#currently suffering from cramps and can’t sleep

[pixelatedraindrops]

he’s so dizzyboy coded i love him

*thud*!

[brnesblogposts]

His sweet girl

bucky barnes x reader

bucky taking care of his best girl! (drabble)

Why must women suffer? That’s what you’re thinking as you’re curled up with your knees to your chest trying to get rid of the cramps currently assaulting your abdomen, it hurts too much to get up to get painkillers, you’re also so tired but can’t sleep because of insomnia, something you experience around your cycle.

“Doll?” A quiet soothing voice breaks you from your thoughts and a gentle hand is placed on your back “What’s wrong?” Bucky rubs your back as he asks.

“Cramps” You mumble out, you feel like you could cry, not even just the pain but at the fact it’s consistent and discomforting. Bucky lets out a soft sigh, glad it’s not something more serious like your appendix- Still he feels empathy seeing you laying there in pain.

“I’ll be right back okay?” He says softly, leaving a kiss on your temple as he gets up and leaves your line of vision. As quickly as he left he returns.

“Here baby” He holds out two pills and a glass of water and you sit up slightly and down the meds before resuming fetal position.

“You think this will be more effective than curling up like that?” He’s holding out your hot water bottle and you could cry because of how thoughtful and kind he is, he didn’t have to, but yet he did. You nod and take the bottle from him pressing it against your stomach.

“Thank you” You say quietly as you start to well up which causes your boyfriend to furrow his brows in concern.

“Why’re you crying dragă?” He sits on the edge of the bed.

“You’re so nice to me” You feel stupid for crying but you blame the hormones. Bucky smiles at this finding it so endearing, he scoots up the bed laying next to you opening his arms silently asking you to snuggle into them and you do.

“Моя милая девочка” (my sweet girl) Bucky coos as he presses a kiss to the top of your head where it lay on his chest “you’re too sweet for this world” He whispers.

The hot water bottle is surely heating bucky up as well but he doesn’t mind, as long as it’s helping ease your pain.

“Thank you for caring for me” You say sweetly in your emotional state.

“Always dollface, always.” He’s stroking your arm as you start to feel drowsy now that the hot water bottle and painkillers have helped with the pain. Before long you’re sleeping peacefully in Bucky’s arms.

“Sleep well pretty girl” Bucky whispers as he hears your breathes even out, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

—————-

reblogs appreciated!!

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this is me avoiding the WIP in my drafts! anyways reply to be on a permanent bucky tag list ! :)

[applejuicefruit]

Hi loveee Im literally obsessed with your writing so i thought i would submit a request 🤭

Could you write an Olivier giroud x reader!F magine where reader is sick bc of her period and he just take care of her

just overall A LOTT of fluff 🫶🏻

This was the request I needed since it’s currently my shark week 🥲

tw: period pain

olivier giroud x reader

Shark week

You were currently laying in bed while eating some chips trying your best to not to cry. The pain filling your lower stomach was hitting you very hard. Cramps and headache never leaving you from the moment you woke up this morning and what made it worse was that you were spending this horrible day all alone because your boyfriend Olivier was at practice and he would be home very late.

Your period pain was always the worst. You hated how it made you bloated and emotionally unstable. One moment you were happy and the next moment you were crying and screaming. All you needed in this moment was Olivier and his huge hands who always worked miracle on your skin when you were on your periods.

Unfortunately you had to wait a few more hours before he was at home again so you tried to sleep, tired and drained from waking up very early this morning due to the pain you were feeling.

Some noises coming from the living room woke you up so you decided to check what was happening, still too tired to even care if a thief just got into your apartment.

Your face lifted up when you saw Olivier making something to eat in the kitchen.

“Oli…” you hugged him from behind.

“Hey mon amour” he turned around so he could kiss you “you were sleeping I didn’t want to wake you up…” he said caressing your cheek.

“No it’s okay…I wasn’t getting much sleep anyway” you confessed and he looked at you a bit worried. He wasn’t there when you woke up this morning so he didn’t know you started your period yet.

“Is everything okay?” he asked you.

“What? Oh yes I simply got my period…not a joyful morning…not a joyful day at all” you laughed a bit trying to ease the tension.

Olivier knew you and he knew how much you suffered from period pain and he hated seeing you in pain.

“I’m so sorry baby…” he hugged you.

“It’s okay…it’s something I can’t do nothing about it anyway so…” you said keeping your head on his chest.

“But I can do something…” he smirked at you and you had no idea of what he was talking about “…why don’t you do to bed uh? I’ll get you something to eat and some pain killers and then we can lay in bed all night long watching some movies? What you say?” he said with a hopeful smile.

You loved how he knew you so good.

“I say it’s perfect” you smiled at him.

“Okay…go to bed baby…I’ll be right back” he told you and you went straight into the bedroom and laid under your fluffy blankets waiting for him to come back.

He came back almost twenty minutes later and he brought you your favorite dish. He got you some smoked salmon with some fries and you couldn’t believe he just cooked your favourite meal just for you.

“Thank you so much Oli…” you almost started crying if it wasn’t for him showering your face with small kisses.

He got in bed with you and he helped you laying between his legs, your head on his chest and his arms around your waist gently massaging and keeping you warm where you were hurting. You started to eat and started to feel a little more comfortable, probably it was only Olivier’s presence but he made you feel better in just a few minutes. You started watching your favourite tv show and once you were done eating he gave you some pain killers just to help you with your headache and cramps. You really weren’t fond of pain killers or medicines in general when it was about your period but you knew that sometimes they were necessary, otherwise you would be crying on the floor in this moment.

You snuggled more into Olivier trying as his hand went straight to your hair, gently stroking it because he knew how much you loved when he did it.

“You feeling better?” he asked you and you hummed to lost in the comfort of his arms.

“Thank you Oli…” you whispered.

“It’s okay baby you don’t have to thank me…you know how much I love taking care of you…and you know how much I hate seeing you in pain…” he said while his other hand went back on your stomach, massaging the same spot where it hurt the most. That gave you a sense of peace for a bit and with the pain killers kick in it you felt much better.

“Still…you didn’t have to do that for me…” you murmured.

“I love doing it…taking care of you is my favorite thing in the world” he kissed your cheek.

“You love it more than football?” you smirked.

“Yes. I love you more than football” he confessed and you pretended to be shocked. You knew that he would drop his football career if you asked him to do so. He would do anything for you.

“Fine…I believe you” you joked and he laughed.

“You better believe me future Madame Giroud” he called you and your eyes went straight to the engagement ring you were wearing, only thinking about that in a couple of months you would be the one in white.

“That sounds amazing…” you referred to the way he called you a few moments before.

“I know…” he whispered with a smile never leaving his face.

You got a bit tired and Olivier felt that so before sleeping you went to the bathroom and did all of your things, you took a quick shower and then changed clothes and when you got back in bed he helped you laying down as he scooped you into his arms so he could keep you warm. You fell asleep just by listening to the rhythm of his heart and that was your favourite way to fall asleep.

[urban-banshee]

Forgive the dramatics, but I need to complain.

I’m just having a very bad time currently and I want to cry. Good news is my situation is actually fine. I’m just really sick and miserable.

The full story is: I had to call in a refill for my antidepressants right before thanksgiving. I get them mailed and insurance being what it is they don’t allow you to get prescriptions early. I knew I would run out and had resigned myself to deal with being off my meds for a few days.

The meds never came. I call the pharmacy and get the tracking number. Y’all my meds got sent halfway across the country. Where they just stayed. I call the pharmacy and they say they will put in a lost med override and send me new ones asap.

A couple days pass. Nothing. I’ve put in a refill request for one of my other meds. They supplement my antidepressants and lessen my migraines and insomnia.

At this point I’m fully back in depression symptoms mode and suffering from full on withdrawals. I call the pharmacy.

The override request was never sent. My second meds have just been shipped out. I’m out of them by this time now. They for real send in the override request.

A couple days pass. I come down with the goddamn flu! My meds haven’t arrived yet. I am full blown sick.

My period starts and my cramps are awful. I have a migraine and I have insomnia on top of being sick.

I feel so bad right now. Like scream and cry bad but I don’t want to make my sore throat, runny nose or migraine worse.

I have been hit by all the status effects and I want to die. (A little dramatic sorry) I’d settle for sleeping until I feel better. Unfortunately I can’t seem to sleep and everything hurts.

Also keeping hydrated means having to get up and pee constantly. It just too much.

[sinnahsaint]

The way I understood OP was similar to how my friend group says “do science to it”.

(Backstory interlude: I am an autistic person with adhd and cptsd. When I went to a therapist I basically told him I wanted to dump my brain out and have the professionals sort the problems I’m having into labeled boxes because I did a lot of my own sorting but I didn’t have the perspective and experience to look at the whole pile and maybe say “I see where you’d get adhd but no it’s all the cptsd.” Now the therapist has DID help me find the labels so I could find the information and resources I needed to continue on my healing journey… but I eventually grew past that.)

I can “do science” to a headache by checking on my water, food, caffeine, dirty glasses, posture, sleep schedule, new stressors, etc. I can also decide I don’t care what caused it and brute force it gone by downing pills with a large glass of milk or juice and taking a nap.

I had been brute forcing my way through life. Can’t get going for work? Survive off energy drinks and chocolate bars. Get super irritable at work and don’t know why? Get a new job and quit(hopefully in that order but not always).

Finding out what was wrong was a great first step in understanding… but eventually I realized “I am annoyed because it’s too noisy in here and I can’t focus(adhd)” and “I am annoyed because it’s too noisy in here and I can’t focus(autism)” have the same or similar solutions.

Learning to register when something is going wrong is the first step in catching ptsd triggers too so I used that skill to notice when I was unhappy with other things too. I have found that approaching instances of “I am not content with this situation” with curiosity as to your current state and possible solutions, yields better longterm results than routing through diagnostic criteria.

Situation 1

Option A : “I feel hot -> It is not physically hotter in here than usual -> I don’t recognize this as a symptom of my diagnosis’ -> Guess there’s nothing to do but ignore it and get crankier at everyone around me.”

OR

Option B: “I feel hot -> It’s not physically hotter in here than usual -> I’m going to take off my sweater and sit down with a glass of water and ask my body wtf”

Turns out that after doing option B only TWICE I found out that I had be en trained to ignore my own pain for so long that it sometimes registers as overheating if I don’t treat it when it first makes itself known. Ignore a headache, get overheated. No advil for cramps? Overheated.

Situation 2

Option A: “I detest microfiber cleaning cloths -> this is a symptom of autism so I’m stuck with hating them -> guess I’ll avoid them when I can and suffer through using them at work because they’re required for the windows because we just use water”

Or

Option B: “I detest microfibre cleaning cloths -> I don’t have to touch things I don’t want to. I use gloves to protect my hands from chemicals and slimy stuff, they would probably work for scratchy stuff too -> I’m going to wear gloves all the time at work”

They thought I was a germaphobe but it worked.

Every person is different. We are not robots with helpful error messages……. Well lets just say the error messages are often vague.

A hungover person probably got that way because they drank too much… that info might help them avoid a hangover in the future … but it doesn’t help them deal with the hangover right now. Theres’s no time machine and no magic un-drink pill. Right now they need water, electrolytes, some food, and if possible, some more sleep and pretty much every hungover person is drawn to these things in different ways. Some swear by some unholy orange juice and hotsauce and egg drink, some want a big salty/greasy breakfast, some chug a gatorade and sleep til noon.

Practicing the skill of sitting with yourself and asking what’s wrong will lead you to something to try faster and more helpfully than deciding what diagnosis is causing the upset.

depathologizing your own responses to things means no longer worrying about which symptom matches which diagnosis matches which branded treatment model and instead practicing gentle non-judgmental curiosity about what you’re going through from the perspective of someone who wants to fulfill one of the most basic and primal needs for you which is the sensation of being seen and heard

[attiredpan]

Hid in the bathroom for most of my yoga class because I had the worst cramps I’ve had in a while but anyway; have Amy suffering and Nog being a good boyfriend:

Everything hurt. She had a cluster migraine from the hormonal shift, her cramps had come in like an army of champion thoroughbreds racing to the finish line and she felt like if she moved even an inch she was going to throw up. Her only saving grace being a pre-inserted menstrual cup put in the night before that kept the bedsheets from getting stained.

Other than that; worst possible way to wake up. Ever.

Five in, Five out…

Getting as comfortable as she could, she tried to force herself back to sleep, if not to just shake off the migraine with a short nap. Her air freshener steamed out the calming breeze of lavender, soothing her enough to consciously make the effort to relax her stomach muscles and make the nausea drift away.

She put her focus on it, on the softer notes of citrus and-

The doorbell rings.

And not the one to the front door leading out into the hallway, the one to her bedroom. Slowly moving to open the second drawer down on her nightstand, she gingerly pulled out the phaser inside and set it to stun, cursing the beeps it made.

“Amy it’s just me.”

Nog’s voice came gently from the other side of the door and Amy felt a wave of relief, turned the phaser off, and put it back into its place.

“You have both pins,” She commented as the door opened and he walked in, covering the right side of her face where the migraine still pulsed strongly with her bicep.

“You could’ve just come in.”

“I know, but you weren’t up at your usual time so I had to double check for this.” He says, motioning to the two mugs, one silver, one medical blue, along with a tray of assorted snacks. Separated into little dishes.

“And what is ‘this’?”

From what she could see in the low light, there were banana slices, a peeled orange, watermelon, and apple slices, and she could’ve sworn she smelled honey and even cinnamon.

“You’re already bleeding, you can’t just not eat anything.”

“How did you-“

“I have it marked on my calendar.”

“You have my period marked on your calendar?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

If she wasn’t in so much discomfort, she probably would’ve been kicking her feet like a girl in a romcom talking about her crush to her friend over the phone. But right now she had to limit herself to burying her face into the pillow under her arm and rambling off in Italian as her face went redder than the ripest costoluto fiorentino.

“Cazzo, come ho fatto ad essere cosi' fortunata?”

“Is it weird?”

Grabbing his shoulder, Amy looked up from the pillow, shaking her head and shaking with mirth.

“You are the best. The. Best. Ever! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Chuckling at her response, Nog felt relieved that he’d done something right.

“Got it,” Remembering the time he quickly started to mentally draft up an excuse if he was late. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you, make sure to eat and drink water.”

“Sir yes sir.” Despite the pain of her current condition, it didn’t stop her from being so smooth, taking his hand in hers and kissing his knuckles in a debonair fashion before he slipped off, only to stop in the doorway.

“And there’s chamomile in the silver mug, four spoonfuls of honey, just how you like it.”

“What are you?” Amy suddenly asked, sitting up under the duress of her migraine and cramps trying to drag her back down.

“The best, I know.”

“Exactly, do NOT forget that!”

“I promise and rest!”

Dropping onto her back, they both caught themselves laughing in their positions.

“I love you so much,” Amy spoke up softly. “You have a good day, alright?”

“I love you too,” Nog returned blowing a small kiss.“Take care of yourself.”

Catching it, Amy held her hand tight to her chest.

“Watch your posture?”

“As you wish.” Smiling brightly, he took a small bow before stepping back, and the door closed.

Giggling to herself in the darkness of her bedroom, Amy settled in comfortably. Already, she was feeling better. Until a new cramp pinched her. Maybe not physically better, but emotionally for sure.

[survey--s]

576.

Was there anything that you planned to do today but didn’t? Have a lie-in, lol. It’s my first night at home in eight days but of course I barely got any sleep and was up for the day at 5am ha.

Is there anyone you interact with often on social media but not in person? Yeah, quite a few people.

What color box does your favorite cereal come in? One comes in orange, another comes in a yellow box.

Do you have any plates, dishes, mugs etc. with pretty illustrations on them? Not really. Our plates are mostly white with duck egg blue trim and heart shapes around the edges. The mugs are mostly plain-ish.

Does anywhere on your body currently hurt, or feel sore? Yeah, my period is due any day now and I’ve just started with stomach cramps.

What is your favorite snack to eat with a hot beverage? Cake, for sure, or maybe cookies.

Is there any advice you have been given, that sticks in your mind? It’s not advice I was given as such, but I love the quote “Worrying means you suffer twice” from the Fantastic Beasts movies. As someone with anxiety it really resonated with me.

What’s the nicest advice you have ever been given about love/relationships? I can’t really think of anything right now.

Do you own any adult coloring books? What kind(s) do you like? I have about five but I haven’t touched any of them for years now. I did a lot of colouring during lockdown though.

When was the last time you got some new headphones? A couple of years ago.

Is there a lamp in your living room? What color is its shade? No.

Do you know anyone whose name starts with the letter X? My second cousin is called Xavier.

Have you eaten any rice or pasta today? No. I had toast for breakfast and then Ryvita with various toppings for lunch.

Name a food that you dislike the texture of. Bananas.

Which of your friends do you confide in the most? I don’t really confide in anyone that much, to be honest. I’m quite a private person outside of these surveys.

Have you ever fallen out of love with someone? If so, why do you think that happened? Sure, for various different reasons.

If you have pets, do you talk to them? Of course, I talk to all of them!

Are there any TV shows that you strongly dislike, but others seem to love? Married at First Sight, Love Island, The Office, Brooklyn Nine Nine.

Is there anything you haven’t done lately, that you’d like to do soon? Go to see my parents - we’re actually going on Saturday though. Do you own any T-shirts with brand logos on them? Maybe one or two, yeah.

Have you experienced any kind of food cravings lately? Smoked salmon and couscous, randomly. Though not together, lol.

Have you watched or read the news today? No, I never do either of those things anymore, honestly. I find the news is so bad for my mental health.

Describe the cover illustration of the book closest to you. I can’t see the cover of a book from where I’m sitting.

Are there any take-away or fast-food places close to your house? If so, do you ever order food from any of them? Yeah, two chippies, two kebab/pizza/burger places, an Indian and a Chinese. I order from the ones that deliver sometimes, yeah. Maybe twice a month?

Is there anything happening tomorrow, that you’re looking forward to? I’m looking forward to waking up in my own bed and not having to faff about going for a house-sit lol.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

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PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

[forever-rogue]

If youre taking requests can you write something where the reader is having very bad period cramps all day especially when the reader and Bucky are trying to sleep at night so Bucky rubs her stomach and it feels really good and helps until she falls asleep

AN | Please, where do I find this 🥺 Its soft hours 💖 [I changed slightly, but I hope you don't mind!]

Warnings | period talk [reader on period, cramps], mention of sex [orgasms]

Masterlist | Bucky, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Bucky?" your voice felt tiny and pathetic, almost a whimper as soon as he answered the phone. He might have sensed that something was wrong right when he answered because all you heard was a sharp inhale.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing," you lied - you currently felt like you were on the verge of death, "can you do me a huge favor?"

"Of course," his reply was almost instantaneous, "whatever you need."

"You can pick me up some tampons and painkillers on your way home?" you hadn't wanted to ask, but you were currently curled up in a small ball in bed, dealing with your cramps, "and maybe some ice cream? Or just anything sweet…"

"I'll go now and be home soon-"

"James," of course that was his immediate response. One of the many things you'd learn about Bucky since you'd been dating was that he was extremely protective over you. It was times like these that you really didn't mind, "I just meant whenever you're coming home, not drop everything and come now."

"I know," he agreed and you could already hear him rustling with his keys, "but I want to. I can't just let my girl suffer. Be home soon okay, sweetheart?"

"I love you," you whispered, "see you soon."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky ended up coming home with a small arsenal of items to hopefully help ease your suffering. Granted, some of the many snacks and sweets were for him too. After quickly putting everything away, he grabbed some water and chocolate and made his way back to find you.

Upon entering the bedroom, he spied you all bundled up, half awake as you attempted to watch some television. As soon as you heard him, you'd perked up and grinned at him, suddenly wide awake, "hi baby. You're home already!"

"Well I had to get home to you, didn't I?" he asked softly as he came over and sat next to you. Almost as if reading your mind he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, "how are you feeling?"

"Like death," you huffed lightly, "as soon as I got home from work, the cramps took me out and they wouldn't let up."

"Well, I am here to help you out," he promised, "I got lots of snacks, painkillers, and tampons. What can I do first?"

"Umm," you suddenly felt shy, not so much shy as almost embarrassed as you bit your lip. He raised an eyebrow and motioned for you to go on, "will you use your vibranium hand and message my tummy?"

"That's it?" he chuckled softly as you just nodded shyly, "of course, sweetheart. Just lay back and relax, okay? I've got you."

"I don't deserve you," you peeled the blankets back before lying on your back and trying to get comfortable. It felt like an impossible task right now with your body seemingly tearing itself apart.

"I think its the other way around," he insisted, getting comfortable next to you, spraying the black and gold vibranium hand along your abdomen, "tell me if it's too much or doesn't help at all, yeah?"

"Mhmm," you closed your eyes as he gently massaged the areas that were plaguing you the most. Bucky seemed to know the perfect balance of soft and gentle touches coupled with the harder pressure. He hummed softly under his breath, a tune you vaguely recognized as you relaxed. Whatever he possessed, magic seemed to be part of it.

"Come on baby," after a while, he tapped your hip, "let me massage your back too."

"Okay," you agreed softly, flipping over so he had easy access to your back. Bucky slowly pulled up your shirt before beginning to repeat his actions on your back. You had to bite back a moan at how good it felt; finally you could focus on the good pressure he was applying versus the internal cramping, "that feels so good, Bucky."

"Just tell me when to stop," he chuckled lightly as you mumbled a soft never from somewhere in your pillow, "you're going to have to get up eventually!"

"No," you pouted as you turned to face him, "I'll stay here forever with you massaging me. It's already helping a lot."

"Good," he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, "but I think maybe a hot bath and some chocolate would help too."

"Only if you promise to do that again later," you insisted as he nodded in amusement, "maybe you were meant to be a masseuse…but I don't want you touching anyone else but me. My personal masseuse!"

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he sat back, holding his hand out to help you get up, "come on, a hot bath is calling your name."

"Join me?" you pleaded with him, knowing it wouldn't be hard to get to him to agree.

"Of course," he grinned, "you know what else helps with cramps?"

"Hmm?"

"Orgasms," he grinned at your surprised expression, "we'll save those for later, pretty girl."

"Oh."

[motherjoel]

you like me (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you unfortunately run out of tampons and theres only one person who can bring you some

a/n: i get terrible cramps on my period so this is honestly based off of personal experience

wc: 2.5k

tw: vomiting

-

“Are you sure you can’t make it Y/N? Girls night won't be the same without you,” Penelope begged through the phone. You could almost hear her pout.

“I’m sorry Pen, I really can’t. My uterus is seriously trying to kill me right now and I am in no position to put on a tight dress and do shots,” you laughed into the phone. Penelope sighed.

“Okay, I guess that's a reasonable excuse. I hope you feel better soon, my love. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay,” she said. You loved how sweet Penelope was, and although she was upset you couldn’t make it, she most definitely understood. 

She let you go soon after that, so you decided to turn on the TV to take your mind off of the pain in your stomach. Your cramps tended to get so bad that it was difficult to walk- you sometimes even got dizzy. You decided however to brave the pain, going into your bathroom to look for some medicine to possibly end your suffering. Your heart dropped when you remembered you had left your bottle at work in your go-bag. Your heart dropped a second time when you couldn’t find any more tampons.

“Shit, shit shit,” you said to yourself, sitting on the bathroom floor and moaning in pain. Thankfully, your phone was in your pocket. You pulled it out and scrolled through your contacts, trying to decide on who to call. You didn’t want to disturb the girls night out, so you couldn’t call Pen, JJ or Emily. For obvious reasons, you decided against calling Rossi or Hotch, and you didn’t think Derek knew the first thing about menstruation. As much as you didn’t want to call your best friend and (not so) tiny work crush, he seemed like the best option at this point. Pushing your embarrassment aside, you hit the call button and let it ring.

“Hey Y/N, whats up?” Spencer asked. You would’ve internally squealed at his cute voice if you weren’t about to pass out from pain.

“Spence, hi,” you answered, said pain evident in your voice. Little did you know, Spencer felt his heart stutter at your use of the nickname “Spence.” 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, slightly worried at your pained inflection.

“Well, not really,” you sighed, pushing aside your embarrassment at your situation. “I’m currently having my time of the month and I have come to realize I am completely out of…. tampons. And medicine,” you blushed and so did he. “I was wondering if… you could possibly pick some up for me?” you asked, fingers crossed. He didn’t even have to contemplate for a second.

“Of course, give me 10 minutes,” he said before hanging up. You looked at your phone in awe before you were hit with another wave of nausea. Doubled over the toilet, your peanut butter and jelly sandwich from an hour ago made a guest appearance.

-

You had yet to move from the bathroom floor when you heard a quick knock on your door.

“It’s open!” you yelled, soon hearing the rustling of bags and footsteps following your voice. Spencer looked down at you with pity, setting the bag down on the ground and sitting next to you.

“Thank you, Spence, you really saved me,” you said, taking the bag from him and looking inside. You saw not only a box of tampons and some tylenol, but a bar of your favorite chocolate and a heating pad. 

“My mom used to make my dad get her chocolate, when they were still, you know…” he trailed off, not wanting to mention his parents' early separation. You felt bad about his eidetic memory for once- that he had to remember even the bad things. 

“Did you know that menstrual cravings are caused by hormonal imbalances? It’s theorized that the drop in your progesterone and estrogen cause an increase in hunger,” he explained, speaking with his hands. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What?” he asked, a confused smile on his face.

“It’s just… I'm sitting here on my bathroom floor with my coworker, who is incredibly sweet for doing this by the way, while I basically die from period cramps 10 minutes after throwing up,” you continued to laugh- Spencer just looked concerned.

“You threw up?” he asked, worry written on his face. You nodded, opening the box of tampons as Spencer walked into your kitchen.

“You need to eat something. I’m making you toast,” he yelled from the kitchen. You smiled and shut the bathroom door, taking care of business.

You brought the bag of medicine, chocolate, and the heating pad with you onto your couch. You plugged in the heating pad and held it close as you curled into the fetal position. After a few minutes, Spencer came into the room with a plate of toast and a cup of green tea, your favorite. You smiled and accepted the plate, taking the medicine with the tea and sitting back. Spencer continued to stand in front of you awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands slightly. You wordlessly patted the couch, motioning for him to sit down, which he did.

“Thank you again for this Spence, you really went out of your way,” you said, hoping he knew how thankful you were for his kindness. 

“Of course, anything for you Y/N,” he said, trying to mask his blush after he realized how intimate that sounded.

“So… did I ruin your Friday night plans?” you asked, hoping he didn’t have anything to do.

“Oh, no,” he started, and you were relieved. “Well, I had a date, but-”

“You had a date?!” you yelled, hitting him on the arm. 

“Ow! Yes, I did. Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, grabbing his arm.

“Well of course not Spence, you’re a catch,” you told him, and he blushed. “What’s hard to believe is that you ditched it for me! I would’ve been fine!” you lied, which was evident on your face. 

“Y/N. You so wouldn’t have been fine!” he laughed, and you began to speak before he continued. “I saw a... friend in need and I helped them. Besides, I wasn’t really even interested in her,” Spencer said, looking at his fidgeting hands.

“Why did you agree to go out with her if you weren’t interested?” you asked, wondering why the genius, a man of reason, would waste his time.

“Morgan set us up,” he started, and you nodded immediately understanding- when Morgan was trying to set someone up, he was relentless until you agreed. “He thought she’d help me get my mind off of… nevermind,” he blushed, seemingly accidentally saying too much. Your heart cracked a bit at the thought of your crush having feelings for someone else, but you continued to pry.

“Ohh I see. Who’s the lucky girl?” you asked, with a bit of an edge.

“I can’t tell you that Y/N,” he answered, avoiding eye contact. You pouted for a moment. “Besides, I think she just sees me as just a friend,” he continued, disappointment on his face. It hurt you to see him upset but you couldn’t help but feel relief that he wasn’t about to be taken anytime soon.

“Well, I guess you can say I’m in the same position as you,” you confessed, not going into any more detail. His face visibly dropped at this- he seemed disappointed, but you were sure you were overthinking things.

“Well Y/N, any guy would be lucky to have you,” he said softly, finally making eye contact. Maybe it was your hormones, or maybe you were just feeling cuddly, but you scooched over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest. He raised his arms in surprise at first, before wrapping them around you. 

“You smell good,” you told him, before regretting it immediately and blushing profusely. You could hear his heartbeat, which may have been at an elevated pace. You pulled away and he looked a bit disappointed.

“Would you… would you stay with me for a bit Spence?” you looked up at him, stars in your eyes. 

“Of course,” he said softly. You sighed with content before another wave of cramps set in. You groaned and clutched the heating pad, once again in the fetal position. Spencer felt helpless, just watching you in pain. In a movement that surprised both him and you, he leaned behind you and wrapped his arms around you, basically spooning you. You were too in pain to react, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back had the ability to simultaneously soothe and excite you. He rubbed circles on your arm with his hand and you could feel your heart rate spike. You hoped he couldn’t see the blush rising on your face. 

“This is nice,” you mumbled, earning a soft hum from Spencer behind you. Before you knew it, you fell into one of the best sleeps of your life with your long time crush.

-

The next morning, you woke to whispering from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You opened your eyes to see yourself face to face with Spencer- you must have turned around during the night and cuddled into his chest. Your face felt hot when you noticed he was still asleep- you slowly untangled yourself from him and stood up to greet Penelope, who had apparently put her spare key to your apartment to good use. 

“I called it!” Penelope said, half to you and half to Derek, who was currently facetiming her. You shushed her and dragged her into the kitchen, Spencer still fast asleep on the couch.

“So that's why you ditched us last night!” she laughed, mouth wide open in shock.

“I didn’t know the kid had it in him!” Derek said from the phone. You were confused.

“What do you mean?” you took the phone from Penelope. 

“You mean… Reid didn't… tell you anything?” he asked.

“No, I… I ran out of tampons last night and I called him to bring me some, I guess we just fell asleep on the couch,” you explained. He cringed when you said tampons.

“Why didn’t you ask me princess?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Derek, you almost passed out when I said ‘tampons’” you told him, he just shook his head. Penelope took the phone back from you just as Spencer walked into the kitchen. 

“Oh hey, what are you doing here Garcia?” he asked, yawning mid sentence.

“I’m just here to drop off some pastries for my lovely Y/N to make her feel better. Although i'm sure you don’t need much help with that G man,” she said with a wink. You and Spencer avoided eye contact like two high schoolers with a crush. “Well, I guess i'll be on my way!” she announced, hugging you both and speedily leaving your apartment, which was odd- if anything, Garcia tends to overstay her welcome. 

“Those smell good,” you said, walking over to the bag from your favorite bakery. He mirrored your actions, seemingly hungry as well.

 You both ate the pastries in silence for a few minutes when you noticed Spencer had a bit of icing on his chin. Without thinking you reached up and wiped it with your finger, licking it off your thumb. He stood there, with his mouth open for a moment before his cheeks turned red. When you noticed his embarrassed reaction you immediately regretted it.

“Oh im sorry, I forgot you have a thing with touching Spence,” you apologized.

“No no, it’s okay. I don’t mind when it’s you,” he confessed, finally meeting your eyes for the first time that morning. You nodded and continued to eat your breakfast, ignoring the flutter in your heart. 

“So, about last night…” you brought up the elephant in the room. “It was really nice,” you confessed, remembering the feeling of his arms around you. 

“Y/N, what I’m about to say is either really stupid of me or the smartest i’ve ever been, but, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he confessed, your astonishment written on your face. “And- and not in a friendly way,” he said, before frowning. “Well that sounded, wrong, of course it was ‘friendly,’ but I meant it as more than… that,” he finished, biting his lip. Your mouth was open, surprised at his confession.

“Oh, Spence-” you started before being interrupted.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer Y/N, you just made me so flustered and when I saw you hurting last night it hurt me too, so i thought it was a good opportunity to get close to you. Not that I was taking advantage of you! God that sounds bad, uh,” he made a face, trying to think of a better way to word it. You just wrapped your arms around his midsection, much like you had done the night before, and held him tight. He smelled like apples and coffee. You lifted your head to look up at him, arms still around his waist. 

“Spencer, I’ve liked you for a very long time,” you laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize sooner, I mean I thought it was obvious when I always sleep on your shoulder during jet rides or when I bring you coffee like every day, or when I-” you were interrupted by his soft lips on yours. Your eyes widened before they closed, and you moved your hands to the sides of his face, his hands on your waist. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze.

“Sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do that for awhile,” he smiled softly. 

“Oh, uh, no problem,” you replied, still flustered from the kiss. “You like me,” you teased, poking his arm and giggling like a 13 year old.

“Well so do you!” he laughed, poking you in the stomach. Your eyes darkened with mischief and so did his. Before you knew it, the two of you were on your apartment floor, tickling each other's ribs. Spencer eventually got the high ground, straddling you and relentlessly tickling you until you couldn’t breath. He stopped after a moment, looking down at you in awe, before you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him in for another quick kiss. 

“Penelope’s gonna be so excited,” you giggled.

“Oh yeah, her and Morgan will finally stop teasing me about liking you,” he said, standing up from his position over you and holding out a hand to help you up. 

You spent the rest of the day with him cuddling on your couch and alternating between playing cards and watching shitty reality TV (which he got surprisingly invested in), and it was arguably one of the best days of your life. And you knew from the way that Spencer kept stealing loving glances at you, he felt the same.

[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[metalbvcky]

Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key:  ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 |  Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic  - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

[redsbrainrot]

Gruvia Week Day 6 - Agony

warning: mentions of blood

_ _ _

"Juvia, what're you doing up again?" 

03:30 in the morning, Gray caught his wife of six months pondering around the kitchen, dressed in his shirt and nothing underneath it, other than silky underwear and knee-high, odd, socks covering her porcelain legs. Her hair had been in the same messy ponytail for the past two days; bumpy and greasy. She hadn't showered in almost a week. 

She glances up at her Gray-sama, the portrayal on her face remains bleak as she blankly shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Again?" 

It'd been five days. Five days since the agonising, tragic loss she never even dreamed of having the trauma of going through. Awakening one day to buckets of rain dripping down the window, stomach cramps the same pain rate as being stabbed by a steak knife, and later that day her sheets are stained with blood dripping between her legs, followed by screams so harsh she'd lost her voice. 

Juvia shakes her head at Gray's questioning, breaking the simple eye contact and continuing to circle around the central counter. 

Gray forces her aimless pondering to stop as he takes her hand. Her eyes dart from the light grip on her hand to his eyes, hers narrowing in annoyance. 

Gray couldn't bare it. Juvia never looked at him with such hatred. She can't control the way she's feeling right now, and he's aware that anything she may spit at him won't be from her heart. It's not her, he had to remind himself. She's suffered a loss, and he has too. Her end is only much, much more painful, as she was the one who had to experience losing her unborn child. 

The two hadn't been married for long, and after Juvia discovers she's pregnant only five months into their marriage, she was delighted with excitement anyway. They never discussed exactly when kids could go on the table, yet the surprise out of nowhere was bliss. 

Juvia would go day and night protesting she needed solitude, and begged him to take a job request. On the verge of accepting, he changed his mind in an instant and stayed for her. Gray couldn't control his thoughts and his worst fear was that Juvia may do something stupid to hurt herself. 

She snatches her hand out of his grip, turning away and continuing to dawdle, "Juvia, can you come back to bed?" She shakes her head, "Please?" Another objection as Gray follows her circular path. 

"Can you take a shower then? I think it'll do you good." 

Her head shakes roughly this time, and Gray manages to catch a brief sound of sniffling, her feet remaining fixed on the floor. 

"Bath?" Gray suggests, keeping his distance in case she slaps away his touch once more, "It'll make you sleepy." 

With a release of an exhausted sigh, she agrees. "Fine." Juvia's never so blunt in her words. 

"I'll run it," He leaps in front of her before she can enter their bedroom, "Lie down for a minute, okay?" 

Juvia obliges, carefully placing herself on the edge of the mattress, not lying down, instead slouched in her seat, her fingers fiddling and pulling with the ends of her socks. Anything for a distraction. 

Gray was still in surprise of how the girl hadn't yet fainted. She'd lacked in both sleep, and eating. Truthfully, he can't remember the last time he saw something enter her system. She hadn't dropped by the guild since before the incident, refused to allow people inside the apartment, including Gajeel, and had stop using the terms "Gray-sama", when referring to her beloved husband. Gray may have found it irritating way back in the day, but now it's just not the same. He can't stand watching her suffer. What struck him down most is that he may have been trying his best to make life easier for her, however nothing was helping. 

The only other person aware of their current situation was Erza. She advised Gray he just needed to give her time, she'll come around eventually. Her biggest concern was Gray's wellbeing. He's gone through hell, and this time instead of moping around, complaining about life and frankly wishing he wasn't around anymore, he wasn't letting himself cry it out. He desperately wanted Juvia to at least smile. Her smile is what keeps him going. Without it, what's the point? 

Honestly, all Gray needed right now was to weep his depressive thoughts into someone's chest. Only this time, he can't to Juvia. She's already killing herself with guilt. 

Juvia dismally thanks Gray for running her bath as she enters the bathroom, her shirt already undone and the shoulders draping down her arms. Gray choses to leave her in peace, about to open the door and wait eyes open in their bed for her. Until Juvia latches her hand onto his, tugging him back inside. "Can you stay in here with me?" 

Juvia swirls her hand around the decently heated water, while the other is in Gray's hand as he is sat on the floor next to the tub. Her hold was weak, but at least the two were touching each other, even if it was only a hand hold. 

Neither of them spoke. Sitting in silence with each other was enough for now. 

"I'm really sorry." Juvia startles Gray as her voice cracks, breaking the silence.

"For what?" 

"The past few days," Her hand swirling ends, looking up with her watering eyes into Gray's, "I've been really cold to you. I'm not making this any easier."

"Nothing about this is easy, Juvia," If anything, Gray's wishes were the opposite of her sincere, unneeded and unwanted apologies, "You don't have to apologise. You don't need to," He lifts his hand from hers, brushing it down her dampened hair, caressing her cherubic cheeks, "It's only your way of coping. I know you don't mean anything you say." 

Juvia appreciates nothing more than her darling's kind words. Even though no smile was emitted, he knew she took his words to heart as her hand placed on top of his, turning her face slightly and planting her lips on the corner of his palm.

Unfortunately, his light touches and sweet words weren't enough for her to keep back a gush of tears. Her gloomful teardrops splatter into his hand, whimpers and sniffles following. 

_ _ _

Juvia pleaded Gray to leave her in peace in the lukewarm bathtub after her flood of tears had escaped. Gray was unsure of what to say. All she needed from him was brief contact, and of course an immediate change of heart occurred as her drops of sadness had faded. 

Gray left behind another one of his shirts and some clean underwear for Juvia. He refused to acknowledge his exhaustion and remained awake while patiently awaiting Juvia's return to their bedroom. 

Almost 04:30, Gray peeps up at the door as it creaks open. Juvia tiresomely walks through, the drips in her wet hair seeping through her braids, and the buttons on her shirt done up in the wrong order. It didn't bother her, though. She probably didn't even notice. 

Gray opens up the covers for her side, the eye contact absent as she crawls in beside him, switching off the lamp as she does so. 

Juvia lays on her side, facing Gray yet not exchanging any form of contact with him. Gray desperately wanted to pull her close to him, cuddle in their sleep and once again be comfortable with one another. She craved the space, though. 

"Juvia," He breathes, trailing his hand towards hers, implying a moment of contact, which thankfully she agrees to, "I hate seeing you beat yourself up." 

Silence. 

"Tomorrow will you at least go outside? Even if it's only a small walk." 

Her grip in his hand loosens, thinking it over. "I don't know..." 

After picturing the absolute elation portrayed on her face, spectating her suffering was agonising for him. 

At first, she was panicky, anxious and frightened of what Gray would think of her pregnancy. On the outside, she remained mature and adult-like, keeping the situation and her emotions under control. 

"Gray-sama?" Juvia starts as she's sat on the bathroom counter, Gray opposite and leant on the wall with his arms folded, "What if it really is positive? What will we do?" 

Juvia had been concerned whether she was pregnant or not for about four days. She first noticed her period was late, but that had happened before. Her cycle was up and down, so the notice in change wasn't a first sign of pregnancy. 

"What do you want?" Gray wasn't sure at this point. 

Gray was the one who proposed taking a pregnancy test just to make sure, as much as Juvia objected that she couldn't possibly be. 

"Well, would Gray-sama mind if Juvia is pregnant? Would it bother you?" 

Gray's response is quick with a head shake, "To be honest, no." Juvia peers up with her teeth nibbling her lip, "My main concern if you, Juvia. If you don't want to have a baby right now, that's your choice. This isn't really mine to make." Gray's tone had always been bland and he's a closed book, making their moment difficult for Juvia. 

"I want your opinion, Gray-sama." 

He tilts his head for a moment, what did he really think about this? 

"I..." Gray questioned his possible skills as a father, already wondering whether he made a good husband before hand, "We've been married for almost six months, and these months have been the best of my life. I like having fun with you, when it's just the two of us. I know you want kids at some point, and so do I. So... if you wanna have a baby now, I'd be happy with it." 

Juvia profoundly smiles at his honesty. She'd enjoyed her relationship with Gray-sama before they were even in one. She's loved him for years, and being pregnant with his baby would make her happier than ever. Even if it's sooner than she thought it'd happen. 

She realises the timer had ended, and takes the test behind her, hovering her thumb over the result before taking a look. Gray steps closer, grabbing her hand while staring down at the test. Trembling, she slips her thumb aside to see two red lines, indicating a positive test. 

"Juvia, I'm back." Gray announces himself as he enters their apartment.

As he closes the door, he quickly takes note how it's suddenly began to pour rain from outside. The windows are drowning in the water, and only a moment ago the sun was out. He hadn't seen rain like this in god knows how long. 

"Juvia?" He calls again, after no response. 

After searching the kitchen and living room, he heads to their bedroom. He opens the door to notice ruffled sheets, and towards the edge of the bed, a puddle of red was sinking into the mattress. 

Gray catches the sounds of whimpers coming from the bathroom. Struck with confusion, he storms inside and witnesses his wife on the dark towel covering the tiled floor, dressed in one of his shirts. For support, her arms depended on the edge of the bathtub, while her face dug into her arm, soaking with tears. 

Gray drops to the floor, gently shaking her arm in attempt to get words out of her. She refuses, shaking her head over and over again as her whimpers become cries of distraught. Finally, Gray notices a gush of blood between her legs. 

[depressedhatakekakashi]

kakashi helping gai through a absolutely HORRIBLE period cramp? Bonus points if Gai is having a equally as horrible bodily dysphoria day as well. Kakashi tries his best to help gai feel better about himself and his cramp.

Gets his boyfriend chocolates and other things that'll help ease the pain. Gai had gotten an unexpected period cramp during training and had to take the day off because it was absolutely unbearable.

( inspired by me who currently is in horrible period cramp pain at the time of writing this ;u; )

(as you send it to me in the midst of my own suffering XD love it)

Kakashi has Gai's menstraul cycle tracked on a calender, so he knows when it's about to hit and always makes sure to stock up on supplies before hand. Just to make sure they don't have any nasty surprises.

When he wakes up that morning, he can already tell from the way Gai is curled up into himself that it has started, and as he makes Gai a nice breakfast in bed and gets him some painkillers he tries to convince him to take the day off. Tells him that he'll take care if training his kids for today.

Gai refuses to hear it. With painkillers in his systems and a good breakfast down, he crawls out if bed and starts his day.

It's a slower start than usual, but he tries not to scold himself too much. Though it is hard. He hates how the pain drags him down. How it's something that he can't escape, or really get rid of. He has dealt with this for years and somehow it's not any easier.

On this day he refuses to look in the mirror. Where he'd usually proudly examine his body and all of the muscle on it, he instead finds himself only noticing the imperfections. The way his face is a little more flushed and sweaty. How he feels bloated and sluggish.

He hates it, but he pushes forward.

When he ultimately ends up having to leave training early because the cramps come back with vengeance, he finds Kakashi sitting on his bed at his apartment with some chocolates and a heating pack already in hand. And as he crawls into Kakashi's lap and nibbles at the chocolate bar he's handed, he listens to his boyfriend telling him all the ways he loves him

How perfect his body is

How he's kind and thoughtful and so full of energy

All while Kakashi's running his fingers through Gai's hair and holding the heating pack to his lower abdomine, slowly lulling him to sleep so that he can get past some of the pain unaware.

[lunaevangeline]

luna luna how are you bb? i saw you said that youre currently in quarantine, i hope that hasn’t been so rough. idk what your dress looks like but i’m sure you look very pretty in it, i can’t wait for you to be able to go out and wear it.

also your theme is really cute, it embodies you very well! 💗

Kurisu my luv 🥺💜 Thank you for checking on me.. yes all I do every day is eat, sleep, watch the trees from my window, and attend lectures. It's not that rough but I fall asleep so easily bcs I stay in my bed all day ahahahah.. (just a bit suffering from period cramps ugh)

Aw you made me blush 😳 I can't wait to go out in that dress (it's a flowery blue dress) and sightseeing around here 💕 But first, of course I have to settle down my things in the dormitory.

Ahh thank youuu!! :"D It's been a long time since I want to change my theme hihi..

How about you Kuri?? How's it going?

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Grand Gestures

Prompt: Fred Weasley x Reader: Y/N is many things, smart, funny, attractive, kind, they are all of things, but observant is not one of them. Y/N has a massive crush on Fred, and Fred returns their feelings and has been trying to hint at it for over a year, which has gone completely over your head. Finally, Fred decides enough with the little hints, and does something that will make you realize his feelings.

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff,, I think that’s it

A/N: So, I have COVID, yay, so to cope I’m probably going to be writing a shit ton more to cope, so if you have any suggestions feel free to leave them. Smut is allowed, and I write for other characters besides Fred so just LMK

Also I used they/them pronouns in this but there is a part that says that the reader sleeps in the girls dorm so there's that as well. If I missed wrote any pronouns LMK because I’m hella dumb and cant read.

It was the weekend, and the storm raging outside meant no quidditch practice, so what better way for a gaggle of Gryffindor's to spend the day in the common room trying to kill their ever-growing boredom.

You, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Fred and George Weasley and Dean Thomas were all currently splayed about the common room, either paired off to have more private conversations, or just laying on the floor, which you were currently doing.

“I’m so bored!” You suddenly shouted

“We know Y/N, its only the 5th time you’ve said it” Hermione said from the couch, where she was currently reading a book.

“I only say it because I’m suffering” You said from the floor, causing Hermione to roll her eyes, but still smile.

“Well find something interesting to do” She said, going back to reading her book.

You stared back up on the ceiling, trying to think of anything you could do. It was to rainy to go outside, the dining hall was closed, and you’ve already read all the muggle books you brought from home. After a few seconds you turned to look to your right, where Fred Weasley was laying beside you, his head at your feel, and George beside him, his head at Fred's feet, all three of you staring at the ceiling.

“Can you read Georges mind?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at the older twin, who was now looking at you with a confused look on his face.

“What?” He asked.

“Can you read Georges mind? It’s a simple question” You said like it was the most casual conversation in the world.

“No I can’t read Georges mind, why do you ask?” Fred said, now sitting up as well, intrigued by your weird question.

“I don’t know, don’t twins have like, freaky abilities or something? Have you ever tried?” You asked fully sitting up, causing Fred to look at you with a look that could only read as ‘what kind of weird muggle drugs is this bitch on?’ But he decided to humor you, looking over at George.

“George, I’m looking at a color, what is it” Fred asked, causing the younger red head to furrow his brows in concentration.

“Yellow” George said, earning a head shake from Fred.

“It was Blue, guess that answers that question” Fred said looking back at you.

You furrowed your brows, looking around the Gryffindor common room, which was pretty full of Reds and Yellows, trying to find the blue he was seeing.

"Blue?” You asked looking at the older red head.

“Your sweater dummy” Fred said laughing, making you look down and laugh as well.

“Why my sweater?” You asked.

“It looks cute on you” He said, making you smile and blush a bit as you looked down at your hands, which in turn made you miss the thumbs up George was giving Fred, which he quickly slapped away.

“Why thank you” You said, appreciating the compliment but not thinking much of it. You did fancy Fred, but he was nice to everyone, so you were sure the compliment was only that.

“It looks like the rain is letting up a bit, you guys want to stop by Hogsmeade?” Harry asked looking at the group, who nodded eagerly.

“Yes! I would kill for a butterbeer right now” Ron said, already standing and practically running to the door, the rest of the group following.

About ten minutes into your walk, you realized that you should have brought a coat, your knit sweater not doing a whole lot to protect you from the cold. You shoved you crossed your hands under your arms and tried to focus on the walk and not on the wind that was causing goose bumps to rise on your skin.

Fred noticed, having put on a coat before he left, but he didn’t bring it for himself. He knew you got cold easily and were also to stubborn to bring a jacket anywhere, so he brought it along just in case. 

“Here” He said, grabbing your attention and slipping off his jacket, holding it out to you.

“Won’t you be cold?” You asked looking at the article of clothing, and then at Fred.

“Nah, I run hot” He said. You looked at him skeptically, before giving in and taking his jacket, slipping it on and instantly being enveloped in warmth.

“Thank you” you said, a smile crossing both of your faces. This wasn’t the first time Fred has offered you his jacket, but all you thought was that he was probably just being nice, he would probably do the same for anyone.

In reality, seeing you in his jacket made Fred’s heart pick up. He thought you looked cute in his clothes, your face blushing from the cold. He smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, continuing their trek to the village.

“No problem” He said.

Your first stop when you got to Hogsmeade was Honeydukes, seeing after a stressful week of classes, you in some desperate need for some chocolate frogs. As you walked into the store, Fred’s are slipped from around your shoulder so you could move around the store more freely, which made your heart sink a bit, but seeing how cramped the store was it was definitely necessary. However, before you were even fully in the store, Hermione suddenly grabbed your arm.

“Oh my god, they have a new bookstore across the street! Can we please go see, I know you’ve read all your books from home and you may find something you like” Hermione said, making you smile at her excitement.

You looked into the shop to see Fred and George, George laughing at something Fred said or did, and I guess he didn’t like whatever it was because he was currently glaring at his younger twin. You made eye contact and you made a hand signal letting them know you were going across the street. They nodded in your direction, letting you know they understood, and then you were on your way across the street.

When you were fully out of the store, George started laughing again, making Fred hit his arm.

“Would you knock it off! I’ve tried everything I can think of!” Fred said, making his brother laugh even harder, this time causing some people in the store to look over.

“My dear brother, I think Y/N’s great, I do, I love them like a family member, but they are absolutely clueless. You need to step up your game.” George said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Luckily for you, I have a plan for you”

“Really?” Fred asked, suspicious of what George had planned.

“Yep, I got Hermione working on it now”

The bookshelves seemed to go on forever, lined with thousands of books. You didn’t know where to begin, so you just started wandering the isles, trying to find things that sounded interesting. So far you had a book on magical creature care, and a book about a young witch who saves her true love. It sounds corny, but also like it might be good.

“So” Hermione said from beside you suddenly “I noticed you and Fred are getting pretty close, what's that about?” Hermione asked as casually as possible. In reality, she's been watching Fred drop subtle hints that he liked you for almost a year, and at this point it was getting a little hard to watch you not get the hints, so she and George made a plan to push things along.

“Oh, I was cold so he gave me his jacket. He was just being nice” You said, face heating up at the subject, which Hermione noticed.

“Do you fancy him?” She asked, causing your eyes to snap from the bookshelves to hers.

“I... I guess... why do you like him? Because if you do I can-” You started but Hermione shook her head violently interrupting you.

“Oh god no, not that there's anything wrong with Fred I just... Have someone else in mind. Anyway enough about that, so you do like him?” Hermione asked again, to which you nodded.

“What do you like about him?” She asked, adjusting her bracelet, which was actually a charm she and George came up with. It allowed the person that was wearing the other charm to hear what the other person was saying. Basically just a magic Walkie Talkie, but you didn’t know that, and that Fred and George were currently listening.

“Well you know, he’s really funny, and not in a mean way, but in a way were everyone thinks its funny. Even his pranks are pretty well intentioned, unless they’re at Snape which I can understand” You started, leaning against the bookshelf, meanwhile Fred had a giant smile on his face from across the street.

“And he’s so nice, like when I first met him I was really shy, and he introduced me to all these people and encouraged me to be myself, and he’s the reason I’m friends with all of you.” You continued, Hermione nodding to what you were saying, showing she was listening.

“And he’s just... so nice to look at, like he’s tall, and his freckles are adorable, and his smile gives me butterflies, and his hair looks so soft, and I once saw him without a shirt because George gave him a dare or something, and bitch... quidditch is the best thing to ever happen, he has such good abs.” You finished, causing George to let out a laugh, which could be heard through the bracelet, but Hermione covered it up with a cough, covering the bracelet with her sleeve and cutting off the connection to the other charm.

“I didn’t know you liked him so much” Hermione said smiling. “I think he might fancy you as well you know” She said, to which you shook your head.

“No, I don’t know if I’m his type, he’s just being nice” You said

Meanwhile across the street.

“See, I told you they liked you back, now will you go tell them?” George asked Fred, who currently had the most ridiculous smile on his face.

“Yeah I will” Fred said, looking out the store window, and into the shop across the street. Looking at you. 

By the time you and Hermione were done at the bookstore, it was time to head back. You didn’t end up getting your chocolate frogs which was a little disappointing, but you had four new books to read, and seeing you still had another day of the weekend, that will most likely be rainy, you couldn’t wait to start reading them.

You and Hermione met the rest of the group outside Honeydukes before making your way back. On your way back you were clinking your two of your new books to your chest, Fred offering to carry some as well, and talking to Fred about how excited you were, which made him smile. He loved how your face lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about. Before you knew it, you had made your way back onto the campus, and into the common room.

“Whelp, that was fun, now I’m going to sleep for the next twenty hours” Ron said, making the group laugh.

“I’m pretty tired too, see you guys tomorrow” Hermione said, cutting off from the group as well.

“I think I’m going to start one of my books. See you guys tomorrow?” You asked the rest of the group.

“Yeah sounds good”

“See you tomorrow” Dean and George said, heading towards the boys dorm.

“Oh Y/N” Fred said, stopping you and handing you your other books that he carried for you.

“Oh, thank you! Sorry you really didn’t have to carry them if you didn’t want to” You said.

“Oh hush I wanted to” He said smiling ‘Oh, and I think you should start with the green one, it looks interesting, see you later” Fred said, before headed to the boys dorm, leaving you to head to yours.

When you walked in you set your books down and went to change your clothes, realizing you were still wearing Fred’s Jacket. You held the jacket out and smiled before bringing it to your face and taking a breath in. It smelled like fireworks and cinnamon. Like him.

You put the jacket on your bed and went to go to your trunk, when you noticed something sticking out of one of your new books, the green one about magical plants.

You picked up the book and opened the cover to find a folded up piece of paper. You unfolded and read the parchment.

‘Meet me at the astronomy tower in an hour, I want to tell you something’ the paper said.

You knew it was from Fred, you could recognize his handwriting anywhere, still why would he need to talk to you... in the astronomy tower? Regardless of why he might want to talk to you, the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy, and all you wanted to do was watch the clock until it was time to meet him.

As you made your way up the steps on the astronomy tower, you could see lights coming from the landing. You carried Fred's jacket over your arm, thinking it would probably be best to return it. However, you almost dropped it when you walked into the room.

The room was glowing, the light from the moon illuminating the whole room. A couple of blankets were laid out on the floor, along with some candles, chocolate frogs, and Fred, who was now smiling at you.

“About time you showed up” He joked, but you barely heard him, to mesmerized by the room.

“What's all this?” You asked, walking over to where Fred was standing.

“Well its for you” Fred said, the confidence in his voice faltering a bit at your lack of a reaction. He was about to explain some more, when you spoke up.

“You did this for me? Why?” You asked, finally looking him in the eyes, a confused look on your face.

“What do you mean why?” Fred asked

“Is it my birthday and I forgot?” You half joked, wondering if you might have missed something.

“No, its not your birthday” Fred laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I did all this because I wanted tonight to be special” He said, waiting for you to finally put all the pieces together.

“Again, why?” You asked, causing Fred to mentally face palm.

“Because I like you, you dummy!” Fred finally said, looking at your face for a reaction.

“Like as a friend or-” You asked, but before you could come up with something else to say, Fred had taken his hands out of his pockets and closed the space between you, cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours.

Time seemed to stop as you felt him kiss you, before you finally dropped the jacket you were holding, and moved your arms to rest around his neck, deepening the kiss, only for his to pull away, much to your disappointment.

“Not as a friend” Fred said, making you smile.

“Well, I’d hope not after that” You said smiling as Fred lead you over to the blankets on the ground, taking a seat.

“Chocolate frogs?” You asked, picking up one of the packages, a huge smile crossing your face.

“Yeah I know they’re you’re favorite” He said, who was also smiling, but because of your reaction.

“So wait, you fancy me? For how long?” You asked, making him laugh.

“For over a year! I’ve been trying to give you hints all this time and you just never picked up on it, and I was too nervous to ask you out directly, so I just kept hoping you would notice” Fred said, making your face heat up.

“So what made you tell me tonight?” You asked, this time Fred getting flustered, a tint dusting his face.

“Hermione and George got sick of watching you not notice and me not make a move, so they made a charm and... I heard that you liked me too”

“Wait, so in the library when Hermione asked me-” You started, to afraid to finish the sentence.

“Yeah” Fred said

“Oh my God! How much did you hear?” You practically yelled making Fred laugh.

“All of it” He said, causing you to hide your face in your hands.

“I’m going to kill them” You said, before feeling Fred’s hand gently pull your hands away from your face.

“I thought it was cute” He said, making you give him a look of suspicion.

“You promise this wont change the way you view me for the rest of our lives” You asked, making him laugh again.

“I promise” He said, making you laugh before he closed the space between you two again, this time your hands moving to his face to deepen the kiss more, his hands moving to rest on your waist. The kiss was just starting to get a bit more heated when-

“So you think I have nice abs?” Fred asked, breaking away from the kiss and laughing when you swatted his shoulder.

“I swear to god!”

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A/N: I hope you guys liked it! Even if its kind of cringey lol. Feel free to leave any notes or requests <3