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word count: 1,595
warnings: mentions of periods/period symptoms/bleeding
description: J takes care of reader who is on their period.
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As day bled into night, you had taken up residency on the sofa in your living room huddled beneath your favorite blanket as you absently watched television to distract yourself from the indescribable pain you were experiencing at the hands of mother nature. Your time of the month had snuck up on you and the cramps alone had knocked you off your feet for a while. You had taken several painkillers earlier, but the effects were beginning to wear off and a new kind of hell was beginning. The pain was worse if you stood and so you remained stoic, fighting back tears of frustration and of very real pain,hoping that the one you shared a home with might decide that tonight would be ideal to come check in.
Sharp, stabbing pain centralized just below your naval and radiated outward throughout your lower body and core. You could hardly do more than raise up from the couch, only to be forced to settle once again until the overbearing cramps subsided. Journeying to the bedroom was not an option; waves of nausea rolled tumultuously inside your stomach like ocean waves that crashed up against the sides of a ship and you would rather not rock that particular boat. Compelled were you to maneuver along the riptide, maintaining that fine line until they converged and tore your insides to shreds.
You laid on your side, hand held lightly over your abdomen as you rubbed the affected area, attempting to relieve some of the aching but it did no good. As soon as the cramps receded would another, much more severe, rip through you and tear your resolve to pieces. The corners of your eyes welled with tears that threatened to spill over should another painful wave flood through you. The frustration of being left aloneduring all of this was enough to drive you to madness, but you would not have settled for anyone's company. Yours belonged to that of J's and you knew, if he was as intuitive as he let you believe, he would come home. He hadto.
As certain as the sun would rise, you knew when J was due home and never did he leave you for very long.
The night had begun to wane and still could you not sleep; J had not come home and you were powerless to drag yourself to the bedroom. The cramps were still unbearable and you had tried to fall asleep, but each time you began to slumber did your subconscious fabricate the sound of a door being opened or footsteps approaching from the hall. Each time did you wake and look over your shoulder, just in case J had come home and you just had not heard him. So fiercely did you want him there with you that your mind had begun to play tricks on you.
The final time this occurred, you did not look up; it was that very timethat it happened to bereal. From the moment J slid the key into the lock and turned, opening the door with such precision that it made no protest or announcement of his arrival, he could sense that something was amiss. Intuition advised him that something was wrong, but it was instinct that put him on high alert. He entered your home with the stealth of a hungry predator stalking its prey, poised and ready to strike should a moment of such necessity present itself, but no threat was apparent from what J could discern.
