Warnings: f! reader, menstruation

You knew it as soon as it happened. The pain and then the all too familiar wet patch in your underwear. Groaning you set your laptop down and rush off to the bathroom. 

Sure enough the crotch of your panties are dark red, fresh and wet and promising pain for the next few days. God, why did it have to come now. Why does it ever have to come? 

As if on queue, your hips lurtch forward at the sharp stab in your gut. You close your eyes and send a silent prayer that the cramps will fade away, yet you make a mental note to pop a couple of advil asap. 

It doesn’t get much better as the day goes on. Your mood crashing and already tired of mother nature within the first few hours. The advil does help a little, but there's still an underlying hurt. 

The words on your computer start to melt together, letters now more shapes than things with the meaning of communication. Your head starts to throb, probably dehydration, or maybe the fact your uterus is trying to kill itself. The heat pack broke and a silent scream escaped when you realized you forgot to get a new one from last time. 

It all starts to add up, like dominos falling together in a line. Your emotions are strung high, thoughts like a frazzled live wire, sparking and humming and dangerous. Everything just seems to be going wrong. 

Warnings: gn! reader, mentions of smut, running

This had gone better in your head. 

This had gone a lot better in your head. 

It had started out simple, innocent… well maybe not so innocent. You can’t help it, he just looks so good. 

Strong hands grip the bar above him, shirt left long ago and praise the lord for it because it allows you full view of his chest.  With each controlled breath he pulls himself up up up, pecs growing, abs fluttering, biceps bulging from exertion. The vein on his neck stands strong against his skin, and you can feel yourself gulp at the sight. 

The book that was on your lap no longer holds your attention, your eyes rather greedily scan over him from beneath your lashes as you sit on the couch. 

He grunts as he continues, and god, you can’t mask the heat that it brings to your core. Sweat starts to build on the center of his chest, glistening and just begging you to run your tongue along his skin and collect it… taste it. Let the salt and musk overwhelm your senses, maybe leave a couple marks, just a few love bites, a few bruises to contradict the ones formed from his job. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

His voice, gruff and strong and full of amusement although hard, shocks you like a lightning bolt from your thoughts and blatant stare. A pathetic little squeak leaves your lips and you can feel heat licking up your skin, the same way you had imagined licking his moments ago. 

You couldn’t find the words to save yourself, caught in his gaze. But it is when his words register that you grin, pulling your phone out and angling it towards him, giggles falling from your lips. 

“Can I?”