everything was properly sent off. Meanwhile, Damian had somehow succeeded in increasing the household’s cat population—there were now three instead of one.

That night, after everyone had left, Bruce sat beside you, resting a hand on your stomach. "I guess I got a little too excited," he admitted.

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder. "A little?"

The two of you chuckled softly, settling into a comfortable silence. Bruce’s protective, loving nature could sometimes be overwhelming, but with this chaotic, affectionate family by your side, you knew everything was going to be just fine.

Late into the night, just as you thought you’d finally found some peace, you lay down in bed and closed your eyes. However, just as sleep was about to take you, the bedroom door creaked open. At first, you assumed it was Bruce coming in to say something, but instead, Tim stepped inside.

"I just wanted to make sure… Do you really want to donate the penguin-patterned blanket? Or maybe, you know… we could keep it, just in case you like it?" he whispered.

You sighed, keeping your eyes closed. "Tim, I’m trying to sleep."

Tim nodded but didn’t move from the doorway. "Okay, but… are you really sure?"

Before you could answer, another voice echoed from the hallway. "If you're going to keep bothering her, at least do it quietly, Drake."

Damian stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "Disturbing a pregnant person only proves how useless you truly are."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I just care about her preferences, okay? This is a delicate process."

"How ridiculous." Damian sighed and walked away.

Just as Tim was about to leave, another troublemaker appeared at the door—Dick. With a wide grin, he slid into the room and immediately crouched beside the bed.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?" he asked, his eyes shining with concern.

Bruce stirred, cracking one eye open. "What’s going on?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Nothing! Just checking in!" Dick quickly raised his hands in surrender. "We’re here to help!"

Before Bruce could give him a stern look, Jason’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

"If everyone’s taking turns barging in, I might as well join. What am I missing?"

You buried your face into your pillow and groaned. "Why is everyone suddenly in full-on parent mode?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes and shot the others a sharp glare. "Everyone. Back to your rooms. Now."

Dick glanced at Bruce’s serious expression, then shrugged with a small smile. "Alright, alright, we’re going. But remember, I’m always here for you." He walked out the door.

Tim clutched the blanket to his chest and quietly slipped away. Jason, clearly amused by the whole thing, chuckled. "That was fun to watch," he said before disappearing down the hall.

Finally, the door closed, and silence returned.

Bruce, still half-asleep, pulled you close. "I know they can be a lot, but… they really care about you."

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "I know. But if they keep this up until the baby is born, the real crisis will happen then."

Bruce let out a quiet chuckle, pulling you even closer. "I’ll keep them under control."

But both of you knew that keeping the whole family in check was harder than cleaning up Gotham’s crime.

In the following days, the Batfamily’s overly attentive behavior showed no signs of slowing down. At this point, you had to take a deep breath before entering any room because, without fail, someone would be there—thinking about you (and sometimes overthinking for you).

One morning, when you went downstairs for breakfast, you found Damian standing next to Alfred. As usual, Alfred was calmly preparing a nutritious meal for you, while Damian, brows furrowed, was scribbling something in a notebook.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Without looking up, Damian replied, "I’m researching the ideal age range to begin the baby’s combat training."

You paused mid-bite and stared at him. "Combat… what?"

"If they start young, they could master basic fighting techniques by the age of ten. Of course, we’d have to modernize Father’s traditional training methods. Also—"

Shaking your head, you held up a hand. "No. No, Damian. Our baby will not be training for combat anytime soon. They’ll play with toys, listen to bedtime stories, and—oh, I don’t know—just be a normal child?"

Damian frowned. "But—"

"No."

Alfred smiled softly and patted Damian’s shoulder. "Perhaps we should revisit this discussion in a few years, young master."

Just as you thought you could finally relax, Tim walked into the kitchen, balancing a laptop in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Hey, you’re up. I made a chart to monitor your vitamin D levels. We need to increase your daily intake because during pregnancy, your bone health—"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Tim, please. Just one morning without a health chart while I eat?"

Tim hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. But I’m still going to ask you to check it later. The data is really interesting."

Before you could respond, Dick entered the kitchen carrying a bag.

"Surprise!" he announced, pulling out tiny, brightly colored baby onesies. "I saw these and had to get them for the baby!"

You picked one up—it was bright blue and had “Future Acrobat” written on it.

"Dick…" you said, exhaustion in your voice.

"Wait, I haven’t shown you the best one yet!" He excitedly pulled out a yellow onesie from the bottom of the bag. Across the front, in big bold letters, it read: "Mini Nightwing."

As Dick beamed at you, Jason walked in and observed the situation. He rolled his eyes.

"Great. The kid’s already being pushed into circus life before they’re even born."

Dick shot him a glare. "Hey! Flexibility is important!"

Jason turned to you, smirking. "This is all a bit much. But if you ever want to see the baby in a tiny leather jacket, I’ve got ideas."

Laughing, you shook your head. "Jason, I am not putting a leather jacket on the baby."

Jason shrugged. "Alright. But let me know if you change your mind."

Just as you thought the chaos had peaked, Bruce walked into the kitchen. Everyone immediately turned to him. He raised an eyebrow at the sheer number of people gathered.

"What’s going on?"

Without hesitation, you rushed to his side and tugged on his sleeve. "Please. Get me out of here."

Bruce studied you for a moment, then turned to the others with a sharp look. "Alright. Everyone, clear out."

The group erupted in protests, but as soon as Bruce’s Batman glare came into play, they reluctantly started to disperse.

With the kitchen finally quiet, you took a deep breath. Bruce crossed his arms, watching you.

"Are you really that exhausted?"

You shot him a tired but affectionate look. "Your family is… a lot."

Bruce let out a small chuckle and nodded. "I know."

Smiling, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. No matter how chaotic they were, one thing was clear—this family cared about you and the baby more than anything. And that meant you were part of the safest—and most insane—family in the world.

[rosalesbeausderholle]

ALSO this youtuber then goes on to say "omg Laci Green didn't believe trans women have periods, first of, how does she know? She's not on HRT, she wouldn't even know how that feels like from month to month but also even if it isn't true and trans women don't have periods, who cares about that? It doesn't affect me" and that is taken as the... moral high ground take... you say Green was bigoted for not believing trans women have periods but you don't even KNOW that yourself?? And also in all your other videos you talk a lot about intellectualism and checking sources but here you don't care about the truth? And you put yourself as the trust worthy moral source on this? Hello?

Watching a YT deep dive on Laci Green (who i used to watch as a teen) and her subsequent alt-right red-pill fallout and of course the youtuber has to say that "she always showed signs of being a terf" because "she acted as if she was forced to say vagina havers" when like, wasn't she though? She tried to explain to people that when talking about sex, because she had a SEX ED channel, which makes it a bit unavoidable to talk about genitalia and physical sex parts, she used male/female to refer to sex but man/woman to refer to gender (incl trans people) but THAT WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR INTERNET LIBS so she had to say "vagina haver" and the youtuber is like "like well, she could just not have talked about that aspect but she wasn't forced" like, again, her channel WAS ABOUT SEX ED, if she didn't mention vaginas she WOULDN'T HAVE HAD A CHANNEL damned if she did, damned if she didn't but then I'm sure liberal feminism's complete and utter absolutism and black and white thinking towards very complex topics had no bearing on her becoming radicalised

[mxbenz]

Do you think Soundwave gives birth the traditional sparkling kinda way - or do you think the babies emerge from his chest for the first time after forging them?

alright. alright. XD LOL this is so dumb. my apologies (tw for mechpreg and such)

Soundwave's carrying cycle had been largely uneventful. In fact, most mechs aboard the Nemesis likely wouldn't have even known he was carrying at all, save the slight rounding of his abdomen in his third trimester. There had been fluctuations in his hormonal readings, of course. But those were really only numbers on a scanner. They meant little else to him.

The only real concern was the matter of the Sire.

Megatron and Shockwave, were--of course--both aware that Soundwave had interface with each of them regularly. There was no reason to hide that. Of the two, though, Megatron always seemed to have the more emotional hold-ups about it. But the Decepticon leader was hardly starved for affection. And it had only been a glitch in his regulatory system (thanks to some of Starscream's muddling around in old medical files) that had led to Soundwave allowing his baffles to expire.

It was difficult to tell, without going in and extracting a bit of spark code directly, whose bitlet Soundwave had carried. And, if he were honest (and he usually was), he did not particularly care. A sparkling was a sparkling, regardless of parentage. The fact, though, was that Soundwave's method of emergence would largely be determined by the identity of the sire.

Where Megatron preferred a more physical bond, opting to interface via valve and spike, Shockwave always preferred the much less messy exchange of code via chassis ports. The former, of course, resulted in a much messier emergence, while the latter produced a bitlet that would be perfectly aligned with Soundwave's chassis casing--which would emerge as his casettes always did.

When he had walked into the medbay that day, informing the medic on staff at the time--Bonesaw--that he had entered emergence and would be requiring immediate assistance, he had been fully prepared for either option.

Though, he had not expected both.

"Are you aware there are two, Commander?"

Even behind his ever-composed visor, Soundwave had managed a rare flash of confusion as he stared at Bonesaw with a fair bit of concern.

"Request: Clarify."

"Twins, Commander Soundwave. Well...perhaps not twins. They appear to be housed in separate chambers. Conceived at different times. Potentially..." He trailed off, clearly growing uncomfortable.

"Affirmative: From different Sires."

[corroded-hellfire]

Hii I love your work I was wondering I have a request for a AYW blurb/side story. I'm inspired by the hockey game I just went to

So let's say luke is in college or in high-school and he has hid first game and reader gets mildly anxious that he gets hurt and eddie reassures her everything going to be okay and he wins and they all go out to dinner.

Idk just something fluffy.

Thank you

Hockey?! Now you're speaking my language. I can't believe I never thought of Luke playing hockey before. Thank you for putting this in my brain!

Words: 2.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Magenta painted toes curl inside your thick, fluffy socks. The little girl who applied the shiny polish the other day stands on the metal bleacher, between you and your husband. Her little knees bend and straighten as she bounces up and down, two curly pigtails bobbing along with the motion below the soft pink beanie on her head. 

“Let’s go, Luke!” Eliza cheers. Small brown boots stamp on the metal surface below her as she claps her mitten-clad hands.

Eddie chuckles from the other side of her, one arm hovering around her small frame in case she loses her balance. The hockey game hasn’t even started yet and Eliza is ready to hand her big brother the MVP award. 

The chill from the ice rink soaks into your skin even through the layers of your long-sleeved tee and jacket. Your gloves seem to do nothing to keep your fingers from turning into icicles, so you tuck your hands between your thighs, hoping the body warmth can thaw them out. 

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asks, leaning back to look at you around your four-year-old. 

The nod you give isn’t convincing, even to yourself. You couldn’t be prouder of Luke for making the Hawkins High School hockey team as a freshman, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t worried about him getting hurt. The fresh batch of pregnancy hormones coursing through your system isn’t helping matters either. 

An obnoxious buzzer blares from the speakers on the wall as the scoreboard sets itself down to all zeroes. The crowd full of families and friends starts cheering as the two teams pour out onto the ice. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eliza become airborne and you look to see Eddie lifting her over his lap so she’s standing in between him and Ryan instead of him and you. A steady arm wraps around you, and you gladly lean into your husband’s embrace.

“He’s going to be fine,” Eddie tells you.

“I know.”

“Yeah? Because you look like you’re about to storm onto the ice and drag Luke home by the collar of his jersey.”

You release a deep sigh and try to get your tense shoulders to relax. 

“He’s played sports before,” you say, sounding more like you’re convincing yourself than the man next to you. “Baseball, basketball. But this is different.”

“Why’s that?” Eddie knows exactly what’s different–it’s your usual protective Mama Bear energy enhanced tenfold due to your fluctuating hormone levels. But he isn’t dumb enough to come out and say that—again.

“Because,” you huff. “Now there are blades and sticks and boards he could be slammed into or ice he can fall down on.”

Eddie rubs his hand up and down your shoulder. It helps both comfort you and warm you up. 

“There are sticks in baseball,” he points out. “They’re just called ‘bats.’ And he’s fallen and skinned his knees both running the bases and on the basketball court. As for being slammed into the boards?” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle. “That would be nothing compared to having little She-Hulk over here as a sister.”

You let out a small giggle, peeking around your husband to see Eliza enthusiastically shaking Ryan’s shoulder, pointing to where number 86 is out on the ice, warming up.

“I guess that goes for any hockey fights, too,” you say.

“See? Now you’re getting it.” Eddie smiles fondly at you and places a kiss against your temple.

A referee blows a whistle and both you and Eddie watch as the two teams take their places for the first face-off of the game. 

Luke’s best friend Sean skates up to the blue line, right in the center and ready to battle for the puck. Next to his number 19 jersey is Luke to his side as the right winger. The referee drops the puck and the game begins. 

Both your and Eddie’s eyes are glued to your son as play moves around the ice. Your gazes follow him up the ice and back down before he hops onto the bench for a shift change. Without her brother now to focus on, Eliza comes up with a new way to entertain herself: a cheer.

“Let’s go, Tigers!” Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

It only takes two turns of her cheering before the home crowd joins in, leaving the little girl beaming, proud to have started the trend. She’s no stranger to different cheers for the team; whenever Luke plays basketball, Eliza only cares to focus on the cheerleaders doing their routines on the sidelines. Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to them too, but for different reasons. By now, Eliza could probably mimic most of Hawkins High’s cheerleading repertoire. 

A few minutes later, Luke hops back on the ice and you feel the nerves flutter in your stomach. It’s a very different, and distinctly more unpleasant, feeling than the fluttering of having a baby in there. 

“He’s okay,” Eddie murmurs to you, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the rink. 

You nod, but slip your hand into his for reassurance, nonetheless. 

“Mama?” Eliza crawls over her father’s lap, clearly not paying attention to where her bony little limbs are jabbing him, and reaches out to you. “I gotta go potty.”

A battle of emotions collide in your head as you nod and offer your hand to her. One part of you is thankful to get a small distraction from the game, your eyes able to relax instead of seeking out Luke’s constant presence. The other part of you is worried that something will happen while you’re not there, though. As if him getting a hard cross check from an opposing player wouldn’t have occurred if you were still in your seat. 

The ladies’ room is mildly warmer than the rest of the rink, and you lean on the outside of the stall door that Eliza goes into.

“You okay by yourself in there?” you ask.

“Mhmm! Wait. Can you hold my mittens?”

Once the stall door is relocked, you slip the pink mittens into your jacket pocket and listen as Eliza begins to hum a tune to herself. It’s difficult to tell at first, but you’re able to identify the song as I’ll Make a Man Out of You from Mulan. 

After Eliza finishes up, washes her hands, and slips her mittens back on, the two of you step out of the restroom. Before you’re able to take two steps in the direction of your seats, a horn blares, signaling a goal.

Eliza gasps and quickly tugs on the hem of your jacket because she’s too small to see what’s going on over the wall. You scoop her up and the two of you stand at the glass, near the net that was just scored upon. Both of you cheer when you see that it was the Tigers who got the first goal. Luke is sitting on the bench on the other side of the ice though, so you know he wasn’t the one who scored it. 

When the two of you get back to your seats, the first period is coming to an end. Eliza settles comfortably in her father’s lap and tilts her head to look up at him.

“What we miss?”

“Uh, Luke knocked a guy down against the wall over there.”

“Luke hit a guy into the boards,” Ryan translates into proper hockey terminology, smirking at his dad as he does so. 

“That’s what I said,” Eddie says. “And, uh, there was a penalty called on Sean for sticking a guy, so he went to sit out.”

Ryan snorts. “Sean’s stick got caught in another guy’s skates, so he got a penalty for tripping and was in the penalty box.”

“Time out!” Eliza declares. 

“Am I speaking Japanese?” Eddie asks, making Eliza giggle and curl into his lap.

“Of course not,” you assure your husband with a pat to his chest. “Just not speaking hockey either.” You giggle when he shoots a playful glare your way. But you manage to make it better by pressing a few kisses along his stubbled cheek. 

During both the first and second intermissions, Eliza entertains herself by looking for friends of Ryan’s or Luke’s in the stands and begging her oldest brother to take her to them. At one point, Eliza spots Ryan’s more-than-friend-not-quite-girlfriend-yet, Hannah, a few rows back and quickly makes her way up to her. Ryan’s face blooms scarlet as he follows behind his little sister, who has made herself comfortable in Hannah’s lap.

“Did you see Lukey?” Eliza asks the teenage girl. 

“I did!” Hannah says, smiling at Ryan as he takes a seat next to her.

Eddie leans in, his breath tickling your ear. “Do you think Eliza will ask Hannah to go out with Ryan before he gets around to it?”

You agree with a soft giggle and nod. 

“Oh, absolutely. Ryan’s so nervous and Eliza doesn’t have the patience for that,” you say. “God help any boy who is slow to ask her out in high school.”

Strong hands grab your sides, thick fingers digging into your ribs as your husband tickles you. A small yelp escapes your lips before you turn and burrow your head into Eddie’s neck.

“Hush your mouth,” Eddie murmurs. “Eliza isn’t going to date until she’s thirty.”

“Good luck with that.” You laugh and playfully shove his hands away from you.

Just as the third period is about to begin, Eliza and Ryan make their way back towards the two of you on the bleachers. Ryan has a lovesick smile on his face and the sight makes you smile in return.

“Have fun with the big kids?” Eddie asks as Eliza plops down next to him.

“Mhmm,” she nods, brown eyes scanning the ice for where Luke is. “Hannah say she likes my hat. And Juan said Mama is really cute.”

“What?” Eddie asks, arm immediately encircling you. “Who?”

“Ryan’s friend.” Eliza waves a dismissive hand in the boy’s direction, her focus still on the ice.

Eddie goes to look over his shoulder but you quickly grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger and bring his gaze back to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask him quietly. It’s impossible to suppress the amused smile on your lips. “Are you going to stare down a sixteen-year-old boy?”

“I don’t need a younger man hitting on my wife,” he says.

You laugh, shaking your head at his ever-present jealousy. 

“I don’t know if you noticed,” you say, “but I like older men. And no one is hitting on me.”

“Yet,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Shoot it, Luke!”

Ryan’s shout refocuses your and Eddie’s attention back on the game in front of you. Luke stick handles the puck past a defenseman and skates closer to the opposing team’s net. You hold your breath as you watch Luke wind back his stick and slap the puck to the five-hole, between the goalie’s pads. Time moves in slow motion as you watch the black rubber disc travel over the goal line.

The siren blares and you stand up, raising your arms in the air as you cheer for your son.

“That’s my boy!” Eddie shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“That’s my brotherrrrrr!” Eliza mimics.

Ryan hoots and hollers as you clap enthusiastically, a huge smile on your face. 

The other Tigers hockey players on the ice skate over to Luke, either tapping him on the leg or ass with their stick or knocking their helmet against his. 

The PA system overhead crackles to life before a student announcer says, “Goal scored by number eighty-six, Luke Munson!”

The crowd cheers, punctuated by a certain little girl’s shrill “Yay!” 

“Assisted by number nineteen, Sean Lowery, and number four, Alex Duffy!”

“Yay, Sean!” Eliza yells.

Luke’s goal ends up being the game-winning goal, which causes his team to pile on top of him once the game is over. 

“They’re going to hurt him,” you mumble as you stand up from the bleachers.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not unkindly, from his seat—he knows you won’t be able to see him since you’re standing. Your husband rises to his feet and presses a kiss to your temple.

“He’s fine, princess.”

He is, of course, and you’re glad to see it for yourself when he comes out of the locker room. A beaming smile adorns his face as he bounds towards the four of you, his curls soaked with sweat and his heavy gear bag thrown over his shoulder. 

“Did you see it?” he asks excitedly.

“See it?” Eddie repeats, eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“I heard someone,” Luke teases, tugging Eliza’s pink beanie down over her eyes.

She huffs and quickly pushes it back up, giving her big brother one of her signature unamused glares. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You take Luke’s face, flushed from all the exertion, between your hands and press kisses over his sticky-with-dried-sweat face.

“Gross,” Ryan mumbles.

Misinterpreting why Ryan thinks the display of emotion is gross, Eliza turns to her oldest brother with her hands on her hips.

“Kisses not gross!” She hops up and down, making fish lips, like she’s trying to jump up to his level to give him kisses.

“Um, some kisses are gross,” Luke says once you’ve finished. When Eliza looks over at him, Luke’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Prepare to be disgusted then,” Eddie says, slipping one arm around your back and pulling your front flush up against his. He grins at you before lowering his head to slot his lips over yours.

“Ugh!” “Ew!” “Stooooop!”

You laugh against Eddie’s mouth, and the two of you break apart, sharing an amused look.

“Alright, goblins,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get going.”

The five of you start moving toward the exit when you tap Luke on the shoulder.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” you ask him.

“Why does he get to pick?” Eliza whines.

“You can pick when you get a game-winning goal,” Ryan tells her, tugging on a single curly pigtail. Eliza pouts, looking suspiciously identical to her father, and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Uhh…” Luke muses as your family steps out into the chilly October night. “I want Chinese food. Let’s get Eliza a pu pu platter.”

“Blech!” Your daughter sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. 

“Oh God, she’s going to steal everyone’s noodles again,” Ryan sighs. 

Eliza lets out the evilest giggle you’ve ever heard come from her as you reach the car. 

“I want all the noo-noos!” she declares as she yanks the back door open. 

“I’m ordering rice then,” Luke says as he climbs in behind her.

“Boo!” Eliza calls. 

“These kids are crazy,” Ryan says with a shake of his head.

Eddie laughs and musses up Ryan’s hair. It’s harder now that Ryan is almost as tall as him. 

“Okay, let’s get this hockey celebration on the road,” Eddie says, tapping the roof of the car as he walks around to the driver’s side. 

“Burn rubber, Gretsky,” you say as you slip into the passenger’s seat.

Eddie glances at you before turning the key in the ignition.

“Who?”

“Jesus, Dad,” Ryan sighs.

[kirby-the-gorb]

a couple people coincidentally reblogged my rare disease day post from [last year] so. here's how that's been going. (some of this is repeat info if you click the link)

I have mast cell activation syndrome (or MCAS), an immune disorder in which my signaling cells are way too jumpy and can trigger all kinds of symptoms (up to and including anaphylaxis) in response to seemingly harmless stimuli. this is distinct from allergies as whether or not I react to a trigger can change from day to day based on how many other triggers are present, and the chemical mediators released cover a broader spectrum than just the IgE release in a classical allergic reaction. plus oftentimes symptoms are a mix of episodic and chronic, rather than being acute episodes like allergies.

triggers can be commonly understood things like certain food ingredients or scent chemicals, but can also include things like hormone fluctuations, physical or mental exertion, and the sun. I have reacted to ginger, laundry detergent, and a natural gas furnace, for example. I also do a lot worse in summer because it is both sunny and warm, and I always have to be very careful how much energy I use up or I might trigger anaphylaxis.

it's common for people with MCAS to have some level of symptoms all their life, that go unnoticed or dismissed until some precipitating event causes a substantial downturn in their condition. for me it was mono, but other infections (especially covid) and significant stressful events have also been anecdotally reported to precipitate downturns if I recall correctly, or simply being uncontrolled enough for long enough can also snowball.

diagnostic criteria for MCAS were first proposed in 2010, so the true rarity is still very up in the air. (personally I believe a lot of common wastebin diagnoses (ibd, fibro, cfs/me, etc) should be scrutinized very carefully as potential "specialty silos" of MCAS, especially given how often they tend to travel together.)

firstline treatments for MCAS include cheap medications available over the counter like loratadine, aspirin, and famotidine. my condition has become severe enough that I'm currently on third-line treatment (omalizumab injections), which does finally seem to be getting me somewhere. (this is, of course, in addition to still taking all of the first- and second-line treatments. I take 24 units of 13 medications in a given day, it's a lot to keep track of. to the point where I'm not actually sure I've counted it correctly :v then there's my monthly injections and my emergency medications on top of that.)

(those injections btw? can cost thousands of dollars even with insurance. thankfully I'm able to use the company's assistance program, so I don't pay anything out of pocket. for that one.)

being sick is never fun, but if you have a disease perceived as rare it introduces a ton of new complications. (which get even more complicated when the disease is legit super rare!) it took me a long time to figure out what was wrong with me, and I had to do it almost entirely by myself, because doctors simply don't have the knowledge. they're not taught to look for it and there's no simple reliable test. but by yammering about it, it might make someone else's slog a tiny bit shorter <3

[thelastchappie]

Coming out as an a/b/o fiend to say i have this headcannon that maybe curses in jjk have abo-ish tendencies.

Mentions of scenting and scent marking.

(i apologize if i jump from past to present tense im doing my best and time means nothing to me). The PoV might switch around bc idk what im doing.

Anyways i hope you like it idk if it’s any good this was more of a self-indulgent thing that got carried away.

part 2

~

Choso had acclimated to his human vessel while among other curses. But imagine him after everything, post Shibuya Incident let’s pretend the tragedy wasn’t as tragic for sanity’s sake, his world is turned upside down and his loyalty now to his newly discovered brother Yuuji.

And as a consequence to this new familial connection, came an involvement in the jujutsu world, and by proxy, the human world.

Everything was different once again, humans didn’t seem to pay much mind to the small things like changes in scent, or how much of their own scent they left behind. Not that humans projected much of a scent to begin with. Stress sweat, hormone fluctuations, blood, the odd moment of arousal he’d rarely catch; none of the nuance and depth he was used to.

While an adjustment, if it meant he would be allowed to see his brother, then the half-curse would take it all in stride. He didn’t care to fraternize with most of the humans around anyways. Choso thinks they probably don’t want much to do with him either, only kept around because he’s too dangerous to just be let go. He assumes his blood connection to one of their students makes getting rid of him… complicated. As it stood, Choso could count on one hand how many sorcerers were willing to come into close proximity with him.

And then there’s you.

A well-ranked, well-respected Jujutsu sorcerer to whom he’d been handed over like a possession to be traded off. The higher ups were displeased with the idea of Choso keeping permanent residency at the school, and of course they’d take the opportunity to stress that the half-curse ‘could not be trusted without supervision’.

Your technique gave the elders reassurance you could hold your own if you needed to defend yourself against Choso’s Blood Manipulation. So without much more thought or consideration, not even towards you, he was sent off to live with you indefinitely.

It’s clear you weren’t considered in the decision, you’re not even prepared to provide space for another human-ish being. You live in a one bedroom apartment- not uncomfortable by any means, but clearly not meant to be shared by two essential strangers.

It’s an adjustment for the both of you, this very odd new living arrangement. But Choso can see, beneath the tense shoulders and clipped attempts at conversation, that you really are trying to make the half-curse feel comfortable in your home. His new home, which is an odd thought but nonetheless true until further notice.

~

“Where are we going today?” A low voice, coming from the kitchen doorway, startles you from your morning routine of staring straight the wall while you drink your coffee.

“Hm?”

“You have a mission today, yes? Where?” Straight to the point, as always. The half-curse ‘needs’ to be under constant supervision, which means your missions are his missions. Wherever you go he follows, for the most part. It had become quite common to see you roaming the halls of Jujustu Tech, with a second shadow marching diligently behind you. Unnerving for most of the sorcerers around, but you had already grown accustomed to the second set of footsteps. Even if out of necessity, the tense atmosphere had finally begun to fade after a month or two, just slightly.

His unwavering stare, while not looking surprised at your wandering mind, still serves to remind you he’d asked a question.

“Ah-“ You clear your throat. “Actually i’m pretty sure Yuuji is stopping by with Gojo. You’re with them today, that sounds nice, right?”

Choso does enjoy the prospect of spending the day with his brother. Only getting to see the teen when lucky enough to run into him at the school, or on the odd occasion when your mission for the day is to sub in as a teacher for Yuuji and his classmates. So to be allowed an entire day with his brother? He should be ecstatic.

But something in the back of his mind won’t let him bask in that small luxury he’s been given.

An itch that wasn’t there before.

After a prolonged amount of time in your now-shared apartment, Choso began allowing more and more of his scent to linger around the space. Marking things; leaving his trace in the couch cushions he sleeps on most nights, hand towels in the kitchen, and most heavily around the doorway.

All of it serving little purpose aside from bringing the half-curse comfort, humans lacking the senses to detect his attempts of claiming his space. But it helps the raven haired man to feel he belongs in the place he was forced into. He doesn’t even think you’re aware he’s doing it, doesn’t know if humans even know it’s a thing.

Which brings him to his current dilemma. He’s not sure when it’s happened, hasn’t been allowed to be apart from you long enough to notice. And now, faced with reality of you going off on a mission without him; it’s the only thing he can think of.

He hasn’t scented you.

Choso can’t pinpoint why it matters, but the thought of leaving without covering you in his scent has his chest tightening and his hands threatening to shake. He’s always respectful of you and your belongings, not wanting to be bold enough to mark things that aren’t his.

Up until now it hadn’t been significant, he’s always in close proximity; his scent always nearby, even if not on you. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t noticed before; the shift in perspective. The need to have you smelling like him, a warning sign to the outside world. He’s not sure what he’s trying to warn against just yet. But it’s an urge stronger than breathing, and he’s sure he’ll die if you walk out that door without a hint of him on you.

Like a gift from the universe, his spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a soft, still tired voice.

“Not to be rude or anything but..” You hesitate, biting your lip and Choso tracks the movement with keen eyes, barely noticing the way your hands come up to gesture towards your own head. “Your hair, did you- are you planning on going like that? it’s just they’re a little… uneven” Your voice trails off.

Truthfully, Choso had simply not let down his hair from the day before in the hopes it would still be acceptable today. Though the strands he feels sticking out from each pigtail inform him he was not successful. But the dark-haired man feels something, maybe a little shameful crawl up his spine at the opportunity presented.

“Yes, i suppose i haven’t had much practice.” He admits bashfully- not a lie but not entirely truthful. He’s grown adept at schooling his own hair into its signature style. He hopes you don’t notice this fact, along with the heat beginning to flush his ears.

“I was hoping i could ask for your assistance?” He tries, his monotone voice carrying an air of hesitation that’s hard to ignore.

“Oh! Of course, yeah i can do that!” You jump, seeming eager to help. Always willing to help him navigate the intricacies of the human world. Always willing to explain anything, from the smallest social nuance to important customs he wasn’t completely aware of; eyes full of kindness instead of contempt.

He never really stood a chance, he realizes.

“c’mon, i need you to sit over on the couch if you want me to reach” You add while walking past him to exit the kitchen, a hand reaching up to lightly nudge his shoulder in direction of the living room.

Choso takes a moment to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth before he trails behind you, as he always does.

This time thankful that you can’t smell the way his scent begins to roll of him in waves, practically smothering the entire apartment. Notes of it growing warm and heady, even if just to himself. Meant to be alluring, enticing; now it serves to remind Choso of his impropriety as he stalks closer and closer.

To any curse in the nearby vicinity it would be a statement, clear and undeniable.

Choso intended to court the human sorcerer.

[lightlycareless]

warnings: another domestic fluff piece. u.u does it reflect my solace? lmao. you're pregnant and happy but insecure and naoya tries his best but maybe that's not enough? we'll see.

Once Naoya miraculously manages to get some time off from his work, he doesn’t hesitate to spend it with you—his 8-month pregnant wife.

He promised to do so, after all. Wanting to complete all pending preparations for the arrival of his baby, as well as make up for the lost time he should’ve been spending with you instead of his boring, dull job. Sure, they pay the bill and he enjoys it…

But he’d rather be with you and his unborn child! A much pleasant company.

And of course, you’re ecstatic to have your husband all for yourself for the following weeks (hopefully months). There was so much you wanted to do, so much to talk about. Now that he’s here, the sky’s the limit!

However, just because you had an endless check list to go through, and his disposition to please you in every way possible, didn’t mean he’d actually let you do whatever you wanted.

Simply because…

“—You can’t do that. Do I have to remind you you’re pregnant?”

You frown.

“I’m pregnant, not useless.” You respond. “Other mothers do it, why can’t I?”

“Because it’s toxic, for you and the baby. As a matter of fact, you should be stressing even less now that you’re just a few weeks away from giving birth.”

“I doubt painting a nursery will do much damage!” you respond, looking away with a pout. “It’s not fair, I’ve been waiting for you to do this together and now you’re saying I can’t?!”

“Yes, because I didn’t see the contents of the painting beforehand; either way we can just hire someone to do it, and move on—”

But you don’t want that. It was never in your vision to have some random person come into your home to paint your baby’s room.

It was something meant for the parents to complete. A symbolic way of pouring out their endless love for their upcoming bundle of joy; through small affirmations scattered across the walls, decorated with cute animals that would comfort her or him through the stillness of the night, just enough before they’re scooped up into their parents’ warmth.

Things that no stranger will be able to achieve, no matter how determined their good intentions are…

Which is why you’re disappointed to see that Naoya didn’t understand such details; that much was clear when you simply turned around and walked away.

“Hey, wait, Y/N—!” Naoya gasps, attempting to take ahold of you; but even in your fragile state, you prove much quicker. Not for much when he eventually corners you just around the corner. “Seriously? Are you really planning to ignore me for the rest of the day now that I finally got time to spend with you??”

“…Maybe.” You say, barely managing to control the embarrassment his words provided you. Quite unfair, isn’t it? Not as much as his unreasonable solution. “What does it matter anyway…”

“A lot. It matters a lot to me!” He insists. “I don’t see any reason to get all heated about a simple mural, our child won’t even acknowledge it!”

Call it a consequence of your always fluctuating hormones, or maybe your discontent at his response of what you thought highly important in this part of both your lives, and your unborn child’s… alongside a secret burden you’ve been carrying along for quite a while now…

You can’t help but weep.

And weep, and weep—letting out everything that you’ve been unconsciously bottling up these past few weeks; things that you furtively hoped would disappear now that Naoya was around.

But it only seemed to worsen, as if his presence was silently judging you for being a failure of a mother. A failure of a wife. If you can’t complete such feeble thing, what hope is there for you to raise a child? His successor, ultimately?

Was all this a mistake?

Your reaction is not one that Naoya allows to continue much longer.

“Wa—wait, Y/N—! What—What’s wrong?!” He gasps, attempting to get a better look of your face (though it greatly hurt him to do so) and discern if you were in pain and proceed accordingly. “Y/N… why are you crying? Do I need to call the doctor??”

“What? No!”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I—I don’t know—because I’m—I’m—angry!” you reply, but after all these years together, Naoya knows well it’s more than that. Far more.

“With me?” He murmurs.

…

“No, with myself.”

“Why? Why would you ever feel that way about yourself?” Naoya frets. “You’re—”

Perfect.

“No, I’m not. I’m a failure.”

“Huh?? What?????” It’s utter nonsense for you to exclaim such things when you’ve been nothing but attentive, dedicated, and selfless at everything relating to the baby and him—Naoya has even felt undeserving of it! Did you forget how much of a prick he was at the beginning of this relationship? And yet, you stayed! Changed him for the better!

If anything, this label was far more fitting on him thanks to his stupidly prolonged absence.

…Not you, whom he knew would be perfect as a mother already.

No one is more deserving of all the happiness in the world than you, it’s simply a miracle that he was able to share these blessings with you.

“What are you even talking about…?” Naoya murmurs, his voice denoting pain. Can he even offer you reassurance at this point?

“I just—I just feel like… I’m—I’m supposed to do certain things, right? Now that we’re going to be parents—there’s… there’s expectations I have to fulfill! But I can’t even paint a goddamn nursery, what makes me think I can be a good mother?!”

“If those are the metrics for comparison, I am delighted to say you’ve passed with flying colors.” Naoya says, hoping to lighten part of the weight on your heart… to no avail. “…A nursery shouldn’t be something to stress about, my love. We can always hire someone to—”

“It’s supposed to be us! Don’t you get it?!” you cry. “We have to be there for our baby, because no one else will if we don’t!”

Naoya already knew that. From the moment he got with you, to when he finally began to daydream about the family he’d like to have with you, simply an extension of his unconditional devotion towards you.

And yet, as obvious as they were… when you pronounced these facts, it’s as if he heard them for the first time.

Or perhaps truly understood the depths of his new responsibilities. Just how much both your and his life were to change the moment his baby is born.

Most of his life, he always depended on others to do the things he didn’t want to, or didn’t know how to. It was just as easy as flaunting his name, and whatever perturbed him was no longer an issue.

And it seemed to work with you too, though you weren’t too optimistic about it in the beginning, even tried reasoning with him, explain that it was a bit too dramatic.

But Naoya simply didn’t want you to struggle, if you were to be his woman, then you couldn’t entertain such trivialities when you could be focusing on him (or so he tries to justify, he simply enjoys spoiling you). So, eventually, you agreed.

But when it comes to his child, it’s a whole different world. One that still as him giving her all that she wants… while getting recognition for it.

To be admired by his starry-eyed baby, known in her mind as the greatest papa ever.

Not an ounce of her attention would be relayed to others, outside of you, of course. Naturally. Why did he even consider bringing in a stranger to finish something so significative to the three?

Only you and Naoya know just how long both have been waiting to finally have her in your arms. To see if they’d look like him, you… or even a combination of the two. Though he hoped she’d take after you.

Much was expected from someone as devoted, and possessive protective like Naoya, it’s only a shame it took your tears for him to realize.

“You’ve been undeservingly patient with me, my love.” He says, slowly wiping away the tears sliding down your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to appear insensitive to your… our concerns.”

You don’t respond, unable to go beyond a few sobs and whimpers, still trying to process your emotions. Not that you needed to say much, Naoya already got your message loud and clear.

“I… I guess it’s time I put my other talents to use.” He adds, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve done anything, but I’d like to think I still know how to hold a pencil. Or a brush for that matter.”

“…But what—what about…? You said—” you breathe.

“This is the reason why I got time off, princess. To be with you, and our baby. If not, why did I even bother?” He reassures, gently placing his hand over your stomach. His little princess must be asleep, for she always responds to his touch with a kick. “I’ve done worse, after all. Surely a few drawings on a bunch of walls can’t be too intimidating.”

You let out a breathy chuckle in between sniffles, before moping once again.

“But I won’t be able to do much…”

“You’re right. You’d be crazy to think I’d let you anywhere near toxic paint. But, you can still help me sketch… or at least decide what’s going on the nursery, I don’t know much about what kids like these days.”

“A Gengar would be nice.” You murmur. “It’d be a way to pass on my legacy!”

“I’ve never judged your tastes, because clearly I’m one of them.” He smirks, you roll your eyes. “But don’t you think that might be a bit… much for our child? Scary, I mean?”

“…I guess so.” You frown, going back into deep thought. “Something generic might do it, then. Like Snoopy! Everyone likes Snoopy, right?”

“Perhaps. What’s that other one? That really popular cat we’ve seen everywhere it’s almost nauseating?”

“Oh, Hello Kitty?” Naoya nods. “That one’s cute too! Waybe we can go with My Melody instead? Or Pochacco! We still don’t know if they’re going to be a boy or a girl, but I doubt it’d matter much early on.”

“Let’s just start with that one for now. When our baby grows and her preferences become more sophisticated, we can adapt. Naturally my daughter won’t settle for anything less than what she deserves.”

“There you go again, how can you be so sure our baby is going to be a girl?” you frown.

“Must be something to do with my impressive lineage.” He shrugs.

“You better not be cheating!”

“Me? Cheating? Impossible.” He laughs, you playfully smack his shoulder.

“…I wonder what character’s our baby will end up liking. Will they like anime like you? Or maybe even videogames, like me!” you swoon, eager to have your child in your arms already. There’s so much you wished to share with them… can’t they hurry?

“Could be both. Or none.” Naoya responds. “Not that it’d matter much, I’ll spoiler her anyways.”

“Even if it’s Hello Kitty? The character you’re sick of seeing everywhere?” you tease, he chuckles.el

“As if that were to happen. I told you, our child will grow to have sophisticated tastes like us.”

“We ought to make a bet.” You say. “If I’m right… you’ll buy me all the sushi I’ve been craving these past few months! No matter where or when, you’ll comply!”

“Alright, and what if I win?” Your husband smirks. “What do I get?”

You blush.

“Seems more like another reward for you, but it’s still an arrangement I can get behind.” He accepts. “Not that I needed much convincing, I know what’s going to happen anyways.”

“Yeah right, what now? You can see the future?” you jest.

Obviously not. But even if he could, it wouldn’t mean much with the lesson he’s learned that day; the importance of doing things yourself. That a simple act made through one’s hands could be far more valuable than the most expensive things in the world.

The importance it’ll have when his child eventually comes along and realizes all that their parents have done for them, simply because they’re so loved.

…

…

…

And of course, to not make bets on future variables less he wishes to be reminded of such mistake every time he ends up seeing that damned character popping up in her daughter’s newest belongings.

… Not that he ever genuinely disliked such famed white cat. How could he? For whenever he sees it, it only reminds him of the little bundle of joy he has waiting at home.

you and naoya were like: ah well, we can always change the nursery later on, right? it's not like naomi is going to obsess about hello kitty.

right????

also for the first time in his life naoya wanted to learn how to do things instead of having someone else do it for him because he wants his baby to admire him is so aghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now, don't get me wrong, he still skips certain things but he's trying TT_TT fatherhood scared him until naomi came along 🥺

[reijisteacup]

Goofy ahh scenario but, what if a sacrifical bride got her period?and didn't tell them? Like would they be able to smell the blood? Or notice any change in her behavior like mood swings and often seeing her clutch her stomach bcuz of the cramps? (Sakamaki only)

This isn't goofy at all I like this ask anon lol <3 Thanks for enjoying the blog ask as much as you want no matter how dumb or how serious it is <3

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Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

At first? Too lazy to care. Until he starts sniffing the air mid-nap like a confused bloodhound. “...Oi. Something smells ripe.” (HELP WAIT)

(OKAY SORRY I HAD TOO BACK TO REGULAR PROGRAMMING)

He slowly realizes it’s you… and suddenly becomes just slightly more awake. Not in a threatening way, but in a “huh...this blood smells different and I’m kind of curious now” way. Might corner you half-asleep like, “You bleeding or something?” And your just like embarrassed by it, “No…” he’ll just snort. “Tch… Liar. I could drink you dry right now.” Cue him pressing his cold hand against your lower stomach and smirking when you jump.

“You’re lucky I’m not in the mood.”

Reiji Sakamaki:

Notices immediately. That man could identify blood type and hormone fluctuation within ten seconds of walking into a room. Will look you dead in the eye over tea and say, “You should inform me when your bodily cycle begins. It affects your scent, behavior, and nutritional value.” You try to act casual while hiding your heating pad like, “U-uh, it’s not a big deal…” Cue him giving you pain meds he personally concocted that are probably illegal. Still lectures you. Still takes notes. Still wants to sample the hormonal differences—for research, of course.

“Next time, don’t hide it. It’s inconvenient… and foolish.”

Laito Sakamaki:

Knows immediately. Doesn’t even need to smell it, he notices your mood swings and flushed skin. “Aw~ Little Bitch-chan is all red and sensitive today, how cute~ Are you bleeding just for me?” Actually, very understanding but makes it as pervy as humanly possible. Offers to “ease your pain” in ways that are definitely not FDA approved. Might gently tease your cramps, laying on your lap like, “Let me kiss it better~” while unbuttoning your pants. Surprisingly good at helping if you let him. Heating pad? Chocolates? Massage? Covered. But always with that signature Laito smirk. (that damn smirk)

“If you wanted to be this sensitive, you could’ve just said so, nfu~”

Kanato Sakamaki:

Unhinged. Will smell it. Immediately. Accurately. Emotionally. “Why do you smell… rotted?” Once you explain, he gets creepily into it. “It’s blood… but it’s waste blood… how disgusting… yet fascinating.” Wants to collect it in a teacup for Teddy. No, seriously. He watches you clutching your stomach with the same expression he gives his dolls before he takes them apart. Might cry just because your hormones are making you irritable and how dare you yell at him during his sugar cookie hour.

“You’re meaner than usual! It must be because you’re dying inside! Let me feel it!!”

Ayato Sakamaki:

Starts sniffing around you like a damn animal. “Oi, Chichinashi, what the hell is that smell? It’s like blood but not fun.” He’s torn between being freaked out and weirdly intrigued. “Wait… are you dying? Is this a human thing??” You finally whisper, “It’s my period,” -_- and this boy panics. “THE HELL?! Is that why you’ve been yelling at me and holding your stomach?? Why didn’t you say something?!” Grumbles but lowkey protects you the rest of the day—throws a pillow at your stomach like “use it for cramps or whatever.” Still teases you constantly but would rip someone apart if they made fun of you for it.

“That blood’s off-limits, got it? Only Ore-sama gets to drink from you when you’re normal.”

Subaru Sakamaki:

SNAPS the moment he smells it. “...Oi. What is this?! Blood?! Are you hurt?!” Storms into your room like a panicked wolf, eyes red, voice tight. You, doubled over, “Subaru, it’s just my period—” “TCH—DON’T say it like that!! Gross… disgusting… stupid humans…” He blushes violently and looks like he’s going to explode from secondhand embarrassment. Won’t look you in the eye for hours but secretly brings you hot tea and a blanket. Punches a wall every time your cramps make you whimper, because he can’t stand seeing you in pain and not being able to fix it.

“...If it hurts so bad, then stay in bed, idiot… I’ll stay too. Just shut up about the blood…”

[gardens-light]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and had one for you if you would be willing, totally understand if not!

Tfp Shockwave x transmasc human reader who's on their period and feeling dysphoric/generally not great

Shockwave comforting the reader about the physical discomfort of cramps/bloating and reassuring them of their gender/genral self even with their period. All in his own Shockwave ways of course

Thanks so much for your time and hope you have a good one!

Hi!

I absolutely loved this idea! Honestly went straight into the comfort/warm fuzzy style with this fic, therefore, apologise if it's a bit short. Enjoy!

Calculated Kindness

Word Count: 848

Content: TFP Shockwave x GN/Human Reader. Comfort.

The interior of the old Cybertronian communications outpost hummed softly in the dark, tucked deep beneath a desert canyon far from Jasper. Hidden from Autobot surveillance and even Megatron’s prying optics, Shockwave had converted the facility into a lab for off-the-record experiments… and, unbeknownst to anyone, a quiet place for one very specific human- his human to rest.

You curled up on the makeshift couch in the corner, clutching your stomach while wrapped in one of the thermal blankets Shockwave had synthesized to match your body’s fluctuating temperatures. The fluorescent lighting had been dimmed to a soft amber glow, casting faint reflections across the curved walls of Cybertronian alloy.

Shockwave observed you from a respectful distance, one clawed servo steepled against the other in thought. He could see your vitals were fluctuating. Not dangerously, but noticeably.

Elevated body temperature. Shallow breathing. Muscle spasms in the abdominal region. Fatigue in their limbs. Low vocal output.

You hadn’t said much since upon arriving, except the occasional mutter of an apology for being “useless today.” Despite Shockwave already telling you once before that apologies were inefficient when directed at allies, especially when dealing with something as biologically inevitable as your reproductive cycle. But still, you insisted on guilt.

"You're experiencing discomfort."

A half-laugh, half-sigh escaped you, as you shifted upon the couch, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. “Is it really that obvious?”

He tilted his helm slightly, attempting to process your sarcasm. “Ovulation is a necessary precursor to reproductive viability. But I fail to understand why your kind evolved such inefficient systems.”

You gave a weak laugh, burying your face into the pillow. “Trust me, we humans ask ourselves the same question.”

Without hesitation, Shockwave reached behind him, retrieving a small, human-sized thermal cup. Tilting your head, staring at him in disbelief as he gently approached you, each heavy step measured with care to not startle you.

“What is this?”

“An herbal compound. Derived from chamomile, ginger, magnesium glycinate, and bio-safe pain inhibitors. Brew it with hot water. Drink twice daily. It will not conflict with any known medications or disrupt hormonal balances.”

You held the thermal cup like it might vanish. “You… made me medicine?”

Shockwave didn’t answer immediately. He instead scanned your face, noting the way how you were holding back tears—frustration, hormones, gratitude and pain all warring for control.

"Affirmative. Synthesized from Earth-native botanicals. I observed you reacting positively to similar... teas last month. You have not consumed sufficient sustenance today. This correlates with increased irritability and poor self-perception during this phase.”

“…You noticed that?” you murmured, a little surprised.

“I observe everything,” Shockwave flatly spoke, but something in his tone hinted at something gentler. Something quiet.

Sipping the herbal tea, feeling the warmth settle in your stomach. The cramps didn’t disappear entirely, but merely dulled to a more tolerable ache.

“I hate this,” you softly spoke, secretly hoping that the kneeling Decepticon beside you, somehow didn't catch your words. “I was going to finish helping you run those synthetic nerve simulations, but I can’t even sit upright.”

Shockwave’s optic softened as leaned in a little closer. His massive servo hovered, uncertain for a moment, then slowly descended, cupping your blanket-covered side with painstaking gentleness. Careful to apply only the smallest pressure—just enough to be felt through the thick blanket.

You couldn't help but look up at him with weak smile, resting your cheek against the back of his servo. “As always, my body planed on betraying me on a day I aimed to achieve things on my 'To Do List.' God, I feel so useless during these times! ”

“I require data. But I do not require perfection.”

You turned your head slightly, pressing into his touch. Eyes flickering up to meet his unusual soft gaze.

“You are useful because you are you. You notice patterns others miss. You complete tasks without instruction. You are—frequently inefficient—but reliably intuitive.” His optic dimmed slightly, like a slow blink. “You provide a variable I did not anticipate. And yet I find… I would recalculate the equation to include you every time.”

You blinked. “...What?”

He adjusted, bringing his optic level closer to your gaze.

“Assessing your value through a distorted framework of cultural aesthetics and temporary appearance, is unlogical. I assess based on function, loyalty, and presence. You are efficient, brave and consistently… compelling to observe.”

A soft smile teased the corners of your lips. “You think I’m… compelling?”

“I would not expend time, data, or concern on a being who was not.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. No sarcasm. No mockery. Just facts, delivered in that low monotone that somehow made the truth hit harder than any flattery.

You exhaled slowly, trying to swallow the rising warmth within your chest.

Tears unexpectedly glassed your vision slightly. And despite the aching muscles and the heaviness in your limbs, you reached out and rested your free hand over the edge of his digit, anchoring yourself there.

“Thanks, Shockwave. I mean it.”

His response was quiet as he lowered his helm, almost resting against your forehead. “Understood."

[reformhim]

Luke's Reluctant Journey

Luke sat on the edge of the clinic bed, the paper crinkling loudly beneath his jeans. His stomach knotted with anxiety. Ryder stood beside him, holding his hand, thumb stroking reassuring circles on Luke’s clammy skin.

"You don't have to do this if you're really not ok with it," Ryder said gently, though the glint of hope in his eyes was unmistakable.

Luke swallowed hard. He wanted to make Ryder happy — wanted to share that bond — but the idea of his body changing, of losing control, unsettled him deeply. And yet, here he was, nodding stiffly.

The doctor entered with a tray carrying three small syringes. "We'll begin the first stage today. You'll receive three injections over the course of a week. After that, your body will start adapting."

Luke barely listened after that. His muscles tensed as the first needle pierced his upper hip. A deep warmth spread through him, almost nauseating. He squeezed Ryder’s hand tighter.

The Changes Begin

The first few days after the injections, Luke noticed his emotions fluctuating wildly. A sentimental TV commercial made him tear up. Later that night, Ryder forgot to take the trash out, and Luke irrationally snapped at him, slamming cabinet doors until he exhausted himself.

"I'm sorry," Luke muttered after, sitting on the couch in a hoodie too big for his suddenly sensitive body. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Ryder just smiled sadly and pulled him into a hug. "It's okay, babe. It's just the hormones. You're doing amazing."

But Luke didn't feel amazing. He felt wrong.

As the days passed, the physical transformations began — deep, internal aching in his pelvis that sometimes doubled him over. His hips widened subtly, just enough that his jeans felt uncomfortable and tight in new places. He hated looking at his reflection, seeing the slight but undeniable softening of his body.

The worst was the feeling inside — a cramping, twisting sensation like something was building inside of him. Luke could feel the formation of a uterus, a womb, ovaries — organs that weren't supposed to exist inside him.

The medical scans confirmed it: his body had completed the process. Internally, he was now capable of carrying life. Externally, aside from the slightly broader curve to his hips, Luke still looked like himself — but felt like a stranger.

The First Period

Luke woke up one morning feeling damp and gross between his legs. Groggy, he stumbled into the bathroom, pulling down his briefs — and froze.

Blood, coming from his penis. Thick, dark, unmistakable blood soaked the fabric and smeared against his thighs.

Panic clutched his chest. His knees buckled, and he had to grab the sink for support. "Ryder!" he cried out.

Ryder came running, concern flooding his face before he realized what was happening. Gently, he helped Luke to the toilet.

"It's okay," Ryder murmured, rubbing Luke’s back. "It's your first period. We knew this would happen."

But knowing and experiencing were two completely different things. Luke felt humiliated, broken. He hated the sticky feeling, hated how messy and wrong it all was.

Ryder helped him line a pad in fresh boxer-briefs. Luke couldn’t even look Ryder in the eye as he fumbled through it, cheeks burning with shame.

"I feel so... gross," Luke whispered, blinking back tears.

"You're not gross," Ryder said firmly, pulling Luke into his arms again. "You're beautiful. You're strong. And I love you."

It was a hard week. Luke bled heavily at first, ruining several pairs of underwear before he got the hang of managing it. Each trip to the bathroom was a reminder that he had crossed a line he could never uncross. But Ryder stayed by his side through every embarrassing, messy moment.

Conception

When Luke’s period finally ended, his body settled into a strange, fragile equilibrium. He didn't feel ready for sex — he barely felt like himself — but Ryder was patient, waiting until Luke gave the faintest, shyest nod one night.

They took it slow. Ryder kissed every inch of Luke's skin with reverence, whispering praises into his ear. Luke lay there, trembling, letting Ryder touch him, guide him.

And for the first time since this all began, Luke felt something good building inside — not just the aching loss of his old self, but a spark of something new. A connection, a surrender, a promise.

When Ryder finally slid into him, Luke gasped — not just from the physical sensation, but from the overwhelming emotional flood that followed. Tears pricked his eyes again, but this time, they weren't from shame or regret.

They were from love.

Weeks later, Luke would stand in their bathroom again, trembling, staring at the positive pregnancy test in his hand. Fear and uncertainty still lived inside him, but so did something else now.

Hope.

And Ryder, who knelt before him with shining eyes, kissed his still-flat belly and whispered, "Thank you for giving us this gift."

Months later, Luke's belly formed, life moving around on the inside. He felt uncomfortable, sometimes regretful. But then he'd think about the future - their family being formed and how proud Ryder had become of him.

[someonesaidcake]

Hi, Felice

I'd like you to write about the team dynamic and Jane with Lisbon on those days of the month. Do you think Jane knew this and was less irritating?

This was an interesting one to write... hope you like it xx 💛

It was the 16th.

He knew it before he checked the little cat calendar on his desk – a fluffy Ragdoll hiding in grass this month.

He was usually better at sensing the storm before it hit – the shift in the temperature, the slight fluctuation – which meant he was typically prepared, ready, prepped.

But she’d snapped when he made some offhand remark about her doing something stupid just to score a few days’ suspension and finally get a sleep-in. Not his finest joke – but she looked exhausted. He was genuinely surprised he’d returned with his head still attached.

Of course, Lisbon would be entirely unimpressed if she knew he kept track of her cycle – had it memorised, even – but he filed that under self-preservation rather than gross inappropriateness.

He was fairly certain she was on some form of contraception. If he had to guess – and of course he had, more than once – he’d say the injection. The pill didn’t seem likely, not with her schedule. Maybe an IUD. But really, it wasn’t his business.

He doubted she got a typical period. He had his reasons, in particular that tilted, vaguely bemused expression the first time she’d discovered the tampons and pads in his glovebox. She hadn’t asked – and he hadn’t explained – but the look was duly noted.

But the hormonal dip? That stuck around. There were about five days in every 29-day cycle where her tolerance for his nonsense took a noticeable nosedive. So, he usually dialled it back. Again, self-preservation.

He couldn’t believe he’d missed it this month.

But he liked to think he made up for it with the peace offering – a 3 p.m. coffee delivered straight to her desk with five candy bars and a mumbled excuse [read: lie] about the machine playing up.

She looked at him with a crooked eyebrow, one that said she saw straight through him, but she didn’t say anything – not until he was halfway out the door.

Then came a soft, genuine, “Thanks, Jane.”

Anything for you, Lisbon.

[bigassmoth]

pervert alien x pervert human

You yawn and they get horny- sticking their 'tongue' into your mouth and tapping tapered claws against your teeth. you watch them stretch and the ripple of their muscles lights a fire in your belly- and they gladly melt into your embrace.

You start your period and explain the process of your hormonal fluctuations and anatomical functions to your alien fuck buddy. who starts flashing you bedroom eyes because "its sexy".

Pervert alien who comes from a society where the "mating season" is only once a year- who is overjoyed to have a companion like yourself who is as eager to copulate as they are.

When you express interest in having them use their unconventional anatomy in the bedroom- they are overjoyed. Is it normal on their planet to use their tails as probes? No. Are they excited to try it anyway? Absolutely.

You do "scientist x specimen" roleplay where you will switch roles. Your frighteningly strong alien, powerless below you. Or a domineering figure above your trapped body. These roleplay sessions use a lot of toys from your respective planets, to make each other cum multiple times.

They will happily stuff you with multiple appendages, delighted that you want so much of their body. And likewise your alien wants to tease, stroke, and pump you as much as they can. You will have to impose limits on certain holes (maybe the left nostril is a little un-sexy).

Marathon sex- because their "mating season" is only once a year it runs for over a week. That means that they have stamina and are used to lengthy intercourse. Of course they will have snacks and water ready whenever you need it.

Pervert Alien who loves to greet you when you come home by licking your sex until you cum. Every day. If you come home needing to use the bathroom, be ready to fend off this alien. They will naturally get on their knees and pull down your clothes to lick at you. You once asked if this is related to their species-- it is not.

[ghetto-omega]

‎❀‎✿❀Heat Crash Course❀✿❀

I would like to start this post off by saying don't have sex with your pups... Uhm.. I feel like that should be obvious but just in case U´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`U ...

I would also like to note that all my info posts are for MY verse in particular, and is not the end all be all, so you don't have to agree with me or you can adopt all my headcanons into your own arsenal

Beware this is a long ass post, like I spent about 4 hours on this for no reason. Smh.

If you notice any typos, no you didn't

With that being said...

‎‧₊˚✿General✿˚₊‧

Heats are generally only experienced by omegas, but there are enough outliers for me to justify mentioning it. For the sake of this post, I will be referring to omegas specifically just because I have the most experiences with omegas with heats. (both being an omega and being friends with omegas)

𑁍 What is heat ?

𑁍 Body's natural instinct to copulate and an almost guaranteed way to produce pups

Indepth: Heats are a part of (most commonly) an omega's cycle. It's the part of the cycle where an omega is the most fertile, the most sensitive (physically and emotionally), and the most vulnerable.

There's a hormonal change in the omegas body. It's essentially the body's way to encourage sex by "setting the mood" lol.

Scent glands also open up more, causing more potent scent and pheromones to attract other partners.

Physical symptoms come not only from hormonal fluctuation, but also the body going into overdrive to protect itself from infection, the body's stress from overworking itself naturally, as well as outside stresses like work and family.

Though if an omega gets too stressed it can cause them to skip their heat entirely, but this is also a very large sign that something is very wrong. Skipping heat too many times (both from something more natural like stress or manmade like heat suppressants) can cause an omega to go into a forced heat, or a self-induced drop.

𑁍 When do omegas enter heat ?

𑁍 Anywhere between 3 days to 2 weeks once every 2 months

Indepth: Every omega that you meet will experience heat in a different way, but typically they last anywhere between three days to two weeks, but the shorter the heat the more intense the symptoms. The average length is about one week, give or take a day, once every one to two months.

The first few days of heat are normally the calmest. A little bit of cramping is to be expected, but overall the omega should still be functional. They may be wearing a collar, cuffs, or extra strength scent patches, but they should overall be fine.

The next days are more unpredictable, there's a widespread of omegas who have the climax of their heat in the middle, but just as many who have it at the end. It's important for omegas to stay on bedrest during this time, not just for their comfort, but their safety.

Omegas with a shorter heat are at a higher risk of entering heat in public, seeing as they don't have the days long of build up that other omegas have. They're also at higher risk of dying during their heats because of how spontaneously they can come and go, this could very well throw their body into shock. Omegas who are malnourished or sleep deprived are also at higher risk of death.

𑁍 Where do omegas prefer to spend their heat ?

𑁍 Omegas typically prefer to spend their heat in their nests, or at the very least with their mate, but there are a few rare outliers to this.

In depth: Omegas will create a safe space out of their packs (or partners) items, could be blankets, clothes, toys, etc. Some omegas do this ritual year round, others only feel the urge to nest during heats. It all depends on the person. Some omegas need a whole space to themselves just for nesting.

Of course, you make due with what you have. In public, if they truly have no other options, an omega might find a small hidden place to go and ride out the worst of it. Even the most docile omega would get aggressive in this situation.

If they end up in the hospital or urgent care both places come equipped with seperate rooms for anyone to ride out their heats OR their ruts. Some people don't have a safe place to go through these things, so they can at least go to the hospital if need be.

Some particularly inclusive clubs or bars may also have one or two small rooms they can keep someone, not like overnight or anything, but for long enough that someone can come get the person in heat/rut.

𑁍 How do heats feel ?

𑁍 Every omega experiences it differently, but typical symptoms are: overheating, brain fog, cramping, excessive slick production, potent pheromones and scents, lethargy, fatigue, and an overwhelming need to be bred.

In depth: for a typical week-ish long heat you'll probably experience a little bit of cramping, but mostly all over body, and pelvic aches that'll slowly get worse until the heat is over.

Omegas with shorter periods or particularly painful ones will be on bed rest their entire heat. Their bodies are flushed with fever, and rocked with brutal cramps. The only thing that can really soothe an omega is a knot, exhaustion, sedative, or a long steady period of being bred. How long their contentedness lasts is really up to the method, and how good of a job their partner is doing at administering said method.

Overly sensitive skin and nose is one of the most common symptoms. Most omegas tend to spend their heats nude and enclosed in their nests because of this. Irritability because of this is also pretty common, try not to hold an omegas mean comments against them around this time.

The worst of the symptoms are flashes of blindness or whited out vision (remember to keep hydrated to help prevent this), temporary amnesia or short term memory loss, inability to move, and hyperactive skin shedding or peeling leaving sore open wounds on the body. These symptoms also aren't common, but can be developed at any time, especially in a high stress environment.

‧₊˚✿First Heats✿˚₊‧

𑁍 In order to avoid unnecessary fear or stress from your pup, it's important to have talked to them about heats and ruts before their first experience

Depending on your pup, in the coming days before the pinnacle of their heat you might experience clinginess, excessive crying, hyper aggression, anxiety, or avoidance (especially of school and anybody not family or a fellow omega)

It's important to watch their temperature, especially if they play sports. It's common for omegas to experience fever or even heat stroke if you don't know what to look for

Look out for more concerns about nesting (especially if they hadn't taken any interest in it before), excessive sweating or thirst, increased or no appetite, lethargy, and extreme mood swings.

Make sure to talk to your pup, as well as take them out of the school for the rest of their heat. Keep carbs and fatty foods on hand to prevent illness, dehydration, and malnourishment

Once at the height of their heat they'll be hypersensitive, so make sure to be weary of a stimulus and watch their body language

Don't be surprised if your pup smells sour to you. They are in a lot of pain right now.

Make sure to lightly scent ONLY the things your pup gives you permission to

The number one rule of helping your pup through heat is to listen to them. It's important not to overstep your pup's boundaries to not cause unnecessary stress.

‧₊˚✿Heat with Packs✿˚₊‧

This really depends on the pack. Some packs act more like polycules, others act more like a platonic family, others are strictly friendly, some are some mix of all three

This all completely depends on your pack's comfortability.

For some this means everyone in the pack helps the omegas out with their heat, some only allow their mate(s) to do it.

Some packs allow the pack members to help out in a way that doesn't involve sex, or maybe they're only allowed to help like that when their mate is away

Some even only allow other omegas to help, and everyone else has to stay out.

This is a completely gray area, whatever you decide is perfect as long as it's a good fit for you and your pack.

‎‧₊˚✿Other✿˚₊‧

There are specific brands that cater to the needs of omegas in heat, there's specifically an abundance of food and drink brands, as well as a few adult toy brands

𑁍 Protection

Collars are a common tool used by all sexes while experiencing intense fluctuation in their scent glands or pheromones. Some prefer the stylish ones that give a little less protection, others prefer just something plain that gets the job done, and some prefer the discreet options that look like they're part of a top or pants

There are covers you can place over a knot to help with lubrication so you don't get locked in your partner, some condoms come with built in ones, but they are the more expensive option

Scent patches are even more common than collars, especially the ones that blend in with the skin. Typically you can find these over the counter at your local drug store, though you can get ones prescribed to you as well

There's more but I've been working on this post for hours... And girl I am SO tired lmao

𑁍 Heat suppressants

Technically heat suppressants could go under protection, but I've decided it needs it's own category

Heat suppressants, while being useful can also be deadly. It's important not to take them more than absolutely necessary

Unlike scent patches these aren't just a patch to put on your body to prevent it from happening

Heat suppressants are administered by pill or by needle, they actually mess with your body's hormones and physiology. They can cause a lot of damage if either used without caution, or bought from an unreliable source

They can cause irregular and painful heat, high blood pressure, infertility, cardiovascular issues, and more.

While fine sparingly, using it too much will cause health problems

I have a giant omegaverse dictionary in the works... It will be finished someday...

I want to make a post full of fake brands that would be in omegaverse if you want to help me with that lol

Ofc, feel free to give me headcanons in the notes or hop into my askbox. I love talking to y'all U⁠^⁠ｪ⁠^⁠U

[differenteagletragedy]

Been thinking of swap au and i was wondering how Baxter would react to being confessed to at different steps?

SWAP AU MY BELOVED Step One: oh my heart, so cute, just 8-year-old Baxter and MC, the littlest loves. They would have just met here, and of course it would be a very inconsequential conversation of like "I want you to be my boyfriend" and "ok" and then nothing changes BUT BUT BUT this would be so cute because even at 8, I think Baxter would be a boy of his word. So picture he and MC starting to "date" at 8, and then they just never stop, and as they get older they start to be like "oh we really do have those romantic feelings huh." So I think there would still be some "you deserve better, MC" conversations in those rough teen years, but he wouldn't break up with them. And that way you get Step Four and Beyond Baxter being able to tell people that he's been with his partner since they were EIGHT YEARS OLD and isn't that precious?!?! Like he's not even 30, planning a wedding, and his clients see his wedding ring and ask how long he's been with his spouse and he's just casually like "20 years" and they're like "?!??!??!" (sorry I rambled)

Step Two: angst angst angst. You have to remember that Swap AU Baxter and MC are kind of a little dumb (and I say that with so much love and respect), so if MC were to confess their feelings for Baxter while he's 13 and going through stuff (general 13-year-old drama plus the actual issues of his awful parents, etc.), I don't think he'd receive it that well. Like he'd do a kind of "I appreciate the sentiment, MC, but I imagine you're just confusing our deep friendship and the state of our fluctuating hormones for something more than it is." And then MC would be mortified and kind of shut down about it, like "Yeah you're right, totally, my bad, anyway wanna hang out this weekend?" I just can't imagine a universe in which these goofs manage to get it together at this point.

Step Three: lol. In canon Step Three, I think this is suuuuch a pivotal age for Baxter, so it would be in Swap AU too. He's on the cusp of adulthood, trying to figure out how to be his own person without his parents' influence, and it's all very heavy. Here though, he'd have the unwavering support of MC and moms (and Liz, even though she wouldn't show it, and his good friend Cove, and even Cliff), so he's not floundering in quite the same way. If MC were to confess here, I think there would still be that kind of panic of "you don't know what you're talking about, you can't like me, I am a disaster," but at this point he'd be way too into MC in that way to turn them down. I'd imagine a pretty intense conversation with MC confessing, Baxter trying to shut it down, but if MC keeps pushing him to realize they're serious then they'd both just kind of look at each other then KISS, like a passionate, explosive, desperate thing, and oh, ok, they are in love, with Baxter being clingy and sad and MC being loving and assuring him that they can handle all his baggage, they always have and they always will.

Step Four is canon Swap AU confession :)