Periods are the most useless thing that the female body does, in your humble opinion. You get moody, you cry at the drop of a hat, you wake up in a pool of your own blood, tampons are freaking expensive, midol sucks, all the sensitive parts of your body just get worse, and the cramps. Oh gosh, the cramps.

On days like this, you prefer to spend your time inside, watching a movie with hot soup and chocolate. Lots of chocolate. You didn't want to see anyone for days, with the only exception of your long-time boyfriend, Chris Evans. He knows how God-awful you can get. The only thing he knew would work was to let you cry when you needed to, rant when you needed to, and give you lots of cuddles and food.

It's like pregnancy, but all nine months condensed into seven days.

You hear the front door open. Chris announces, "[Y/n], I'm home! I brought-" He rounds the corner of the family room, seeing you wiping your eyes with tissues while watching Lady and the Tramp. "Oh God, it's that time of month, isn't it?"

You nod, blowing your nose. "I'm crying over Lady going to the pound. I need help, Chris."

He just chuckles, giving you a sad smile as he places the boxes of your favorite takeout down. He walks over to you, shedding his coat, and takes the seat next to you. He opens his arms wide, inviting you closer. "C'mere. I'll make it all better."

You nod, curling up into his strong arms. "I hate this movie."

"It's your favorite. Always has been."

You sigh. moving your feet to drape over his lap. "Shut up."

"I love you," he laughs, his chest vibrating under your ear.

"Love you, too."