#dumpling cries

[obsessive-dumpling]

What is going on? I go into a depressive slump and don't sign on for a little while and all hell breaks loose?! 431 dropped. (Which I haven't seen yet because I was immediately warned that it will break my heart.) Habken gets nuked. Habken gets revived. I guess I should be thankful that I didn't have to mourn those 8 hours at least... 🤷

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Is 431 that bad? Be real with me. My heart is fragile right now.

[veifei]

manhua!lu guang being unbothered/not fussed past filling the general objective of the clients UNTIL cxs is emotional/having nightmares/cries and then lu guang suddenly going above and beyond scrambling to fix things or provide some sense of closure/justice is my favourite, actually

[ddodol]

💍🥟

[ms-scarletwings]

I know they say to be the change you want to see in the world but I sure got some work to do and then some if that’s the case

[thehotpilot]

.

my emotions are so all over the place i’m locking myself in my room for the next few days as much as possible because i’m scared to infect my roommates by touching anything and because one of my roommates mom is coming to stay with us on monday and i keep randomly bursting into tears thinking about all the people i was in contact with this week and how this is gonna knock me out of work pretty much the entire week. the blisters aren’t even that bad yet but i’m scared they’ll get worse

[cheerfullycatholic]

Oh oh oh at Costco I found a big bag of soup dumplings (not gluten free unfortunately) and I really like them but I'm used to Trader Joe's which have a lot of ginger in them so I'm kind of missing that but that's okay because they'll still make a yummylicious after pool snackie

[i-am-a-fan]

HEY! If you want to

send me something nice that happened to you today! or reblog this post and put it somewhere!

I’ll go first, I got off of work an hour early :>!

[7roaches]

stealing this from mutual

[letsriddlemethislucifer]

Arriet, do you talk to your dad about Bryn? What kind of things do you talk about?

--- Strangely for her age, Arriet does not speak verbally for the most part. It isn't known to bryn yet, but arriet lived the beginnings of her life in animal form for a kitsune. It was only until later that she turned human to mimic her adoptive father, shizuma.

It isn't as if she can't say what she wants without words, however! All it takes is things bryn has given her or made routine with her for the little one to try and convey how much fun she has with her sitter!

In retrospect, Shizuma actually had a hard time understanding her until a year or two of raising her. Now it merely takes certain chirrups and motions for him to catch what she is saying.

Due to his unfortunate amount of work hours, he doesn't always get to sit down and see her as much right now-- but her little stories are genuinely something he does his best to stay awake and listen to.

Usually it's just about how bryn might teach her how to not throw things around to get what she wants, or properly greet others. She also shows her father the arts and crafts and other trinkets she's made with Bryn.

From: @faebletales

[adrekiy0]

this is the closest i'm letting myself get to having kids

[obsessive-dumpling]

...what do we do when it's over?

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru absolutely baby talks you when you’re sick.

not in a mocking way. no. this is full-blown softie satoru, disgusting levels of wife guy activated, baby voice on max, coddling you like you’re the most precious, fragile little thing in the universe—and not because he thinks you’re weak, but because it’s the one time you let him get away with it without putting up your usual walls.

because you’re sick. hot forehead, flushed cheeks, big watery eyes that blink up at him like you’re seeing god—or worse, like you might actually cry if he leaves the room. like you need him. and honestly? that does something to him. wrecks him, even.

and you do need him. you’re fevered, shivering, curled up in bed in one of his oversized shirts, your hair a mess, nose stuffy, brain thoroughly fried. your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but can’t be bothered to try, lips parted in a weak sigh as you breathe through your mouth. your usual bratty, mouthy, too-proud-for-help self? gone. obliterated. absolutely bulldozed by the flu. all that’s left is a miserable little lump of a wife who clings to his sleeve like a koala and mumbles, “’toru… i feel like a soggy towel…”

his whole body stills. there’s a twitch in his brow, like his heart has physically clenched. his lips part, just a little, before curling up in the softest grin. eyes soften behind pale lashes—just a hint of red at the corners from how tired he is too—but none of that matters. not when you’re looking up at him like that. the corner of his mouth tugs upward, not in amusement—but in something far gentler. reverent, even. and then god. he melts. instantly. his heart shatters into a million pieces and reforms just to explode again.

“awww, my poor widdle baby,” he coos, already pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. his breath is warm, his nose brushing yours. “does my soggy towel need her soup? wanna be spoon-fed by the hottest nurse in the world?”

you don’t even roll your eyes. you nod. actually nod. sluggish, dazed. and then flop into his arms like dead weight, forehead nudging his neck, skin hot against his collarbone. you let him hold you like you’re made of glass.

he almost cries. really. because you’re letting yourself be coddled. cuddled. taken care of. no sass. no biting remarks. just tiny, pitiful sniffles and pouty faces and your arms wrapping around his waist like he’s your anchor. like you don’t want him to go anywhere. like you can’t function without him.

and satoru eats that up like it’s a feast.

“you want juice, angel? how about some water? apple slices? forehead kisses every ten minutes? medicine with a kiss as a chaser?”

“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.

“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.

he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.

he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.

“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.

his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”

“you’re lying…”

“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”

there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.

“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.

“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.

his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.

“louder.”

“toruuuuu… it’s you…”

the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”

“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”

he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”

his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.

he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.

you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.

“what was that, baby?” he whispers.

“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.

his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.

he kisses your temple and you go quiet.

and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.

he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.

and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.

he leans down again, voice barely audible now.

“rest up, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your clammy forehead. “you’ll feel better soon. and then i’ll go back to being emotionally bullied by my beloved wife.”

[viaxslz]

͏ ͏ . ˙˖ ͏ ͏᱖ ͏ ͏ WHEN YOU DON'T KISS THEM ꒰´ ꒳ ` ꒱♡

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: kissing, fluffy fluff, they’re hella dramatic, pet names, not proofread :P

CHAN

Confused puppy mode activated. He blinks at you like you’ve just told him you hate puppies and sunshine. “Wait… you don’t wanna kiss me? Like. Right now?” He immediately checks his breath. Sniffs his shirt. *“Did I do something?” When you teasingly shake your head and walk away, he dramatically collapses onto the couch like he’s in a K-drama. “So this is what heartbreak feels like…” Literally pouts for the next ten minutes. Will not stop staring at your lips. Once it goes on for that long he Starts offering kisses to inanimate objects. “Okay fine, I’ll kiss this pillow instead. It never betrays me.” Bonus: the second you kiss him later, he perks up like nothing ever happened. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” Smug and clingy for the next hour. You’ve created a monster.

MINHO

Immediately squints at you like you just challenged his entire existence. “...You must be joking.” Proceeds to act like you just committed a crime against the state of Minho. Fake gasp. “After everything I’ve done for you? Dramatically flops onto the bed, face down. Mumbles something about betrayal and ungrateful partners. Ten seconds later, peeks up: “Was it my eyeliner? Be honest.” Lowkey offended, highkey teasing. Will start threatening your plushies. “If you don’t kiss me in five seconds, Mr. Bunbun gets it.” Refuses to let you live in peace until you give in. Starts hovering near you with his cheek out like: “You could fix this right now. Just saying.” If you still don’t kiss him, he pouts and goes quiet for a whole… five minutes. Then casually brushes his fingers against yours and mutters, “...You’re lucky I like you.”

CHANGBIN

Visibly malfunctions. Stares at you like his world just crumbled. “Huh?? You’re joking. That was a joke, right?” Looks around like he’s on a hidden camera show. “Did I not flex enough today? Is that why?” Pulls out his phone, turns the front camera on. Stares at himself. “No way someone this cute is getting rejected right now.” Dramatic™ but clingy: follows you around the room, hands behind his back like a lost duckling. “I’m not saying I’m upset. But my heart? Yeah, it’s broken.” Tries puppy eyes. Then arms-crossed-pouting. Then both. If you keep refusing just to tease him, he gasps and goes: “Wow. Betrayal. This is worse than when Felix ate my last dumpling.” Eventually sulks in a corner… until you sneak a kiss on his cheek. Perks up immediately: “You still love me. I knew it.”

HYUNJIN

Gasp. Actual gasp. Like hand-to-chest, Shakespeare-level shock. “You’re refusing me? Me?? The most kissable man alive?” Stares at you in disbelief like you just said you don’t like art or dogs. Immediately gets extra dramatic. leans against a wall like he’s in a tragic romance movie. “So this is what unrequited love feels like…” Paces around the room dramatically whispering, “Why? Why me?” May or may not fake faint into your arms. “I’m going to write poetry about this betrayal.” Pulls out his sketchbook and scribbles something that looks suspiciously like a broken heart with your name in it. BUT the moment you offer a kiss later, he puts the drama on hold so fast. “Oh? You’ve come to your senses? I forgive you.” (Still makes you kiss him three times to make up for the heartbreak.)

HAN

Instantly gasps like he’s been shot. “WHAT DID I DO?! Tell me right now. I can change.” Drops to his knees in the middle of the room. “Is it because I ate your last snack? I’ll buy you ten more. Just please kiss me.” Dramatic? Yes. Clingy? Also yes. Starts listing reasons why he deserves a kiss. “I’m cute. I’m loyal. I only cried twice this week.” 100% will try to trick you into kissing him. “Hey, what’s that on your cheek?” When you turn to face him he puckers his lips. When you still refuse, he fake-wipes a tear. “This is worse than that time my mom forgot to pack my juice box.” Crawls under a blanket burrito-style and mutters, “I’m going to disappear from society.” …until you give him a kiss and he immediately pops up like, “Okay I’m healed. You’re forgiven. Let’s make out.”

FELIX

At first, he thinks you didn’t hear him. “Wait, love… did you… did you miss the part where I asked for a kiss?” You say no. He gasps. Visibly stunned. Looks personally victimized. Places a hand on his chest like, “my freckles are crying right now.” Looks up at you with the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “But I baked you cookies last week…” Might dramatically flop onto the floor with zero warning. “This is the end. This is how I go. KISSLESS.” Starts muttering in his deep voice: “No more sunlight. No more hope. Just vibes and heartbreak.” Will start offering you bribes: “One kiss = one Aussie accent moment.” If you give in, he lights up like the sun. “YAY! I mean… ahem thank you, my love.” If you don’t, he pouts and writes “RIP me” in your notes app.

SEUNGMIN

You say no and he just blinks at you. “Okay.” Totally calm. Deadpan. Turns back to his phone. You think he doesn’t care. He’s so chill it’s suspicious. But five minutes later, you realize… He’s suddenly so petty. “No, I’m not sharing my fries. People who withhold kisses don’t get fries.” Starts fake-laughing at memes on his phone louder than usual. “Wow. This meme gave me more affection than SOME people. Keeps glancing at you, unimpressed. “You had one job.” If you try to kiss him later to make up for it, he leans back with raised brows. “Ohhh, so now you want to kiss me?” Acts like he’s in negotiations. “I’ll consider it… for a price.” But one kiss and he melts instantly. “Okay fine. I guess I am cute enough to forgive.”

JEONGIN

Freezes. Just freezes. “Wait. Are you serious?” Squints at you like you just said you don’t like baby bread. “Do you know what you’re missing out on?” gestures to his own face “Premium. Kissable. Visuals.” At first, he acts like he’s too cool to care. “Tch. Whatever. I didn’t want one anyway.” Five minutes later: “I could’ve been kissed… but nooo… someone had to be heartless.” Starts sending you dramatic selfies captioned: “Unkissed. Unloved. Unbothered.” Tries to guilt trip you with his pouty face. “Even Seungmin would kiss me right now.” Eventually starts following you around whispering “kiss me kiss me kiss me” like a cursed ringtone. When you finally kiss him? “Took you long enough.” But his smile is so big he gives himself away in two seconds.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery

[minhosimthings]

Fuck I'm so hungover right now. I drank a whole bottle of whiskey and I uh basically drunk texted @heeliopheelia through my gf, who is currently making me dumplings to calm my ass down.

HOWEVER I have now discovered fifteen places that I can injure myself where it will hurt! Yay to science and medical knowledge! (Yeah no it actually hurts)

Good thing is my profs are off duty tomorrow (courtesy to some Scottish tradition) so I'm not gonna do anything tomorrow! (Jk I can still do my assignments so gonna do that while listening to the same songs on repeat because I can)

[inkedtension]

Toji doesn’t say I love you. He says You done being annoying now? when you kiss him five times in a row, while lifting you up so you can do it better. He says Tch, move over, before tucking your legs over his lap. He says Don’t touch the tab, I got it even when you know he’s down to his last few yen.

You say I love you enough for both of you, anyway.

You notice the money problem before he says anything.

He never lets you pay for anything flashy—Toji’s too proud for that. But the way he gets quiet in front of vending machines, the way he turns down takeout even when your shared fridge is empty, the fact that he pawned his things—except his sunglasses (the ones you once said made him look hot)—it’s all proof.

You corner him one day, arms folded, hair messy from sleep and irritation.

“You’re broke.”

His eyes flick over to you from the couch. Shirtless. Legs spread. That unfairly sexy slouch he lives in.

“‘M not broke,” he mutters, mouth full of toothpick. “I’m just not wasting yen on overpriced pork broth.”

“Baby, you used to bathe in pork broth,” you say, stepping between his knees. “What happened, huh? Job fall through?”

He shrugs. His hands land on your hips automatically.

You soften, just a little. "Y’know I’ll cover it, right?"

He scowls. “Tch. Not your job to baby me.”

“Why not? You baby me all the time,” you smirk, dipping low to brush your nose against his. “You carried me all the way back from that warehouse in Kabukicho when I sprained my ankle and still stopped to buy me dumplings, remember?”

“…You cried, brat.” he mutters.

“So? You kissed my bruises, tough guy.”

He grunts but doesn’t argue. You win. He’s taking you on a ramen date tonight.

It’s almost midnight when you end up at your favorite hole-in-the-wall place in Shinjuku, wedged between a pachinko parlor and a 24-hour karaoke bar.

He scowls at your wallet when you slide it out.

"Don’t."

"Do you want to eat or do you want to stand outside glaring at the menu like it insulted your mother?"

You say it sweetly.

Toji just mutters something about “brats” and shoves his hands in his pockets. But you know he doesn’t mean it. Not when he pulls out your chair before slumping into his own. Not when he picks the garlic shoyu ramen because he remembers you like it. Not when his knee brushes yours under the tiny wooden table.

He eats like he’s starving. You slurp your noodles slowly, watching the steam curl against the night air outside the window.

Shinjuku’s neon glow spills across his jaw. You’re already thinking about kissing it.

"You're staring again," he mutters, not looking up.

You smile. "You're hot when you're broke."

You’re already two bites in when you groan dramatically and slump against Toji’s shoulder. “Ugh. I love you. And I love soup.”

He snorts. “Shoulda told the soup that instead of me.”

“Don’t be jealous of my other boyfriend,” you grin, licking broth off your chopsticks. “He’s hot, steamy, rich—”

Toji grabs your face with one big hand, coming from your other shoulder and smushes it. “You’re lucky I like you even when you’re being a little gremlin.”

You flash him a peace sign with your fingers, still trapped in his grip. “You love it. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond, but his thumb brushes your cheek as he lets go.

You lean into his side again, warm, full, buzzed off salt and affection. Your legs swing a little under the counter seat.

Later, as you’re leaving, belly full and shoulders bumping with his, you spot them across the street.

A dad and his little girl.

She’s giggling, perched on his shoulders with her hands buried in his hair like it’s reins. He swings her legs a little as he walks. She squeals when he twirls.

It’s such a normal scene. So soft. So… unreachable, in your past.

You laugh.

Toji turns.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “That just looks fun.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But you feel the shift in his chest beside you, he turns back to take a proper look and is back at your side as you start kicking rocks.

You fall asleep in his bed with his arm around your waist, his breath against your neck, and your leg flung over his thick thigh like it’s your rightful place.

You dream of floating.

You’re lounging on his couch, one sock on, one sock missing, hair a mess, scrolling on your phone and harassing him just by existing in his space like a warm, annoying kitten.

"Babyyy" you call. "I want attention."

"You've had attention since you woke up."

"You ignored me in the shower."

"I carried you into the shower."

"And then ignored me."

“You wanna go out?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Get dressed. Wear shorts.”

You squint.

When you're out, he first streches like he slept for thirteen days straight, then looks at you, who just looks at him.

Your face said one thing: Where you taking me you broke anyway.

He crouches right in front of you, turns his back towards you.

“C’mere.”

You laugh. “Toji, wh—”

You’re still in shock two minutes later when he jerks his chin to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

“C’mon.”

“Toji—what the fuck—”

“Shut up. You said it looked fun.”

You slide onto his shoulders with clumsy amusement, thighs hugging either side of his head. His hands hook behind your knees.

Your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. “You serious? Baby, I’m not five—”

He straightens to full height. You yelp. The street below you looks distant. His neck flexes under your hands.

“Yeah, and I’m not a damn jungle gym,” he snaps, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “But if you wanna be a brat about it, I’ll just run. See how long you last.”

Despite saying that, he first steadies himself, then starts walking slowly.

His massive hands slide up under your thighs, pulling you flush against his neck, legs dangling. It’s a little awkward. Wobbly.

You squeal, grabbing for his head.

"You're carrying me like a child?"

His grip’s adjusting, your balance is off. You’re squeezing his temples with your thighs while laughing hysterically.

“Baby—you’re gonna drop me!”

“You’re gripping my skull like a damn vice—stop kicking.”

“Why are you WALKING like that—?”

“It’s your fault for squirming.”

He moves like he’s stalking prey. Broad shoulders rolling under you, slow and dramatic, drawing attention. A little boy on the corner gasps. A teenager points. A middle-aged woman stares with horror.

You feel ten feet tall.

Actually… eleven.

Toji huffs. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you carry me.”

“I would, if I could,” you say between giggles. “You’re like three of your cheap fridges stacked on top of each other.”

He shrugs.

Toji keeps walking. Through alleys, past convenience stores, under blinking signs. The city stretches below you in all directions.

He even stops by to buy something from a store nearby the road while you made contact with the cats on the roof, petting them when they flinch, when he reaches up a un-wrapped lolipop for you.

"You're insane" you murmur, taking it from his hand, dazed from height and heat and adrenaline.

He adjusts your leg, starts walking back home.

"You liked it. Yesterday. When you saw that guy with his kid."

You go quiet.

"I just thought… maybe no one ever carried you like that. Not for fun."

The streetlights hit him just right. You stare down at his head, at his hair, at this ridiculous, massive, absurd man who pretends like he doesn't care.

Your throat tightens.

“You’re a sap” you say softly, voice cracking.

“And you’re heavy.”

You laugh through your tears and kick his chest. “Asshole.”

“Brat.”

He doesn’t stop walking.

Back at home, you collapse onto the futon, dead weight, a moaning noodle of a girl.

“Dead” you whimper. “You’re dead. Carrying me killed you. You’re a ghost now.”

He looms over you, pulling his shirt off with one hand from behind his neck.

“Nah. You’re the one who’s gonna be dead if you keep talkin’, brat.” he says with that grin that always ruins you.

You tug him down by the waistband.

“I’m always talkin’, baby,” you say. “Still love me?”

He kisses your jaw, then your throat, then down to your collarbone.

“Always.”

[wafflefries13]

Blood in the Water (Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You get your period and Floyd is confused.

AN: Gonna be honest, this is mostly for me. I'm having the absolute worst cramps and writing this is mostly cathartic. I need a good comfort fic every once and a while. Thanks for reading!

Cross posted on my AO3 TheGhostIsTheKitchen

Warnings: AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, menstruation, cramps, nausea, brief mention of assault but no actual assault, can be read as romantic or platonic

There was a familiar twist in (Y/N)’s gut and she groaned. Putting a hand to her stomach, she leaned against the wall in the library, sinking down between the bookstacks as her head went dizzy and a knot of pain grew in her belly. 

When her period had started this morning, two days late, she’d felt mostly fine. Sure maybe a little bloated and sluggish but that was par for the course. For a minute she’d been able to fool herself into thinking this would be one of those easy periods. It would last a few days without the plummeting change in emotions, the barbed wire cramps in her lower stomach, and every inch of skin feeling way too sensitive. Now that seemed like wishful thinking. 

The first time she got her period here she desperately looked through the stacks of pain medication at Sam’s, wrestling with the unfamiliar brands to try and decipher which were good for period pains and which might make it worse. Thankfully, a trans Scarabia student had seen her struggling, pointing out which products they used. Sam had thrown in a free heating pad shaped like a huge dumpling. She’d almost cried. 

She wished she had that heating pad now. She closed her eyes, thunking her forehead on her knees as she curled up. This was supposed to be a free study period, but she now suspected she’d spend the whole hour hiding in the library, afraid to move for fear of agitating the growing bundle of pain in her abdomen. She took a deep breath through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. 

(Y/N) sensed the presence before she saw him. Months of being startled by Lilia or Chenya breaking onto campus had sharpened her skills in being ready for surprise attacks. She cracked open an eye, catching the fleeting glimpse of teal colored hair ducking behind a stack. She pressed her lips together. She normally loved having Floyd around. She appreciated his vibrant, if not volatile, personality, how surprisingly talented he was in domestic tasks like cooking. Jade had once mentioned that (Y/N) was able to sense Floyd’s mood swings with almost as much accuracy as his own brother, anticipating the shift and adjusting accordingly. And, to be honest, she loved how he would squeeze the life out of her at any given chance. But right now, when she was fighting a wave of nausea? Now was not the time. 

She watched from the corner of her eye as Floyd stalked through the stacks, more like a shark than an eel. When she saw him ready to pounce, muscles tensing, ready to strike, she quickly held out her hand in a ‘stop’ motion, cutting him off mere inches from his arms enveloping her. 

“Floyd,” She said, exhaustion seeping into her voice. “If you squeeze me right now I’ll throw up on you. That’s not a threat, it’s just what will happen.” 

Floyd pouted, his posture deflating. “Boo,” He said. He blinked, just now taking in (Y/N)’s curled in form. “You okay, Shrimpy?” 

(Y/N) chuckled mirthlessly. “All my insides want to be my outsides, but other than that I’m good.” 

Floyd blinked, wide eyed, mouth dropping open in alarm. His features almost immediately switched to steely anger. “Who hurt you?” 

If (Y/N) wasn’t so preoccupied by the lethargy pulling her body down, she might have found his protectiveness cute. “Just Mother Nature, Floyd. And I don’t think even you have much of a chance against her.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “I’m on my period.” 

“Oh.” He stood there for a moment, long limbs awkward now that he couldn’t use them for violence. He shifted on his feet before collapsing down to sit next to (Y/N). He tapped his feet, trying to dispel ounces of his endless energy. “So, your period?” 

(Y/N) hummed in response. “Yeah. It’s a few days late, but it’s here. At least I’m not pregnant, right?” 

Floyd jumped, eyes wide. “Pregnant?” He asked, voice cracking. “You have a boyfriend?” 

(Y/N) scoffed, waving him off. “God, no. It’s enough juggling everything else that’s happening here without worrying about a relationship.” 

“Then,” Floyd thought for a second, eyebrows furrowing in anger. “Is somebody hurting you?” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, just now noticing his angry confused face. “Hurting me? No, I’m not - Oh, wait, no! Not like that, no! I’d tell someone if anything like that happened, I promise.” 

“So you’re just seeing someone?” He almost looked hurt with his pout. 

“No, I’m not, casually or anything serious.” 

“But you thought you might be pregnant?” 

“Every girl thinks they might be pregnant when their period is late, even if they’ve never had sex before.”

“When your period is late,” Floyd repeated. 

“Yeah, it’s universal. Ask any girl. Or a person with a uterus. You know what I mean.” 

It was quiet again, Floyd tapping his feet more aggressively this time. Just when (Y/N) was about to ask him to stop, that the tapping sound was adding to her hammering headache, Floyd asked, “What’s a period?” 

(Y/N) turned her head from her knees to look up at him, and, realizing he was serious for once, jerked straight up. “Wait, really? You never heard your mom talking about it? Or any girls you know?” 

Floyd shrugged, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve never heard mer-girls say anything about it. And you’re really the only human girl I know.” 

(Y/N) had momentarily forgotten that her and Floyd’s biology was far more different beyond physical sex. Now that she thought about it, it would make sense if mermaids didn’t have periods, right? She found it hard to believe that Floyd could be willfully ignorant of something that affected half the human population, (come to think of it, did beast women have periods? Or fairies?) but if he didn’t have extended contact with humans who suffered monthly, his confusion and concern would make sense. 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself blush. “I didn’t think - yeah, no, I’m fine. This is normal. It sucks and hurts, but it’s normal, I promise.” 

“It’s normal to hurt without getting hit or something?”

“Yup. Totally normal. Did you… want me to explain it to you?” 

Floyd cocked his head, peering at her. “Well, if it’s important to Shrimpy then it’s important to me, right?” 

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and said. “Yeah, sure. Okay, human biology 101.” (Y/N) held out her fist, pinkie and thumb extended. “Okay, so biological females have an organ called a uterus, down in the lower abdomen right above the pelvis. Branching out from the uterus are fallopian tubes connected to ovaries on either side.” She wiggled her pinkie and thumb to demonstrate. “The ovaries have eggs, not like chicken eggs or fish eggs. It’s a cell, like a skin cell or blood cell or something. During the month, the uterus builds up this cushioning of blood and tissue and an egg gets sent down from the ovary. If the egg isn’t fertilized by a sperm cell to make a baby, then the body needs to get rid of that tissue. So the uterus contracts,” (Y/N) opened and closed her fist to demonstrate. “And pushes all that out through, uh, the vagina. You basically bleed for three to seven days down there, depending on the person.” 

“You’re bleeding?” Floyd said in shocked horror. His eyes darted down to (Y/N)’s lap before quickly cutting back up. 

“Yup. Mine usually last four to five days.” 

“And you’re bleeding the whole time?” (Y/N) nodded. “Wow, you’d be calling every shark from miles around in the ocean.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “Then I guess it’s a good thing mermaids don’t have periods.” 

“So how do you, like, stop it? Are you bleeding right now?” 

“Pad or tampons, mostly. I know some people who use a cup but I’ve never tried one.” At his blank look, she continued. “Pads are like a flat piece of cotton. One side is sticky so it stays on your underwear. Tampons are cotton cylinders you wear internally. So if I did want to go swim in the ocean I’d wear one of those. Not sure if a shark would be able to smell me though. You mostly just have to watch out for toxic shock syndrome.”  

“Sounds like something from a jellyfish.” 

“It’s a little more intense, although I guess that depends on the jellyfish. It’s blood poisoning or a bacterial infection, I think? If you keep in a tampon for too long you can get toxic shock syndrome, and that can lead to hospitalization, amputation, or death. I think you’re only supposed to have a tampon in for up to eight hours. Everyone who uses tampons that I know was terrified of it. It’s really rare though. After a while you kind of get used to wearing stuff, but it’s always at the back of your mind.” (Y/N) looked over at Floyd and laughed at his pale shocked face. “Not what you were expecting, huh?” 

He shook his head slowly. “So that’s what’s making you hurt?” 

“No, not that. Like I said, the uterus contracts getting all the stuff out so it causes cramping. It can also make you feel really nauseous, which is what’s going on with me right now. It could be worse. I knew a girl back in my world that had endometriosis. That’s when all that tissue I was talking about grows outside the uterus instead of inside. It can be super painful. But even if you have a normal period it’s a pain. Your hormones get all thrown out of whack. Some people get angry real easy, but I just end up getting really teary. If I ever just burst into tears for no reason it might be because I’m on my period. But never ask a girl if they’re on their period if they're angry or sad or something. There’s this whole thing where people dismiss any extreme emotion a girl has as being because of her period and not a valid reaction to something. It’s super annoying. To be fair, this world seems more up to speed with gender equality, so maybe it’s not that big a stereotype here.” 

Floyd didn’t say anything, stuck in a rare contemplation. “Can I help?” He asked. 

(Y/N) smiled softly at him. “This kind of help, just talking about it. Heating pads help too. Having that pressure helps ease the cramps.” 

Floyd hummed in thought. He reached over and tugged her blazer. “Scoot forward.” (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow at him but did as he asked. Floyd slipped in behind (Y/N), long legs stretching out around her. He pulled her back into his chest, his hands coming down to gently press against her stomach. His thumbs rubbed in small circles. “Does this help?” 

(Y/N) leaned her head back against his chest, closing her eyes. “Yeah, thanks.” 

~

A few days later, (Y/N) was hanging out with Ace and Deuce on the quad. They were talking when they heard a loud, “Shrimpy!” Ace and Deuce flinched back as Floyd bounded over. He stopped abruptly a breath away from (Y/N), arms outstretched. 

(Y/N) laughed and held out her arms. “Go ahead, I finished the other day.” 

Floyd gave a cry of delight and immediately scooped (Y/N) up in a huge squeezing hug, tight enough to make up for the last lost few days.