#two midols and a dream

[chasiufan]

It’s his second day /;

[zepskies]

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️ 

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.” 

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.  

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

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[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 9/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

“Ruth told me you requested an emergency appointment. Did something happen?”

Dana wrings her hands in her lap, blinking rapidly against her dry, weary eyes. As per usual, Michelle waits until she is ready to speak. 

“Yes. I mean…not really. I don’t know,” she says haltingly, then runs her hands over her unmade face. 

“Would you like to tell me about it?” 

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat and deciding where to begin.

“My daughter said something to me that—it’s hard to explain, but it threw me off. And then I heard this song—I think it’s the song from my dream, the one about the man. I think it’s the song that was playing when I was with him. And I just feel so…I feel so lost.”

Her throat tightens and she drops her head, breathing deeply to stave off tears. 

“What was it that your daughter said?” Michelle asks, flipping through her notes. “Abigail, right?”

“Yes, Abby,” Dana confirms. “She said something about her other mother. Her mother from before. She asked me if her other mother was going to come back.”

Michelle’s eyebrows lift, and her mouth falls open slightly. 

“And how do you interpret that?” she asks after a beat. 

“I don’t know,” Dana says, exasperated. “Maybe she means me, before my accident. Or maybe there was another woman in her life I don’t know about or don’t remember. Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know, but it’s just one more missing piece.” 

Michelle nods, considering her. 

“Have you started your new prescription, Dana?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Dana answers with a sigh. “I started it the evening after our last appointment.”

“And have you been dreaming?”

“No, actually. Not the last couple nights. Not even after I heard the song.”

“I think we should adjust your medication again. I’m going to send over a prescription right now. Can you pick it up on your way out?”

Dana narrows her eyes, confused. 

“I’ve only been taking the new dose for two days. That seems a bit soon to change it again,” she observes, and Michelle crosses her hands neatly in her lap. 

“I understand that you’re a doctor, Dana, but memory care isn’t your specialty. These drugs are fast-acting, and based on your clear distress, I think an adjustment is necessary,” she says sternly. 

“Of course, I didn’t mean to overstep,” Dana replies. 

“Let’s set up another appointment in a few days, okay? This kind of setback isn’t atypical, and I don’t want you to worry. Let’s just keep a close eye on it so we can get you back to normal soon, all right?”

“Okay,” Dana agrees as she stands, though the idea of normal feels so foreign that it’s hard to imagine. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” Michelle says as she walks her to the door. 

Dana is passing through the waiting area when Michelle stops her.

“Oh, Dana,” she calls out. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the pharmacy here carries all kinds of basic necessities. Tylenol, Midol, Loratadine. They even have children’s vitamins, if you need anything like that at home.”

A little chill tickles Dana’s spine and she shivers involuntarily. 

“Thanks,” she says, then heads to the pharmacy. 

That night, she barely sleeps. She does not dream. 

-

She watches two blue jays swooping through the yard. They take from the feeder, then dive down to the ground, swapping places over and over like a choreographed dance. They seem to be working as a team, yet also completely independently of one another. Eat and swoop. Eat and swoop. 

“Dana?”

“Hm?” she looks over to see Cal watching her with a perplexed expression. 

“I said thanks for picking up vitamins for the kids,” he repeats, and she nods with a thin smile. “You okay, mija?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admits, tightening her grip on her coffee mug. 

Cal crosses the kitchen with a little smirk, standing right beside her as he fills his mug. 

“I can probably help you out with that,” he whispers, quiet enough so the kids won’t hear him, then bumps her hip with his own. 

She forces a smile, and when Cal holds out his open palm to dispense her Numerol, she takes it from him, as well as three quick kisses. 

“Today will be a better day, okay?” he says hopefully, and she nods once.

She bids farewell to Cal and Peter, then walks Abby to the bus. Abby prattles on about sea urchins and The Little Mermaid, and it’s only when they are at the stop and she can hear the rumble and screech of the bus approaching from down the block that she has a chance to ask. 

“Hey, Sweetpea, do you remember when you talked about your other mommy? From before?” she says casually. 

“Ummmmm, maybe,” Abby says, walking circles around the stop sign post. 

“What do you remember about her?” Dana asks. 

“She was big!” Abby says emphatically. “And she had a black dress and her face was purple.”

“Purple?” Dana repeats.

“Yep, purple skin and white hair, and she hated King Triton and Ariel,” the child says animatedly. 

Dana heaves a sigh that is part relief, part irritation.The bus stops in front of them and the door swings open. 

“Have a good day, Sweetpea. Watch out for any nefarious eels,” she says to the child, kissing her cheek before she steers her toward the bus. 

“What’s a neffyrus?!” Abby says dubiously, then boards the bus and waves from behind the window. 

Dana watches it pull away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. When it’s rounded the corner out of sight, she takes out the little white pill Cal had given her and studies it. 

She remembers something her father told her once, when she was struggling to reconcile what she knew and what she felt. 

“Don’t discount your gut, Starbuck. Sometimes it’s the most well-calibrated tool in the toolbox.”

She returns the pill to her pocket and heads to work. 

-

“You should have seen the look on his face, Dana,” Tiffany says, smiling devilishly. “I could hear him from outside the room being an absolute dick to Destiny, demanding to see the doctor. Imagine his surprise when my black ass walks in. Saving lives is great, but I think that may have been even better, honestly.”

“I can only imagine,” Dana replies. “I had a patient once in med school who refused to be seen by me. He kept saying he wanted to see ‘a real doctor,’ but he was more than happy to be treated by one of my male classmates. Some of them would truly rather die, I suppose.”

“And good riddance to ‘em,” Tiffany adds. 

They return to their work, logging patient notes between bites of mushy pasta salad from the cafeteria. Dana reaches into her pocket for a pen and feels the compact edges of the pill brush against her fingertips. She’s been carrying it around all day, examining it as though she’ll suddenly notice something out of place or find the answer to a question she hasn’t figured out how to ask. She rolls it between her thumb and forefinger, pondering. 

“What is with this tox screen?” Tiffany grumbles, flipping through pages with frustration. “No wonder they take so long to turn anything around down there, running all this shit I didn’t ask for.”

A thought begins to take shape, gathering volume like a snowball tumbling downhill. It would be a misuse of resources, something worthy of discipline were she to be found out. And yet, she finds herself writing the script in her head, forming responses and rebuttals. 

“Have you ever sent something through the lab off the books?” she asks offhandedly, her eyes on her computer screen. 

There’s a long pause, and she can feel Tiffany looking at her. 

“Not personally, no, though I can’t imagine it would be difficult to do. Why do you ask?”

Dana flashes her eyes up to her coworker. She wants to trust her, feels like she has no choice but I’m to, and at the same time she isn’t entirely sure that she can rely on her own instincts right now. 

“I think the pharmacy made a mistake with my medication,” Dana says, fabricating the lie as it leaves her lips. “They won’t admit to it, so the only way to know for sure is to have it analyzed.”

“You should be able to just run that through,” Tiffany says nonchalantly. “I don’t think you need to be all covert about it, double-oh-seven.”

Dana laughs along, but her belly twists. 

“I use the in-house pharmacy,” she explains. “I just—I don’t want to piss them off. It’s so convenient to be able to pick things up at work.”

“Dr. Robbie is kind of a prick,” Tiffany agrees. “I could see him holding a grudge.”

Dana breathes a little sigh of relief. 

“How would I go about that, then? Running it through the lab off the books?” 

“Well, you could put it in with another sample, but that runs the risk that the result will be tied to your patient and get them into a whole big mess, depending on what it is. I do know a tech down there that seems to be sweet on me. Maybe I could ask him for a favor,” Tiffany suggests. 

“That would be great, if it’s not too much trouble. Is there something I can do in return, pick up a shift or take a difficult patient?” Dana asks, trying not to sound too eager about the whole thing. 

“Nah, it’s no big deal. It might be kinda fun to see if I still got it,” Tiffany replies as she stands from her desk and pops her hip out dramatically. 

Dana smiles, dropping the pill into a plastic baggie and handing it over. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” she says sincerely, meeting Tiffany’s eye. 

Alone in the office, she feels a pit form in her stomach, accompanied by a sense of dread. She finds herself praying that the results come back and indicate that the pill is exactly what it’s supposed to be: fifteen milligrams of Numerol. But she’s been praying since the day she woke up in the hospital that things would get better, that her life would start making sense. And if the past predicts the future, this too is a prayer that will go unanswered. 

-

“Dr. Rose, I have a patient for you in bed three.”

Dana checks her watch, calculating how much time she has before she’ll be home too late to get Abby off the bus. 

“Do you have the chart?” she asks the nurse, then flips through the details quickly as she makes her way down the hall. 67 year old male, presenting with arrhythmia and shortness of breath. 

When she pulls the curtain back, she is hit with the funk of stale cigarettes. An elderly man is sitting up in the bed, blankets draped across his lap and a blue hospital gown covering his chest and shoulders. He smiles at her, and the familiarity in it makes her immediately uncomfortable for reasons she can’t articulate. 

“Mr. Kennedy,” she says, reading off his chart. “My name is Dr. Rose. I understand that your heartbeat is irregular and you’re having a hard time breathing.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly, touching his chest. “Just the years catching up to me, I suppose.”

He has hooded, watery blue eyes and deep-set wrinkles framing his mouth. The kinds of wrinkles you earn by puckering your lips around the filter of a cigarette hundreds or thousands of times. 

“Let’s have a listen,” Dana says, keeping her tone as business-like as possible to discourage him from being overly friendly with her. 

She presses the stethoscope to his chest and looks at her watch as she measures his heart rate, then motions for him to lean forward and holds the stethoscope against his back as she listens to his lungs. His heart rate is normal and healthy for a man of his age, but his lungs sound rhonchi and wheezy. Nicotine comes off him in waves, stinging her eyes, and she moves away to sanitize her hands and her stethoscope to remove the smell. 

“Do you smoke, Mr. Kennedy?” she asks flatly, and he chuffs a little laugh that devolves into a coughing fit. 

“A bit, yes,” he finally rasps out. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but I recommend quitting,” she says, leaning against the counter furthest from his bed. “If you’re not able to quit, you should at least consider cutting back. You’re taking years off your life each time you open a new pack.”

“Ah,” the old man says with a contrite bob of his head. “You sound like my son. He’s always telling me to quit. It’s hard when you’re an old man. I don’t have many pleasures left in life.”

“You should listen to him,” Dana says as she makes notes in his chart. “I’m going to order albuterol to help alleviate the inflammation in your airways. It’s a breathing treatment we can administer here at the hospital, but we’ll also send you home with enough for the next week. I’m also going to refer you to cardiology. Your heart sounds fine right now, but they may want to set you up with a monitor so they can track changes over time. Do you have any questions?”

“Sure, do you know any single women who might be interested in a gentleman of my regard?” he says cheekily, and she intentionally does not reward him with eye contact. 

“I think you should focus on your health, Mr. Kennedy,” she says blandly. 

“I’m a lonely man, Dana.”

Her hearing cuts out for just a split second, a brief ring slowly replaced by the hustle and bustle and mechanical beeps of the hospital floor. She slowly lifts her head and finds him watching her curiously. 

“Excuse me?” she says, feeling disoriented. 

“Dana, right? It says so right there on your badge,” he points out, and she touches her hospital ID reflexively. 

“Dr. Rose, please,” she corrects him, and he holds up his hands in deference. 

“My apologies, Dr. Rose. Thank you for your time,” the man says, and she escapes from his cigarette soaked room with an unnecessary level of urgency. 

_

Get Abby from the bus. Pick up Peter from daycare. Snacks. Playtime. Start dinner. Welcome Cal home from work. Bathtime. Bedtime. Pretend to read a book while her mind races in a hundred different directions. Tell Cal she has a headache, maybe tomorrow. Lie awake and think. Think. THINK.

The song. The man. The green countertops. The old smoker. “I’m a lonely man, Dana.” The pills. The pills. THE PILLS. Try to sleep. Fail. No dreams, no nothing. It’s like a black hole swallowed her mind, her memories. Her life. 

Wake up. Wake Peter. Shower, get ready for work. Make the children breakfast. Drink coffee. Take Numerol from Cal. Wash it down the sink. Goodbye Cal, goodbye Peter. Walk Abby to the bus. Pretend to be mermaids. Feel like dying. 

Drive to work. Play the song over and over and over. Now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home. Take the east entrance, just to see. Nearly have a panic attack. Keep smelling the smoker around every corner. Keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Keep hoping it’s not as bad as it seems. 

-

Tiffany rushes into the office, closing the door behind her and marching straight to Dana’s desk, where she drops a small stack of papers on the desktop with an irate expression. 

“You wanna tell me what the fuck this is about?” Tiffany asks angrily, one hand on her hip. 

Sleep deprived and on edge, Dana blinks at her stupidly and then begins to try and decipher the papers on her desk. Lab results. Inconclusive. Unknown substance. 

“Is this about my medication?” she asks, flipping through the pages. 

“You sure that was your medication you gave me, Dana?” Tiffany questions doubtfully. “Cause that pill sure as shit did not come from the St. Agnes pharmacy.”

“I don’t understand,” Dana says, shaking her head. “What was it?”

Tiffany considers her, and her expression falls a bit. 

“You really don’t know?” she asks skeptically. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve dragged you into something strange, Tiffany. But no, I really don’t know what it is, or where it came from. That’s what I was hoping to find out.”

Tiffany rolls the chair over from her desk and sits close beside Dana. She leafs through the pages, pointing at key fields as she speaks in a low tone. 

“The first test he ran was totally inconclusive. It doesn’t match any medication we have in the system, even nationally. Now this man must really think he was gonna get somewhere with this lab result because he called in his buddy who does some back alley, unofficial freaky shit. And that friend got a hit on some secret government database for this chemical composition.”

“What is it?” Dana asks, her heart racing. She’s been putting this in her body every day for months. 

“Something called—” Tiffany flips two pages and points to a summary. “Galophazine. It’s not FDA approved, that’s for damn sure.”

“What does it treat? What are the effects?” 

“That wasn’t very clear,” Tiffany says, sitting back. “The friend could only deduce, based on the places it was referenced, that it has something to do with memory recall.”

Dana feels a flood of relief, and presses her hand to her chest to feel her own pounding heart begin to normalize. 

“That’s good. That’s what it was prescribed for, to enhance memory recall. What I don’t understand is why my doctor would lie about the name of the medication.”

“I thought you said it was a pharmacy error,” Tiffany says, but then moves past it before Dana has a chance to respond. “But I don’t think this is meant to enhance memory recall. Whatever the friend saw, he came to the conclusion that this drug, Galophazine, is used to suppress long term memory recall. They were testing it out on war vets and people with childhood trauma.”

The earth beneath her feet is suddenly less stable, the air in her lungs thin. She feels lightheaded. She feels sick. If she was lost before, she’s now untethered. Detached. There is no home base to return to. Adrift. Adrift. Adrift. 

“Dana?” Tiffany asks, and Dana realizes that Tiffany is touching her, shaking her arm gently. “Are you okay?”

“I—I think—” 

She swallows against a bone dry throat, scans the room with untrusting eyes, considers the woman next to her. A stranger, perhaps. She has no way of knowing for sure. 

“I don’t know.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

23 - Out There In the Dark, There’s a Beckoning Candle

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of period, being uncomfortable in body, general puberty angst

Year: 2001

“Um… papa? Dad?” Bobby started.

She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, timidly making her way over to the couch where her parents were sitting. Eddie reached for the remote and muted the show they were watching so full attention could be on Bobby.

“What’s up, pumpkin?” Eddie asked.

“So, I just went to the bathroom and there was blood…”

“What do you mean? Like did you shit out blood, was there blood in your pee? Like what’re we talking?”

“Eddie!” Steve hissed.

“What? They’re valid questions!”

“Be a little more sensitive, Christ. She’s thirteen—don’t you think it’s more likely it’s just her period?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s more logical…”

“What’s a period?” Bobby asked.

“I… you… do you not know what a period is?” Steve asked.

“Do you know what a period is?” Eddie raised a brow. “Sweetie, did they not teach you any of this in health?” She shook her head and pouted. “Okay,” Eddie sighed, “I’m not gonna go too much in depth, but long story short, you bleed once a month for like a week.”

“For how long?”

“What do you mean?”

“How long am I gonna be bleeding once a month for?”

“Oh, sweetie… roughly until you’re fifty.”

“You’re joking.”

“Afraid not,” Eddie mumbled.

“So do you still bleed? O-Or get your period, I mean.”

“No, thank god. I got a hysterectomy when you were born.”

“Oh… can I get one?”

“No,” Eddie chuckled. “You’re still too young. Maybe when you’re older.”

“You were only twenty-two when you had me… isn’t that still pretty young?

“Yeah, but I had you. Most doctors don’t like doing stuff like that unless you already have a kid. Or unless the husband gives the okay. And it was dad’s idea, so it worked out.”

“Huh… that’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not... Bobbs, why don’t you go take a nice warm bath. I’m gonna run to the store and get some stuff for you.”

“Stuff… what do you mean stuff? Why do I need stuff?”

“Dear lord, we need to find you a new school. I’ll be back.”

That night, Eddie and Steve pampered their daughter more than they ever had before. Steve prepared her bath and cooked her favorite meal, while Eddie got anything and everything she could’ve needed, from pads, to Midol, to a heating pad. Bobby was insistent that none of the spoiling was necessary, but that didn’t stop the boys.

More than anything, they wanted to show their daughter how she deserved to be treated. They wanted her to know from a young age how special she was and to never settle for less, even with ‘taboo’ subjects.

A few months passed and Bobby was slowly starting to realize why her dads spoiled her so much every month. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in her body. Between her period, random patches of acne, and not being as gifted as the other girls, she was miserable.

One day, Eddie noticed that she was wearing exclusively larger clothes. Bobby was gathering her belongings for school—as she headed for the front door, Eddie latched onto her bicep, pulling her back. She let out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and met her father’s gaze.

“Yes, father?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?” she lied.

“Bobby, I know you like the back of my hand. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothings wrong.”

“Really? Because you’re wearing clothes that are like two sizes too big. Your face is caked in foundation. It’s just… if this is what you like to wear and stuff, that’s fine, but you just don’t seem like you.”

“Papa, I’m fine.”

“Bee… when I was your age–”

“It doesn’t matter what you felt at my age. Of course you were hiding everything!”

“So you are hiding,” he smugly smirked. “Bobby, what’s going on? Hmm?”

“For the last time, I’m fine! Let it be, pops. I gotta go, I’m gonna be late.”

“You don’t want a ride?”

“No, Sandy’s coming to pick me up.”

“Alright… have a good day… I love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Later that night, when the boys were cleaning up after dinner, Eddie tried bringing up the morning’s incident with his beloved husband.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“Have you noticed something off with Bee?”

“She’s just a teenager, Eds. She’s moody, she’s insecure, and she’s just trying to fit in. It’s already hard enough on her that she has two dads, one of which is famous, and… it’s hard for her. I’m sure you remember what it’s like being her age.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a fair comparison, Steve. Kinda had other things going on.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I-I literally don’t know how to relate to her. While other girls were trying to make their chests look bigger—I was binding mine down. Everyone was looking at boys to figure out who to date—I was getting gender envy from most of them. It sucked Steve, sure, but I… I dunno, I wasn’t worrying about the same stuff most people were.”

“I know, honey… so, did you get gender envy from me?” Steve smirked.

“Stevie, I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to be you or fuck you. Turns out it was the latter.”

“In all seriousness,” Steve laughed. “Should we talk to Robin or Joyce or someone?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Are you guys talking about me?” Bobby frowned. She had walked into the kitchen with an empty water glass, hoping to get a refill.

“Oh, honey… we’re just worried. That’s all,” Steve said.

“For the last time, I’m fine!” she cried.

“Bobby, we love you and we just want you to be happy. It kills us to see you become this basket case.”

“Dad, since I’ve been a kid, people have made fun of me. I’ve been getting called a ‘freak of nature’ since I was what, five? I just… I just don’t fit in. My body doesn’t look like everyone else’s, my face always breaks out… it sucks.”

“Oh, sweet pea.” Both boys pulled her into a tight hug. Steve sighed, “I’m sorry your father and I’s marriage is making school hard for you. People are mean.”

“Yeah, they are,” She sniffed.

“It gets better, though,” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, bug, it does.”

“Oh, what do you two know? I mean, dad, you were popular in high school, and papa, you were popular by default because you were dating dad.”

“Honey, I was dubbed a freak, even by dad. And I was convinced he was going to leave me when I told him I was trans. Your teen years are gonna be rough, I’m not going to sugar coat that. You’re figuring out who you are, who you like, what you wanna do with your life. But, so is everyone else, and everyone has different ways of projecting that. Some people will try the fake it till you make it approach with their confidence. Some bounce from persona to persona until they find what they like. Then, some people—like you, my beautiful bug—become basket cases and shut out everyone until they realize who they are.”

“I’m not a basket case,” she pouted.

“But you are, love bug, and we’re worried about you,” Steve said with soft eyes. “How can we help you? Because we miss our bubbly girl.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, dad… you’ve never been through what I have.”

“What about papa? He may be trans, but he still dealt with some of the girly stuff.”

“Really?”

“I mean, sorta,” Eddie shrugged. “Like, I got my period—obviously, or you wouldn’t be here. I had to deal with my boobs growing, body changing, and of course all the fucking torment from all the other girls.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was constantly made fun of for the clothes I wore, how ratty my hair was, and how small my boobs were.”

“So we’re all late bloomers, huh?” Bobby tiredly chuckled.

“I mean, I was actually kinda ‘gifted’, but I bound myself down everyday. The only time I didn’t was our first date.” He motioned to Steve and smiled.

“Oh, yeah… huh, I loved that dress.”

“I’m glad someone liked it,” Eddie scoffed. “Because lord did it give me terrible dysphoria.”

“I know, but I hated when you bound your chest.”

“Why? Missed staring at them?” Eddie teased.

“No, no! I mean… it hurt you,” he frowned. “You have scars left over from it being too tight for so many years. My heart broke the first time I unwrapped you.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but, Bee, it’s all the same shit. You’re gonna feel different, people are gonna project their problems onto you, and you’re gonna feel awkward in your skin for a while. Unfortunately, there really isn’t a way around it.”

“I wish there was,” She whispered.

“I know, bug.” Eddie pulled her in for a hug, gently rubbing her back. His cheek rested atop her head and the two swayed back and forth.

“I’m glad you’re my dad…”

“And I’m glad you’re mine, bug. I wouldn’t want anyone else. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Eddie smiled contently, still holding his daughter close. “Y’know, I never wanted kids, and was super nervous when I got pregnant, but as soon as I saw you, I was in love. Now, I can’t picture a day away from you.”

“Good thing you’ve never been without me, then,” she giggled.

“Huh? Sweetie, I was gone for like three months when I went out on tour.”

“Oh, yeah… I totally forgot about that.”

“I haven’t gone back on the road because I couldn’t, and still can’t, stand being away from you. You are far more important than some money or some extra gigs.”

“I love you, papa.”

“I love you more, bug. Don’t be afraid to come to us with anything, okay? We’ll always do everything we can to help you. And if there’s nothing we can do, we’ll find someone to help.”

“I know, papa.”

“Alright…” They both pulled out of the hug—Eddie rubbed her arm in reassurance. “So, have you finished your homework?”

[saleintothe90s]

482. Seventeen Magazine, March 1996

(see also: 1994, 1995)

Two things that are sightly upsetting: 1. I barely remember looking through this issue when I was 12. 2. I had to pay $30 for this issue off eBay.

Unfortunately, the Tendrecils line from Lancome is discontinued. Doesn't stop me from misreading it as "tendrils" though.

Does Kate know what magazine she's reading. This was Seventeen in 1995/1996, not 'Teen. 'Teen was the girly magazine back then. I don't know about Y/M, never read that one.

Those Hush Puppies the girl in blue is wearing.

South Coast Today [archive]

A similar green pair with laces seemed to be everywhere in my magazines for a brief time in 1996. I never saw anybody wearing 'em though. Never saw them at Kinney. I don't see 'em on eBay either, Joel sold 6,000 pairs at his store in 1995, wherearethey. 1

'Y'all know Cover Girl still makes this?!

Remember this beautiful "great" packaging Maybelline had. If I had money to throw around to collect old makeup, this would definitely be in the collection.

The fuzzy trim dress was a classic prom dress (or, at least the teen magazines made it seem that way) for the mid to late 90s.

Anna's dress is #1. I love the short sequin Hawaiian print dress. That is 1996.

There's those black and white dresses again! The Chanteuse girls will kick all of our butts.

I saw a lot more of these pastel dresses in my 1997 issues, which sadly yes, I'm trying to find on eBay right now. No luck.

If I was allowed to have makeup back then, you better believe I would have worn this look at school the next day.

I honestly had no clue that self tanner was a thing yet, or maybe just a thing that was sold at like, Saks in the glass case.

Slick straight hair. That was the thing. I had hair down to my waist back then so suffice to say I was not sporting this look

I used to get my Sanrio stuff from the My Doll and Toy Shoppe in downtown Hampton, Virginia. If you said the name of the store quick, it almost sounded like "MIDOL toy shop".

Every time I would see this ad for Kaepa shoes, naive 12 year old me thought "oh my god is that girl going to burn her school down?"

I had that lava lamp keychain and the 8 ball! I used to get them from either Claire's or Spencers. I had a Cracker Jack keychain too around this time that will just randomly show up in my dreams.

Did people really have scanners to scan in their handwriting back then? I imagine they were a small fortune back then. I tried doing some research on this software, but nothing came up.

Mickey was still stuck in 1995.

Oh, these were SO GOOD in the waining days of the low fat craze.

I remember when the Backstreet Boys got real big when I was in high school, I thought back to the ad and wondered "wait, haven't they been around for a while?" In 1996, they didn't even have an album in the U.S. yet.

"our internet address is.."

Some of these look more like pageant dresses.

I adore all the short dresses in this issue.

Is this a freshman dance? They look like freshmen.

Sharon Stone is a not-g0ing-to-prom icon.

Man, what happened to Finesse? It's like once 2000 hit, it became bottom shelf stuff.

There's always one dress that makes me sad in the prom issues, and I think it's this one. It looks so ... mature.

School Zone time, real pics of real kids from a school in Las Vegas:

The shiny, silky shirts!

These are the only two things I remember from this issue when I was 12: MaryBeth's amazing outfit--I wanted it so bad--and Jennaia's cat shirt.

A baby Tobey Maguire.

Baby Eliza Dushku. Did anybody else other than me think it was totally the norm for a guy to want to wear a bright tuxedo like this to prom?

I wish my scanner app on my phone got a better picture of this amazing Betsey Johnson dress Kathleen Robertson is wearing.

ok, a lot going on here on page 230.

-When I was attending Mary Baldwin College, there was this really cheezy store downtown that sold mostly cutesy poo gag gifts. Very cringe store. I'm sure if that store existed in 1996, they would have sold PMS Crunch.

-We're still in the waining days of the low fat craze here, so here are some "healthy" chips. Garden of Eatin' is still around! I think Guiltless Gourmet went out of business?

-I want to see photos and or footage of the Creamette Pasta Party at Tavern on the Green. All I I found was a blip on the New York Times:

On Saturday, about 17,000 carbo-loaders at the annual pre-marathon pasta party at Tavern on the Green will dig into five dishes created by New Yorkers, one from each borough. The dishes were the winners in a contest sponsored by Creamette pasta. The judges included as many weathermen (Storm Field and Mr. G) and sportswriters (David Kaplan of The Daily News) as food experts (Patrick Clark, Bob Lape and Robin Leach).

The meals, which will be served from 4:30 to 8:30 P.M., are free to runners in the New York City Marathon, which will be held on Sunday. The dishes are: baked ziti and vegetables by Martha Katzeff of the Bronx, rigatoni with beef and cheese by Mike Boyd of Brooklyn, spinach-rotini toss by Barbara Shields of Staten Island, creamy macaroni and basil salad by Karin Mackin of Queens and sweet nutmeg kugel by Diane Girer of Manhattan. All the recipes are by runners. 2

Remember when these Y-Necklaces were popular for about a minute?

1.Parnes, Francine . “Old Dog Trots Out in Trendy Places.” New Bedford Standard-Times, December 25, 1995. https://www.southcoasttoday.com/story/news/1995/12/26/old-dog-trots-out-in/50652285007/. 2.Fabricant, Florence. “Food Notes.” The New York Times, November 8, 1995, sec. Home & Garden. https://www.nytimes.com/1995/11/08/garden/food-notes-021709.html.

[awooga-llama]

Oneshot

Theme/When you tell him you’re pregnant (part 1)

Triggers/Mentions of vomit, fainting, use of real names (Clay, Nick, etc.), fluff(?), and insecurity.

Featuring/Dream

More members of the DSMP coming later (writing for George, Wilbur, Jack, Sapnap, 5upp and Fundy) I know 5upp isn’t a part of the SMP but I love this boy so… AFAB! Reader (might do a similar thing but for males later)

You sat in the bathroom, the stick in your hands showing two pink lines. It had been at least a week since the last time you and Clay messed around, you two had taken the safety measures or at least you thought you guys did. Turns out the condom broke and the pill you actually took was your allergy pill that had gotten mixed in with your birth control sometime when you were unpacking from your trip that happened two weeks before. You had gone to see your family then. When you arrived home Clay was waiting and things got heated. 

You knew immediately when getting out of bed this morning that something wasn’t right and then you went and got sick in the bathroom, not waking up your usually light sleeper of a boyfriend. You were scared of what he’d think and now wasn’t exactly the right time to tell him anyways, he was recording the last manhunt video with the boys. You could hear Clay’s laughter bouncing off the walls but instead of smiling like you wanted to, you began crying because that's what your hormones decided was the right thing to do. After puking some more, you eventually passed out from exhaustion on the tile floor of your shared bathroom, pregnancy test in hand still.

Hours passed and Clay finally finished up recording, feeling the urge to relieve himself. He walked into the bathroom and found you laying on the floor, he was instantly worried. He picked you up and carried you to your guy's bed, quickly rushing to get you some water. He didn't realise you dropped the test by the toilet.  Clay was used to you fainting because it would happen a lot on the first day of your period so that’s why you didn’t go to the hospital. Once he had the water on the bedside table, a cooling pad placed on your lower abdomen, and some Midol next to the water he went back to the bathroom. 

Clay was zipping up when his giant foot bumped the test, sliding it into an open space. He bent over and picked it up, taking him a full five minutes to realise what it was. If it weren’t for you sleeping in the room next door he would’ve screamed, not in panic or rage, but in pure joy. He wanted to pick you up and twirl you around till your heads got real dizzy, he wanted to run downstairs out of the house and shout from the top of his lungs “I GONNA BE A DAD” while you yelled at him to get out of the road. But he couldn’t do any of those things, he wanted you to be the one to tell him so instead, he washed his hands, stuck the test in his pocket, walked to the living room plopping down on the sofa and called Nick. Clay invited him over for dinner, not telling Nick the news yet, hoping you and him could do it together. During the waiting time, he talked everything out with Patches, baby names, nursery ideas, clothing style, and what the kid would possibly look like hoping it would get your good looks and his epic gaming skills, maybe he could teach them to become a better speedrunner than himself.

You awoke in bed with a mild headache but nothing more. You glanced down to see a cooling pad on your abdomen. Your brain immediately told you that Clay did this and that brought a smile to your face. No noises were heard that indicated Clay was still streaming and he wasn't in bed next to you meaning he was either out finally doing the grocery shopping for once, in his streaming room editing, or downstairs rewatching his favourite episodes from the office. Just laying in bed wasn't going to answer your question meaning you would have to get up. The silence was calming but you didn't want to be alone now because you'd just remember you were carrying a child and they're probably super cold due to the cold pack that so previously occupied your abdomen.

Slipping on your favourite hoodie and a pair of slippers you began your journey down the stairs, Gods were you always this slow when moving or was this a new thing? As you neared the bottom you could hear Clay talking to what sounded like Nick. You hid behind a nearby wall to spy on them.

Clay had an apron tied around his waist, hair was messy, there was red sauce all over his face mixed with sweat. It would've been hot if it was anything else but pasta sauce really? 

"Stop touching stuff Nick! You're going to ruin it, do you see what you've done already?" He motioned one hand to his face and then to the can of pasta sauce by the microwave. 

"Sorry Clay, cooking is normally easier. Nobody told me metal can't go in the microwave." Nick sat behind the island reaching for the garlic and a knife. I intervened and grabbed the knife before anyone could lose some fingers. 

"No way mister." I laughed and made my way around the counter to slice up the herb myself. When finished, Clay scooped up the diced pieces and put them in the sauce that was on the stove, stirred it a few seconds then carried it to the table setting the hot pans in the centre. We served ourselves, Clay had a couple scoops and so did Nick, I also put a couple scoops, but they were heaping scoops that filled my plate. We ate slowly and the boys talked and told jokes. When I thought they weren't looking I stuffed food into my mouth quickly, barely chewing any of it before swallowing. Nick must've noticed because he said this next.

"Jesus (Y/N) what are you doing eating for two?" I felt tears prick in the corners of my (Y/E/C) orbs, swallowing the bite I had, breathed calmly and replied.

"Now that you mention, yeah, yeah I am eating for two. Now if you'll excuse me I'll be eating in my office where I don't get judged." I didn't mean to get snappy but my mouth had no filter. Before I could go anywhere Clay wrapped his arms around my waist making me sit on his lap almost spilling my plate. 

"Well, since now he knows, can we discuss baby plans? Patches was a great listener earlier but not very helpful when it came to choosing things." We all smiled and laughed, enjoying the rest of our evening.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda X Reader - 10 Things I hate about you - Part One

Summary:  Pietro Maximoff is handsome and popular, but he can't date before his twin sister. The problem is that no one can get close to his sister, Wanda Maximoff. To resolve the situation, a girl interested in Pietro bribes a colleague with a mysterious past to go out with Wanda and, who knows, try to win her over. Or The one directly inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You.

Words:  6.553K  /// Read on AO3 too || Part Two

Warnings: PG, fluff, language; goth wanda is back thank god.

Notes: If English is your native language and I used slang that doesn't make sense at all, forgive me. It is really hard to translate many dialects from Portuguese to English. Anyways enjoy your reading!

You rode your skateboard to school today. Your mother was angry with you and took the keys to your motorcycle while yelling that you were difficult to raise, so you grabbed your backpack and skateboard while slamming the door on your way out.

It didn't take long to get to school, though. 

You absolutely hate this place. Sometimes you get the impression that you are surrounded by completely mental people.

You walked across the parking lot and got off your skateboard, quickly waving to your friend Carol Danvers, who was smoking leaning against the wall of the school building. You would have to talk to them later, as you had a meeting scheduled with the school principal.

Shrugging off the students as you entered the building, you ignored the stares you received and headed toward Ms. Harkness' office.

You entered without knocking because the door was already open, since she was talking to another student, and when the stranger got up she almost tripped over you on her way out. The principal raised her eyes from her notebook to you, and smiled wryly.

- Well, well, Miss Y/L/N. - she said. - I see these encounters of ours are becoming recurrent.

- I like to be around beautiful women, Miss Harkness. - You stated with a charming smile and crossed arms. The woman laughed lightly as she returned her gaze to her notebook.

- Let me see what happened here. - She mumbled to herself, probably trying to find the notes. - Wow, top nudity exhibit in the cafeteria.

You scratched your head impatiently. 

- They were melons, Miss Harkness. - You clarified. - I was making a little joke.

Harkness let out a wry chuckle as she stood up.

- How about you keep them under your blouse, huh? - She scoffed, pointing slightly at the height of your breasts and giving you a wink. You frowned. - Out!

You startled slightly, and Mrs. Harkness giggled, returning to her seat.

You blinked in confusion and turned away, mumbling wryly that she was an excellent professional before you left.

//-//

Carol was waiting for you outside the room, a few feet ahead in the hallway against her own lockers, and you greet her with a kiss on the cheek quickly.

- How did it go today? Did she say anything interesting? - Carol asked with humor in her voice. You leaned your back against the closet, letting out a chuckle.

- No way. - You replied. - She just told me to keep my breasts under my blouse.

Carol laughs lightly, while you check your cell phone. And then she touches your arm lightly. When you raise your eyes to her, she signals the corridor.

- New faces. - She nods, and you notice that it's the same girl who bumped into you in the Harkness room. Now she is accompanied by Bruce Banner, who was clearly showing her around.

- Wow, people keep choosing to come to this place. - You mock, making your friend laugh a little.Carol then checks the clock on her wrist and signals that she needs to get to her history class.  You say goodbye to her, but get distracted by your cell phone again, and then the bell rings, and you have to run to get to the literature room on the other side of the building.

//-//

You stumble into the room, and all the students turn to look at you.

- What have I missed? - you ask, trying to normalize your breathing after running through the halls.

- The oppressive patriarchal values that determine our education. - replied a girl you didn't know.

- Nice. - You grumble with a slight laugh, as you hurry to sit in the back of the room.

- You must love detention, don't you, Miss Y/L/N? This is your third delay this week. - commented the teacher as soon as you sat down. Several giggles were heard, but you didn't pay much attention. You threw your bag on the chair and tried to pretend that you were interested in whatever Professor Fury was teaching.

- Professor Fury, any chance you could ask Wanda to take her Midol before coming to class? - scoffed Pepper Potts, one of the most popular and insufferable girls at this school. You rolled your eyes at the teasing, and leaned back as the rest of the class giggled.

- One of these days Mrs. Maximoff is going to punch you in the nose, and I'm not going to do anything to stop her. - Fury replied seriously, wiping the ironic smile off Potts' face. - And Wanda, I want to thank you for your point of view. I know how hard it must have been to overcome all those years of upper middle-class suburban oppression. It must be hard. - He sneered and then started walking toward the girl who was probably Wanda. - But the next time you protest about demanding better food, or whatever it is that white kids protest about, ask them why they don't buy books written by black people!

You let out a little laugh, and Professor Fury looked at you seriously.

- Do you find something funny, Miss? 

You shrugged, straightening your posture.

- Sorry to interrupt your speech, Mr. Fury. - You say. - But you're blaming Wanda for something she has no control over. Wouldn't it be better to suggest books written by black women, instead of separating the fights?

Professor Fury blinks in irritation at you, while Wanda looks in your direction, looking surprised.

- Out. Principal office. - says the professor, and you blink in surprise. - Both of you, by the way! You pissed me off!

You grumble, and grab your backpack and leave the room, with Wanda following behind. But you don't speak to her, and when you leave the room, you go to opposite sides of the hallway, since you had no intention of seeing the principal at all.

//-//

You ended up skipping the last two classes of the day while sneaking a smoke with Carol behind the bleachers of the soccer field. 

And then you accepted the ride home that she offered you.

- See you tomorrow, troublemaker. - She said good-bye, and you just nodded as you walked toward the front door.

Your mother was at home, sitting at her computer in the living room, and you thought maybe you could sneak past her, but as soon as you closed the door she turned around with her arms crossed.

- The school called. - She said as she stood up, and you let out an impatient sigh as you threw your backpack on the floor by the door. - Are you trying to get suspended?

- Oh yeah, that's my dream. - You scoff, walking toward the kitchen.

- You're going to be grounded.

- I'm already grounded. - You retort softly, and your mother walks over to the counter. 

- You think I'm kidding? - She exclaims angrily, and then she's heading down the hall, and you're curious what she's going to do, so you follow her through the house to the garage. You look impassive as she glances around, but then she grabs a hammer and screwdriver from the cabinet and heads for her motorcycle. Your whole body tenses up, but before you can do anything, your mother is breaking your bike.

- You've gone crazy! - You shout as you run toward her, but she turns threateningly toward you with the objects pointed in your direction

- No more fighting! - she shouts. - You're not going anywhere on this damn motorcycle, do you hear me? You are grounded until college.

And then she throws the tools on the floor, and leaves the garage. You take a deep breath, trying not to break everything in front of you, and turn to your motorcycle. Some parts were broken, but you could fix them. The problem would be having the money to do it.

//-//

Tuesday started with biology. And you were really pissed off about the whole thing with your mom and your motorcycle. The professor asked the groups to dissect frogs, and the damn scalpel he handed out wasn't cutting anything. So you grabbed your knife hidden in your boot, and angrily pierced the animal. 

- You've lost your mind, put that away! - ordered Carol sitting next to you as she looked around to see if the teacher had seen. You let out an angry sigh and put the item away.

You were bored, and you smoked when you were bored. So you turned the valve on the experimental flame on the bench while putting a cigarette in your mouth, and walked over to light it.

- Girl, what's the matter with you today? - Carol asked impatiently, closing the valve and taking the cigarette out of your mouth.

You mumbled without answering, and she let out a dry laugh before going back to writing. Your gaze wandered around the room and you thought that the new girl and Bruce Banner were looking at you from the table in front of you, but they looked away quickly, so you got distracted again.

//-//

The next class was better because it kept your hands busy. Mechanics with Professor Howard Stark was interesting as he allowed the students to experiment as much as they wanted. 

At this moment you were welding a car part while trying not to burn your fingers when you heard a female voice next to you.

- Hi, how are you? - the girl said, and as you turned you realized that it was the new student. You frowned confused, you don't talk to anyone. You thought you should have an aggressive posture, because the girl's voice trembled a little, and then she quickly said good-bye and left the room. You shook your head and went back to concentrating on the lesson.

- What the hell was that all about? - Carol asked from beside you, and you shrugged.

- I told you there are only crazy people in this school. - You remarked with amusement.

- But we go here. - She retorted with a smile.

- Exactly.

Carol laughed and turned her attention back to her own activity.

//-//

In Gym class, the teacher took all the students to the outdoor field, where the rugby team was practicing. He was more concerned about the girls' performance, so he let the rest of the class do as they pleased. Then you and Carol sat down on one of the benches, while you shared a cigarette.

And you had about ten minutes of peace before Pepper Potts and one of her friends came to talk to you.

- Hey, what's up? - asked the blonde, and you looked at her with irony.

- Are you lost? - You replied aggressively, but she didn't seem intimidated.

- See that girl over there? - She said, pointing quickly toward the field. You followed her direction, and it was the same girl from literature class. - That's Wanda Maximoff. I want you to go out with her.

You laughed, shaking your head, and then took a drag on your cigarette.

- As if, preppy. - You denied it as you exchanged a look with Carol, who was grinning in disbelief.

But Pepper was not joking.

- Look, I can't go out with her hot brother until she dates. - She clarifies. - Their father is kind of crazy, he made a rule...

- Touching. Really. I'm moved. - You mock without patience. - But that's not my problem.

- Would it be your problem if you were paid a nice fee?

You let out a dry laugh, looking at her in surprise.

- Are you going to pay me to go out with someone? - you ask, and Potts has a smile on her face as she nods in agreement. You laugh again. - How much?

- Twenty dollars.

You raise your eyebrows, really considering this for a second. And then you look toward the field, and watch as Wanda fouls a girl to the ground, and you swallow dryly. This girl was going to eat you alive.

- Okay, how about 30 bucks? - Potts next suggests when she sees the foul. 

You thought about the parts of your motorcycle that you would have to buy. And you licked your lips before you spoke.

- Let's take a good look at this. - You start. - If I take her to the movies, it will be fifteen dollars. And if we buy popcorn, it's fifty dollars. I like to buy candy for the girls, so it would be about seventy-five.

- This is not a negotiation. - Potts retorts angrily. - Take it or leave it, mutt.

You let out a humorless laugh. 

- But I think it is, Potts. - You retort, smoking your cigarette again. - Or I'll go over there now and tell Wanda your whole touching little tale.

Potts blinks in irritation, and lets out a wry laugh. But then she relaxes her posture.

- Eighty dollars. - she says. You smile, throwing the cigarette on the floor and putting it out with your foot. 

- Deal, Hollywood. - You tell her, and raise your hand in her direction. Potts rolls her eyes, but takes the money from her pocket and hands it to you.

She and her friend then leave, and you settle into your seat.

- You're crazy. - Carol declares afterwards.

- Yes, I know. - You say, brushing your hair out of your eyes with your hands. - But I need new parts. It'll be harmless, it's just a date.

- I hope you're right. - She comments with a laugh, turning her attention back to the field. And then practice ends, and you exchange a look with Carol before getting up and walking toward the players' benches.

You assume your most charming pose as you approach Wanda.

- Hey, pretty girl. - You greet her with a smile as she drinks water from a bottle. She frowns in surprise, and has a wry smile on her face. - What's up?

- I'm sweating like a pig, how are you? - She answers wryly, and you smile awkwardly.

- Wow, that sounds attractive. - You reply in the same tone, watching her put the bottle of water in her backpack on the bench.

- Oh, yes. My goal in life is to look attractive all the time. - She scoffs, frowning. - But I guess it works, since I got your attention. The world makes sense again.

She starts walking toward the exit of the camp, and you are a bit taken aback by the irony, but hurry to keep up with her.

- I'll pick you up on Friday, then. - You tell her, and Wanda lets out a laugh.

- Sure, Friday. - She wryly continues walking.

- Hey, it's the night I take you to places you've never seen.

- To a convenience store on Broadway? - She replies with irony. - Girl, do you even know my name?

You laugh.

- Wanda. - You answer, but she doesn't seem impressed. - And I know more than you know.

- I doubt it. I doubt it very much. - She said ironically and you stopped following her, biting your lip as you watched her walk off the field.

//-//

Your first attempt to get a date with Wanda had not gone well at all, but you are optimistic. And then, on Saturday of that same week, while you and Carol were at the laundromat on the corner of your houses, she nodded slightly outside through the window.

- Isn't that the car of the girl you're being paid to date? - She mocked, and you sighed.

- Don't talk like that. - you said as you put the coins in the washing machine. - It makes me sound like a psychopath.

She laughed without looking at you, kneeling on the waiting couch as she looked out the window.

- I think I should look for a new rejection. - You grumble, handing Carol some coins. - Take care of my clothes while I go talk to her, please.

Carol nods in agreement as you leave the establishment. Crossing the street, you look in the direction of Wanda's car. It is nice, and you are watching the tires as she arrives.

- Are you following me? - She asks with a mixture of aggressiveness and surprise. 

- What? Of course not! - You deny it, but with the suspicious look on her face, you try to add. - I was in the laundry room, smarty-pants. I saw your car, and wanted to say hello.

She lets out a sigh, and shrugs her shoulders, heading for the door. You hurry to stand in front of her, a charming smile on your lips.

- I notice that you don't talk much. - You remark, and Wanda frowns, crossing her arms.

- It depends on the subject. - She says. - Talking about the tires on my car doesn't cause me a verbal frenzy.

- You're not afraid of me, are you? - you ask, and she looks at you incredulously.

- Why would I be afraid of you?

- Most people are. - You retort, and Wanda rolls her eyes with irony.

- Well, I don't.

You smile and move a little closer.

- Not afraid, but I bet you've imagined me naked, haven't you? - You tease and give a little wink. Wanda keeps her face almost angry.

- Wow, is it that obvious? - She retorts. - I want you so bad, baby.

She mocks last before bending down slightly and opening the car door, pushing you with the metal.

You let out an impatient sigh as you step back, and she gets into the car and prepares to leave. You stand with your arms folded trying to think how exactly you are going to make this work.

And then Pepper Potts parks her car right behind Wanda's, preventing her from leaving, while the blonde steps out of the vehicle with a smiling, arrogant posture.

- My God, is it idiots' day today? - Wanda complains from inside the car. When Pepper passes by her window, she shouts: - Do you mind girl?

- Not even a little, bitch. - Potts retorts without looking at her as she walks away. 

But then Wanda is backing the car up, and the next moment Pepper's red Cadillac has a big bump mark on the side. You laugh in surprise, not believing that she had actually hit the car.

- My God, you are completely crazy! - Potts shouts as she observes the impact. 

- Oops. - You hear Wanda scoff.

You laughed again, before going back to the laundry room. 

//-//

It was Monday again, and you were trying to have a quiet day. But while you were putting your books away in your locker, Potts approached you.

- When I pay for something, I expect results. - She says, and you close the closet to brace yourself against it.

- I'm trying.

- Watching that lunatic destroy my car doesn't count as a date. - She retorts with mild irritation. - If you don't go out with her, I won't get Pietro. Then get something soon, okay?

That girl's audacity pissed you off. 

- I just raised the price. - You tell her, and she looks at you in disbelief.

- Excuse me?

- One hundred and fifty dollars a date. - You say. - In advance.

- Forget it. - She said angrily, turning away.

- Then forget about her brother.

Potts lets out a grumble and then turns to you again, hurrying to get the money.

- Does this kid have a gold dick by any chance? - You scoff, and Potts gives you the middle finger, making you laugh.

- You better get the date, sister. - She says, and you just smile before heading off in the direction of the mechanics' classroom.

//-//

You were trying to find the correct melting point for one of the tools when you were approached by the same girl as the last time you had mechanics. 

- I know what you are trying to do with Wanda Maximoff. - She announces, and you let out a wry chuckle as you continue your attention to the tools in front of you.

- Really? And what are you going to do about it?

- Help you.

You blink in surprise as you raise a large metal bar at your eye level to identify its features.

- Why? - you ask, and it is not the girl who speaks next.

- The situation is that my friend Monica, is in love with Pietro Maximoff. - A male voice speaks, and then you look quickly to identify Bruce Banner.

- God, this kid must really have a gold cock. - You mumble with irony as you place the iron bar on the table, and take off your protective gloves.

- Believe me when I tell you that Monica's love is pure, she wants to date him. - Banner explains as you walk to another table in the room, looking for your notes. - Unlike Pepper Potts, who only wants to use him as a trophy.

- Look, I'm only in this for the money. I don't give a shit who Potts is fucking. - You respond without patience, and Monica seems to get irritated with you, but Banner calms her down.

You make some notes regarding the lesson and walk over to the table to analyze the pictures of the tools as you organize them. Monica and Banner follow you.

- Listen, Y/N, we are the ones who planned this story so that Monica and Pietro could date. - Banner says. - Potts is just the go-between.

You laugh with surprise.

- And you are going to help me win Wanda over?

- That's right. - They both say in unison. You turn your attention back to the materials in front of you.

- We will investigate what she likes. - Banner says. - You need our help.

Bruce smiled amiably, and you laughed at the posture he assumed.

- Look, we'll start here. - He began by pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. - On Friday, Stephen Strange is having a party. It's the perfect opportunity.

- Perfect for what? - you ask, looking at him.

- For you to invite Wanda. - He clarifies, and you sigh impatiently, already tired of this conversation.

- I'll think about it. - You say finally and walk to the other side of the room, and this time, they don't follow you.

//-//

It was Wednesday, and you and your friends went to a bar to play a bit of pool shortly after school. Your mother had no idea you were here, but she was working, so she wouldn't know.

You got a text message from Bruce, wanting to meet you along with Monica, and you laughed when you sent the location. They really weren't the kind of people who hang around this place.

You were upstairs, drinking some beer when you saw them come in, and nodding slightly to Carol, you went downstairs and walked over to them.

- So, what do you have for me? - you asked, leaning against a wall.

- Before we get started, I have a question. - says Bruce. - Is it true that you are on probation?

You laugh in surprise.

- What?

- Bruce, shut up. - said Monica, tapping her colleague on the shoulder. And then she turned to you. - First thing, Wanda hates smokers.

- Okay, I hate them too.

You mock, but Monica and Bruce look serious, so you sigh, and take out of your pocket your cigarette case, handing it to the girl.

- There is another problem, Pietro told me that Wanda likes pretty girls. 

They look at you for a moment and you frown.

- Are you saying that I'm not pretty? - you ask, straightening your posture.

- You are beautiful! Monica, she's so beautiful, what are you saying? - hurried Bruce almost in terror. You wanted to laugh.

Monica nods quickly in agreement, and you lean back against the wall.

- Look, I made a list. - She hastens to say, pulling a piece of paper from her shirt pocket. - Wanda's tastes are: Sokovian food, feminist poetry, punk and alternative music. And there is a list of the CDs she had in her room.

She says, handing the paper to you. You let out a sigh.

- So should I buy some soup, a book, and ear plugs for some really noisy concert?

They both shrug, smiling slightly.

- Have you ever been to the Skrull Club, west side of town? - Banner asks.

You chuckle.

- It's a nice place, but not really my style.

- Well, it will have to be. - says Monica. - Her favorite group is playing there tomorrow night.

You run your fingers through your hair, sighing.

- Come on, Y/N, it's only for one night. - says Banner. - We're sure she'll be there, Mon found the tickets.

- She also has a black lingerie set. - Added Monica and you frown with confusion.

- Why is this relevant? - You asked, and Monica looked away, looking embarrassed. You laughed lightly, but didn't push it. Then you looked at both of them. - Okay, I'll drop by.

Bruce and Monica both let out excited exclamations and then waved goodbye. You laughed and shook your head, wondering what you had gotten yourself into.

//-//

The Skrull Club was generally frequented by the punk crowd in town, many women from extremist feminist movements hung out here. But in general it was a pretty diverse crowd of rockers, punks, goths and allies. And the drink was cheap.

You received a few curious glances as you walked through the dimly lit corridors of the nightclub, but it was more because these clubs were generally frequented by the same people, and you’re a familiar face.

The place was very crowded, and you had to dodge a lot of people until you reached the main dance floor, trying to find Wanda.

You smiled when you finally saw her, in the first row, dancing with a girl who was also from your school. You thought she looked pretty, in her black dress and red jacket, plus a knee-length black stocking and dark boots on her feet. She might have looked intimidating, but she was still very pretty.

You don't quite understand why your heart races at the image of her dancing and smiling, so you think it best to get a drink, and turn toward the bar.

You sit there, trying to decide how you are going to approach her, but then Wanda is coming toward the bar, and you disguise yourself by looking the other way.

- You don't give up, do you? - She says as soon as she sees you. And walks over to where you are sitting. - If you're planning on asking me out, you can just give up!

- Do you mind? I'm trying to hear the music. - You hit back without looking at her.

-You're not surrounded by your typical cloud of smoke. -She comments after a moment, and you take a sip of the drink you ordered before answering.

- Yes, I quit. They say it's bad for your health. - You say it with a slight irony.

- Do you think so? - Wanda looks slightly surprised, and you give her a short smile before standing up.

- These guys aren't the Kree's, but they play well. - You comment on her favorite band before heading off toward the dance floor. Wanda hurries to follow you.

- Do you know who the Kree's are? - she asks in surprise.

- Why, you don't know? - You reply with irony.

She doesn't answer, looking mildly impressed. You smile briefly.

- I was watching you dance. - You comment as the band is finishing the song. - I don't think I've ever seen you so sexy.

And then the song ends exactly with your line, and the whole club hears you. Several people giggle, and you feel your cheeks heat up, but Wanda laughs too, and that relaxes you.

- Come to Stephen Strange's party with me. - You ask her. And she tilts her head slightly to the side, still smiling.

- You never give up, do you?

And then another song starts, and Wanda is coming back to the front of the stage.

- Is that a yes? - you shout at her.

- No!

- Was that a no?

It takes a second, but she shouts back.

- No!

You grin.

- See you at 9:30! - You shout to her before she disappears into the crowd. 

You're smiling all the way home.

//-//

You were early. But you were so anxious about it that you left the house as quickly as possible. 

And then you arrived at Wanda's door, but as soon as you went to knock, she opened it.

- What are you doing here? - she asked in surprise.

- 9:30. - You answer. - Yeah, well, I'm early.

- Whatever, I'm driving. - She says and then you look into the house and see Pietro Maximoff with a kangaroo baby carrier outfit occupied with a doll and frown.

- May I ask what that is? - You remark, and Wanda just rolls her eyes at the scene, then turns to you.

- My father is a little neurotic about this whole pregnancy thing. - She answers and walks outside. You both wait for Pietro.

- At least he doesn't use a real baby. - You joke and Wanda smiles. But then Pietro leaves the house, looking slightly annoyed, and you hurry to Wanda's car.

It doesn't take long to get to the party.

The place was packed. Probably the whole school was here. And as soon as Wanda found a parking place, Pietro got out and disappeared into the crowd.

You decided to accompany Wanda as she entered the house. You went toward the second floor, and you lost sight of Wanda when a girl jumped on you, completely drunk and trying to kiss you.

- Wow, slow down there. - You said, helping her sit up. You found several empty and sealed bottles of water in one of the liquor containers around the house and handed one to her. - I want you to drink it all, okay?

The girl whimpered in confusion, but you waited. She seemed better, but you handed her another bottle just to be sure.

- Hey Peggy, I found you! - said a skinny boy you didn't know, walking up to you. He frowned, slightly startled, when he noticed you.

- Are you a friend of hers? - You asked him with distrust, and he nodded, looking mildly frightened.

- Yes, he is. This is Steve. - mumbled the girl sitting up, looking like she had a headache. - Thanks for the water, by the way.

- No problem. - You say. - Are you feeling well enough to be alone?

She nods slightly as she speaks:

- Yes, yes. Steve will take care of me now. Thanks again.

And then you patted Steve on the arm, and left the two of them, walking back through the crowd.

It took you many minutes to find Wanda again, because the party is so crowded. And when you reached her, she was pouring a glass of drink into her mouth.

- Hey, I've been looking all over for you. - You announce mildly annoyed. - What the hell are you doing?

- Getting drunk! - she answers ironically. - Isn't that what people are supposed to do at a party?

- I don't know, you do whatever you want to do. - You retort, and Wanda raises her eyebrows.

- Very funny. You're the only one who says that. - She says as she turns away. - See you later.

Wanda leaves walking through the party, and you see her grab another drink glass on the way.

You think you heard someone yell fight while you were walking through the party, and then the crowd moved, but you didn't go toward the people. 

You are very angry, and impatient, wanting to be spending this evening with Wanda, but she doesn't seem interested. 

And then you were walking back the way you came, and you ran into the same couple as before, only now they were kissing. You laughed lightly, the boy looked shy. You decided to stay out of their way, and went downstairs, only to run into Wanda again.

- Hey, why don't you let me have this one. - You spoke up as you noticed what must have been one of the many glasses of booze she had taken, and you raised your arm to pick it up, but Wanda was quicker, moving the glass away.

- No! This one is mine! - she grumbled, clearly drunk, trying to push you away. But you managed to take her glass, and she let out an annoyed sigh.

As you put the glass on a small table, she walked away again, and before you could follow, Pepper was at your side.

- Girl, how did you manage to do that? - she asked, looking excited. You frowned.

- What are you talking about?

- You made a freak act like a human being. - She commented with irony, but you weren't even paying attention anymore. Your gaze raced across the room after Wanda, and then someone turned on the radio in the next room and the crowd screamed attracting your attention.

You exclaimed in surprise when you noticed Wanda dancing on a table, without the jacket she was wearing earlier. Pepper ran in the same direction, joining in the shouts of celebration from the crowd around the table. 

Walking towards the table you were a mixture of irritation, disbelief and embarrassment. Wanda was completely drunk, dancing sensually to the music, while people whistled and watched intently. She had her eyes closed, not even seeming to notice her surroundings.

And then she made a badly calculated move, and hit her head on the chandelier on the table. You were quick enough to catch her when she fell.

- Okay, that was enough. - You grumbled, helping her to her feet. - Are you okay?

- I'm fine! - she replied, but she could barely walk. You kept her from falling while grabbing the jacket she had thrown to the ground.

- Yeah, you're not fine. - You said. - Let's get out of here.

- I just need to lie down. - She mumbled, letting you hold her around the waist as you led her through the crowd.

- If you lie down, you'll sleep. - You say. - You can't sleep after hitting your head.

Wanda giggled.

- So many words. - She complained, and you thought it best to sit her down somewhere.

You reached the outside, as crowded as the house, but you managed to find a space in the garden for her to sit, and helped her to the bench. Wanda put her hand on her head where she had hit it.

- Hey, I need to talk to you. - Called Monica, walking up to you suddenly.

- I'm kinda busy. - You retorted, looking at Wanda.

- Five minutes, it's important.

You sighed, and took one last look at Wanda before walking away with Monica.

- Look, the deal is off, okay? - she said, and you blinked in confusion. - Pietro never wanted to be with me. He just wanted to have sex with Pepper.

You really didn't have the energy for that right now.

- Monica, where did all this come from now, huh? Weren't you two sneaking around together?

- I thought I was having a good time, but I saw them both at the party. - She explained, and you sighed impatiently.

- Hey, you like this boy don't you? - you asked, and she looked away, nodding. - And he's worth all this stuff you're doing?

- I thought so but...

- Yes or no?  - She swallowed hard, and you assumed a serious posture. - Listen, Pepper Potts is not half as good as you, and you never let anyone make you think that you don't deserve something. Okay? 

Monica nodded, looking surprised. You turned your face toward Wanda quickly.

- Look, I have to go. - You said as you turned and helped Wanda to her feet.

On the way out you made sure to grab one of the bottles of water you found in the barrels.

You let her rest her arm on your shoulder to keep from falling, while your arm went around her waist. You dragged her across the street, and you ended up climbing a small hill in the mansion area that ended at a playground.

- Why are you doing this? - she grumbled.

- I said, you might have a concussion. - You retorted. Wanda broke free of you and started trying to walk ahead. You kept your attention to catch her in case she fell.

- You don't even care if I don't wake up.

You let out a chuckle, stopping her from falling next.

- That's not true.

- Why not?

- Because then I'd have to date girls who like me. - You respond with humor.

- If you could find one. - She retorts, and you have a smile on your lips when you answer.

- Oh, see. Who needs affection when I get hate?

- I just need to sit for a while. - She says, closing her eyes for a moment, and you help her sit down on one of the swings behind you. She falls off balance a second after you put her there, but you are quick to help her stay seated.

- Jesus. - You sigh as you stop her from falling, and then sit down on the swing beside her while Wanda laughs lightly. - So, why do you let yourself be affected?

- By whom? - she asks.

- Potts.

Wanda looks away, shaking her head.

- I hate her.

You let out a tired sigh.

- Well, you have chosen the perfect revenge. Intravenous tequila. - You joke, making her laugh.

- It's what they say.... - She begins to speak while you are looking away, and with the momentary silence you stare back, startled to find her asleep. You get up hastily, touching her face.

- Hey, Wanda! Wake up! Come on, open your eyes! - You called out, patting her face lightly. 

Wanda blinked, opening her eyes, and you let out a sigh of relief. And then you took your hands away from her face and stood up, while she continued to look at you.

- I like your eyes. - She says with a shy smile. And you smile too, but then she throws up on your shoes the next second and the moment is broken. You laugh incredulously, but pat her on the back.

- Time to go home, punk. - You comment softly.

It takes a moment for Wanda to calm down, and you hand her the bottle of water you got. Then you walk to her car, and she hands you the keys.

Just as you are about to arrive at her house many minutes after, she speaks again:

- I should do that. - She comments still sounding drunk. 

- Do what?

- That. - She says, pointing to the radio. A rock song was playing.

- Start a band?

- No, install radios in cars. - She retorted with irony, and you laughed lightly. - Starting a band of course. My dad would love it.

You then stop the car in front of her house. 

- You don't seem to be the type to ask your father's permission to do things. - You comment as you take out the keys.

Wanda blinks in surprise.

- So now you know me?

- I'm trying. 

- People only know that I scare them.

- Yeah, I know the feeling. - You comment with a wry smile. Wanda looks at you with an intensity that makes your stomach turn. - So, your father looks tough.

- No, he just wants me to be someone I'm not. - She says, shaking her head slightly.

- Who?

- Pietro. - She answers with a frown. You let out an understanding sigh.

- No offense, I know everyone likes your brother and all, but he's a pretty shallow guy. - You say and Wanda looks at you in surprise, but then she has a little smile on her face.

- You know... you're not as obnoxious as I thought. - She says, making you laugh slightly. And then she looks at you like that again, and brings your faces together, closing her eyes. You swallow dryly, ignoring your nervousness, and look at the steering wheel.

- I think we should do this another time. - You say, and Wanda looks at you in disbelief, as you twiddle your fingers nervously. She frowns and looks ahead, then opens the car door and gets out.

You sit there for several minutes, hoping that Wanda won't be even more irritated with you than she usually is.

[heartual]

now why does midol have caffeine in it

my heart going 🚨🚨🚨 for no reason what do u see girl

[xlovelyyoongix]

morning | myg

♥ summary: when mother nature comes at an unexpected time.

♥ pairing: yoongi x f. reader (newly established relationship)

♥ word count: 852 (drabble)

♥ warnings: mention of sex, blood, period pain, and sweet, adorable Yoongi taking care of his s/o during her time of the month. 

♥ a/n: a huge thanks to @excusemin​ for looking over this for me! I had this idea for a while now so I’m glad to finally be able to make it available to read. Enjoy! 

Sleeping beside you with his arms wrapped around your waist, cradling you into his chest, was the best sleep Yoongi had in years. He could undoubtedly attest it to the sweet scent of your hair, the plushy softness of your skin, and the passionate sex that happened the night before. If you, spending the night was all Yoongi needed to get tranquil rest, he'd ask you to move your things into his apartment in a heartbeat.

Yoongi's throat vibrates a yawn, pulling you tighter into his chest to rest his chin atop your head. "Are you awake yet?" He slips your hair over your shoulder, hoping to get a peek at your peaceful face, only to find your sleeping expression in torment. "Babe?" Your brows furrowed together, nose scrunched from agony, and lips curled into a twisted frown as if your body was enduring pain. "Hey, wake up." Yoongi lightly shakes at your shoulder, assuming your dismayed state could be nothing more than a bad dream.

Upon his movements, Yoongi's leg brushes across a wet spot on the mattress. Curious, he pulls away the comforters unveiling red stains on the bed and a pool of blood on the back of your shorts, making it clear to him what was happening. "Baby," He whispers soundly again, running his hand up and down the curve of your back, hoping that would help soothe your discomfort. "Are you okay?"

When Yoongi placed a comforting kiss on your shoulder, your lashes began to flutter open, observing your surroundings to uncover you had spent the night at your boyfriend's house for the first time last night. "Hm?" You hummed soundly, but only to be met with sharp cramps spiking throughout your uterus. "Ow..." You whimper, hands wrapping around your waist to comfort yourself.

"__, I think you're on your period."

Your eyes immediately shoot open at the grim words. Pulling yourself up on the mattress, you peer between your legs at the red pools of blood that stained Yoongi's white bed sheets. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach at the sight. "Oh my gosh, Yoongi-" You panic, turning to him with a frantic expression. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't think my period would come early. I-" If you could die from embarrassment right now, you absolutely would.

Yoongi produces an assuring smile, onyx eyes glowing with care and infatuation. "Please, don't worry,__. You're a woman, and things like this are natural." His husky morning voice soothing your anxieties.

Even still, you were embarrassed. The very first time you spent the night at your boyfriend's house, of course, you had to get your period and stain his perfectly white sheets. "B-but your bed-"

"The sheets can be washed." Yoongi interrupts your worrying. "What matters right now is getting you taken care of." He wastes no time pulling out his phone, opening up an app to scroll through the shopping list. "This is an express delivery service. I think they have everything you'll need."

Yoongi passes you the mobile, and you begin scrolling through the app and click on the feminine items section. "Oh, wow." You're amazed by the large variety of products they have that cater to women on their monthly cycle. You quickly select your preferred brand of pads and Midol for pain relief before handing Yoongi back his phone.

"Is this everything you need?" He questions before clicking the buy option. You nod, reaching over the bedside to obtain your purse, which caused Yoongi's brows to crinkle curiously. "What are you doing?"

You stop in your tracks, attempting to fathom what you've done wrong. "Ah... getting my wallet." You pull out the pink designed purse to obtain your debit card.

Yoongi chuckles at your innocent actions. "No need. I already paid." He could see the curve of your lip open in an attempt to protest, but before you can get the chance to speak, Yoongi beats you to it. "Please, just let me do this for you."

You were going to fight him on it. Surely, you were capable of purchasing your own feminine products. However, you knew it was a battle you would lose, and with the iron leaving your body, you didn't have the strength for a petty fight. "Okay. Thank you, Yoongi."

"You're welcome, __" Yoongi was happy you decided not to protest. It made him feel like a proud man, being able to take care of his woman during her time of need. Even though the two of you just started dating, it was his way of showing you, he was in it for the long run. "The delivery should be arriving soon. In the meantime, let's get you in a warm shower and some food in your stomach."

Even with the cramps spiking throughout your lower abdomen, your cheeks glow a blushing pink as your heart begins to skip a beat in your chest. You weren't used to anyone being this chivalrous towards you, especially while on your period. Even though the two of you just started dating, you prayed it would be a relationship that would last. "Lead the way, my love."

[starlight-writes-stuff]

hi again omg! im getting into the feral boys and i was hoping you could do some headcanons for them with a reader that has their period (but could you make it gender neutral if possible?) - ⚙️ anon

⚙️ anon ! hi ! i can absolutely do this , im sorry it took a long time . i genuinely ended up LOVING these , and i hope you do too ! 

AYO LOOK AT THESE : reader who gets a period , mentions of cramps , usage of tylenol / painkillers of that sort , very very very fluffy feral boys content . i luv them .

reblogs are always appreciated ! <3

dream : 

would be incredibly worried :(

and unbelievably empathetic

he’s such a good fkn person in general ugh

“i don't know how it feels but i would imagine its … not good”

he would just want to keep you comfortable

“stay in bed, baby, i’ll bring [whatever] to you”

would go on pad/tampon runs for you

and wouldn’t be a pussy about it

“what size ? how heavy is your flow ?”

would call you while he was in the aisle to double check

and would get more than one box

“i know it fluctuates”

while he was out he would pick up some little gifts for you

just things to keep you comfortable

a blanket because “it looked soft”

some of your favorite chocolate

“did you know that chocolate produces endorphins ? which can help with cramps ?”

a little teddy bear

and would pick up some junk food for you

he’d move his stream to comfort you all night

“can i hold you ? will you still be comfortable ?”

would end up laying your head in his lap and running his hands through your hair

he’d do small , soothing actions until you fell asleep

and would be so still while you napped on him

clay would die if he woke you up

you’re his number one priority , and you need your rest

george :

sweet gogs would be . so concerned .

“... are you alright , my love ?”

would get pouty because you were irritated 

but would understand

he tries his best to help you in anyway possible

brings you water and tylenol

and would make you a snack to go with it

“you have to take it with food so your body can process it , darling .”

purchases a heating pack to keep at his house

and genuinely just tries to keep you as comfortable as possible

picks you up bridal style

to transfer you from couch to bed

and would be SO upset when you whimpered in pain

“did i hurt you , baby ? are you okay ?”

you’d try to explain that it wasn’t him at all

just your body working against you

but would insist on nursing you 

going as far to lift your water cup to your lips for you

“wanna make sure you’re taken care of , sweet thing .”

would bring you desserts and comfort foods

and would eat half

gogy would try to get you to nap

“your body is working so hard ! you need rest !”

and would be elATED when you fell asleep tucked against him

he’d run a hand up and down your back while you slept

trying to comfort you even in unconsciousness

sapnap :

trying his best

bless his little heart

would be incredibly concerned but very scared

not necessarily of you

but of you

wouldn't want to make you mad in any way , shape , or form

is worried that you’ll rip him to shreds

but is also v soft for you

doesn’t like seeing his s/o in pain :(

so he’d be very careful with you

won't give up his cuddles tho

would jump 10 feet into the air when you said “ow!” after he wrapped an arm around your lower tummy

apologizes incessantly

feels bad for the next week

would make you tea and warm drinks to help

and would diy a heat pack out of rice and a sock 😭

nick would NOT want to leave you alone

so he’d try to cook

and would do pretty well !!

would make you mac and cheese from the box

but it was so good

and would feed you oreos

he’d make you both milkshakes, too

karl : 

nurse karl™ is on the case

he would be the BEST at taking care of you

would have an entire period kit at his place

and would carry tampons/pads in a bag in his backpack just in case

karl knows you inside and out 

and has taken notes on what to do while you're on your cycle

stocks up on all your comfort foods the week before

makes sure you have plenty of supplies

he would make a movie lineup for the two of you to watch together

all cheesy rom coms and disney flicks

he’d sing all the songs to you

would make jokes about being your prince charming

karl would try to make you smile in any way he could

he would make you a comfy spot on the couch

with lots of pillows and blankets

“is it okay if i hold you ?”

would be s o gentle

barely touching you

“baby , i'm not made of glass”

“but i don't want to hurt you !”

would end up spooning

and karl would smother you with kisses

“gotta kiss it better >:(“

he’d keep you clothed in his big hoodies and sweatpants

and would make sure that you always had a warm towel when you got out of the shower

karl would run all the errands you usually did

and would bring flowers back from the store

quackity :

loml big q

god he would be so so so tender with u

he would go completley soft

because seeing you in pain just rips his heart to shreds

has the whole phantom pain thing

because yall are so fkn close w each other

wouldn’t leave you alone like ,,, ever

is so worried that you’re going to lose too much blood

you’ve tried to explain that your body regulates it to an extent

but he doesn’t care

he’d call your mom to ask for tips

and would follow all of them to a t , PLUS everything that he’d picked up on already

would make sure to keep you hydrated

gets gatorade “because you need electrolytes !”

he’d run you warm showers

and get you clean , soft clothes

would give you back and neck rubs to help with your muscles

alex would lay in bed with you all day 

he’d love when you napped on his chest

would set timers on his phone for giving you ibuprofen

“every six hours , my love .”

alex would 100% get midol and be so proud that he found it

finally makes a trip to the store on like ,,,,,, day 3/4

would take a picture the pads/tampons you use so he gets the correct ones

and would buy multiple boxes so you’d never run out

is incredibly comforting

does small tasks for you

brushes your hair and tries his best to braid it back

would make you foods that are high in iron

“you need it , baby , it’s for your blood”

but would follow it up with hot chocolates for the both of you

he’d sing softly to you until you fell asleep in his arms

and would press little kisses to your head

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Sweet, Spice and Hot Water Is Always Nice

Summary- 7.6k Mike (renamed from Me-Playing It Cool) x You. Mike is struggling to get a story line down for his script, and you were sent home from work. You just LOVE when Aunt Flo comes to visit (insert sarcasm), and Mike has a suggestion to make you feel better. Warnings- Period Sex (it isnt overly graphic though) Male receiving Oral, Fingering, One mention of blood. Thigh Riding cause its a mood. That is about it. A mild argument. Oh swear or two, cause ya know me. And I know, another holiday fic with him, but Holidays are my favorite, and I just love these two. 

A/N- Fall themed Moodboard added to this was made by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​. Thank you so much, I loved it, and I hope you like the fluffiness it caused. 

“Okay Brian, you want this rom com to deliver.” Mike cracked his knuckles and let his fingers lower over the keys, starting to type out the main character's opening scene, picturing the actress Brian described as standing just behind him, sitting at your kitchen table your grandmother gave you, picking at plates of food. 

Ally, I could have told you it wasn't going to work out with

Rick two months ago. - Daisy sighs. 

Why? - Ally gives a clueless look at her sister across the table. 

You love meat, you hate cyclists. - Daisy says flippant. 

His hand came up to rub at his face, trying to think ahead as the two blondes faded away from the table, and he was sitting there pondering at the theme of the script he was supposed to be writing. Single woman worried about the amount of men she has been with, and was set on finding the ONE. The man who made all her dreams come true. Of course the man was supposed to be a playboy across the hall. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Mike groaned, finding the whole theme of the story kind of stupid. “What woman would worry about that?” 

Setting back to trying to type, he heard the door unlock, your footsteps snapping against the tile of the hallway floor leading into the kitchen. Pushing back his chair, he twisted it to face the kitchen with a confused look on his face. You tossed your purse and keys on the counter, and bracing a hand against the counter, you leaned down to yank off your heels to fall to the flat of your feet with a sigh. Using the side of your foot, you pushed them aside so no one would trip over them. “I know- I know… I'm home early Mike. I promise to be quiet.” 

Mike just shook his head to disregard what you had said. “I don't care that you’re home so early, I'm just trying to figure out why you're home early?” 

You stand there for a moment staring at him, then you give a sniffle that was so out of character, it worried him. Holding out his hands to you, he made a come motion. “Come on baby, now you're starting to scare me a bit.” Which entices you to make your way to him, and stand between his legs while his hands slide up and down the back of your thighs. “You left for work just a couple hours ago?” 

Your hands come to smooth over his head, sighing at how good the softness of his slightly grown out buzz cut felt, and you could see the worry lines depending between his eyebrows, always deeper on the left side, his eyes having lost their usual mirth and teasing when they looked at you. “I haven't felt good all morning, and the boss sent me home. The boss caught me puking in my trashcan and wouldnt take no for an answer.”

Mike let his fingers sink in lightly while pulling you into his lap, your hands sliding to lock around his neck. “Well why were you puking? This morning you seemed fine.” His brows furrowed as a worried thought niggled his mind, and blossomed into a full panicked look as it really settled in. “Wait, your not-?” his eyes widened in his panic, and you scoffed at him. 

“No so you don't have to worry Mike. Although it's great to see you panic if we should have been.” You snapped a bit although you knew you would have matched that panic as well, and he softened a bit, smoothing his hands along your lower back. 

“Sorry baby, you said puking and my mind went away with it.” Apologizing, he tilted his head a bit. “So, You going to put me out of my misery and tell me? Or do I have to keep making dumb ass assumptions?” 

You were still a bit irritated with his earlier remark, but were you really mad at Mike? Or were you just feeling like shit and everything was irritating you? You glanced back at his genuinely worried face, you softened to him for how worried he was. “I started to get cramps today, and they just ache badly today.” you sniffled a bit again, and Mike pulled you in closer for a hug, and you settled in against his chest. “And I feel terrible for coming into your space when you're working.” You said softly, and Mike shrugged, the movement making you pull back. 

“I could care less, you're not feeling good and this is home first, office second. Besides, I just started it. Not like I have any story yet to get down. Just an idea.” He turned his chair with you in his lap, and moved his finger over the keyboard to wake the laptop back up. You gave a slight chuckle seeing he literally had two whole lines.

“What have you been doing all morning?” You snicker a bit and he picks up Brians notes laying right next to them. 

“I have been trying to think of how to get this shit into something decent. Listen to this- Ally is a woman who has many ex-boyfriends who turned out to be losers. Now she believes that she can't find a good guy. But when she runs into one of her exes who is now a 'Prince Charming', she decides to look up all of her exes to see if any of them have changed for the better. When she has trouble locating them, she asks her neighbor Colin, who sleeps with a different woman every night and sneaks out the morning after to avoid talking to them, to help her.” He tossed it back down to the table. “Like anyone cares how many people someone slept with.”

You wrinkled your nose, and you knew you shouldn't say anything. Because you honestly had to agree with him, but that dark little voice in the back of your mind that seemed to always be there when you weren't feeling good poked at you. “Well some people, it does matter Mike.” You push to stand, and go around the counter to search out your midol from your purse. Grabbing the bag, you started to paw through the contents while Mike twisted his office chair to look at you. You could see this slight furrow in his brow as he went over what you had said. 

“Did it matter to you, when we talked about it ourselves Y/N? Cause you were pretty chill.” he asked, and you could see from the corner of your eye as you snatched your bottle that he was leaning forward in his chair, the curious look on his face was seriously wondering if you did or not. In that moment you just wanted to snap at him, he should know that you didn't nor ever would care who was a part of his past. Since it was just the past. 

“If I had cared, Mike, would I have asked you for your number on that first date? Of course I didn't give two shits about who you dated or fooled around with.” You retorted, shaking out a couple pills and popping them dry before screwing the cap back on and ditching the bottle back in your bag. Going to the fridge, you sought out water, which all were left were bottles half gone. Groaning, you dropped your head. “You haven't been to the store yet Mike?” you snapped as you shut the door, taking one of the bottles anyways. You weren't drinking tap water, that was for damn sure. 

“I was going to go this afternoon before you get home.” He brushed off your irritation in favor of your earlier comment, more keen to go back to the conversation you two were having before. “Did someone like say something about me before you even met up with me? Because we certainly didn't talk about our dating history for a while.” 

You leaned against the counter for a moment, rubbing at your face for a moment. “Why do you put everything off to the last minute Mike? You always do this, and then I’m left either having to nag you, beg you, and just end up doing it myself.” You grumbled, and ignored his question. “Can you go now please? So the water will be chilled by tonight.” you left him at his computer, going to crash on the couch and grab the remote. But Mike wasn't far behind, following you to the couch. 

“I will later, but I’m curious if someone said something to you? Like a warning?” He flopped down on the other end, his arm slinging along the back and looking at you intently. 

You flicked through stations and rolled your eyes. ‘Fuck Mike, it was so long ago, drop it. It doesn't matter who told me what before we even met. We're together, aren't we? I make my own decisions about someone.” 

“But someone did say something.” He pushed you once more, and you clench your hand around the remote hearing him keep on going. 

“Fucking hell Mike, you really wanna know. It's not exactly like you were dating anyone during that time. Mallory told me all about how you two would fool around and that maybe I needed un-fucking-winding. So she set us up. But you already knew that.” You toss the remote at him, and push off the couch. “Then I really liked you, so we made it work. But right this second, if you follow me to the bedroom, I will kick your ass out to the couch for the rest of the week.” you snapped, and left him there to brood, going into the bedroom with a sharp slam of the door. 

Mike winced when he heard the door slam, feeling bad now that he pushed for something that really didn't matter. That first hook up was two years ago, and you two had been together ever since. It just nagged at him in a way that he was shocked at, thinking that someone might have said “hey he's a player, be careful.” Maybe you were right, a small part of him might have cared? Not so much that he or you slept with a few people, but that anyone would actually care. 

Mike waited a few moments for things to cool down, he knew he shouldnt have pushed on such a stupid matter, cause it honestly didnt matter to him what anyone might have said. It was a stupid fight, and Mike wanted to make it up to you, apologize for upsetting you when you were already feeling so awful. Listening, he could hear you in the bedroom, opening drawers and snapping them shut then it went quiet. Pushing up from the couch, he approached the bedroom, and knocked on the door to ease it open. You were laying on the bed, a heating pad plugged in where your phone usually was. You had it resting on your stomach, and had your other arm slung over your face to block out the light. 

“I mean it Mike, you come in here looking to argue, I will scratch those blue eyes of yours out and leave you a blind man.” You threatened him, which he tried not to chuckle at, but a tiny one burst out while he went to stretch on the bed next to you, sliding his hands under your shirt to rub your back. 

“Im sorry Y/N, I was being kind of an ass.” He said, and you snorted a bit in agreement. Mike could feel the knots in your back loosen a little as you relaxed into his hand, and he pulled in closer to you. “Is it really bad this time?” he looked at the time, it had only been twenty minutes since you had taken your painkillers, still hadn't had a proper chance to kick in for you yet. 

You stretched a bit and pressed yourself back hard enough for him to know you wanted more pressure in his touch, which he did, digging in his fingers. You sighed a bit into your pillow. “It's messing me up this time Mike, not going to lie.” You twisted your head to glance over your shoulder, and your look softened a bit when you saw how concerned he did look. So you twisted to lay on your back and look up at him. “I'm sorry to Mike, I came in looking for a fight because of how I was feeling. Your script will be good, and people who do care probably have boring sex lives.” You joked a bit while lifting a hand to let the back of your fingers brush against the rasp of his beard. It made you tingle to feel it, and his hand slipped along your waist and over your belly where the heating pad didn't cover.  

“You know there are other ways to help you.” Mike started, looming over you slightly and you wrinkled your nose, knowing what he was talking about. It always made you feel a little guilty though, like it was something he had to do, not that he wanted to do. All in your head, you knew, but the thought still had manifested there after that time he ended up being late on a deadline cause of a weekend of him taking care of you. 

You shrugged a bit and shook your head. “You don't have to do anything, you should probably get back to your script. Brian’s going to want to see it in a few days.” You brushed it off, but Mike wasn't about to be deterred, because he knew how much better you felt afterwards, and he enjoyed making you feel good immensely. 

“I know I don't have to “do anything”, but how about I want to?” He pushed up off the bed, and reached down to grasp your hands and ease you up into a sitting position, making you groan and pull off the heating pad, being sure to click it off. Mike gave you what he hoped would be a promising grin to get you in the mood. “Fuck that script, I rather have some dirty sex… in the bed?” He questioned, and you gripped his hands tighter, pulling yourself up. 

“You're not going to leave me in peace to wither and die are you?” You scoffed as you side stepped him to grab a couple towels, and draped them over your arm. “Shower, mess be minimal, and the hot water will help my back.” Mike came up behind and ran his hands along your sides, while kissing on your neck, making you sigh a bit in appreciation. That rasp of beard followed by soft velvet lips always did something, even now your toes were curling up the more he did it. 

Getting in the bathroom, he reached and grabbed the towels from you, tossing them on the bathroom counter. “Absolutely not going to let you wither and die, you know how much work it would be to find another awesome girlfriend like you?” He cupped your face, dragging you into a kiss while you grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off when he pulled away, he mimicked you and pulled your top off over your head and discarding them wherever they happened to land. 

“Ooh I like being awesome. How awesome am I Mike?” You wiggled your brows at him, and reached behind you to unclasp your bra, which Mike eagerly drew off you when you got it unclasped and cupped your breasts, massage them lightly, thinking about what to say. Thumbs circled around your sensitive nipples and you took a slight inhale that Mike happened to hear, causing him to do it a little harder the next time around. “You're always so sensitive right now, I absolutely love it.” Mike admitted while massaging his palms into the globes, you ended up arching into his touch and dropped your hands to his pants to start working open his belt. 

“You didn't answer me, pain in the ass.” You tugged the belt open and popped open the button, sure to watch him as you pressed your hands under the boxer band and wrapped fingers around his cock. You felt him twitch in your hand, a hitch in his breath as his normally bright blue eyes darkened. “Am I distracting you a little too much?” 

He took a deep breath as you sunk to the floor, Mike's hand falling to the bathroom counter, his knuckles turning white while he gripped the counter at the anticipation. “Here I thought I was supposed to make you feel better?” Seeing you kneeling, giving him that sultry fuck look from under your lashes while darts of your tongue teased your lips. A tug on his jeans dragged them down further so you could pull his cock out, giving measured firm strokes and breaking eye contact to look at his erection instead, sliding a thumb around his head and dragging your thumb back to your lips to suck your fingertip.

“You are making me feel better. Well actually, hand me a towel?” you arched up to bring your face closer to him, your free hand held out while Mike handed you a towel in which you put under your knees to get comfy. “See you helped me.” Giving a teasing wink, you twist your head to give him a trailing lick of your tongue along the underside of his cock and spit to lube him in your hands. A kiss of your lips to the tip made him shudder com watching the sinfully sweet act, and then you spread your lips to lower your mouth on him and suck with a moan. Already he was cursing above you under his breath as he did his best to not look away. 

“Fuck baby” Mike grunted, and you widened your mouth to draw him in further, fluttering your tongue around him while rubbing your hands against the front of his thighs till you circled fingers around the base, pumping him where your mouth couldnt take him yet. You relished the taste and heaviness on your tongue, lips drawing him in further to leave a wet trail on his cock when you bobbed your head faster. Heavy breaths flared your nostrils while you hummed your satisfaction till he hit the back of your throat. His hips rocked to meet your bobbing head until you gagged around his girth. “Just a bit more baby.” Mike grunted as his hands went to cup your face, fingers digging in your cheeks. Mike's head tipped back, and your gaze rolled upwards to see his adam's apple bobbing up and down, the muscles in his torso tighten, and where your hands grasped his thighs to hold on while he face-fucked you, kept flexing. “Fuck… FUCK…” He pulled you off him, his hips stuttering to a stop and his cock weeped with desire to shoot his load. The thick white dribble looked too tempting to you. Your tongue tip curled out and you darted back in close to give a kitten lick to the tip, cleaning the drool and precum off and maybe just to tease him slightly, knowing how close he was. 

“God your a fucking little brat.” He hissed at your antics, stepping away and leaning down to grasp your upper arms, and bring you back up while kicking off his pants and boxers fast as he could, making you giggle at how strained he sounded. 

“Get out of those clothes.” He instructed as he reached in the shower to start the water and stumbled in. You were tugging your pants off, and getting ready as you heard him swear in the shower. “Fucking water.” You open the curtain to see him drenched already, trying to wiggle the knobs to the proper temperature. 

“Well why did you already get in Mike?” you ask, putting your hand in the water to make sure it wasn't too cold, when he reached out to wrap an arm around your waist and drag you in with him making you squeal as the water was still adjusting to temperature. Mike backed you up against the showers wall, his hands rubbing your hips while kissing your lips with a hunger that made your head spin, and your hands grasped the back of his neck and head to hold on. 

Pulling away from your mouth, and working his lips against your neck, you tilted your head back into the stream to feel the warmth wash over your sore body twitch a groan. The hot water had already started to fog up the small space. “I was hoping the cold water would cool me off, I want…” Lap of his tongue moved over your jawline. “... to be…” his hand swept down your stomach and cupped your mound between your clenched thighs to stroke your folds. “... inside you when I cum.”

You pulled away a bit to look at him, biting at your lip which caused his eyes to drop down too, wanting to pull at it because of the way you teased yourself . But your words brought him back to you. “It really doesn't bother you Mike? That I'm on my period?” That bit of self doubt starting to come back to the front of your mind, bringing along guilt that maybe he didn’t enjoy this like you did.

He gave a roll of his eyes and nipped at your lips, sliding his tongue over that bottom lip before pulling it from your teasing teeth, laying his own mark on you to cover your bite from before. “We’ve done this many times Baby. Only boys would care about such a thing, good thing I’m not a boy.” He surged to claim all your senses, his fingers spreading your folds to start touching you in a way that would drive you crazy. 

You kareened when you felt his fingers start to tease you, his hand planting on the wall as his upper body leaned in closer, eyes staring into yours while rubbing from your clit to your entrance, watching as your breathing picked up and your eyes turned into a needing glaze. “Ahh, just like that, huh baby. Fuck I love how sensitive you get during this time.” He wasn't wrong, everything felt amplified, his fingers felt thicker as he started to pump one into you, your core was hotter, your arousal seeping down your thigh to mix with the hot water. 

It wasn't long till your thighs were spreading further for him, and you rocked slightly to meet his fingers plunging back into you, his strokes making you clench tightly around him, as well as grasp his biceps to keep yourself from losing your balance. Mike loved watching your jaw drop as you were fluttering around his thick fingers, sobbing out when Mike twisted his palm slightly to grind the heel of his hand against your clit. “Mike! Oh too much.” you tried pushing him away while moving your hips faster, but he was too solid and was driven to have you come all on his palm. Mike nudged his nose against your jaw to tip your head back, licking the running water  streaming down your neck with a low timbre voice making his demands. “Come on baby, this is just the first one.” 

Just the first one. Fuck

You dug in your fingers while you rode out your orgasm that crashed over you, Mike slowing his pumps down so you could come down from your high, tilting his head to give you an open mouthed kiss. And he started again to bring you up, his fingers sliding in your sensitive pussy, his thumb sweeping around your clit slowly. “Mike,” you whined softly against his mouth, your forehead pressed against his. His fingers knew just where to touch you. He was able to go much deeper than your own fingers could ever reach. Mike thrummed you again, nudging his nose against yours to have you focus on him. “You're going to come for me once more Pretty Girl, I love how you flood my hand, riding my fingers with that greedy pussy of yours.” His tongue licked over your lips, and greedily you sucked on his tongue rocking harder to meet his fingers faster. Your second orgasm is coming fast, as sensitive as you were. “Ahhh good girl, I'm going to add another cause you're taking me so well.” Mike bit at your lip teasing as your eyes widened, a third finger stretched you, and he smirked, still holding your gaze. “Squeezing so tight baby, you should make yourself cum now Babe.” 

You started falling apart once more and Mike let his chest press against yours and your arms locked around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder as he feathered kisses up and down your neck. “Did I tell you yet I love you?” His erection pressed against your stomach, still hard and demanding as when your mouth had been wrapped around it and you rubbed yourself against it, purring in his ear. “Show me Mike.” Your toes curled as remains of your orgasm raced up your spine, any pain you had been in before was replaced with fluttering clenching muscles, and languid pleasure seeping in your system. 

Mike's hands fell to the back of your thighs, and he slipped your legs up to swing around his waist, and position yourself to take him. “I'm glad you finally accepted this suggestion.” Mike let go of your thighs once you were holding onto him, and he pressed his cock through your folds, feeling your wet heat welcoming to accept him. You nodded in a rush, blinking out the water pelting over you. 

“Yes, Fuck Mike you feel so good, its driving me insane.” You tried pressing yourself on him, and when he pressed in against your sensitive channel, clenching around him as he worked himself into your pussy. “Yes, oh yes.” stiffening against him when he thrusted to bury himself in, rutting against you to make you cry out as he started slow, letting you appreciate the hard drag through you. It wasn’t long though when Mike started to pound himself into you, and your bouncing breasts moved in his face. He freed a hand to massage them, almost on the verge of a blissed pain how his teeth sucked in the curve, and the lash of his tongue dragging over your pebbled flesh till he could pull on it. Stretch the nerves to quiver and mess with your rational thought, till all you could focus on his mouth, hot and wetter then even the steam of water pouring from above, the feeling of Mike's cock driving in harder and harder, sure that you felt him almost kiss your womb, fighting the urge to cum already. Your hands scrambled for purchase against his back, which clenched under your nails digging in, flexing and tightening with each pounding thrust trying to lay claim to your orgasm. 

“I can feel you, you want to, your body is trying to.” He moaned into your breasts his face was buried against, his scruff rough between your cleavage. You back bounced off the tile of the bathroom wall at these words, you wanted to deny him, keep feeling him driving back the pain, and keeping you on the edge of pleasure. But it was all so overwhelming, and you caved, cumming again to flood his cock with your arousal, clenching around him. “God your so fucking tight around me. Trying to get me to cum in you.” Mike grunted, and you just squeezed him more, wanting it, so badly to feel filled with him. 

“Course I want it, don't you dare pull out.” You cried, flexing around him again as his balls slapped against you and you tighten your legs around him to keep him with you. His grunts became more feral, his tongue marking your skin while he chased water droplets like a man dying of thirst, and you saw nothing but sparks filled your vision while he groaned into your ear that he too was close. You whined as you gave one last demanding squeeze, your own demand that he fill you, which he did. Happily shooting himself to fill you, spreading himself deeper and both of you ended blissed around each other

You lean into him, taking deep breaths against his shoulder while his arm slings around your waist. “Okay, I got you babes. We really do need to get a mat for this tub though. Almost slipped a few times.” You giggle into his neck before straightening, unlocking your legs from around his waist to lower to a stand, careful cause it was slippery. Reaching down, you flick the water back to the facet, and Mike cranks both the knobs off, the last of the water rushing down the drain. Pulling back the curtain, Mike stepped out, and grabbed the last towel on the counter and handed it to you, which after you two stepped out you started rubbing your body down to dry. 

He grasped the one you had used for your knees earlier, rubbing it over his head, and whisking across his body, but he was done quick and had yanked on his boxers. You immediately reached down and grabbed his tee from earlier, slipping it on and went to the counter to brush out your hair before it dried in a mess. Knowing you would come out when you were ready, Mike went and stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard and flicked on the tv, flipping channels until you came out all dressed for a day in bed. Moving around the bed, you tumbled into your side of the mattress. 

You curl up against Mike's side, and he hands the remote over so his arm can circle around your shoulders and let his fingertips brush along the soft part of your upper arm. “Feeling any better Babes?” He tilted his head to look down at you while you focused on the tv, and you hummed, tilting up to put a thank you on his lips. “Much, all relaxed and sated, thank you Handsome.” Mike couldn't deny that made his chest swell a bit, proud and pleased his girl was now feeling better. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head as you finally stopped at the beginning of Con Air. 

“Nicholas Cage?” Mike mused as he looked up, and you tugged the blankets over the two of you while you twisted, leaning your back against Mike's chest, and your head on his shoulder. 

“Damn straight Mike, Cage, Malkovich, and Buscemi? Doesn't get better.” your love of 90’s movies didn't bypass Mike, so he wasn't surprised. It didn't take long though till you had passed out, within the first 15 minutes of it, and Mike stayed for a while before it was apparent you were really passed out. He eased away, and shifted you enough so you were comfy against the pillows. Going to put his clothes back on, he looked in the shower and went under the sink looking for a quick spray to wipe down the shower with. Running a cloth over the wall, and using the shower head, he rinsed away any bloody traces that might have been left behind. Mike didn't want you happening across it, and having to deal with it yourself. Once he was satisfied, he took care of everything and flicked the lights off to go back in the room, seeing you still sound asleep and relaxed.

Mike went over to your side of the bed to grab the heating pad you discarded earlier and put it on low. Laying it against your lower back as you rolled to hug a pillow against your chest. Snapping the blankets up around you as he started to leave the room, he turned the tv down a few notches, and eased the door almost to a shut. 

Mike knew he probably should work on his script, you were right earlier that Brian would be wanting to see it soon, but he bypassed his computer. Grabbing his wallet and phone, he stuffed them in his back pocket. At the kitchen counter he scribbled a quick note, should you wake up. He didn't want to set your phone off and wake you up by sending a message to it. ~went to go pick up that water, message if you need anything baby. XO Mike.~ 

Leaving the apartment, when he hit the street his hands found their way into his pockets, and he whistled happily. Sure he might have gotten jack shit done for work so far, but he spent his morning loving on his girl, and if that isn't life goals, damned if Mike knew what would actually be better. Reaching the local shop the two of you used near the apartment. The door’s bell jingled when he pushed it open, the clerk lifting her head to see who was coming in and gave a grin seeing him. “Hey Mike, wondering if I was seeing you today.” 

Mike grabbed a hand basket, winking at the clerk. “Of course MissThompson, my day wouldn't be complete without you.” he flirted with the older woman, making her chuckle a bit as he went down the first aisle. He grabbed a few things you two typically needed, a loaf of that specialty bread for toast that you liked, a tin of bbq pringles he liked snacking on when watching a game, a bar of chocolate you swore up and down you required during this time, he was also sure to grab a couple gallons of water to bring home. Wandering back towards the counter, Miss Thompson cleared her newspaper off the counter for him to set his stuff down. 

“Did you see the fall stuff Mike? I think Y/N would really like them.” She pointed at a small display table nearby, which was covered with a few pumpkin trinkets, some homemade baked goods, and candles. Mike wandered over, and started picking through the items. “She would like them wouldn't she, and she's been having a rough day.” He mused outloud and Miss Thompson tutted in sympathy. Glancing over the stuff, he picked up a few different candle holders, a box of autumn tinted macaroons, and some pumpkin pastries that he knew would remind you of home. Bringing it up to the counter, Miss Thompson gave an approving smile and was quick to ring it up for Mike. “I think she’s gonna appreciate it all.” 

“She does love fall, always going on about home this time of year.” Mike stated as he took out his card and gave it a swipe, his stuff was bagged, and he juggled the bag in one arm and the water in the other. “Probably see you tomorrow.” 

“You know I will be here.” Miss Thompson offered as Mike worked the door open, and headed home. Once he arrived back at the apartment, he was quiet while slipping off his sneakers, and dropping off his arm loads at the kitchen counter where his note went untouched. Scooping it up and crumpling to shoot into the basket, he paused long enough to make sure he made it, giving a fist pump when it landed inside. Quietly he went down the hall, and pushed the door open a bit to see you were still sleeping. You looked soft in your sleep, relaxed and peaceful. You had rolled once more in your sleep, your arm holding the heating pad to your stomach. 

Leaving you in peace, he went back out to take care of what he purchased, sure to put one of the jugs of water in the fridge. Then he spread the ornaments around the coffee table, and set the desserts out on a tray, leaving them on the coffee table as well. Thinking about what else he could do to surprise you, he left the apartment once more to go down to the storage unit in the basement of the apartment complex, just knowing you had to have some of your treasured halloween decorations, stored away in a bright orange bin with a jack o'lantern drawn on the front. Once he saw the tote and pulled it down, he popped it open to double check, and sure enough you had it packed with lights, halloween trinkets, more candle holders, and foam pumpkins. Securing the lid, he brought it up to the apartment, and set it down. 

Unpopping the top, he started to pull out the lights, and untangle them. Looking around at just where to hang them, already he was picturing how you had it set up last year, and grinned to himself, knowing exactly how he wanted it to look for you. 

Several hours later, you stretched out with a yawn, turning to grab your phone and see it was later in the afternoon. Pushing up to a sit and rubbing at your eyes as you push off the bed, You headed to use the bathroom. Once finished, You came out several moments later, now sporting shorts and a warm sweater just looking for the coziness of the soft material. You pulled your hands into the sleeves, grasping the cuffs in your fingertips to play with the soft material while you left the bedroom. Before you even entered the kitchen, you could hear the clickity clack of Mike's keys on his laptop, and you smiled to yourself. From the rate the keys were clicking, he must have figured out a storyline. 

Stepping into the kitchen, you stalled as your eyes roamed over the orange and purple lit up apartment, Mike had hung up your halloween lights around the tv, and living room, along the counter and bookshelves were orange pumpkins glowing, one corner by the door was a scarecrow and your foam pumpkins, like it was the front porch you didn't have yet. On the TV was paused on a Harry Potter movie, and you took a step further into the room, hovering your hand over one of the candle light holders, enjoying the heat for a second before moving on. “Mike, this is… wow, I didn't think you really cared if I decorated or not.” 

Hearing you he spun his chair away from his laptop, holding his hand out and when you went to him, he tugged you into his lap, circling around your waist. “I wanted you to wake up to something I knew you loved. Plus you've been too busy at work to decorate.” He kissed your shoulder and rested his chin on it while you slid your fingers gently up and down the back of his neck. 

“You are right Mike, I do love it, Thank You.” you hummed lightly and wrapped your arms around his neck to give him a hug, pulling in close. “And all those new pumpkins? Where did they come from?” You slid off his lap and went to go look closer at the new additions, tweaking them just a bit to put them where you wanted them, biting your lip excitedly. Mike was sure to save his work, and closed the laptop. Following you into the living room, he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Miss Thompson insisted you would like them. Want me to throw a pizza in the oven and we crash on the couch to watch a few halloween movies?” 

You twisted in his arms, and grasped his face, tilting up to kiss his lips with a teasing nip. “Yes, please. Anything I can do to help?” you fall back to the flat of your feet, and Mike leads you into the kitchen. “Bring us a couple drinks out to the living room, and as soon as I get this in the oven, I will be out to join you.” You grab a couple beers from the fridge, and make your way while Mike is turning on the oven and flipping the box to read the directions to himself. Entering the living room once more, you set the beers on a couple coasters, and fall onto the couch. In front of you were all sorts of sweet treats. You leaned forward, grabbing a pie when your empty stomach started to rumble, your teeth sank into the delicate pastry as you leaned your head back, moaning softly at the flaked crust and sweet filling with the taste of pumpkin, nutmeg, cinnamon and allspice. The spices tickle your taste buds, and the sweetness soothed it away. 

Mike came around the back of the couch, seeing you slowly chewing and giving that satisfied moan, moving to fall down next to you, arching a brow. “That better than the shower?” he teased you, and your eyes sprang open, shaking your head. 

“This just tastes good.” You grinned as you leaned forward to set it down and moved to straddle his lap, dipping for kisses against his lips, where your tongue slid along the seam of his lips till you could work past them, rolling your tongue against his, and he was caught unaware at how you would taste. A mix of your usual sweetness and the desert danced on his tongue, and his hands moved to grasp the back of your hair, to hold you in place, effectively take your kiss as his own. “You taste and feel good.” you pulled enough away to say before he closed the slight space to claim you all over again, strokes of his tongue teasing you.

Your hips started grinding, shifting yourself enough to straddle just one of his thighs while your hands slid along his shoulders, and you started to arch a bit more, a bit faster, harder as you pushed down. Mike's hands fell to your hips, helping you along by guiding you up and down. He pushed forward a bit to draw himself in closer, pulling his mouth from yours and muttering. “That's it pretty girl, make yourself cum again.” you nodded slightly and he pulled you down on his flexing thigh, making you toss your head back when it made your clit throb and your breathing come out in a rush. “Again Sir…” 

“Sir?” Mike pulled back, his blue eyes twinkling at you while he watched you pick up speed, chasing your end. Your fingers curled, clutching at his shirt and digging into his shoulders. 

“It slipped out Mike, I'm so close now.” your voice high pitched whine. You needed that rush, so close that you could taste that pleasure almost. Your movements started stuttering as your own muscles ached and Mike was quick to take over, picking up the speed you had before and you started chanting. “Yes, yesyesyesyes, fuck please.” 

One of Mikes hands snaked up to grasp the back of your head, tilting your head back and he pressed his face against your neck, chaining kisses and nips while whispering. “Come on Pretty Girl, I need you to come now.” Behind you the oven started alarming and the sense of urgency overcame you, to just rock on his thigh, your knee brushing against his hard on in his pants, and you were cumming for him, whimpering as you rode it out and you went slack, Mike loosening his hard grips and rubbing your back as he slid you off his thigh. “I gotta go check that pizza.” 

You nodded as he pushed off the couch, grabbing at his crotch to try and give himself some room, making you hide your face on the couch and giggle. You heard the squeak of the oven door and a soft “Shit” from Mike as a clang of a pizza pan went on top of the stove. “Babe, it's a bit crispy, but not terrible.” You wriggled to pull yourself up to kneel on the couch, leaning against the back to watch him in the kitchen look for the pizza cutter in a drawer. 

“Not a big deal. Crispy pizza is worth that orgasm.” You couldn't hide the grin as Mike was quick to slice the pizza into slices, and slide a couple on each plate while grasping the paper towels to tuck under his arm. 

“You can start the movie, and fuck you were about to make me blow my load in my jeans watching you. And that ‘Sir’? We still have to discuss that.” He sauntered back into the living room, while you were searching for the remote on the coffee table. Sure to hit play, he waited till you were comfy, and set your plate on your lap. You grasp the first piece, working on taking the crust off and rip off a bite size piece. Your eyes went from the screen to Mike. 

“It just… happened in the moment Mike. Why, did you like it?” You popped your bite in your mouth, and Mike tilted his head, pondering it a moment. 

“You caught me by surprise, but I wouldn't mind hearing it again.” He stated, and you grinned, wiggling brows. 

“Just wait till the day I call you Daddy.” 

Mike groaned, tilting his head back against the couch with a groan. “Your gonna be the death of me Y/N.” 

You snorted while tucking up your legs, and smirking at him. “I can think of worst ways to go.” 

You cuddled up closer, laughing before you took another bite of your food, and Mike pulled you in closer, both of you turning your attention to the movie for the rest of the evening. 

[kaijusplotch]

Far From Home (self insert/Tech the bad batch fic part 1)

The storm was raging with all the strength that the summer heat that day had given. Driving at night was not Lynn’s favorite thing, but such was the work of a paleontologist who gets too into her work. She frowned and tried not to jump when the flashes of lightning lit up the road she was on. Of all the days she got lost in time on a dig site.

“Dammit...Good going, Lynn,” she grumbled to herself. At least her truck was able to handle the heavy rain on the road. A strange blue flash; less intense than lightning, and far more vibrant blue, caught her attention.

“What the fu-SHIT!” Lynn screamed, slamming on the breaks as a sudden flash of lightning illuminated a figure in the road. She swerved the truck to the side of the road, missing the figure in bright white clothing.

Lynn’s heart was pounding wildly as she threw the truck to park and stared at the mirrors. The figure was wandering and staggering in the road. She glared and practically kicked open the door to her truck before getting out.

“What the FUCK are you doing?! You could have gotten killed!” She screamed into the storm at the figure. She was getting soaked but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness; illuminated only by flashing lightning, she got a better look at the figure.

What she first thought was fabric or a suit was armor of some kind; metal painted white with red and dark gray markings. There was a light, or something glowing, near the individual’s face. They were wearing a rather distinctive helmet, and something familiar sparked in Lynn’s mind.

“Is there a fucking con going on? Hey! You’re going to get killed dammit!” She rushed forward into the road to grab the man in the road.

“What…? Where?”

Lynn grabbed his arms and pulled the man back; surprised at how tall he was, taller than her by over six inches. Yet he was built like a swimmer, lean strong muscle where she could feel between the plates of armor. A flash of growing light around the corner of the road; the rain pouring down, and crashing thunder did nothing to hide the sound of a diesel engine.

“Get out of the road!” she screamed pulling the man back and off the road, landing on her back with the man in cosplay on top of her.

The tractor trailer blew past with a roar of it’s engine and Lynn clutched to the man on top of her, her heart racing.

“Shit...oh...oh fuck,” Lynn prayed carefully rolling the stranger off of her and looking down at him in the flashing lightning. “Hey...hey wake up. C’mon man.” She wrangled her phone from her pocket and shook the flashlight app on.

In the steady light of her phone, the costume was well made but the helmet had sustained damage to the right side. The man’s eyes were closed behind well made goggles, making Lynn’s heart leap to her throat as she checked for a pulse. She let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding as she found a strong pulse. Running her hands carefully on the underside of the helmet, her fingers touched the seal that ran just under the rim.

“This is some damn good costume work,” she muttered. Her fingers caught a pair of buttons and the seal hissed as it was released. Pulling the helmet off was a little difficult but not complicated. Lynn carefully put her hand behind the man’s head and rested it on the muddy ground.

He had a severe widow’s peak of brown-red hair that was spot on for the costume. His face was lean with sharp cheekbones. The stranger’s skin was a rich brown; not too dissimilar to the shrubland soil in the badlands. Lynn squinted in the rain and the light of her flashlight wondering how the fuck the man got his skin so smooth; that was for another time; though as he groaned and a small trail of blood from his left temple

“Shit...Hey….hey c’mon man wake up.” Lynn gently patted his cheek before reaching up to touch his temple, her hand coming away sticky and warm.

“Nnnng…’Hunter?” Warm brown eyes fluttered open and Lynn carefully put her hand on his shoulder.

“Easy...you got a bad knock to the head. Can you stand?”

“Y-yes,” the man said, his accent bright even through obvious pain, with a British sound. “I believe I can with assistance.”

Lynn carefully gripped his arm and threw her free arm around his shoulders. “One, two, three!” Leveraging her weight back as the cosplayer moved forward they both got back to their feet. “All right. My truck’s right over there. I have a small med pack to patch you up before I get you to a hospital.”

“No! No Hospitals!” The man’s eyes were wide behind the goggles, turning his head toward Lynn and spraying her with water and a bit of blood.

“Okay...okay, no hospital.” Lynn conceded. She wasn’t one to argue with someone’s phobias. “I’ve got a first aid kid in my truck.”

The stranger nodded and walked with her through the rain to the beat up pickup on the shoulder of the road. It would be a pain in the ass and she would get soaked but Lynn would deal with it later.

She opened the passenger door and pushed her dig kit to the middle of the seat. “Here, sit down and relax. I’ll get my bag.” She hurried to the bed and opened the cap door before grabbing the red and white first aid kit. Rushing back to the cab she put the bag on his lap. “Okay. Hang on, this is going to sting a little.”

She got a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol and cleaned the wound on his scalp. She grimaced in sympathy as he hissed. “Sorry. At least it’s not deep…” Lynn continued to clean the wound and got a bit of neosporin out and a bandage.

“No bacta?”

Lynn laughed a bit. “Going really into character huh? Can’t say I don’t wish we had bacta, it would probably be a lot quicker and less scaring.” She bit her lip as she carefully moved some of his hair out of the wound. “Neosporin should help keep it clean though with the butterfly bandages.” She carefully leaned forward, smiling at the man and looking him over for any other injuries.

“I don’t understand…where am I?” He reached up to touch his head.

“South Dakota, just outside of the badlands,” Lynn popped the internal bubble of an ice pack and shook it before wrapping it in the towel she kept in the bag. “Here it’ll help the swelling. You get dumped out here by your buddies from a Con?” she asked as she grabbed a small bottle of pills and a water bottle from her cooler. “You don’t have any allergies to medicine do you? All I have is Excedrin and midol.”

“No, no allergies. South Dakota? Where is my datapad? I must have hit my head harder than you thought.” The man reached down at his hip and grabbed a strangely shaped tablet case from his hip.

“Don’t know how well your tablet will work. Had to kind of throw you back with me so you didn’t get turned into a roadkill pancake.” Lynn rolled her eyes and closed the door to the truck before running to the other side.

She was soaked to the bone and the chill from the wind was enough to make her crank the heat in her old truck. She glanced over at the man, eyes trailing to the tablet in his hands. The glow of the screen and the strange-yet-familiar alphabet trailing across it made her chest constrict nervously as the storm continued to shake the sky. “What….kind of app do you have on that thing? That looks like Aurebesh.” she laughed nervously.

“That’s because it is.”

Lynn bit her lip and tried to keep herself focused on the reality of the situation, not the strange possibility that was building in her mind. “Do you have a place to go? I mean you’re pretty much out in the middle of nowhere…”

“I’m afraid not. Until I am able to exactly pinpoint where this planet is, I’m without any ability to contact and inform my squad.” The man looked up at her and Lynn swallowed hard.

“What the fuck is going on…?” she asked, staring at him. “You’re Tech? You’re REALLY Tech from Clone Force 99? The Bad Batch?”

The stranger met Lynn’s shocked look with one of nervous apprehension. “You know who I am, who my squad is?” His hands gripped the sides of the tablet and he leaned away from her just slightly.

“This...I have to have been hit by something. The truck hit me right? I’m dead and this is all some kind of death dream? Oh my fucking god.” Lynn leaned her head against the steering wheel, her eyes wide as she stared at the dashboard.

“No,” Tech said, his voice softer. “We are both very much alive. I’m only alive because of you. Thank you.”

Lynn felt his hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him, focusing on the fact that his hand was warm through his glove and her shirt. His eyes, even through the yellow tinted goggles, were wide and flicking across her face as if he didn’t want to keep eye contact.

“You’re lucky I’m not an asshole. otherwise you would have been pasted on the front of that semi.” She laughed bitterly and gently put her hand on top of his. “Let’s...get home; my home. We can figure everything else out once we’re dry.”

“And what should I call you? You know who I am,” Tech said dryly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Lynn. You can call me Lynn.” She smiled, putting the truck into gear.

[deans-baby-momma]

Past Haunts- A Revisit

A/N: Let’s take a look inside the Winchester/Quentin household and see how everyone is getting along. Also look for the 2nd author’s note after this story. 

It's been six months today. Six months since my daughter and I were getting ready for work and school when a simple knock on the front door changed everything. Changed it all, for the better.

To be able to watch from the sidelines as Whitney got to finally know the man who was her father; to finally experience having a male figure in her life was indescribable. 

Those two were like two peas in a pod, though. Similar likes, the same dislikes, an identical warped sense of humor. Once Dean had gotten over- no, that isn't the right wording-since Dean had come to terms with Sam being locked in a cage in Hell, he had jumped right into being a parent, a daddy. And he was killing it!

I hadn't expected to find him in the kitchen every morning, cooking breakfast for us before sending us both off with a kiss and I definitely never dreamed of coming home to a clean house, mowed lawn and that pesky back porch light repaired but during the first whole week of loving with us,  Dean had picked up the slack. I was amazed and very grateful.

Dean and I have slept in the same bed every night since his return but have yet to put a label on what we are. Although, Whitney happily tells anyone and everyone that her parents are together, I'm just unsure. And yes, we've had sex but then again what woman in her right mind could look at him, cuddle up to him and NOT want to have sex with him?

He had gotten a job at a local garage after the first month of being 'home' and had quickly impressed the boss with his knowledge of older vehicles. It seemed as though the mechanics nowadays depended on the little computers installed in the newer models to alert them to whatever was wrong, so when older vehicles came across their rack, these young boys were stumped.

During the week after Thanksgiving, the city of Fairfax Indiana got its first snowfall. Everything looked so clean and fresh with the white blanket covering all the blemishes and eyesores around town. And that's the day we found out Dean Winchester doesn't like the cold.

"It's just-" Dean grumbled as he drank his coffee at the head of the table. "-so ridiculous. You have to wear extra layers, watch out for other idiots on the road. Watch where you step. And it's just so cold." He finishes his groaning with a full body shiver.

"Dad you sound like a whiny brat," Whitney banters as she eats her eggs and bacon. "It's wonderful! Everything looks so bright and shiny."

"I need sun and warmth, missy," Dean shoots back with a wink. He suddenly sits up straight and looks at me. "Babe, how many days of school until our little girl is on holiday?"

Whitney hmphs at being called a little girl, even though she knows Dean only does it to get a rise out of her. The smirk on his face tells me that is exactly the response he expected.

"Uh, nine. I think."

"Eight and a half," Whitney corrects me, standing up to take her plate to the sink. "And the half day is going to be mostly watching movies and not much else."

I look at Dean to see his mind whirling. I could tell he was trying to work something out in his head. I raise an eyebrow in question but only get a smile in response. I shake my head at his antics and stand up to go finish getting ready for work.

Christmas in Florida is distinctly opposite of Christmas in the North. For one, there is no snow for the lights to mirror. The lights are pretty but seem so dull without the reflection. And instead of coats and gloves and hats, people are in swimsuits and shorts, tank tops and flip-flops. A total 180 from what I'm used to in mid-December. I ponder the difference between the two as I lounge on the long beach chair beside Dean's as we watch Whitney frolic in the cool water.

Dean hasn't fully embraced the warmer temperatures as he is still in jeans and his usually two-shirt ensemble.  The only thing missing is the heavy work boots he usually dons; his feet are bare. The sunglasses on his face does little to hide the freckles that have made an appearance the darker his skin tans. I've laid in bed recently, counting the cute little misshapen dots. He is all smiles and happy. I love him so much!

When Dean had first suggested taking a trip down south for Christmas break I was astonished, Whitney was ecstatic. In her 13 year existence, this is the first full-fledged vacation we have ever taken so she was excited and enthusiastic about the chance to take a trip. And when she found out the destination, I didn't think she would survive the 17-hour trip without spending the whole time exploding with glee. Whitney and I spent my whole payday on a new wardrobe for the both of us, getting weird and bizarre looks from other shoppers as we tried to find t-shirts and shorts, bathing suits and sunscreen; during December in Indiana those items were few and far between. I also took a secret trip to the courthouse, getting the paperwork to officially make Whitney a Winchester. All it needs is information and signatures from both parents. I plan to surprise Dean with them Christmas morning.

So far, this vacation has been fantastic. We have spent time as a family doing little things, like walking along the beach at sunset searching for seashells, playing mini-golf, spending the day in our hotel room watching old movies and cartoons when the weather took a turn for the worse. It has been a dream come true, something I had never in a million years thought would ever happen. 

Spending time with him and our daughter in what I dubbed as the most magical place on Earth. So what if we're not at Disney World, to me this is the most fascinating time and place; a week spent with my daughter and her father, the love of my life. Life couldn't get any better than this.

I am shaken from my daydreams as I hear Dean growl and begin throwing fictitious daggers with his eyes in the direction of the pool. I turn my head to see a group of teenage boys all surrounding Whitney, who is all smiles at the attention. 

"Calm down honey," I cajole. "We knew this would eventually happen. We can't expect her to be a nun."

"Those boys are too old for her," he defends. "They see an innocent, young girl like her and there's only one thing on their mind." He goes to get up and I reach over to place my hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Give it a minute," I tell him. "I've taught Whitney to take care of herself."

As Dean and I sit there I keep our daughter in my peripheral, just in case one of us needs to step in. Suddenly, Whitney yells out "Jerk!" and slaps the boy who looks to be the protagonist of the crew. I smile as I watch her climb out of the pool and walk toward us. She sits at my feet and wraps her towel around her shoulders.

"You okay darlin'?" her dad asks, his eyes still trained on the gang of boys. They just don't know how many different ways Dean Winchester could murder them and make them all disappear.

"Y-yea," she answers but I can tell she's lying. "They just said some things that weren't nice."

Dean finally turned his eyes toward his daughter, the dangerous glint replaced by concern.  "Baby girl, I can go have a talk with them, if you-"

"No Dean!" she says, standing up. "I don't need my father taking up for me. I'm not a baby!" As Whitney storms out of the pool area, Dean looks at me, at a loss.

"What did I do?"

I stand up and wrap the sarong around my bikini-clad body. "Just let me go talk to her, okay?" I have an idea what is going on and I know having her dad there I'd never get Whitney to open up. I lean down and kiss him and head in the direction our daughter had stomped off.

In the room, Whitney has thrown herself across her bed and is crying into the pillow.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I ask gently because if my suspicions were true, anything could cause her to fly off the handle.

"I don't know," she whines. "I was feeling okay and then all of a sudden, it's like my energy zapped. So I was just floating in the pool, hoping the ache would go away and then those boys came up and started talking to me. And I liked it," she explains as she sits up on the bed. "But then Kyle said something about me being pure and innocent when I told them how old I was and I just lost it. And then I jumped down Dad's throat and he probably hates me now!" She begins crying again and I join her on the bed, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and she places her head on my shoulder.

 "Oh baby," I console. "I think it's becoming that time. You're getting ready to start your first period."

She jerks her head up and looks at me. "Really?"

"Yea, we need to go get you some pads and Midol. You're going to start bleeding anytime."

"God, did I just ruin our first vacation?"

"No!" I claim. "You didn't ruin vacation at all, baby. Now, let's get cleaned up and run down the street to the store."

"Moooom! I can't leave the room! What if it starts before we get back?" I chuckle at her wide-eyed expression.

"Okay, okay." I reach over and grab my phone texting Dean to come up to the room. I roll my eyes as I remember the discussion he and I had almost 2 years ago. Never in a million years did I think I would actually be asking this of him but I can't leave my baby.

The look on his face was comical as I whispered my request. He looked terrified and afflicted at the thought of having to buy feminine products. I take screenshots of exactly what he needs to buy and send him on his way, but not before he insists that I remember promising him he would never have to do this particular task.

The rest of the vacation goes off without a hitch. Whitney does begin her first period and requests to spend the rest of our time in Florida in the hotel room, only going out to eat. Dean and I trust her enough to leave her in the room while we go out, exploring not only the beach but the little town we are in. 

Christmas morning comes and Whitney wakes us up with squeals of delight at the massive amount of presents placed under the decorated fake palm tree in our room.

Dean and I sit on the sofa, drinking coffee and enjoying the look of awe on our daughter's face as she opens her presents. Once finished, she winks at her dad and goes to her bag where she pulls a box from inside. Handing it to him, Whitney steps back as Dean slides off to the floor, getting on one knee.

My hand slaps over my mouth as he clears his throat. I have no idea what he says because my inner voice is chanting 'Oh my god! This can't be happening!' Finally my ears take over and I hear him ask, "Becks, will you marry me?" I nod through the tears and watch as he slips the ring onto my finger. He climbs back onto the couch and wraps his arms around me, only moving one around Whitney when she dog-piles on top of us in excitement.

None of us know though, that when we return to Indiana  the past is going to come back to haunt us, in the form of Sam Winchester back from Hell.

A/N2: Another announcement! Another story! Remember how I promised a sequel to this story? A look into the years these two spent apart? Well I began it and then life happened (along with a stroke) so I just now am finishing it up. Look for Wounded Hearts to begin in March!!! I’m excited to share it with you. I will keep those of you that were on the PH taglist unless you tell me different. Love to you all. 

@vickiq9761 @81mysteriouslyme @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @hoboal87 @squirrelnotsam @spnbaby-67 @sandlee44 @natura1phenomenon @drakelover78 @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @larajadeschmidt13 @tftumblin @blacktithe7 @lilulo-12 @adoptdontshoppets @cpag7 @markofdean79 @supraveng @deanwanddamons @mogaruke @death-unbecomes-you @vicariouslythruspn @atc74 @delightfullykrispypeach​ @sea040561​

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Ok first of all, I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE AMAZING AND EMBODY ALL GOOD THINGS IN THIS GODFORSAKEN WORLD

Second of all, I'm sitting in my bed, miserably eating crackers cause its Satan Waterfall time while craving the love abd affection of my favorite fictional boi. So... Will you...🥺👉🏻👈🏻 fulfill those dreams of mine??🥺👉🏻👈🏻����📓

Okay but thank you?!?!? Here I am just like😭 I do not deserve your kind words at all... You are so sweet and so kind and I am but a small gremliney bean Now... no beta no editing just as is... (I also am on nexplanon which has thankfully kept me from dealing with any severe form of shark week so apologies if I got some of the feelings wrong) 

 Groaning, you tried to get comfortable on the bed. Shark Week was the absolute worst normally and today was no exception. You wanted to get out of bed but stretching your body out was out of the question. Any real movement was out of the question. 

 So currently, you were curled up on your bed watching re-runs of your favorite TV show holding onto a pillow, close to your chest, as you waited for your boyfriend to get back from the store. 

 You heard the door opening and a few minutes later, Stuart was in the room with you. "

I've got your favorite chocolates, your favorite chips, cookies and strawberries," he tells you as he pulls each item out, laying it down on the bed. He then opens up a second back and and pulls out a couple of boxes of tampons and a couple of boxes of pads, "I couldn't remember which one you used and I know that you've got one that you prefer but I wasn't sure.. So I just grabbed a few of them." 

 He also showed you a bottle of midol, some heat packs, and a new pair of fuzzy socks. He puts them back in the bag before he slips into the bed next to you and pulls you next to him. 

 "You doing alright?" he asks you as he pulls you into his arms. His hand begins to rub soothing circles to your lower back, the soothing warmth making you feel sleepy. 

 "Better now," you tell him as you adjust so that you're fully curled up in his arms

“I’m sorry you’re feeling like this Baby,” he mutters as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

He continues to rub soothing circles into your back as the two of you watch your favorite TV Show. 

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @husbro donated $110, and requested ‘wincest, a/b/o.’ Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

First time Dean gets his heat when they’re working together again, Sam doesn’t--at first--have any idea what’s going on.

He’d been with a woman, for two years; before that, he didn’t really date anyone, girl or hal, at least not long enough to get to know their cycles. It’s not much of an excuse, with Dean, who got his first heat when Sam was eleven and followed pretty much the same pattern, twice a year, every year.

They’re in Florida, and it’s only March but it’s already getting hot there, humid and sticky and gross in the sun or shade. A ghost hunt just finished, and a decent collection of bruises between them, and they take a day off to stock up the car again, to regroup. The motel, at least, has working air conditioner, and Sam’s stripped to a t-shirt and boxers at the table, biting his nails and lazily looking for a case, and Dean--still hasn’t gotten out of bed. Ten in the morning, and yeah, maybe they don’t get the opportunity much to sleep in, but still. Sam squints at the lump in the bed. Throws the motel notepad somewhere near a rounded curve of hip, and says, “Seriously?”

A grunt. “I’m tired,” comes Dean’s voice, scratchy from below the pile of blankets. He doesn’t even know how Dean can stand the covers--even with the a/c set to 70, he can feel sweat gathering below his hairline. “Go away.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Are you sick or something?”

A shift, and the blanket tugs down enough for Dean to give him a look, his hair rumpled and his eyes bleary. “Or something,” he mutters, and fitfully pushes the blankets down to his waist. He’s got his usual grey camisole on, the USMC logo nearly illegible over the chest, but his skin’s flushed pink at his shoulders and cheeks and throat, and he actually does look a little--Sam frowns. Dean rubs his eye, smearing the raccoon-stain of the eyeliner he never washes off right, and then squints at Sam. “Could you--coffee? Food?”

“Was that a request?” Sam says, raising his eyebrows, and he doesn’t exactly want to be an errand boy but--Dean’s nodding, vaguely miserable, and Sam sighs, and stands up, and points. “You have to get the next one.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Dean says, and flops back into the pillow.

*

Closest thing to them is a Pilot, and even if it’s less than two blocks Sam takes the car. Too hot to walk. He wishes he owned a single pair of shorts. The truck stop’s not too busy, and Sam wanders up and down the aisles in the c-store, just stretching his legs, not in a hurry for once. A t-shirt with three wolves on it--Dean might actually wear that. Keychains, license plate holders. Oil in gallon jugs, and Sam thinks that might actually be a decent price, and makes a note to tell Dean, in case the Impala needs a change. Around the other aisle there’s the usual light drugs, caffeine pills and aspirin and Pepto and everything else a trucker needs to get through a haul, and Sam’s got a bottle of Tylenol in hand when his eye glances over the familiar tubes with their dainty purple labels that say Kool Kream, and he pauses, and realizes--oh. Fuck.

Kool Kream, and he’d always made fun of the name, but when they were kids Dean used it semi-religiously. His heats were about average, as far as Sam knew, but he would overheat sometimes, and chafe, and Dad would bring it home for him without even making rumbly pronouncements about the extra cost. A few times, when Dad wasn’t home, Sam would get sent out too, and he’d put it on the counter with beef jerky and a Coke like somehow that’d mask what he was buying, and he knew he was blushing to the top of his head, but the cashiers usually didn’t say anything. Weird kind of practice, for buying Midol and tampons for Jessica.

He gets two cups of coffee, and two ice cream bars, and a bag of the slightly suspect deli-case sandwiches, and two tubes of the cream, and the cashier just smiles at him and wishes him a nice day. He doesn’t know how he missed it. Dean always used to get super tired, the day or two before his heat, and then it was--embarrassing, sure, but also made Sam feel kind of... tender. Dean was a pain in the ass, a lot of the time, and made it his life’s mission to annoy Sam, a lot of the time, but for that week Sam always felt...

Shower’s going, with the door barely cracked, when Sam comes into the room. Dean’s bed is a complete wreck, and Sam leans over it to tug the blankets into some kind of order, just to make it more comfortable in case Dean wanted to crawl back in, and--yeah. Smells like... sweat, a little, but more like the tang of slick, and Sam’s mouth waters and he has to swallow it back. Dean’s favorite kind of porn is still heat-sex, and even if Sam tells him he doesn’t want to hear it Sam’s watched it, too, and unfortunately real life isn’t the sex-crazed, impossible-to-deny, irresistible ravishment of that genre--but, fuck, if Sam hasn’t jerked off to the idea, more than just about anything else.

Shower sputters off, and he calls out, “Coffee’s here,” just so Dean knows that Sam is too.

The bathroom door immediately swings further open and Dean sticks his head out, wet hair pushed back from his forehead. “Thank god,” he says, and makes a grabby hand.

Sam rolls his eyes, comes over. Coffee, and a sausage sandwich that Dean makes excited noises at, and then Sam offers up the tube of cream. Dean blinks at it, then at Sam. “I just thought,” Sam starts, and shrugs. “If you still use it.”

Dean licks his lips. He’s pink all over, his shoulder curving out from around the door, and his throat, and his cheeks, and his ears where his hair’s tucked back. He’s washed his face and there’s hardly any eyeliner left, but his lashes are still thick, damp and dark. “You remembered,” he says, soft. He takes it, too, and leans over to put his coffee and sandwich on the bathroom sink. He pauses there, towel caught around his waist, and looks at the tube in his hand.

His bare chest is pink, too, flat but soft, and Sam swallows. “Anything else you need?” he says.

Pause, and Dean lifts one shoulder, still looking at the tube. “Don’t suppose they had dildos in stock at the Pilot, huh?” he says, crass, but his heart’s not in it.

Sam huffs. He leans his shoulder against the door frame, hands in his pockets. “Thought you used a toothbrush holder,” he says--wondering, careful, if Dean would remember--that time, in Eugene, when Sam had walked in, and Dean had had the covers tugged up to his chest but his knees wide and his hand working under the sheets, and he’d gasped and said god, Sam, knock, and--

Dean bites his lip. Looks up, and Sam sees that he does remember, and Dean doesn’t move but his eyes are massively dark, his pupils wide, and he says, level, “Not if I can get something better,” and Sam tugs his hand out of his pocket and touches Dean’s jaw--soft, incredibly hot--and Dean’s lips part and then Sam steps forward and ducks the however-many-inches down and kisses him, hard and all at once, and Dean shoves at his chest and says, mumbly between their mouths, “How fucking long have you been waiting to do that, you dick?” and then loops his arm around Sam’s neck and kisses back.

“So long,” Sam breathes, “so fucking long--” and Dean moans, grabs at him. The towel falls immediately and Sam drops his hands, grabs him under the ass, hauls him in. Jesus, jesus, he’s so soft and so built, his hips that heart-shaped curve that Sam dreamed about for ten years, his ass full and sweet, his shoulders strong and his hands grabbing, grasping, pulling at Sam’s shirt, wanting just as much as Sam has always wanted. “Dean--”

“You are killing me,” Dean says, tugging back, breathing hot up into his face. He’s red-cheeked, his mouth wet. “Sammy, for fuck’s sake.”

“I know,” Sam says, even if he doesn’t--and he ducks and kisses Dean again, and then ducks another inch and grabs him under the thighs, picks him up in an easy haul--just what he’s always pictured--porno scenarios slipping through his mind--and, yeah, Dean gasps, squirms against him, his clit hard and rubbing against Sam’s stomach, through his t-shirt. He dumps Dean on the closest bed--Sam’s--follows him down, getting his hips between Dean’s spread-wide thighs, pushing his dick up against Dean’s clit. Overwhelming--all this skin, soft and hot, and Dean’s face most of all, watching Sam with laser focus, his hands sliding into Sam’s hair.

“You got a condom?” Dean says, dark, offering, and Sam grimaces--not the kind that’ll hold a knot, not with Dean’s body pumping out hormones like it is now. Dean throws his head back against the mattress, groans, and Sam shakes his head--”It’s okay,” he says--”it’s okay, let me just--I’ll--” and he slides his hand down Dean’s side and gives his clit a few pumping strokes, makes Dean squirm, and then slides two fingers down the soft smooth stretch from the root of the clit down to his asshole, where it is--god--soft, and wet, and open, and Sam says hotly, “Were you fingering yourself? In the shower?” and Dean says, on a groan, “What do you think, Sherlock?” and Sam kisses his throat and shoves his fingers in, fast and to the knuckles, all at once. Dean flinches, moans loud. Fuck, fuck--hot inside, so hot, and squishily wet from how much Dean’s giving up. Tight at the entrance and softer inside, and Sam can imagine--how he’ll get in there--”How do you like it?” he says, against Dean’s throat, and Dean shoves his hips down against Sam’s hand and gulps air, so that Sam has to lift his head up, look at him. “C’mon, c’mon. Tell me. Like this, on your back?”

“Sam,” Dean groans, and Sam starts really working his fingers, shoving in and out, pressing and curling to try to find that rough patch, the holy grail, and Sam says, “I’d do it however you want--however, you just gotta tell me. That good?”

Dean reaches down between them, grabs Sam’s wrist. “You know it’s good,” he says, curling his hips. “Shit, shit--”

Slick all over Sam’s fingers, slipping down his knuckles. Dean’s going to be a mess. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he mumbles, and kisses Dean, and Dean squeezes his wrist hard and humps his hips up and comes rippling, shockingly fast, his ass clenching around the space where a knot should be, where Sam should give it to him. Where he will. He’s throbbing, in his jeans, and he kisses Dean’s mouth, his jaw, his throat, breathes in his smell. Fuck.

Dean’s thighs fall open, slowly, and Sam drags his fingers out with a gush. They feel almost bruised, from the pressure inside, but he doesn’t care. He sucks them clean and gets that tang, sharp and almost vile, intense, and Dean opens his eyes then and drags in a breath, shaky. “Jesus, you’re a freak,” he says, but--admiring.

Sam smiles at him. He’s covered in sweat and his balls feel like they’re going to explode and he hasn’t even had his coffee, yet. “You haven’t seen anything,” he says, soft as a promise, and Dean grins, happier than Sam’s seen him in months, and pulls him in for a kiss.

[amyscascadingtabs]

i can’t see the future, but i know that it’s there

It's been eight months since her first pregnancy scare, when they decided to start trying. If she had been pregnant then, and everything had gone well, they could have just had a baby by now. She could have been up feeding a tiny newborn, or rocking them to sleep, or changing diapers, and she would still have been exhausted and maybe still in pain, but she would have had a baby and nothing else would have mattered.

Two times Amy Santiago finds herself awake in the middle of the night. post 7x06.

(read on ao3)

(thank you to @fourdrinkamy and @letsperaltiago for helping inspire this ❤️)

She knew it was coming.

It’s been the same pattern this month as well as the last, and the one before that. First trying, then hoping, then a negative early pregnancy test and a few days later, the ever-dreaded and detested arrival of her period.

 Amy’s never liked her period, but she’s never hated it this much before.

It used to just be something annoying, a bit of bleeding and exhaustion and cramps for a few days that temporarily made her life a tiny bit worse, but nothing she couldn't handle. She’d take some Midol, maybe ask Jake for a massage if she felt really sorry for herself, and move on with her life.

That was before they started trying. 

She takes early pregnancy tests, the ones that will tell you the results up to six days before a missed period, and when they're negative she knows what to expect. Still, there's always that glint of stubborn hope in the back of her mind before she's gotten it - maybe it's slow-starting, maybe it's a false negative, maybe - and it's first when she sees the first dark drops on the toilet paper that she fully admits defeat.

She's not pregnant this month either. Her body's telling her look, I got ready, I was about to let something grow here but you failed, and it's a gut punch because Amy Santiago does not do failure. Amy Santiago is successful. Amy Santiago has control. Amy Santiago isn’t supposed to be sitting on the floor hugging her legs to her knees and crying after putting a tampon in, crying because nothing's working and her body hates her, and the universe hates her and doesn’t want her to ever have a baby.

She wasn't even hoping this time, because they're taking a much-needed break to regain their sanity after the last months, but she still breaks down in tears again after texting Jake and asking him to buy more tampons on his way home.

 It feels wrong. She wants to be texting him about some ridiculous pregnancy craving that he would tease her for, or some morning sickness home remedy which he would gladly get. Not tampons.

 It feels wrong when she wakes up in the middle of the night, too.

The digital clock shows half-past five in the morning, and she’s exhausted, but there’s a dull ache in her lower abdomen and back and it hurts too bad to sleep through. Near unconsciously, she searches for the pack of painkillers in her nightstand, until she remembers they can negatively impact fertility and are hidden in the back of the bathroom cabinet for that exact reason. She shifts position instead.

It doesn’t help. The cramps are terrible, the worst she’s had in months, and they don’t get better even though she tries to fold herself double and press a pillow to her stomach. She can’t tell why they’re so bad, wonders if it’s but another way for her body to remind her of what a failure she is, but she knows she won’t be able to fall asleep until the pain has eased. Keeping herself hunched over, she stumbles into the bathroom and weighs the blue Advil box in her hands for a second before swallowing two tablets. Screw possible negative impacts on fertility. She just wants to sleep.

 Amy lies awake after, waiting for the medication to take effect. She focuses on the sound of Jake's even breaths next to her and tries to match her own inhales and exhales to it, making it a competition with herself to distract from the pain. The minutes on the clock tick by, one after the other, and she counts how many are left until the thirty-minute-mark. Twenty-three. Twenty-two. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about the fact that you're still not pregnant. Don't think about it don't think don't think don't think.

 It feels wrong, unfair and wrong, to be awake at night because of her period. Amy wishes she had another reason.

It's been eight months since her first pregnancy scare, when they decided to start trying. If she had been pregnant then, and everything had gone well, they could have just had a baby by now. She could have been up feeding a tiny newborn, or rocking them to sleep, or changing diapers, and she would still have been exhausted and maybe still in pain, but she would have had a baby and nothing else would have mattered. She would have had her family, and maybe she would have been a little frustrated at Jake for sleeping through the cries, maybe she would have elbowed him in the side and wheezed at him that it was his turn to get up - but she would also have gotten to witness the sight of him lowering himself over the crib, picking up their baby and holding them against his chest before giving them to her for a feed. She pictures his sleep-dazed expression and those transcendent heart-eyes overpowering every sign of exhaustion once he looked at their child, and bites her lip at the memory of his despondent look when she showed him the latest negative test.

The discrepancy between her wishes, and the Universe’s plans for them, has never felt so wide.

 She thinks of holding a positive pregnancy test for the first time in her life, of being told that something’s finally growing inside of her after months and months of single lines and minus signs and not pregnant-s. She thinks of going to an ultrasound, of seeing a perfect little alien-shaped blur kick their legs and wave their hands on the screen. Maybe she and Jake would go to one of those fancy 3D-scans later on, because if she knows them right, they would be too curious not to. She thinks of holding her just-born baby in her arms for the first time, being able to kiss their sweet little face after all those months of waiting.

 They’re taking a break from trying, but the dreaming hasn’t stopped, and the pain of not knowing when - or even if - the dreams will come true, has only grown sharper.

She doesn’t realize she’s started crying again until Jake stirs next to her, mumbling a worried Amy? that she pretends not to hear because it’s embarrassing enough to be awake in the middle of the night crying about her period and it’s even worse to wake someone else up because of it.

“I’m fine,” she sniffles, quickly wiping away the tears. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Ames...”

“It’s just my period, okay? It’s just cramps. I’m okay,” she says, and curses her voice for breaking on the last word.

“Do you want painkillers? A heating pad? I can give you a massage -”

“Jake…”

“Whatever you need, I’m here, I promise -”

“Just…” She closes her eyes. “Just hold me for a bit.”

 There’s a second’s silence like he’s surprised by the request, before he moves closer and wraps his arms around her.

There hasn’t been as much cuddling between them in the last few months. Every bit of physical intimacy has seemed to have just that tiny edge of pressure built into it, and lately, Amy’s found herself shying away from it, not wanting to instigate anything with the sole purpose of making her feel good. Her body’s betraying her, and whatever pleasure she may have longed for, she’s felt undeserving of it.

Tonight, though, she doesn’t care. She’s in pain and they’re taking a break from trying. She lets herself be pulled into his chest, her tears leaving wet stains on his shirt, and his hands stroke up and down her back as she lets herself relax in the embrace.

 “It’s not about the cramps, is it?” He asks, and she shakes her head. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

You don’t know that, she wants to say, but Jake’s voice is mild and caring and easy to trust. She nods instead.

 He doesn't say anything after, and she's grateful for the patience. His fingertips dance along her neck, pressing and drawing lazy patterns to make her relax, and slowly but surely, breathing gets easier.

 “I can't stop thinking,” she whispers once she's certain her voice won't break again. “What if I had been pregnant that day at the manhunt? Or if we'd gotten pregnant our first month trying?”

“Ames…”

“We could have had a baby by now, Jake. But we don't.”

He opens his mouth as if to protest, but she shakes her head again.

 “I just want a baby.” She rolls over on her back, staring up at the ceiling so she doesn't have to see the hurt in his eyes. Jake's arm slots around her shoulders, keeping her close.

“I don't want to be up at night because of fucking cramps. I wish I was up feeding our child, or soothing them, or forcing you to get up and do it. Hell, I would rather be up in the middle of the night because I was in labor than this, because at least that would mean we were having a baby, and it would have been better than this.”

Another single tear makes her way down her cheek. Jake wipes it away.

“I know, babe.”

“I know we're a family,” she says, reaching for his hand. “I love our family. But I just… I just want a baby.”

“We will have a baby,” he promises her without missing a beat. “Someday - somehow - we’ll have the most wanted and perfect baby. That’s a Peralta guarantee.”

The word makes her mouth twitch into a tired smile. Jake leans his head to the side, kissing her cheek.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, and she doesn't fully believe him yet, but she's tired and the painkillers are kicking in and she wants to believe him, which maybe, she figures, is a first step as good as any. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, and she squeezes his hand a little harder.

 He gets her the heating pad anyway, and then he lets her curl into his side, holding her as she’s finally able to fall asleep again.

 He’s her family. He’s the person who knows her better than anyone, knows what she needs even when she’s not sure of it herself. She wants so badly for them to have children, more than she wants anything else in the world, and the period pains aren’t even a tenth as bad as the pain of knowing no, not this month either.

 The lack of control is the worst part. The thought that something might be wrong with her is a close second. But most of all, she can’t shake the feeling that this isn't how it was supposed to be.

   ~

    one year later.

 Amy could have sworn it’s only been an hour since she was last up. When the soft whimpers from the crib next to her side of the bed turn to the sharp, ear-piercing cries they’ve already learned mean feed me now before I wake the entire building, she can’t help but mumble a curse over how tired she is. She thought she’d experienced exhaustion previously in her life, after night shifts and long stakeouts or cramming for exams, but she’s never even come close to the level at which two weeks into new motherhood measures. Amy Santiago of a year ago had no idea what she was in for.

 Jake mumbles something, an attempt of offering to get up, but she tells him it’s fine, promise and he sighs in contentment, pulling the covers back up to his chin. He’s definitely taking the sleep-deprivation harder than she is, but he was also the one who was up changing a leaking diaper that demanded an outfit change without batting an eye about an hour ago, so Amy can’t be mad. Besides, she doesn’t need him for this. Breastfeeding is her thing, and she selfishly loves that she gets to have their daughter all to herself for these moments.

 With some determination, she manages to sit up on the side of the bed, standing up to lean over the crib. It’s far from smooth, because she's still sore and ungraceful, but she powers through. Her baby needs her.

 Gently hushing, she bends down to lift their daughter. The cries soften as the girl notices her, reducing to just a frustrated whining, and Amy smiles because she's not completely terrible at this.

“It's okay,” she says, cupping the back of her daughter's head and supporting her bottom, making sure the swaddle blanket with colorful circus animals is coming along as she holds the infant against her chest. “It's okay, baby, I'm here.”

There’s another whimper like her baby’s trying to make sure she’s being told the truth, and it’s one of the cutest sounds Amy’s heard. Pressing a kiss to her little forehead, shamelessly breathing in her scent because everyone was totally right when they talked about how addicting the smell of your own newborn is, Amy bites her lip and tries not to groan in discomfort as she adjusts herself back to a sitting position. People had warned her giving birth would be horrible; most forgot to mention the recovery part wouldn’t be any more fun. She’s grateful it’s getting better, and also to whoever invented disposable underwear and ice pads.

 She reaches for the nursing pillow and turns on the nightstand lamp so she can see what she’s doing, squinting as the bright lighting hurts her eyes. Apparently, her baby isn’t a fan of it either, because she pouts her lip and makes an upset face that nearly breaks Amy’s heart.

“I know,” she tells her, brushing her hand over the soft black hair on her daughters’ head. “I’m sorry. No fun. I just haven’t learned to do this in darkness yet, so you have to be patient. I’m working on it. See?” Still holding the newborn on her right arm, she manages to use her left hand to unhook the strap of the nursing tank top, then doing the same for the bra.

“Impressed? You should be. I’m telling you, it’s harder than it looks with one hand.”

Her daughter doesn’t look too impressed, more impatient, so Amy shakes her head and guides her towards the breast, gently placing her jaw there and helping her get the right latch.

 Breastfeeding had turned out to be much more complicated than she’d thought. It seemed so natural when she pictured it, so obviously something she would want to try, but she’d failed to prepare for how difficult it would be to a beginning. Sore, cracked nipples before they could figure out the correct latch, the feeling that her boobs were about to explode once her milk came in, the leaking and the fact that every feed seemed to last forever. She’d pictured fifteen minutes, not forty. It’d been a rough start with a lot of tears for both her and baby, but once she’d powered through the first ten days or so, she’d been positively surprised to discover how much easier it became. Her daughter knew what she was doing. If she just allowed herself to relax a little, so did Amy.

 She counts to ten when her daughter sucks down rather hard - the first ten seconds are the worst - and then, she takes a deep breath once she can hear the peaceful suckling that’s already made its way to the top of her list of favorite baby noises. They're both learning how to do this now, and for every time, Amy’s loving it more. Sure, it's a little messy, and she never gets to sleep, but it's also the moments she feels closest to her newborn. This is something only she can do for her daughter. Anyone can hold her or change a diaper, and the kid falls asleep better in Jake's arms than anywhere else, but when it comes to this, Amy's the only one. This is their time together.

 Her daughter seems to really like it, too. It’s clear in the way she’ll make eye contact while feeding, her light brown eyes - the same color as Jake’s - staring into Amy’s darker ones with surprising intent and focus. Newborns are nearsighted, Amy knows. She wonders sometimes if nature made it so that they’re born able to see exactly this distance, not needing anything else.

And then, like the moment wasn’t sweet enough already, her daughter brings her tiny hand up to rest on Amy’s chest, and she could cry from the feeling of overwhelming love, drowning her and casting her back up on shore a new person.

“I love you too,” she whispers, stroking her thumb over the round cheeks she’s so obsessed with. It’s cool to think about how they’re all thanks to her, because she’s nourishing this child with her body. “So much more than you could ever understand, baby.”

“You were so wanted. More than you’ll ever know. There were days where I thought about giving up, because nothing was working, and some days I wondered if we’d ever meet you.” She thinks of the night at Shaw’s when she finally confessed that she had no idea what to do, thinks of just wanting to start a family, getting a chance to grow the magic she and Jake already had together. “Most of the time I still can’t believe you’re here and this isn’t all just a dream.”

“You were so wished for, Evelyn,” she says, pronouncing her daughter’s name with all the care and love she has in her heart. “You were so wished for, it’s the reason we gave you your name.”

 (Baby names had started a fun thing, quickly turned into intense debating, and calmed down once they agreed on a boy’s name - and then they found out they were having a girl. It had seemed a practically impossible feat to find common ground, resulting in more than one slightly too heated argument. Jake wanted something that sounded cool, Amy wanted something that had a nice meaning, and the two never seemed to overlap; until the day Jake came home from work and claimed he’d interviewed a witness that day with the coolest, most perfect name.

“And look at the meaning,” he’d said, showing her the NameBerry tab on his phone.

Meaning of Evelyn: “wished for child”.

Amy had only been able to nod.)

She remembers the detailed calendar with its green highlighted ovulation - fertile window, and the timing of sex that had felt clinical and half-hearted and not at all like them. Vitamins, too many vitamins even for her, the obsessive tracking of every glass of water and shift in temperature. She remembers every negative test, the shiny spark of hope each time she laid the little plastic stick down to develop, thinking this might be the one only to have all hope crushed again three minutes later. She remembers the disappointment in Jake’s eyes every time, remembers hating herself for the way he tried to hide it when really, it was probably all her fault and she was just bad at making babies. All the sleepless nights a year ago, when she tossed and turned with anxiety, wondering if a tiny half-her and half-Jake perfect baby would ever be in the cards for them.

It seems a lifetime ago, but she remembers every bit of pain and exhaustion like it was yesterday.

 Motherhood is exhausting, too - Amy no longer remembers what it’s like to sleep for more than three hours at a time - but it’s also gratifying, and extraordinary, and indescribably beautiful despite the struggle. She feared she’d never get to experience this, but she is, and it’s worth every blocked milk duct and sleepless night when she nudges Evelyn’s little hand with her index finger and her daughter clasps her hand around it.

She got her baby in the end. She got her family.

 Reaching for the glass of water on her nightstand and taking a few sips, she catches a glimpse of the digital clock next to it. It’s been around fifteen minutes since they started nursing, meaning she’s probably about halfway through. She should try to switch sides.

“Hey, Ev,” she whispers, brushing her thumb over the newborn’s chin. “You think we can do this? Maybe even somewhat smoothly?”

Evelyn hiccups at that, spitting out a little bit of milk that drips down Amy’s chest.

“Okay, forget smoothly. You think we can do this, period?”

 She gives Jake a longing glance, wondering if she should try to wake him and ask for help, but he’s sleeping so soundly despite the bright lighting that she decides against it. Besides, she’s totally got this. She’s just going to get a nursing pad and a burp cloth from the nightstand, and then she’s going to unclasp the other side of the tank top and bra and put the first side back together, and then -

 Evelyn pulls away suddenly - too quickly for the flow to stop - and it comes down all over her face, making her grimace in protest. Her little face scrunches up, and two seconds later, she's crying.

“Sscch, honey, it's okay,” Amy whispers, quickly following the instinct to hold her daughter upright against her chest, swaying slightly from side to side. “Sorry about that.”

She manages to reach for a burp cloth, wiping away the milk that seems to have gotten all over the newborn’s face. Evelyn stops crying and Amy takes a relieved breath, switching the newborn to her left arm and unclasping that side of her tank top and bra. Her daughter latches on, quicker this time, and Amy’s just about to relax again when she realizes she never had a chance to fix the other side, and now it’s leaking. She tries to at least clasp the hooks of the bra together, but what’s doable with her left hand is impossible with just her right, and she fumbles and gives up. She can’t get a nursing pad, either, because they’re on the nightstand to her left and she can’t reach for them without twisting herself completely and disturbing her daughter. She tries to use the burp cloth still in her hand to save some of the worst, but her tank top is already uncomfortably damp from it and Amy’s stuck.

 It’s so far from glamorous - new motherhood in general, but especially this right now - and she’s deliriously tired but so happy at the same time, it’s all she can do to laugh.

“This is a mess, huh, Ev?” She asks her daughter, adjusting the legs of her pajamas. Jake had remarked the other day that baby pajamas must be one of the most pointless inventions, considering newborns sleep as much or little no matter the time of the day, but they also both agreed on it being the cutest category of clothing known to mankind. This one has a pattern with smiling clouds and stars on it, and it’s already making Amy emotional to think that her daughter will have grown out of it in a couple of weeks.

“We’re all a bit of a mess right now,” she whispers to the child. “I think that's okay. We're figuring it out together. It’s all that matters.”

Evelyn hiccups, dribbling more milk over herself and Amy, and Amy can't help but laugh again because she’s slowly being covered in it and she's not going to have a chance at freshening up with a shower for several hours if she wants any sleep at all, and yet everything has never felt so perfect. A year ago, she wouldn’t have dared to dream of this, but now it’s her life.

 Jake yawns next to her, rubbing his eyes before looking up at them with an entertained grin.

“How are things going?”

“Messy,” Amy groans. “I’m not sure I’m nailing this thing just yet. There’s milk everywhere.”

“You're doing great,” he assures her, patting her leg, and she grimaces at the praise. “Need any help?”

“Desperately. Please fix this side for me,” she nods to her right and Jake laughs, but he gets out of bed, gets the stuff and fixes it for her without comment, bending down to kiss the top of their daughter’s head when he's done.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells them, slotting back on his side of the bed but supporting his head with his hand to hold himself up. “This - this is beautiful.”

“Ev's beautiful. I smell like sour milk and have never slept less in my life,” Amy corrects him, but he just smiles.

“You’ve never looked so happy before,” he says. “That's beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but it’s a loving eye-roll, because he’s absolutely right. Even with the exhaustion, messiness and slight chaos of the moment, she’s never been so happy.

 “I can’t believe we got here,” she whispers. Evelyn pulls away, finally seeming content, and Amy gives her over to Jake who practically shines with pride as he drapes a burp cloth over his shoulder.

“Told you we would.”

“I know.” Amy wipes a little bit of milk away from Evelyn’s chin with her thumb before kissing Jake’s cheek. “I love our family.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says, eyes soft as he looks at their daughter again. He pats her back a little harder and she looks right at him before letting out a loud burp, making both of her parents laugh. “So do I.”

 This, Amy thinks as Jake gets up to change another diaper while she closes her eyes to get the chance of a few more hours of sleep, this is how it was supposed to be.

   ~