Just a dull ache at first—it was easy to ignore, easy to brush off as something that would pass if you slept it off. You remember shifting under the covers, pressing a hand to your stomach and thinking that it’ll all be fine in the morning.
Except it didn’t.
It got worse overnight.
You’d planned on waking up a little early, but by the time morning came, the ache had turned into full-on cramps. Every small movement just made it worse, and every time you tried to relax, another wave would roll through and tighten all over again, not giving you a second to breathe.
On the other hand, Bucky had been up for hours already—you could hear it faintly through the open door. The clink of dishes, the quiet hum of movement in the kitchen. He was cleaning up. Your chores. The ones you’d planned to handle yourself.
But every time you even thought about getting up, your stomach would twist again, keeping you pinned right where you were.
The guilt settled heavy in your chest.
You hated that he was doing your chores. Hated that he’d probably noticed you hadn’t come out yet. But more than that—you didn’t want to bother him. Not with this. Not with something that felt so humiliating to say out loud.
So you stayed quiet.
Even as the hours dragged on.
Even as it got way past noon.
Because as awful as the pain was, it still felt easier to lie there and deal with it alone than to actually say it.
As time passes, your body curls in on itself, hand pressing into your lower stomach like you can hold it still, like you can stop it from tightening any further.
“Mm—” your voice breaks, barely making it out.
You try to breathe through it.
But it’s too much for you to handle. A quiet, broken sound leaves you, your face pressing harder into the pillow as tears finally spill over. You try to be quiet about it. You didn’t want him to hear you, nonetheless see you like this—curled up, crying over something you should be able to handle.
You were so caught up in the pain and the way it kept building that everything else blurred out. Your thoughts spiraled, one into the next, until it was all you could focus on.
It consumed you, so much so that you didn’t even hear him approaching.
He’d come in every now and then to see if you were up and moving, yet this time he had paused in the doorway, watching for a moment, like he was waiting to see if you were going to say something. When you didn’t, he let out a quiet breath and started to walk slowly towards you, not wanting to wake you if you were still asleep.
But as he walked closer, he could hear you sniffling and moaning.
As soon as you felt the mattress dip beside you, you immediately turned away—like if he couldn’t see you, maybe he’d leave you alone. But he knew you were stubborn sometimes.
He doesn’t say anything at first.
There’s just a quiet pause as he looks at you, like he’s putting the pieces together—your back was turned away from him, the uneven way you’re breathing, the way you’re trying a little too hard to stay still.
“Hey,” he murmurs after a second. One hand comes up, hesitating for just a moment before settling lightly against your arm—not forcing, not pulling, just there. “Wha’s goin’ on?”
“…Nothing,” you managed to mumble, blurting out the first word that came to mind.
There’s a quiet huff from him. “Right,” he mutters. “S’that why you’ve been rollin’ around like you’re tryin’ to fight the mattress all day?”
“It’s stupid,” you mumble into the pillow.
His hand settles over the blanket near your side. “I highly doubt that,” he shakes his head at your response.
You only pulled the blanket a little closer. “…it is.”
He sighs quietly, not anywhere near being annoyed—he was just worried. “Mmm, no, it isn’t.” His voice is calm, more tender like, with that low firmness he only uses when he’s trying not to let his concern show too much. “You’ve been in here all day, barely said two words to me. That doesn’t sound like ‘stupid’ to me.”
You stay quiet, and his hand smooths slowly over the blanket.
“C’mon now,” his eyes were searching your face. “You know better than to say something like that.” There’s something almost gentle in his scolding, the way he says it like it’s less about correcting you and more about how much he hates hearing you talk yourself down.
“If something’s got you curled up in bed like this, then it must matter.” His thumb brushes lightly against the blanket. “And if it matters to you, then it matters to me. You know that.”
The room goes still for a moment, his voice the only thing breaking the silence. “I’m not askin’ because I wanna pry,” he says quietly. “I’m askin’ because I can see somethin’s wrong, and I don’t like watchin’ you sit here hurting and actin’ like I’m supposed to ignore it.”
His hand shifts slightly, resting over the blanket before giving a small, steady rub against your leg beneath it.
He’s been patient with you the entire time yet the concern on his face hasn’t gone away for a second, and somehow that only makes it harder to say anything. When you finally speak, your voice is barely above a whisper.
“It’s…that time of the month.”
For a second, he just looks at you. Something in his expression shifts, concern taking over again. “You’re on your period?” You give a small nod, too embarrassed to say it again, and he lets out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw before looking back at you. “Darlin’…why didn’t you tell me?”
You shrug weakly, staring harder at the blanket. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.”
His brows pull together, not frustrated, just confused. “So instead you were gonna sit in here feeling like hell and not say a word to me?” His tone stays gentle, trying his hardest to not sound upset.
“I just didn’t want to make you grossed out,” you admit. The words come out hesitant, like you already know how bad they sound. “Or bother you.”
The second you say it, something in Bucky’s expression shifts completely. His eyes flicker with something almost hurt, and the concern in his face deepens. He shifts a little closer, his hand settling over yours on top of the blanket.
Bucky exhales quietly and shakes his head, his thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles.
“Baby, I would never judge you for that,” he says, like the thought doesn’t even exist for him. “First of all, periods are natural. There’s nothin’ weird about it, and there sure as hell isn’t anything disgusting about you.”
He watches you as he speaks, like he’s checking that the words are actually landing.
“And second, even if it wasn’t natural, I’d still want you to tell me. Not because it bothers me, but just so I can help. You’re not supposed to sit here and deal with it alone.”
A pause settles for a second, but it isn’t empty. His eyes shifts over your face, taking in the way you’re holding yourself too still, the tension you’re trying not to show.
“Sweetheart,” his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “This is your body. There’s nothin’ about it that’s disgusting. And there’s definitely not a damn thing about you that would make me feel that way.”
His jaw tightens briefly, not at you, just at the idea of you thinking that.
“You’ve been in pain and you’ve been hidin’ it in here alone because you thought I’d be uncomfortable,” he says quieter, almost more to himself than anything, like he’s piecing it together as he speaks. “That’s what gets me.”
His eyes flick back to yours. “You don’t have to sit on stuff like that with me,” he adds, more grounded again. “If you’re hurting, I wanna know. Alright?”
You muttered, “I just didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“But you look paler than usual,” he says simply. “And you’ve been holding yourself like you’re one second away from either crying or passing out.” The concern in his voice makes it impossible to lie, so after a second, you nod. Bucky closes his eyes for a brief second, then lets out a slow breath.
You hesitate for a second, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve before you finally look back up at him. “…Are you upset with me?”
“No, no, I’m not mad,” he says when he sees your face crumple. His hand squeezes yours gently, as if he was trying to ground you. “I just wish you’d told me sooner.” His gaze softened as he looked back at you. “Because the thought of you laying here hurting this bad while I had no clue what was going on? I hate that.”
You let out a shaky breath and look away. “I didn’t want to be over dramatic or anything along those lines..”
Bucky’s brows knit together again, but his tone stays soft. “Baby, being in pain isn’t dramatic. If you’re hurting, that matters. And if it matters to you, then I wanna know.” His hand stays warm over yours while he speaks, every word calm and sure. “I don’t care that it’s your period. I care that you feel awful. That’s what matters here.”
Your chest tightens, and he keeps talking, softer now, like he’s trying to undo every anxious thought you’ve had all day. You nod weakly, wiping at your face, and Bucky gives the faintest nod back before brushing your hair away from your forehead.
“Good.” He holds your gaze for a moment, making sure you mean it. “Because next time, I wanna know the second you start feeling bad. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in, sweet girl.”
Your throat tightens again, but this time it’s because of how gentle he sounds. Bucky brushes away one more tear, his hand warm against your cheek.
He watches you for a second before saying anything, his eyes moving over your face like he’s trying to figure out how bad you’re feeling without making you explain it.
“Have you taken anything yet?”
You shake your head, giving him a weak little “no,” like maybe if you say it casually enough it won’t sound as bad as it is, and he lets out the smallest breath through his nose, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little like he already expected that answer.
“No?” The corner of his mouth lifts just a tad. “Were you just gonna tough it out and hope for the best?” There’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet fondness, and when you try to shrug it off, he only smiles a little, as if he knows exactly what you’re doing.
“Sounds like a terrible plan,” he murmurs. You manage the tiniest smile back, and his expression softens the second he sees it, like that alone makes him feel a little better.
“You need somethin’ besides curlin’ up and sufferin’ over here,” he muttered as he stood. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.” He squeezed your hand gently, pressed a quick kiss to your temple, and slipped out of the room.
A little while later, there was a brief knock before the door cracked open. “In my defense, I didn’t know what counted as enough,” Bucky pointed out as he stepped inside, his arms full of things he had gathered for you.
He made his way over to the bed, carefully setting everything down on the nightstand beside you before looking back at you with a softer expression. “Do you need anything else?”
“Yeah.” You hesitate for a moment before adding, “I’d like it if you stayed.”
That earned a huffed out quiet laugh from him, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smile as he leaned against the side of the bed. “I can do that.”
He reached down to brush a hand over your hair before nodding toward the pile he’d set on the nightstand. “C’mon, move over,” he murmured, already climbing onto the bed beside you. “Lemme take care of ya. You look miserable.”
You let out a tired groan but shifted anyway, making enough room for him to slide in beside you.
Bucky settled carefully against the pillows before reaching for the water bottle he’d brought in. “Alright,” he murmured, unscrewing the cap for you first.
You barely moved, only burrowing deeper beneath the blankets with a tired groan. Bucky just sighed quietly through his nose, already expecting the resistance.
“Don’t you start,” he muttered, one hand sliding under the blanket until he found your arm. “You gotta take the meds, angel.”
“I will,” you mumbled weakly. “Later.”
“Mmmm, yeah? And when exactly is ‘later’?” he asked dryly. “After you moan ‘nd groan around for another three hours?”
You shot him a sleepy glare that had absolutely had no bite behind it, and he almost smiled. Almost. Instead, he reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle before shaking two pills into his palm. “Sit up a little f’me.”
When you didn’t move fast enough, Bucky just rested his hand around your waist, giving you enough time to shift on your own before he gently helped you against him. As you settled there, he kept his arm loosely around you, holding you close to his chest so you didn’t have to support all of your weight by yourself.
“There we go,” he murmured, much softer now.
You frowned at the pills in his hand. “But they taste miserable.”
“They’re not meant to taste good, sweetheart,” Bucky saw the horrendous face you made towards the medicine. “They’re supposed to help.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Bucky huffed out a quiet laugh before pressing the water bottle into your hands. “C’mon. Take ’em before I start getting mean.”
“You’re always mean.”
“And yet you love me anyway.”
You rolled your eyes but finally took the pills, immediately reaching for more water afterward. Bucky watched carefully until he was sure enough you’d swallowed them, his metal fingers rubbing slow circles against your side the entire time.
“Good.” He waits until he’s sure you’ve swallowed before taking the bottle back and setting it aside. The second your head hit his shoulder, Bucky pulled the blankets higher around you, tucking them under your chin with gentleness. His hand drifted up to brush through your hair. “You still hurtin’ bad?” he asked quietly.
You gave a small nod against him.
Bucky’s jaw tightened for half a second, not at you, never at you. He just hated seeing you uncomfortable, hated that he couldn’t fix it instantly.
“Okay,” he murmured after a moment. “Well the meds’ll kick in soon, hopefully. Till then, I’ll have to suffice.”
You tilted your head just enough to look up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bucky adjusted against the pillows beside you, one hand absently fixing the blanket where it had twisted around your legs. He looked oddly thoughtful for a second before answering, “Well I was thinkin’ that maybe we should invest in one of those warming thingies, y’know?”
You blinked up at him. “A what?”
“One of those warm…things,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “Couldn’t find one anywhere. That’s why it took me so long to come back.”
A sleepy laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Baby, are you referring to a heating pad?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned immediately. “That. That’s what I meant.”
Your smile only widened, and he had to fight the urge to smile back too much at the sound of your laugh. “A warming thingie,” you repeated teasingly.
“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “You know what I meant.”
His gaze dropped toward your stomach then before flicking back up to your face, suddenly more careful again. Bucky only hesitated for a second before speaking again. “Well since we don’t have one, I was thinkin’ maybe we could lay down for a while and I could hold you a little closer. Might help warm you up some.”
His hand brushed gently along your side before he added more quietly, “Would you mind if I do that?”
You looked up at him for a moment, your expression softening immediately at the quiet concern in his voice.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d like that.”
The tension in Bucky’s shoulders eased almost instantly. Carefully, he helped guide you down beneath the blankets until you were laying on your side with your back pressed against his chest. Bucky shifted in behind you, settling close enough that his presence immediately surrounded you from every angle.
One arm slipped carefully around your waist, holding you against him while his other hand found yours beneath the blankets. He made sure not to squeeze too tightly, keeping his touch gentle
“There,” he whispered near your ear. “Is that…better?”
You let out a quiet hum, relaxing further as his warmth seeped into you.
Bucky’s nose brushed lightly against your hair before he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to your temple, staying there for a moment.
“Hate seein’ you like this,” he admitted quietly. “I wish I could just take it from you instead.”
His hand spread warmth against your stomach then, rubbing slow circles through the blanket while he tucked you even closer against him.
Bucky stayed quiet for a while after that, just holding you close while his hand continued slow circles against your stomach. The room fell quiet after that, the only sound being your steady breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets when Bucky adjusted them around you again.
After a few minutes, his lips brushed lightly against your temple once more. “Do you need anything else?” He was still worried. “Water, snacks, more blankets?”
You shook your head weakly. “Mm-m. I’m okay now.”
“Okay now,” he repeated skeptically, earning a sleepy little smile from you.
Bucky’s arm tightened around your waist just a little, he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Well, if that changes later, you tell me, alright?” he gently scolded. “Don’t care if it’s two minutes from now or three in the morning.”
His thumb brushed gently over your stomach again. “I mean it,” he added softer. “If you need somethin’, I’ll get it.”
You turned your head just enough to look back at him over your shoulder, the look on his face. He was tired, worried, but so unbelievably gentle with you. “Alright,” you whispered.
That finally seemed to satisfy him. Bucky pressed one last kiss against your temple before settling back against the pillows with you tucked safely against his chest.
For a while, things seemed better.
Between the medicine kicking in and the comfort of being wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms, you were on the verge of falling asleep. Almost. A sudden cramp seized low in your stomach, making your breath hitch as you curled tighter against him.
Bucky immediately felt it. His arm tightened around your waist as he lifted his head from the pillow. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, concern immediately creeping into his voice. “Talk t’me. Did it start up again?”
You hesitated before nodding.
Bucky’s expression fell. For a moment, all he could do was look at you.
Then he let out a slow breath through his nose and rested his forehead against the back of your head.
“God, my sweet girl…” he muttered quietly. “I really thought you were finally getting some relief.”
His hand moved across your stomach once more, rubbing slow circles through the blanket.
“I know the meds are helping some, but every time I think you’re doing better, you get another one of those cramps and I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just gets to me.”
You shifted slightly so you could glance back at him. “Buck—”
“No, I’m serious.” His voice softened. “I hate seeing you hurt. I know that sounds obvious, but I mean it. I hate watching you try to act like it’s not that bad when I can feel you tensing up every few minutes.”
His gaze dropped toward where his hand rested over your stomach.
“And the worst part is that there’s not really anything I can do to fix it.”
Another cramp made you wince, and he noticed right away, frowning at you.
“If you scraped your knee, I could clean it up. If you were sick, I could make soup or get medicine. If somebody was giving you a hard time, I’d know exactly what to do.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “But this? All I can do is sit here and wish I could take some of it off your shoulders.”
You reached for his hand. “Baby, you are helping.”
His fingers intertwined with yours immediately. “Maybe a little,” he admitted.
“A lot.”
His expression softened at that. Still, he looked unconvinced.
“I just wish it was more. You shouldn’t have to sit here hurting while I’m stuck guessing what might make you feel better.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“Honestly, I’ve been trying to think of things this entire time,” he admitted although he was still working through it in his head. “Different positions, more blankets, less blankets, water, food…I was halfway ready to tear the apartment apart looking for one of those heating pads.”
His eyes dropped to where his hand rested carefully against your stomach, still moving in slow, steady circles through the blanket.
“I keep running it over like there’s something I’m missing,” he went on, a little more tense now. “Like there’s some obvious fix and I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
A quiet exhale left him through his nose.
“And it’s just…it’s frustrating,” he admitted. “Because I can deal with things I can fix. I can handle problems that actually do something when you act on them. But this just sits here and you’re hurting and all I’ve got is…this.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face before reaching for yours again, holding it a little tighter this time. “I don’t like feeling useless.” His jaw tightened briefly before he looked back at you. “Especially when it comes down to you.”
That made something in your expression shift, and you turned your head just enough to look back at him over your shoulder.
“You’re not useless,” you said immediately, not giving him the chance to argue. “You’re literally doing everything you can right now.”
Bucky didn’t look convinced right away. “I’m rubbing your stomach,” he replied, almost bluntly. “That’s not exactly fixing anything.”
“It’s helping,” you insisted. “Trust me, it does help.”
His jaw tightened slightly, not in anger, just stubbornness. “It’s just not enough.”
“Yes it is.”
“Not really.”
You huffed faintly, adjusting against him a little more so you could see his face better. “Bucky, I’m telling you it is. I feel so much better than I was before.”
He hesitated at that, eyes flicking down to your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you or argue with you out of habit. “…Yeah?” he asked finally, quieter.
“Yes.”
His shoulders eased just a little, though his expression still held that lingering frustration. “Still feels like I should be doing more,” he admitted.
You rolled your eyes a little, tired but fond. “You always feel like you should be doing more. That’s kind of your thing.”
That earned a faint huff from him through his nose, like he didn’t appreciate being called out but couldn’t fully deny it either.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, hand resuming its steady motion over your stomach. “My ‘thing’ is usually more useful than this.”
“You’re literally holding me together right now,” you said quietly. “That’s useful.”
That made him pause again. For a second, he just looked at you like he was trying to reconcile what you were saying with whatever he had in his head.
“I just don’t want you thinking you have to deal with this alone.” He shook his head, like the thought of it alone bothered him. “Or that I’m just sitting here not doing anything.”
“But you’re not,” you sat up and laid your head against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re paying attention. You’re taking care of me. That’s everything to me.”
A quiet second or two had passed. He exhaled slowly, some of the tension finally easing out of his shoulders. “…Alright,” he wasn’t fully convinced, but he was just choosing to accept it for now.
“I just wish I could make it stop.” His arm tightened gently around your waist as he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your temple. “I know I can’t make the cramps disappear,” he said quietly. “Believe me, if I could take them from you, I would.”
His hand kept moving over your stomach in slow circles, more out of habit than anything now. “But I can be here.”
His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you a little closer against him. “So if you need to complain, complain. If you need to cry, let it out. If you want to tell me for the hundredth time how much this sucks, then tell me.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to make it easier for me to hear. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay because you’re worried about it bein’ dramatic. You’re in pain. That’s enough.”
He pressed another quick kiss to your forehead. “And I know you deal with this all the time. I know you’re used to pushing through it and getting on with your day anyway.”
His eyes dropped to where his hand rested against your stomach. “But just because you’re used to carrying something doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy.”
He pressed another quick kiss to your forehead.
“And I know you deal with this all the time. I know you’re used to pushing through it and getting on with your day anyway.”
He shook his head slightly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
His hand rubbed slowly up and down your side. “I know there’s not much I can do. Trust me, if there was, I’d be doing it.”
For a moment, he just looked at you.
“I just hate seeing you feel like this.” The honesty in his voice left no room for argument.
You shifted closer, tucking yourself against his chest as he wrapped both arms around you. The room fell quiet after that.
Bucky kept one hand moving lazily along your back, the other resting against your side, and little by little the tension started to leave you. When he felt your body finally begin to relax against him, he gently guided you down onto the mattress.
Once you were settled, he stretched out beside you, pulling the blankets up over both of you before gathering you back against his chest.
“Get some sleep, angel.” He didn’t need to say anything else. Your eyelids were already getting heavier by the second.
While you knew tomorrow would likely look a lot like today, you also knew he’d be right there with you through it.
“I love you,” he pressed one last kiss to the top of your head.
And by the time exhaustion finally caught up to you, Bucky was still right where he’d promised he’d be—stuck in bed with you.
Stop writing Bucky like a boomer who doesn’t understand smartphones!!! He dealt with technology his entire time as the Winter Soldier and even if you claim he doesn’t remember that, he uses advanced tech in tfatws!!! I get so frustrated when I find a good fic and then suddenly Bucky is grumbling about “too many screens” like no? He might complain about pointless stuff but he isn’t going to complain about basic technology?? Comic wise is different but MCU Bucky is and was a nerd
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
hello !! just wanted to come on here and say that my inbox is always free for ideas or suggestions or even your dreams !! i have come back to write once more !!
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