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fuckmeyer · 1 year ago

Note

Will we ever see the deleted from the CN epilogue again? Because, uh, I kinda loved it 👀

i did too. sad it had to go, but happy with the results. you will see it again. it was dismantled and reconfigured for the next book.

here's the original - knock yourself out:

COME NIGHTFALL: EPILOGUE V1 DELETED SCENE

[WARNINGS: Come Nightfall: Epilogue spoilers (duh), 18+ smut]

WC: 4200

***

And so, everyone lived happily ever after forever and ever in the childhood kingdom where nobody dies.

The end.

…Kinda.

I.e., Everything was back to normal.

Also sorta kinda fucked up.

“Back to normal” meaning between the hours of sunup and sundown, not much had changed. Victoria and Mystery Man hadn’t returned since the day of The Plan. With more bandwidth to breathe, I resumed cooking, cleaning, reading, training with the wolfpack, and knocking off bucket list items with Jake before his move to LA. Charlie’s law of the land meant I had to check-in periodically. However, Harry's death had made him detached— and consequently, lenient.

Only between the hours of sundown and sunup was I kept on a short leash. All nighttime affairs had to be scheduled and preapproved by the old man. Otherwise, I had to be home before dark.

No problem. I was always home. Ready. Waiting.

Nighttime was when the “fucked up” part came in.

Edward would slip through my window after Charlie went to bed. Every night he risked being caught by the wolfpack to stay with me. Every morning I kicked him out before the sun rose. In between, I would lie in bed with my (ex-boyfriend? lover? partner? mate? Ugh) vampire until I fell asleep. Sometimes Edward and I would read— bells hooks and Baudelaire, respectively— only speaking to recite striking quotes. Sometimes we would split earbuds and listen in silence to mixtape CDs we burned that day. Sometimes we did and said nothing— only held each other. When Edward would tremble I would lay his head over my beating heart, and he would soften and still. When I would cry Edward’s cold tongue would lap up the tears trailing down my throat, and the warming, icy venom would sink me into a state of serenity.

Apart from the reassurance his presence gave me, he was a great nightmare deterrent. Because of him I had basically managed to wean myself off the sleep meds. (Now I kept them stowed away. They seemed to upset him.)

Not as to say the nightmares disappeared. Whispers of terror still snagged on the thorns of my mind. The woman with the rosary, Irina’s decapitation, Laurent pouncing for the kill, Victoria’s green sparkles—all had rotten roots that had wormed deep in my psyche.

Of these, the most terrifying were ones where I would discover that Italy had never happened. Edward had never come home. I would stumble into the bathroom and stare back at the hundred-year-old lady in the mirror. Despite decades passing— graying my hair, wrinkling my face, decaying me slowly— those grieving goldstone-brown eyes remained unchanging. My wrinkled, knobby hands would scratch at the mirror, hoping to climb inside some alternate reality. When that didn’t work, I would start hitting the glass, desperate to shatter my reflection—

Cold arms calmed my thrashing. Edward would wrap himself around me, muffling my breaths. His fingers, warm from my body heat, would caress the bare skin underneath my shirt, scattering oxytocin through my body as he whispered, “It’s okay. Shh. I’m here. You’re safe.”

It never made sense. Of course he wasn’t here. He couldn't be. I would tell "him" this through frantic whispers starting along the lines of, “No, you’re not, not real, not—”

“Shh, Bells, you’re awake, I am here—”

—and end with an aching, desperate plea: “Edward, don't go, I need you.”

Need you. Need something . Need a break. A breath. Release. For all life’s normalcy, the raging chaos behind the scenes still set me on edge. I was too tightly wound even with the extra bandwidth. So many lines to toe with so little time: sunup, sundown; live, die; together, apart; hold on—

“Let go,” he purred.

His freezing lips latched onto my breast again.

Cursing, my hands fisted tufts of his hair. Between rhythmic sucking, his soft tongue lapped at the stiff peak of my nipple. The vibrations from Edward’s moan sent pinpricks scattering across my skin. My heart raced under his touch.

This morning, jolting awake from a particularly nasty nightmare, I’d kissed him full-force in the darkness of dawn, desperate for a taste after decades of growing old alone. Slices of sunshine now spilled across twisted bedsheets and our bare skin. How long had we been here? How the hell had Edward managed to go from vestal vampire to this with just one kiss? Maybe this wasn’t real after all and—

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Breathe.”

He kissed a path to the other one, swirled his tongue around the stiff peak, and suckled. Electricity crackled through my core at a fever pitch.

Okay. Real. Too real.

I tried to breathe. No, really. But Edward was a master at sucking. Go figure. Bonus, he remembered exactly what I liked and how. Bonus bonus, venom felt way better than I remembered. Rainbow fractals pulsed and whirled in the sunlight while flashes of hot and cold needled the flesh where his tongue touched.

So, breathing? Impossible. Ragged breaths always devolved into frantic panting. And when his fingers once again rubbed the soaked spot on my cotton shorts—

“God,” I gasped, back arching. “Too much.”

“You’re so sensitive now.”

“It’s—” I shuddered on the downstroke “—been a while.”

“A long while?”

“Since before you left.”

“For me as well. —Breathe, Bells.”

“I can’t. Breathe. When you’re doing. That.”

A wicked grin stretched across his lips. His eyes glinted a subtle pink in sunlight. “I can stop if you—”

“Nonono.” I seized his wrist to hold him there, right there. “Don’t stop, don’t stop; please don’t stop.”

He chuckled. “Me? Never.” Even preoccupied, I managed to scoff. “Not now. You’re close. I can feel how close you are.” I rutted against his fingers, trembling at the vibration of his growl. His teeth tugged my earlobe. Feral whispers flossed through my brain, almost drowned out by my breaths. “Close. Wet. Hot. Mine.”

“Mine, mine, faster— like that—"

“Yes. Come. For me. Breathe. Let go—"

A delirious giggle burst from my mouth. “Shut up.” I slammed my foot into his thigh. He laughed too. “Damn you. I’m letting go.”

“You’re doing no such thing.”

“I’m doing my best,” I said. He snorted. “I don’t need your frickin advice.”

“Suit yourself.” Edward concentrated his circular strokes to give me friction where I craved it most. The slippery cotton rubbed against the swollen bud at the top of my folds. Trails of fire spread down my thighs, so searing I twitched and squirmed. “Tell me what you need.”

I groaned. “I need…”

“What do you need?

“I need…”

“Say it.”

My hand roamed down his chest until I brushed the tented fabric of his boxers. “I need…”

Stiffening, Edward jerked his hips back.

“Edward.”

“Isabella.”

“I need to touch you. Please.”

“I appreciate your generosity.” His laugh was tight and hoarse. “I don’t have the control for that.”

“Then you touch you.”

“And touch you? I would have even less control.”

My exhale bordered a whine. Even in my delirium, I knew my request had been a longshot. For all the strides we had made during our relationship, Edward never let me touch him. Ever.

“Then can we…can we do…that thing…we used to do?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“S-San Francisco. The night we…”

“That doesn’t narrow it down.”

I huffed. There were few games Edward loved to play more than getting me to open my unfiltered mind. Especially in bed.

“I wanna…watch,” I blurted out. “I want to watch you touch yourself.”

Edward’s hand stilled. Wide-eyed, his gaze roamed up to my face.

“Oh.”

Needless to say, my sexuality superseding my shyness was a rare occurrence.

“Please,” I said. Hot blood blazed across my cheeks; my head pounded. “Please. You can watch me.”

“I…” I swear he’d be blushing if he was human. “I…” His uncertain sigh bordered a groan. “I don’t think I can—”

“Yes. You can. You’ve done it. Multiple times.”

“After months of practice.”

“Which you clearly haven’t forgotten.”

“I seem to recall not twenty minutes ago an imminent danger of you spontaneously combusting if I didn’t touch you.”

I chortled. “It won’t help me if you’re still wound up.” I placed a hand on my chest to illustrate my point. “You know how it goes.”

“I’ll take care of it later.”

“Take care of it now.”

I reached for him again. He chuckled, intercepting my hand and placing it in the space between us.

“Do you know what would make me spontaneously combust?”

“If I ripped off your limbs and tossed your body on a burning pyre?” His eyes narrowed. “Oh, you mean sexually? Uhh…”

“Not being able to kiss you.”

“That was my second guess.”

“I want— need — to kiss you, Bells.” His voice ached with desire. “God, the only thing that would make me lose more control than burying my everything inside of you would be not kissing you at all.”

“I… I did kiss you.”

Noting the hesitation in my tone, he said, “I respect your condition. Forever or nothing. I’m coming to terms with…that. I am trying.”

“I know you are,” I said softly.

“In the meantime, if a platonic relationship with you increases our odds of being together in any form, I will do it; if satisfying you sexually increases our odds of being together, I will do it. I will do anything you wish. But if your wish is to satisfy me… ”

“Kiss you, huh?” Nervousness— or fear?— boiled up into my throat. I leaned in close until our foreheads touched. Breathing him in usually calmed me down, but now it made me shake. I rubbed my arousal-slicked thighs together. I wanted to resume. So bad. He move to seal our lips, but I said, “Sir, I believe that is against one of the several tenants of Edward Cullen’s Ground Rules for Vampire-Human Sexual Relations.”

“Indeed. Which I still expect you to follow. If…” Shier, softer, he added, “In the event that you consent to kiss me, of course." I bit my lip. "I know. I know it’s different for you now. Perhaps for that reason you don’t want to, but for me—”

Before shame could overtake him, I smothered his mouth with mine. Shuddering, he whimpered. I stole his sound with another kiss. Another. I could live in his mouth. I could drown in his venom.

Just when his kisses turned urgent and aggressive, I broke and whispered, “I'll kiss you. I’ll come for you. I'll follow the rules. I’ll let go. For you. I will. If you come for me. Please, Edward.”

He didn’t answer, only cupped my cheek and pulled my mouth back to his, fierce and hungry. Seeing his willpower unravel made my veins zing with adrenaline.

He said, “I’ve missed you; god, I’ve missed you," and stole another deep kiss.

“How much?”

“Very much.”

“How much?”

Edward captured my lips again. A slow guttural thunder erupted deep inside him.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Show me," I commanded.

He didn’t move until I detangled myself from him (another ground rule: no touching). Using the same hand that had touched me, he slowly grasped his shaft through his boxers. A bead of precum darkened the fabric.

Heart racing, I moved my hand back between my legs. For a moment his eyes closed, his lips ghosting words as he listened to the slick sounds of my silk-drenched fingers stroking my slit. My heartbeat thumped so hard my whole body seemed to quake.

He swallowed. Froze. Swallowed again. This was a common sight when we first started getting intimate— venom flooding his mouth in waves. I slowed, watching for warning cues in his slipping control.

Only when I stopped did his midnight eyes snap to my face.

My breathing ceased.

When his hand began to move, so did mine.

Eyes black, he watched me, unblinking. My fingers circling my clit under the fabric of my shorts. My licking my lips. My hooded eyes watching him touch himself. He was grinding into his hand. Pumping up and down. Faster. Stroking himself. To me. To my cadence. Our rhythm. Our scent. Us. I slipped a finger into my scalding heat, imagining his cold length buried inside me, and rode my hand in breathy gasps. Every cell in my body vibrated at the frequency of his growl; I gripped the bedsheets to keep from reaching out. An exquisite burn licked my insides as though I were being pulled up to the pits of an erupting volcano; god, I—

“I’m going to—”

“Me too.”

“Bells.”

Ripples of heat surged through my veins at the desperate hush of my name.

“Edward, Edward...”

“Come for me, love.”

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

“Yes, Edward—"

When the heat hit the tips of my fingers and toes, everything shattered. Lights flashed. Energy crackled. I threw my head back and cried out as waves of lava melted my spine and my skin and the rest of me. Venom lit my veins on fire. My jaw wired shut, desperate to bite down on something. From far away, Edward’s muffled groan and seams ripping snapped me back to reality. His erection throbbed in his vice grip, growing damp at the head as pulses of come saturated the fabric. A strangled growl rumbled in his chest.

We collapsed together as the last of my orgasm prickled like a cold sweat into a warm, sparkly afterglow. The flush in my cheeks made my head pound. Our ragged breaths filled the air.

He panted, “Kiss me,” just as I rolled over and seized him by the undershirt. We consumed each other. Cold velvety lips slick with cinnamon venom opened to mine. I sunk deeper into his mouth. Edward hitched my leg around his waist, and our hips rolled in sync. The rhythmic creak of the bed quickened. Between our scent, our tongues, our come, it was too much, too good…

“I love you.”

“Again,” I begged between kisses.

“We’re on a schedule.”

“Let’s reschedule.”

“Not again.”

“Why not? They’re vampires. They can reschedule till the end of time.”

Though he broke our kiss to speak, his hands kept kneading my curves on their own accord. “Be nice. They’re awfully anxious to see you.” His lips attacked the delicate, sensitive flesh where my jaw met my neck; I shivered and moaned. He brushed away a strand of my hair as he spoke. “They think you’re still avoiding me, you know. You’re giving them the impression you’re angry at us.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that I…”

Looking up, he cocked a brow. We held our gaze.

I groaned. Edward chuckled under his breath. Defeated, my head slumped against his.

Edward repositioned us and laid back against the headboard. Tucked into him, I waited for the room to spin back into place. Colors and shadows breathed into each other. The world felt loud, though I swore it was only us on earth. Edward kept combing my hair while he waited for my confession.

“Okay, fine. I’m kinda angry.”

“Understandably so.” He added, in a softer voice, “I will say this. They know as I do how valuable this second chance with you is. If you are angry and need to tell them how you feel, they won’t blame you for doing so. They will listen.”

I rubbed my brows, blotting out fantasies of cursing and screaming and throwing things at the vampires’ stupid perfect heads.

“What is there to say? Carlisle and Alice knew about my history with Victoria. Alice knew James wanted me. I mean…”

“Yes.” Edward’s response was cool. Figures he’d be upset with them too. The only thing he hated more than reading everyone’s mind was being blocked out. I wondered if he knew I had told them not to say (or think) anything.

“They still left. How could they—” I huffed. I drummed my fingers on his exposed skin. It felt like they were casting little lightning bolts. “Whatever. Never mind.”

“It is not ‘whatever’. I think they would rather you share your feelings than ignore them altogether.”

“I won’t ignore them. But this treaty is bigger than how I feel. I’d rather be diplomatic until everything is squared away.”

Edward chuckled. “Well, I won't argue with that. A bit of diplomacy never hurts. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar anyway.”

I sighed, going limp as the last of the venom burned off like glowing embers. Eyes glued to the ceiling, I watched colorful patterns pulse across the shadows.

“Who’s really the fly here?”

I felt Edward’s eyes on me. He didn’t reply.

“Whatever saves the shapeshifters. Whatever buys me time.” My voice was soft. “Plus, it would be great if I didn’t have to smuggle you into Forks every night.”

“Don’t mind me,” he said with a grin. “I enjoy the smuggling. It’s the ‘kicking me out’ part I dislike.”

“That’s just as much for my own sanity as it is for your protection. I have a lot of feelings about…everything.”

However badly I wanted him, each day brought fresh fear. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I had panic attacks. Sometimes I angrily swore at myself for letting him back in my bed.

No matter what my reaction, in the end, I would pace my room and smell Edward on my sheets and turn my phone over and over in my hands, resisting the urge to call him and beg him to come home.

It was so hard to push past the fear.

“I know.” His expression turned solemn but didn’t lose its kindness. “I appreciate that you have made space in your life for me. I certainly will not take that for granted. Neither will the Cullens.”

Warmth crept up my cheeks at the thought of facing them. My hesitation for visiting stemmed from places other than anger.

“Do they know?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“About us. Our situation.”

Edward snorted. "Do we know our situation?”

Sure. It was everything. It was nothing. It was normal. It was deviant. Beautiful. Ugly. Perfect. Messy. Chaste. Salacious. Ugh.

I drew in a long breath.

“Alice obviously knows,” he answered. “Carlisle has connected enough dots to draw vague— not inaccurate— conclusions. The sheer fact that you and I have been granted temporary amnesty from the Volturi’s law gives my family reason enough to suspect our relationship is exceptional. Beyond that, they know nothing. Alice and I have been tight-lipped in the face of their curiosity. I believe they hope you and I will come out and tell them. When we’re ready.”

Though he said that last part quietly, it relieved me that he said it at all. I didn’t want him to think I was rejecting him. I just wasn’t ready. To…mate. Ugh. Gross.

“What will we tell them— when we’re ready?”

“I should think that would be up to you. As much or as little as you want. Depending on what you want.”

“Everything. You know what I want.”

“Then I suppose we’ll tell them everything.”

“When we’re ready.”

Any unspoken questions we could let die in the silence—for now. Tangled in each other, the oxytocin sparks prickling between us made me forget where I ended and he began. He lazily stroked my foot with his. I nibbled his neck. Though too quiet to hear, I could feel him purring.

It was perfect and strange. Real and not real. Everything that had once felt natural to us now required reexamination. Was this natural to humans? To vampires? Was this bonding? Was this what had caused our crossing the Point of No Return? Maybe I knew the answer. Maybe I had always known.

I pulled away, bushing.

“Then I guess,” I said, hesitating to remove my hand from his chest, “maybe we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. With…this. Us. You know. Just…in case.”

Edward hummed a sigh. His foot stopped rubbing against mine.

Not knowing what the hell that was supposed to mean, I quickly added, “I just don’t know… I mean, I-I—I love being with you. I want to be with you. But I know you’re not comfortable with this whole…thing we have going on. I’m not either. I don’t want to push you. Or me. That’s all.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

I perked. “Really?”

“Well, I would have put it more eloquently—"

“Dramatically,” I corrected.

“—but yes,” he said in a more jovial tone than I was expecting. “I value you. I am committed to you— to us— in whatever form that takes. I will respect and support your choices, whatever they may be, however they might change. But you are right to be cautious. Our…bond—” he drew out the word as if experimenting with the sound of it “—may prove fatal for us both if we misstep. I am delighted to hear you expressing some modicum of self-preservation.”

He seemed less delighted when I rolled off of him.

After a moment laying next to each other, staring at the ceiling, I placed my hand on his. His thumb brushed the backs of my fingers.

“What will we tell them now?” I said.

Edward shrugged. “Whatever you want. Or nothing at all.”

“Ooh. I like that idea,” I said. Our relationship had been put in the spotlight enough. I was ready for some privacy. “Let them talk.”

“Gladly.” An evil glint accompanied his crooked smile. He kissed the tip of my nose. Then my forehead. I ached for him.

“How long do you think we’ll be able to keep it up?” I joked.

“About ninety seconds,” he said, and flashed a grin. “But I’ll be rooting for us.”

“Me too. Maybe we’ll make it a hundred and eighty seconds.”

“I believe in us.” He rolled over and sat up, facing the window. Edward blinked as if dazed. “If we’re heading out, I suppose I should get cleaned up. Shall I meet you back here in—”

“Don’t go.” At the soft command, his eyes glittered like dewy dandelions. I looked away. “You stayed too long. The sun’s up. The wolves will be starting their training soon.” I grimaced. More to myself, I added, “I should tell Sam I won’t be there.”

“You train with them?”

“Yes.”

“What does that entail?”

I got up to dig around the cardboard box in my closet. “First, we run routes—they do about twenty miles, I do a little over half on a good day. Then they do an extra fifty as wolves. Then they go off and do sparring or train phasing, and I…” I didn’t finish but noticed Edward’s subtle glance at the bow in the corner. “Then brunch. Then weightlifting. Then yoga. Then meditation—”

“Good lord.”

“Then lunch. Then meditation again. Then snacktime and games— boosts morale. Sometimes we have strategy sessions. Or we break off into patrol shifts. Here.” From the box, I flung an old pair of his briefs at him.

He caught it while he studied my face. “Do you patrol?”

“Just the house, really. Once or twice around Forks. I also help create some of the trails out at Old Quil’s.”

His features darkened. With that old concern lacing his tone, he said, “You really shouldn’t—”

“Yeah, well, I do,” I said. Softer, I added, “We all pitch in. That’s how it works.”

A beat of silence passed. I kept digging until I held one of his flannels in one hand and his sweater in the other.

“I’m sorry.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, I said with the faintest hint of humor, “You’re doing a good job making it up to me.”

But Edward wasn’t looking at me. Boxers still in hand, he had trained his gaze on my bow and arrows. This wasn’t the first time I caught him sneaking glances at them. I could practically hear the gears turning in his brain. Questions fomenting. Conclusions festering.

“Bells…”

My heartbeat tripped over itself.

“Hm?”

As soon as he turned to catch me staring, his fear flickered into an even mask.

“Do you mind if I shower here?”

“Not at all.”

I shook the two articles of clothing; he nodded to the sweater. Dropping the flannel back in the box, I nabbed a fresh towel and tossed him it. He slung it over his shoulder. When he rose, it draped over most of him—his lean chest, covered by a thin ribbed undershirt, and his now-stained boxers.

“Thank you kindly, miss.”

Taking the sweater from my hands, he leaned in to kiss me. Fear clawed at my chest; I turned my head and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Impassive, Edward gave me a nod and brushed past me.

I grabbed his hand.

Don't go.

“Thank you,” I said softly. When he turned to look back, I gave his hand a squeeze. I pecked his cheek. Then added, blushing, “I…um…I kinda— I mean, not kinda, I do …”

“Think I’m great in bed?” he guessed jokingly.

I laughed. “Sure, sure.”

Edward’s cocky smile told me he knew the real end of my sentence.

“I’ll save you some hot water,” he promised. “I know you like your showers hotter than the devil.”

I snorted and blushed harder but said nothing. Edward disappeared within the second. From the bathroom, I heard the shower handle creak and water spilling from the showerhead.

Shaking out my nerves, I ambled downstairs for some coffee.

#come nightfall #come nightfall outtakes #asks #twilight renaissance #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #bella swan #edward cullen

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borathae · 8 months ago

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I HAVE FINISHED SANGUIS ALPHA AND WE NEED TO TALK!!!!!!! Jin and Hobi 10/10 love them. taetae my sweet taetae i love him with my whole heart and soul and wanna put him in my pocket to keep in safe. Jimin...ouch. Poor Jimin baby but also ugh i have mixed feelings for him because he was so bad but then the ending?!?!??! ugh. My heart. Koo my sweet baby angel again i wanna put him in my pocket and keep him safe for ever and ever and ever. KIM NAMJOON (I am joon biased so it kinda hurt to read but i totally get it.) YOONGI BOONGI OHMYGOD HE IS EVERYTHING AND THE ENDING MADE ME MISS HIM SO MUCH i JUST WANT TO HUG HIM AND SQUISH HIS CHEEKS AND KEEP HIM FOREVER (also him being in the military now and us not being able to see him the ending with him leaving BROKE ME like tears streaming down my faceeeeeeeee) Gonna take a small break before i dive into the next part but WONDERFUL, AMAZING, BRILLIANT, INCREDIBLE

AAAH ANONIEEE HEHEHEHE I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT YOU LOVED SANGUIS ALPHA SO MUCH 😭🥺💜💜 thank you so much for reading and yes I agree with your character reviews

ALSO OMFG I FEEL YOU I MISS YOONGI SO MUCH HOLY FUCK 😭😭😭😭

#asks: sanguis alpha #anon #asks

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sungbeam · 28 days ago

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Okay i'm sorry this took me so long to get back to- but omg- incantations was so good!!! I love that every dino bias is just !!! over this too! (would have bawled my eyes out worse if it was jun tbh but god you captured dino so well 😭😭))- God I love reading your fics- it's like a little treat after hardwork!! That murder line is just still 🫠🤭 it's so good- I loveddddd the catalyst chapter sm!! And I loved how each thing was slowly solved- sure there are things that are more up in the air- but it was like connecting puzzle pieces and I loved it sm!!! And god you made such a good balance between info & immersion- I think platonic friendships are vv undervalued and underutilized- a good friend group could bring sm more value!! I love that you included it here too!! A sequel would be everything! But that is totally up to you!! You don't have to- but like god that would be cool to read about- ohhhh indigo was so cool! I loved that Juyo is just so oblivious 🤭🥺 he prolly would take forever to catch on- and it's so cute to think about- this fic made me crave matcha btw- need to get me some soon... bhebhea- I'm so glad you have a thought-out character of Indigo!! That's so good! Dino is a tragedy 😭💔💔 I guess it could be a little rushed- but it felt fine!! I may have wished for more but I did realize you were under time constraint! And I was happy with it!! Even if I bawled to it 😭🫶 I feel like it may break dino's sister sm- bc her bro did everything he could for her- and yet he's gone now 😭💔 oh gosh- You writing is always so compelling!! It's so good! Aw heck yeah!!! Aunt jenna!!! I like her as a mentor figure sm! And I love their little family sm!! You're so good at character building and developing!! You continuing to improve them just leaves me more and more speechless 🫠😭🫶

HOW DID HE DO THIS TO US- 😭😭😭 WE ARE JUMPING OFF THE DEEP END- (I fear... we may be too far gone... as long as we don't purchase it- we'll be okay!!) Heheh it was so fun to read, reblog, and talk about this fic!! cause my username here is from an icecream place? maybe an icecream cone or a snowman? up to you honestly- I'm fine with wtv 🙂‍↕️ (is there anyone in particular you'd like? 👀)

KATE HIHI!! and dw abt it, def take ur time replying and stuff! omggg ur jun biased?? i've been so ksbfkdjfj over him lately cuz of the pics from his new drama UGH 😩 like WHAT is in the svt air lately (there's always something in the air) but tbh jun would make an interesting villain bahahha ... things to think abt ^^

im so glad u enjoy my fics and think of them as a little treat for urself!! :')) i hope they always feel as indulgent to u as they make me feel 😌 for sure, im glad u liked how things slowly came to light and u also don't mind that some things r still left untied for the time being 😅 i have answers to everything tho, trust!! but what matters is that it feels cohesive and immersive as you've said!!

i feel that i lately have been more interested in platonic relationships than romantic ones but it's always so hard to find those kinds of aus on tumblr 💔 OMG PLS UR ACTUALLY RIGHT THO WITH JUYO 😭 i feel so bad for low-key always making him himbro-coded/baby boy-esque but that's just how he vibes in my head 😭 heart of gold,, but sometimes misses the plot skfnkenfkfnf which is why his witch gf adores him 😆 speaking of indigo tho, i kind of based her off an irl friend of mine who biases juyo and it made it easier to make her character in my head skcnkrnf idk if people ever find it weird if authors/writers base their characters off real life people 💀 she'll never know tho heh

omg ur so right as long as we don't buy a chucky doll we'll be in the safe zone 😭😭 the bar is LOW.....

and ooh!! i shall grant thee 🍨!! the snowmen emojis were also super cute but i thought the pink of this one matched your blog a little better :')) (at least it's pink on my samsung 💀) as for me, i don't really have a preference for emojis, just wtv u vibe w best!! <3

#sungbeam strikes again #moot ❧#kate 🍨#incantations #much love mwah

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yeschefthankyouchef · 1 year ago

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okay so in the time between the last chapter and this one i made a new blog that is just for my hyperfixation on the bear - so hello, it’s me.

so happy to see that you are making a full series out of this?! i’m so obsessed with your writing - getting the tone right for these characters has got to be so difficult and you make it look so easy. i absolutely cannot wait to see where this story goes!!

kinda mad at myself for reading this chapter when i don’t have time to read chapter 3 because it’s going to be on my mind all night i promise you that much.

“If this had been your first time spending a holiday with them, you were sure your fight or flight alarms would be blaring right now.”

me watching fishes fr - my anxiety was shot through the roof the entire episode bahaha. just wanted to give carmy a lil hug the entire time

“You let out a small chuckle pulling the older girl into a much-needed hug for the both of you.”

i think all of my problems would be solved by a nat hug. i need her as a bestie and as an older sister and ugh.

“You tell me what teenage girl didn’t have a crush on Johnny Castle, I will forever cherish your mom for letting me watch Dirty Dancing on my 14th birthday.”

just when i thought i couldn’t get more obsessed with this story - this is such a perfect backstory and i love it.

“Plus I think Mikey just did it to make me feel better, that was around the time my mom was having all her health issues.”

the older brother bestie vibes are so strong. also her dressing up as baby for halloween is so me with my hyperfixations

“And as Carmy slowly made his way to follow you out of the house you decided today was the day you were getting answers, call it Carmy’s last-minute Christmas gift to you”

i get the feeling this isn’t going to be much of a gift😶😶😶

idiots in love - i love them and i hate them at the same time. just let yourselves be happy damnit!

“yo-you just left me, and I was in a whole new place alone, and I felt like such a fucking fraud. And I needed you Carmen, I fucking needed you and…and the crazy part is you got every single one of my calls and texts, I fucking know you did.”

oh my god!! this is so heartbreaking and so powerful i love her and will defend her to the end of time. justice for baby fr

"He been treating you right?”

carmy NO. BAD. don’t do this you fool

“Like sometimes it’s just exhausting to even fucking exist and-and there’s no rule book for this shit, but sometimes even your absolute best will never be good enough ya know? Like no matter how hard you try it doesn’t fucking matter because you’re just gonna die someday anyway?”

all. the. time.

“Mikey’s hugs were like magic, a bear hug so comforting and warm, his arms made you feel safe, and protected.”

this is 100000% fucking canon to me. i need a mikey hug asap.

“Alright, you fucking smart ass.” Mikey reached up to flick your nose, a small gesture carried on from childhood.”

their relationship is everything and more to me - the banter? the love? the everything? you write the entire family so well and i can’t get enough of it.

“I love you brother bear.”

BROTHER BEAR? BROTHER BEAR? SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I LOSE IT.

chapter 2 | the weight of exsisting

↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairings: platonic!mikey berzatto x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x fem!reader (future)

summary: you and carmy try to get to the bottom of your issues, only for carmy to sow further division between you two, leading you to share some unwelcome thoughts regarding life with mikey.

wc: 4.5k

You had been at the Berzatto family home for an hour now, and everything was in absolute chaos. You thanked your lucky stars for growing up around this family. If this had been your first time spending a holiday with them, you were sure your fight or flight alarms would be blaring right now. You had been in the kitchen with Donna ever since your and Carmy’s stifled meeting earlier in the evening.

You loved Donna, really you did, and you appreciated everything she did for you when your mom couldn’t. But if you knew anything by being an honorary member of the Berzatto family, you knew that being in the kitchen with Donna during the holidays wasn’t the most pleasant of places to be. And you saw your perfect escape when Carmy entered the kitchen, removing Donna’s attention from you and the conversation about how the world of journalism was treating you since you last came home in November.

Your eyes caught Carmy’s as he was swept into his mom’s explanations about what needed to go in the oven and when. You flashed a smile nodding as a sign of encouragement, you were rewarded with a small twitch of his lips before you disappeared into the hallway intending to take a lap around the house and greet the other guests scattered around the house.

The body leaning against the kitchen wall, seemingly trying to become one with the wallpaper caught your attention. Upon further inspection, you realized it was Natalie, a face you were more than happy to see after being in the same house together for over an hour. You gently brushed your hand across her shoulder doing your best not to startle her, her head shot up worry inked in her blue eyes, a deep breath leaving her as she took in whose presence was invading her space.

“Hey Baby,” The slight uptick of her lips showed you just how exhausted she already was, her eyes searching yours for any answers regarding the constant worries shooting through her mind. “How’ve you been, are you alright, I know mom can be a bit much during the holidays.” You let out a small chuckle pulling the older girl into a much-needed hug for the both of you.

“Do you ever take a moment to stop worrying about everyone else and focus on yourself?” You asked her pulling back slightly to further take in her appearance. You loved Nat dearly, she was pretty much the sister you never had, but you hated how she would run herself dry trying to fix everything for everybody else.

You squeezed her hand that was still clutched in yours letting her know that she wasn’t alone and could rely on you if need be. You pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face watching as she leaned her head back against the wall taking a moment for herself. “You worry about everyone Nat, but who worries about you love?” You questioned, and she knew this was no rhetorical question, you expected a genuine answer.

Allowing Nat to take in your words you walked around to the other side of her to lean against the wall next to her, she turned her head watching you take up a similar position as she. “Are you reciting lines from a self-help book?” Your eyes met hers watching as the edges crinkled signifying the smile she now wore, you huffed letting out a chuckle and knocking your shoulder into hers.

“You’re laughing Nat, but I’m serious. And even if I did steal that line from some book, I think it applies scarily well to you Sugar.” The last words spilled from your lips in a sarcastic tone, your eyebrows raising as she rolled her eyes at the sound of her nickname bestowed upon her by her Berzatto counterparts.

“I made a mistake Baby, you chose your nickname.” Nat deadpanned

You laughed, the sound drowned out by whatever conversation everyone else in the house was having. “You tell me what teenage girl didn’t have a crush on Johnny Castle, I will forever cherish your mom for letting me watch Dirty Dancing on my 14th birthday.” You sighed dreamily watching as Natalie shook her head at your antics.

“Baby, that is such a lame excuse,” Nat laughed, turning to face you. “You literally wouldn’t answer to anything else but Baby for a whole week after your birthday. Need I remind you, you took your obsession further and dressed up for Halloween as Baby.” She laughed, her voice filled with what you realized was a reminiscent tone, “I can’t believe you suckered Mikey into dressing up as Johnny though.”

You smiled remembering back to the exact Halloween she was talking about, “Carmy’s head was too far up his ass to dress up with me.” You huffed recalling how Carmy swore up and down that he was too old to dress up anymore. “Plus I think Mikey just did it to make me feel better, that was around the time my mom was having all her health issues.” You shrugged not thinking too much about Mikey’s motivations.

You finally turned to face Natalie, your positioning mirroring hers, “What do you say we find your mom’s old photo albums and hang out with Tiff for a few.” You suggested holding your hand up as Nat was about to give you some excuse to not take a beat for herself. “Shut up Nat your moms will be fine she’s got Ratatouille in the kitchen with her and about a hundred fucking bums in the living room.” Your dig at Carmy brings a slight smile to her face.

The sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen caught your attention a mumbled “Fuck.” Meeting your ears followed by a more coherent “I don’t fucking come home to be compared to a fucking French rat.”

You shared a knowing smile with Natalie, the two of you giggling like school girls in the hallway outside of the kitchen, “I’ll grab the photo albums,” You heard Nat mumble as she walked in the direction you presumed Donna kept the family keepsakes. The minute Nat was out of your sight you let out a deep sigh, you couldn’t help the impending feeling that things were going to get a lot more hectic in the coming hours, and taking a minute to relax with Nat and catch up with Tiff was an out you were definitely looking to take advantage of. Resting your head back against the wall eyes closing as the minutes ticked by while you waited for Nat to collect you, you knew deep down that break wouldn’t be coming but holding on to the idea of a little calmness in a situation helped you fool yourself into believing everything would be alright.

“You good?” Your eyes shot open as the all too familiar voice of Carmen Berzatto filled your ears, though what should’ve alerted you to his presence was the scent of his cologne, a scent you hadn’t smelled in a very long time, yet somehow your body instinctively remembered. You looked to see him standing idly in the doorway of the kitchen, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lips. “Uh, I’m gonna get a quick smoke in, did you - I know you don’t smoke - but you look - and.” You cut his pathetic ramblings off, not quite in the mood to play finish the lyric with him.

“Yeah Carm, I’ll join you outside.” You nodded passing him by to head towards the door, being in the same vicinity as him after so long made you physically ache. And now that you had seen him and deduced that he was in good health, you couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at the lack of contact between the two of you. No, it wasn’t even a lack of contact. Carmy dropped you like a bad habit and never looked back. As you made your way to the front porch you tried to reason with yourself that Carmy didn’t owe you anything, he didn’t owe you his friendship, or his time, no matter how long you two had known each other. If Carmen woke up one day and decided you were no longer an essential part of his life, he was well within his rights to do so, he was a grown man for crying out loud. But what you wouldn’t stand for, what your brain couldn’t allow you to accept was being cut off with no explanation, you were sure this whole situation between the two of you would’ve hurt less if he had just explained to you why you were no longer good for him.

And maybe you were lying to yourself, and the explanation would have actually made things worse, but you couldn’t change what already was. And as Carmy slowly made his way to follow you out of the house you decided today was the day you were getting answers, call it Carmy’s last-minute Christmas gift to you.

The two of you stood next to each other. A good distance between you two, Carmy respecting you enough to not smoke directly next to you. Carmy tried his hardest to not steal glimpses of you in his peripheral vision, but it was hard not to when you were standing there beside him. If times were different he might’ve reached out to touch you, to assure himself you were physically here with him. To remind himself of what once was between the two of you. What could no longer be?

“Uh-um how have you bee-”

“Why?” You interrupted him, not particularly in the mood for his avoidance tactics.

“Wha-what?” He turned to face you and you wanted to laugh, you weren’t sure if he was genuinely confused or acting incompetent so you’d be the one to apologize. You copied his stance, eyes tracing across every inch of his face, you gave in with a sigh. Carmy was never one to weaponize any incompetence he may have had, you weren’t even sure if he knew how.

“Why are you asking Carmen, do you actually care, or are you just trying to make small talk?” You watched as he removed the cigarette from between his lips, holding it in the hand furthest from you and turning his face in the opposite direction to release the nicotine-scented air from his lungs.

He ran his free hand through his hair, something that used to drive you crazy, but now standing in this moment with him you couldn’t be bothered to feed into the childhood crush your weak heart still harbored for him. “I-I care, I didn - it was never my intention to cut you off.” He said searching your eyes for any signs that you were listening to understand, and not just listening to rebuttal.

“We grew up together Carmen, if you didn’t want me in your life anymore you could’ve just told me.” You felt the telltale signs of tears welling up in your eyes, your eyes stinging as you fought hard to keep them from spilling.

“It wasn’t like that.” He scoffed his irritation becoming ever present, it wasn’t you he was irritated with, it was the fact that he knew exactly what he needed to tell you, wanted to tell you but he wouldn’t allow himself to. Carmy didn’t know how to express what was running through his mind right now without becoming a stuttering mess as his mind raced too fast for his mouth to keep up with.

You let out a sardonic laugh “That’s exactly what it felt like Carmen. I’m not gonna pretend to act like I know what your life is like right now, but the least you could do is shoot me a text letting me know you’re okay. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be consistent Carm, I jus-I care about you so much that it hurts.” You choked the words out not knowing how you could get him to understand how much his actions affected you.

“I mean, I know we went our separate ways, and I promise I’m not desperately trying to hang off you or some shit Carm, but yo-you just left me, and I was in a whole new place alone, and I felt like such a fucking fraud. And I needed you Carmen, I fucking needed you and…and the crazy part is you got every single one of my calls and texts, I fucking know you did.” You were ranting now and maybe it wasn’t fair to Carmy to drop this on him all at once, but what else were you supposed to do when you knew things would just resort to the way they’ve been once the holiday season was over and you were both back on your respective sides of the country.

“Listen, Baby, I’m sorry I kno-,”

“You promised Carmen,” The words slipped through your lips in a whisper so quiet it was almost lost to the wind. “You promised you would call me Carmen, and I know that may not have meant much to you, but it meant everything to me, you meant everything to me Carmen.” The wind had taken your voice and ran with it, Mother Nature doing her best to soothe the two broken souls before her.

Carmen closed his eyes tilting his head back to the sky, it was selfish, he knew it was the moment the thought crossed his mind, but those were the last words he wanted to ever hear from you. He took a second to try and collect the dozens of thoughts racing through his mind. Hoping to land on what he thought you wanted to hear, anything to soothe the indigestion starting to burn through his chest.

He came back to reality, eyes no longer looking in your direction, posture closed off signifying he was done with this conversation whether you agreed or not. He dropped the cigarette he had been holding the time wasted burning it down to the bud before taking a fresh one out of his pocket, cigarette lazily held between his lips as he brought his lighter up to the stick.

"He been treating you right?” He questioned head turning in your direction, but eyes never quite landing on your figure, as if he couldn’t stand to look at you.

And there it was exactly what you didn’t want to happen: Carmen's incessant need to avoid the tough conversations that he couldn’t help but make everyone else’s problem. You hastily patted your eyes to ensure any remaining tears didn’t make an appearance. “The fuck are you on about Carmen?” You snapped, having lost all desire to keep your emotions under control. No longer holding yourself back to appease whatever good nature was still between the two of you.

He gestured with his free hand back towards the house while sucking in a deep breath of tobacco and nicotine. “You and Mikey, I mea-it's just you two seemed pretty close earlier is all.” He chanced a glance in your direction, his soft blue eyes catching your stare before promptly turning away.

It took you a minute to digest what he was insinuating, a little offended that he deduced you to being Mikey’s bed warmer, all from whatever he thought he had been seeing this evening. If you were a violent person, you might’ve slapped him. You weren’t fucking Mikey and even if you were that was no longer Carmy’s business, he couldn’t just pick and choose the moments he wanted to make an appearance and provide input in your life.

You chuckled although the sound came out dry, no traces of humor to be found. You turned to Carmy and closed the distance between the two of you, snatching the cigarette from between his lips. You dropped it to the ground before stomping it out under the toe of your boot, “These things kill asshole.” You said before sauntering back towards the house, stopping a moment and turning to face him again, “And if I wanted to fuck your brother I don’t think I’d need your permission, Carmen.” With that, you entered the house leaving Carmy to stew with his thoughts and hopefully come to the conclusion that he made a bad situation even worse.

Carmy stayed outside a little while longer, he knew it was immature of him to avoid the conversation you wanted to have. He felt like a jackass for staring you in your face as he made the decision to disregard your feelings so easily. He kept telling himself he wasn’t a bad guy, a loop with those words playing in his brain as he did his best to convince himself. But what sort of fucking masochist breaks their own heart to escape the realities of a life he’ll never have. You were right, Carmen was an asshole but he knew he couldn’t continue to allow himself to want something as marvelous as love with you, he just wasn’t deserving. Not that he thought Mikey was any better of an option, but if it kept you in his life so be it.

You made your way through the house, looking for any space that you could compose yourself in, not wanting to ruin anyone else’s Christmas with your unpleasant mood. You did your best to quickly walk past the room containing the Fak Brothers and Steven. Any other time you would have sat comfortably next to Stevie as raptly intrigued as he was with the Fak family shenanigans. But in those potential instances, you also wouldn’t have been overthinking every decision you made regarding your friendship with Carmen and wondering why you were no longer good enough.

Continuing your journey through the house narrowly avoiding guests as you went, you quickly backtracked as you noticed a familiar back blankly facing the pantry. You felt bad for even letting the thought cross your mind, but you weren’t sure if Mikey was the right person to seek comfort in, especially after the accusation Carmy had just laid at your feet.

It was ridiculous actually to let something Carmy said have such an impact on you within such a short amount of type. It was even more ridiculous to allow his immaturity to overshadow the bond that had been carefully curated between you and Mikey prior to his youngest brother’s absence and now.

You let out a defeated sigh stepping slightly forward to wrap you arms around Mikey’s torso, cheek settling into the space between his shoulder blades, “Your little brother is a fucking idiot.” You murmured, voice slightly muffled by Mikey’s back.

A rough laugh escaped through Mikey’s lips as he patted your hand resting on his stomach, “Sure is when it comes to you ain’t he?” He questioned removing himself from your hold to lean his back against the pantry doorway. You followed suit standing opposite of him, the two of you now face to face.

You took in Mikey’s features, brows pinching together at the far away look in his eyes. It always amazed you that no matter if Mikey was physically in front of you, there was always a chance he was mentally somewhere else. That was the one similarity you could pick out between the two Berzatto boys, while Mikey’s charisma did a good job of hiding it, Carmen’s awkwardness put it on full display.

You reached out tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, “How are you doing Mikey?” You were genuinely curious, it's not like you were oblivious to Mikey’s many faults, the difference was you didn’t think he was a lost cause like everyone else. And as hard as it was to admit it to yourself you would never address the fact that you romanticized who Mikey was as a person. The Mikey you knew as a little girl was still the same Mikey you saw standing before you, and maybe he had a few more demons in his closet than you had been aware of back then, but it felt egregiously wrong to align your Mikey with the boogeyman everyone else made him out to be.

Mikey laughed swatting your hand away, “It's the most wonderful time of the fucking year Baby, how do you think I’m doing?” Mikey’s adversity in answering your question wasn’t lost upon you, but you knew Mikey wasn’t one to openly talk about how he was feeling. If avoidance was what you were gonna get, you knew there was no chance of this conversation going anywhere. You were 0 for 2 with the Berzatto brothers this evening it seemed.

You sighed, knocking your head against the wall you were leaning on, eyes shifting downwards as you prepared yourself for the topic you were about to bring up, “Can I ask you a question, Mikey? And can you be serious with me for one minute?” You pleaded needing someone to validate the way you had been feeling since your less-than-enlightening conversation with Carmy.

Mikey nodded eyebrows pinching together, a lick of concern tickling down his spine. Mikey knew you just as well as he knew his actual siblings. Albeit the age difference Mikey grew up right there with you, watching you grow into the person you were now, learning your mannerisms, understanding you as a person. You hadn’t asked for it but Mikey made it his mission to know you just as well as the younger Berzatto’s, if you were gonna be tossed into his eccentric family due to circumstance, he would do his best to treat you like a bonus little sister.

The slight nod of his head queuing you to reveal your query, “Do you ever feel, I don’t know, like inadequate?” You questioned scratching your nails against the material of your skirt, too consumed by the idea that Mikey would write your odd inquiry off. “Like sometimes it’s just exhausting to even fucking exist and-and there’s no rule book for this shit, but sometimes even your absolute best will never be good enough ya know? Like no matter how hard you try it doesn’t fucking matter because you’re just gonna die someday anyway?”

You chanced a glance at Mikey hoping he wouldn’t take your very real insecurities as a joke. The blank stare in his eyes greeted you by telling you a different story. Mikey was a hard person to read, and though you believed you had cracked the code to his complex soul, it was in moments like these that you knew you couldn’t be more wrong.

The sudden movement of Mikey’s hands reaching up to cup your face and jerk your head closer to him almost causes you to lose balance. “Why the fuck would you say that?” The tone in Mikey’s voice caused you to try and shrink into yourself. “This got anything to do with my shithead little brother?”

Your eyes cast downwards not prepared for the intensity in Mikey’s eyes, your lips parting to respond before abruptly being cut off by Mikey, “Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you, Baby. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His hands redirected your gaze to his with a more gentle approach.

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling stupid for even talking like this in front of Mikey, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I talked to Carmy, and it went as well as you would guess. And I just, I don’t know, I guess I just got lost in my head. And work has been so stressful lately, I’m even considering moving back here.” You shook your head from his grip, “It's just nonsense, don’t worry about me. I think seeing Carmy after so long just made me spiral.” You offered him a small smile hoping it was as reassuring as you thought it was.

Mikey pulled you into a hug chin resting atop your head. The scene was oddly reminiscent of the hug you shared hours ago on the porch. Mikey’s hugs were like magic, a bear hug so comforting and warm, his arms made you feel safe, and protected. You felt a little selfish for constantly dumping your problems on Mikey, but he had become your closest confidant, you wish the same could be said about you from Mikey’s point of view, but you were already lucky enough that he shared what little nuggets of the inner working of his life that he did with you.

Mikey pulled back hands settling on your shoulders to get a good look at you, “Don’t let me hear you say shit like that again alright Baby?” You nodded the corner of your lips curving slightly as Mikey played the role of big brother and began scolding you. “You’re a great fucking girl alright, and don’t even worry about Carmy, you’ve got a heart of fucking gold. You’re like that motherfucker with the gold touch alright, and I need you Baby okay? I need you and that means something right, you’re fucking adequate these fuckers in this house wish they were you.”

You laughed the melodic sound filling the space between the two of you, “King Midas.”

Mikey’s hands dropped from their position on your shoulders frowning at you, “Who the fuck is that?”

“The motherfucker with the gold touch,” You joked.

“Alright, you fucking smart ass.” Mikey reached up to flick your nose, a small gesture carried on from childhood.

The two of you stood in the other’s presence for what felt like forever, no words needing to be passed between you. You and Mikey enjoy being in each other's company, using the pantry as a place of solace before returning to reality. The sound of Donna’s voice yelling about saltines and Carmy’s responding yell breaks the peaceful moment between you both. You glanced in the pantry spotting the saltines Carmy would be coming to acquire a small sigh leaving your lips. If Carmy was going to avoid a much-needed conversation, you would just avoid him. Sure it was petty but you wanted him to somehow get a taste of the suffering his lack of effort caused you.

“Well, this has been fun, but I should make myself scarce before Carmen accuses me of fucking you in the pantry of your family home.” You shot Mikey a sarcastic smile preparing to find some other hole to hide in before family dinner commenced.

“My little brother is a fucking idiot,” Mikey mumbled moving out of the way to allow you to pass by. You laughed glad that someone agreed with astute observation skills. Deciding to check on Tiff you made your way to the stairs before stopping at the landing.

“Hey.” You turned back to Mikey catching his attention for a brief moment, if the raise of his eyebrows was any conformation. “I love you brother bear.” You shot him a wink then proceeded to continue your previously decided journey.

Mikey watched your figure disappear up the stairs, a solemn smile resting on his lips. The idea that you had at one point harbored such unnerving thoughts scared him. But what scared him, even more, was he knew exactly what you were talking about

a/n: so i’m a liar : )

i fully intended for this to be the last chapter of the christmas episode but my creative juices said no. alas here is chapter 2, but mark my words the next chapter will be the end of the christmas arc because baby i’m exhausted. please shower me with feedback (constructive criticism), it really helps feed my creativity. and while i would love likes/comments/reblogs please interact with my work however you feel comfortable, my ask box is always open 💜

also also this might be a little self-indulgent idk, i have the “existing is exhausting” convo like every weak : (

i just tagged whoever commented on chapter 1, so if you didn’t want to be on the tag list sorry! but if you would like to be tagged in the next update please let me know!!

strikethrough means i was unable to tag you : (

#screaming crying throwing up #i love and i obsess #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto angst #michael berzatto x reader #the bear fic

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eddiesbug · 3 years ago

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okok hello lilyyyy!!! i am going to request going to sleep on different sides of the bed and waking up in a tangle of limbs, cuddling with cedric diggory

ilyyy!!!

omg i just realized "ily" is the end of "lily" that's so perfect

hehe thank u for requesting!! omg ily🥺🥺

the only sound audible in the room is your strained breathing. you try to muffle it through the blankets, clutching them with your back to cedric as you desperately try to keep yourself in check. he has an effect on you whether you like it or not - not that you’d ever admit it to yourself. but he keeps his distance as promised, a clear boundary set between the both of you on the large bed.

“relax, bunny,” comes his voice from across the bed, laced with amusement; you can hear his grin despite having no view of his face in the dark room, “i promise not to ravish you against your will.”

“ugh,” you crinkle your nose at the vulgar comment, curling yourself up until your practically hanging off of the edge of the bed. his warm hands wrap around your waist and you writhe against his grasp. but all he does is gently guide you back into the bed, pulling the blankets over you again. as quickly as he’s there, he’s gone, over on his own side with his back facing you. you ruffle a little at the effect he has on you, closing your eyes under the warm cocoon of blankets and eventually falling asleep.

the first thing you notice when you wake is the pair of warm arms draped around you, one over your shoulders and the other on your waist, fingers splayed over your hip beneath your sleep shirt. the second thing you notice is the steady rise and fall of cedric’s chest beneath your cheek. and the final, and arguably most disturbing, thing you notice is the way that you’re nestled into his embrace, fingers clutching at his t-shirt and your legs intertwined with his, a mess of tangled limbs. and despite your dislike for him - the dislike you’ve feigned for so long it’s become second nature to you - you find yourself wanting to stay wrapped in his arms forever because you feel safe.

he groans underneath you, stretching and cuddling closer to you, unconsciously burrowing you into his chest until you’re surrounded by his warmth and his smell and his divine sleepy sounds. he grumbles and hums contentedly, a heavy rasp evident in his voice from sleepiness. he even smiles a couple of times when he feels you nuzzle closer to him; you finally, finally, let go of your pride and let yourself enjoy this moment with him. this moment that you could’ve had long ago if you’d just let yourself have him. this is it. this is what you’ve needed this whole time.

“morning, bunny,” he murmurs, kissing your neck sweetly.

“mmm, morning,” you whisper back, tugging the duvet over the both of you and resting your face on his chest once more.

“told you you’d fall in love with me,” he chuckles playfully, nudging your pulse point with the very tip of his nose. you scrunch your face up in the way that cedric finds completely adorable, and he can’t resist the urge to lean forward and plant a heated kiss onto your lips. when he pulls away, you giggle and cuddle back into his side, eyes already drooping once more.

“can we sleep some more, ced? ‘m so sleepy.”

“sure thing, bun.”

you fall asleep right there, swaddled in his embrace, warm and safe and happy - no where you’d rather be than here.

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years ago

Text

park seonghwa boyfriend headcanons

genre: fluff

word count: 0.6k

warnings: none

requested?: yes

song rec: dancing like butterfly wings by ateez

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

a lot of you were asking. begging. pleading for me to do seonghwa bf headcanons

i honestly can't blame you

this man. this... this angel on earth-

i love him, love him so much

probably the sweetest guy you will ever meet. he is very humble and honest and so considerate of others ugh. he's just perfect.

as a boyfriend, he tends to prioritise your feelings and well-being ahead of his own. he will go above and beyond to provide and take care of you, in both little and big ways

he looks at you with those big, sparkly eyes that he does i'm gonna cry like you are literally everything to him. all he wants to do is make you feel happy and loved and wanted and appreciated

he is very in tune with his and other people's emotions, so he is attentive and aware if your mood turns negative. he believes that if you are feeling sad, neither he nor your should force yourself to be happy again. he wants you to just go through what you need to go through; he will lend a shoulder to cry on, give you tissues, run down to the shop to buy your favourite snack and support you through these negative emotions. he knows from experience that just letting these negative emotions come and go is much healthier than fighting with them. he will reassure you and ask if you want him to stay with you or let you have some alone time

likes to cuddle you in the morning. he will roll onto his side to see your sleeping form and will smile softly to himself, stretching his hand out to stroke your hair. he will shuffle closer and place an arm around your waist, cuddling you from behind pls i'm so soft for this man

you must know that dating seonghwa requires wearing matching pyjamas 🤷 its true he told me himself!! seriously though he would think it so cute matching pyjamas with you. will probably take a bunch of selfies with the both of you in these pyjamas cos yall look so cute together (and thennn he will put these pictures as his lockscreen <3)

he's a very soft and fluffy dude. he just wants to snuggle under the blankets and cuddle you all the time. when you are both cuddling he would say corny stuff like 'i could just stay here forever✨' and it always makes you giggle, but he isn't joking!!! just holding you close in comfortable silence, sometimes talking about random things, he feels so safe and loved :(

seonghwa would very much appreciate if you indulge his interests. mainly his star wars and lego addiction. you don't have to be an avid fan like him but as long as you don't hate it i think you'll be fine lmao. he will also be very open minded to cool things that you like as well!

date with him would include:

going to the park / walking around the river - he just loves walking and talking with you. it gives you guys to hold hands or link arms while you catch up about what happened that day

lego dates - yes i said it. if you like lego just as much as he does, he would love to build lego sets with you. it's always fun because you guys are creating something together whilst talking about all sorts of nonsense he'll probably make it into a competition to see who completes their lego set first, my man is competitive af!

go to the theatre - this is kinda random but i can just see seonghwa wanting to get dressed up with you and heading out to see a play or performance of some sort. he likes trying new things and what better way to do that than doing it with you?

basically seonghwa sets the standards for all other men, so true

#park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #atz #ateez #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #atz fluff #ateez fluff #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #requested #ateez x reader

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purple-babygirl · 3 years ago

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Bestie bestie, thoughts- daddy! Bucky and little reader cooking together is making my heart melt fr💖 ugh! Like imagine her getting him like a chef hat 🥺 one of those white floppy ones 😭😭 or like they both get matching aprons. Ugh.

Pairing: Chubby!Pâtissier!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 1,404

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, it's all fluff.

A/N: I don't know what you did but i was looking up matching aprons after i saw your ask and boom 💥 pastry chef Bucky thots 💥 attacked me and for that I thank you:"💜💜💜 So here we are. I'm sorry if I took too long and made you feel like I was ignoring your ask, I definitely wasn't💜💜💜 It was just really cute it got my mind going so thank you so very much🥺💜💜 Please enjoy xx.

Pie credit.

heavenly sweet

“Daddy.” She turned around, giving Bucky her back, and he could only smile bigger when he saw the way she was bouncing on her ankles in excitement.

Bucky bow-tied her apron for her, lightly patting her back, “there you go, lil chef,” before pawing at her sides until she giggled.

“Thank you, daddy.” She beamed, letting Bucky help her up on the kitchen counter.

It was a special day for her today. She and Daddy were wearing their matching aprons for the first time, and Bucky was showing her how to make one of her favourites, blueberry pie.

Bucky didn’t get the chance to tell her yet, but the matching aprons gesture had him even crazier in love with her. The way she closely watched his reaction as he'd opened his gift and the way she was over the moon when he’d showed his content with it would forever be engraved in his mind next to all of the other precious memories starring her beautiful eyes.

“Okay, so we have our flour over there,” Bucky pointed to the half-full bag, “eggs and butter too,” he checked, walking closer to her, “and my sugar right here.” Bucky planted his hands on the counter, trapping her between them as he dropped his head to kiss, kitten-lick, and nibble on her jaw.

“Dada!” She squeal-giggled, her hands on Bucky’s round belly as he stood over her.

“Look at you, bonbon! You look like a real chef already! You doing the baking today? Hmm?” Bucky joked, peppering kisses on her face, his hands holding her waist.

“No, jus’ helping daddy,” she giggled more, hiding her face in Bucky’s chest, making him chuckle.

“The best help daddy could get, bonbon.” He kissed the top of her head with a satisfied smile.

There was nothing she loved more than watching Daddy work. With his hair pulled back into a small bun, his apron around his full torso, different smudges covering it, and his forearms having the littlest smear of flour on them, Bucky looked like art to her. The way he went about everything he was doing to make her feel included and the way he stole kiss after kiss from her when she was focused. Not to forget how sweet his kisses always were. It was all so perfect. She cherished every moment she got to spend with him, each one better than the last as Daddy made her the best treats that ever existed.

“Now, what do we do, bonbon?” Bucky quizzed playfully, wiping a hand down his apron so he could put the hair that escaped the bun back behind his ear.

“We put in our blueberries!” She replied, her hands eagerly reaching for the bowl of macerated fruit.

“Oh my god,” Bucky looked at her, faking shock and shaking his head.

“Did I say something wrong, daddy?” her voice went small so fast, immediately searching her mind, trying to remember if something went in before the berries.

“I might wanna slow down with teaching you or else next thing I know you’ll be taking over daddy’s bakery, bonbon!” Bucky chuckled, teasingly pecking her cheek.

She laughed with him when he tapped her nose, internally sighing in relief.

He was such a charmer and she was head over heels for him, “’m so proud of you, bonbon.” Bucky kissed her forehead.

“Daddy, can I put them in?” she patted her eyelashes, her hands in place on Bucky’s tummy and he couldn’t help but peck her lips.

“You sure can, lil chef," he said and she grinned at the name he'd started to use, wanting to earn it.

“Here, lemme help you, baby.” Bucky smiled, taking the bowl and holding it for her while she used a spatula to scoop the contents out and into their pie pan.

She was so happy they were doing this together. She was always at her most peaceful state of mind when Bucky would take her to the kitchen with him. Watching him work so passionately was her little self’s own version of bliss. Bucky had the softest aura about him. He was the kindest, most beautiful and most loving Daddy she could’ve ever dreamed of having, and her little heart vowed to appreciate every second with him, every second of him.

“Wait, dada, leave some. Wanna taste.” She stopped Bucky’s hand from slopping the bowl further so the rest of the fruits would fall out.

Bucky, of course, listened to her at once, giving her the bowl to hold on her apron-covered lap as he grabbed her a spoon.

She loved having a taste of the leftovers. Sometimes Bucky would catch her licking cake dough off the bowl in the bakery kitchen and no matter how many times he’d tell her it wasn’t healthy, because the eggs in the batter were raw, she’d still be licking that dough the second he’d turn his back. Bucky loved her too much to be stern with her, so he’d just make sure he was always there, moving the bowl to the sink after being done with it and laughing at her cute pout when she’d see it fill with water as Daddy rinsed it.

Bucky shook the pan to evenly distribute the berries on the surface, adoringly grinning at her attempts to catch a berry that wouldn’t roll and slide off the spoon. She eventually managed to scoop some, moaning when she slid the spoon in her mouth. Bucky’s food always tasted so good she was in love.

“Good, baby?” Bucky licked his lips, wiping his palms on his apron again.

“So good, dada.” She nodded, indulging herself with another spoon of pie filling.

“Give daddy a taste, bonbon,” he asked lowly and she held her spoon up for him, trying not to spill.

Bucky smiled gently, taking the spoon and bowl from her and setting them aside.

She didn’t have time to be confused before he was kissing her, his tongue sliding in to taste hers. Her eyes closed as a surprised moan got out only to be swallowed by Bucky.

She tasted like her with a hint of blueberries, so sweet; so delicious. Bucky’s hands cradled her face as he deepened the kiss, not able to get enough of her flavor, her soft lips or the tiny sounds leaving them. Her smaller hands settled on his chubby tummy, before sliding to his sides to hold him close, slightly clutching his apron.

Their mouths parted, the need for oxygen kind of forcing Bucky away though he still gave her lips a couple of short kisses as he tried to take his breath, his forehead resting on hers.

“So good indeed,” Bucky chuckled breathlessly and her face felt hot, her nose shyly nuzzling Daddy’s cheek to hide.

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky’s voice was so velvety and soft as his fingers brought her face back to his, “I love you, bonbon,” Bucky said, his blue eyes enchanting hers and she could only see, hear, smell and feel him.

Bucky was gorgeous. His tall frame towering over hers, making her feel safe. His pink lips wearing a tender smile that was only designed for her. His cologne surrounding her and filling her chest with warmth. His belly soft and full under her palms. His hair a little out of place as a few strands had slipped out of the bun and refused to stay behind his ear. He was flawless and he was her Daddy.

“I love you, daddy,” she returned with a timid smile.

Her hand went up to slide Bucky’s soft hair back behind his ear, stealing his heart all over again when she cupped his cheek and pressed a tiny kiss to his lips.

With her hand still holding the side of his face and her face tilted upwards, she then started telling Daddy what they had to do next, talking about covering the filling using the remaining pie dough and such, wanting Bucky to be proud of her. And he was, though he wasn’t hearing a word she was saying, he was the proudest.

As he watched her lips move and her hands gesture, Bucky could only think he’d gone to heaven because that must’ve been the only correct name for what he was experiencing in her angelic presence.

Of all the sweet things he's ever tasted, she was his one, true addiction and Bucky was gladly hooked.

Tags: @harrysthiccthighss, @tinystudentfirepurse, @lavendercitizen

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vifilms · 4 months ago

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MY FAVORITE WRITER. EVER. RAWRRRRRRRRRR. EMIUSSY SERVING ONCE AGAINNNNNNN !!!!! IM SLURPING IT !!!!!! ♡

as per usual, i’m gonna be hella gay and yap, shall we begin? lets do it. no surprise i’m obsessed with another emi banger. my love, this is just you written all over it from top to bottom. i sound like a broken record, but i promise it comes from a place of deep love, everything you write is absolutely a dream to me. there's an individuality to it that makes me cry, my heart soar, and just explode with a bunch of dyke joy. i'm gonna eat you up, literally.

from the very beginning, i am hooked. no shocker there. slow dancing? oh, it’s joeover. my heart simply cannot take this! i love your brain, all of the magic it creates. how you fill my heart with so much joy from a single sentence. slow downing in a private place with your loved one, i’m going to be thinking about this for days on end. i actually can’t think about anything else and will only be thinking about this. it’s s’dreamy, maybe it’s the pisces in me but i don’t care. i love it.

but when your lips brush against her ear, the hair on her neck stands at your whispered words. “you’re the most handsome yet beautiful woman in this room” you smiled, wrapping your arm tighter around her waist and tearing a shuddered breath from her when you pulled her body closer, so you were chest to chest.

the masculine and feminine energy? i need it. i need it. i need it. my baby, this is so beautiful. soft moments, ugh, with abby they are not written nearly enough. it’s everything i need! chest to chest, pls, im just going to start profusely crying every where. the intimacy, i can’t take it. physically, my heart will just completely give out. but also need it more than life itself.

the intimacy of it all, it speaks so loudly to the emotional side of me. i can feel every ounce of your heart and it makes me so happy to read it. there isn’t a word that i don’t love. also, the way you write is so intentional, it’s one thing i’ve always admired the most about your talent. every word, every sentence, every line is deliberate. like a beating heart funneling the blood supply to each vein, all of it connected, intertwined and seemingly connected to the next.

“can’t take my eyes off you” and abby melts when you press your lips against her cheek and litter kisses against her skin with another smile. “you’re so perfect, can’t get enough of you. tonight is about you.”

i’m so lovesick !!!! partners taking care of each other, loving on one another, absolute sweetness. so golden and pure. I CANT TAKE ITNFNDJJDNDDND. i need every last bit of it. soft cheek kisses, please, it’s actually a must. give it to me and i’ll munch on it every single time.

her face hurts from the constant smiling, her stomach in stitches because you’ve made her laugh too much.

yeah, you know what you’re doing. “her stomach in stitches” i’m gonna kiss you. the way you write !!!!!!!!!! i’m getting this tattooed along my spine, forever place on me, the words of emi. everything about this sentence. yeah. i relate.

“i had fun tonight, by the way” “i had fun too” abby mutters shyly, her body leaning into your touch without another thought. feeling safe in your hold. “although, i need to get better at dancing. you said you didn’t know how to dance” she pouted, baby blue eyes peering at you.

i don't think i have to embelish too much on why i love this too much. the remi telepathic ways will send you the correct thoughts your way. i need to eat these words and have them inside me forever. yes. yes. yes.

planting a final kiss on her forehead, you pulled away and smiled at her. “good, so go inside so i can text you another date idea for next time. you’re making me nervous when you look at me like that” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck.

hehehehehehe, i love it. NERVOUS SHYNESS. right up my loser alley to be honest. i’m gonna gobble this up whole, almost as if it was made for me. mhmm, funny 🤭🩷

abby simply rolled her eyes and gave you a smile, turning around on her heels, but not before looking at you a final time over her shoulder. “goodnight, nervous” she teased, winking at you.

this is your humor written all over it and YES. her saying this is so canon i’m afraid. abby would be the type to say lame dad joke, but it totally lands because you’re so so obsessed with her. abby!coded as hell. my co-abby connoisseur. you write her so perfectly, angel. from top to bottom, i feel her through your writing in such an emotional way. but also in the silly things like this. it rounds her out as a character and i love it so deeply.

i love you, so talented baby ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ❞

slow dancing with abby after a successful meal during one of your dates, and she can’t help but blush and become so insanely shy when your hand rests on her hip, a lazy grin on your lips and a glimmer is held in your eye when she gasps softly under her breath. your bodies moving slowly together, your fingers brushing against the skin of her back, silently thanking the dress she wore, her back completely exposed. her hands gripping yours tightly with each step you take, but she can’t focus on anything but you. the way you gently assure her that it’s okay, and she was doing amazing. but when your lips brush against her ear, the hair on her neck stands at your whispered words. “you’re the most handsome yet beautiful woman in this room” you smiled, wrapping your arm tighter around her waist and tearing a shuddered breath from her when you pulled her body closer, so you were chest to chest. “can’t take my eyes off you” and abby melts when you press your lips against her cheek and litter kisses against her skin with another smile. “you’re so perfect, can’t get enough of you. tonight is about you.”

by the end of the night though, her feet hurt, dancing for several hours nonstop, but she loved it. her face hurts from the constant smiling, her stomach in stitches because you’ve made her laugh too much. she thought she would never find anything funny again, and then you came along, showed her what she’s been missing and she feels complete again. abby can still feel your fingers in her hair, tucking strands behind her ear every couple of minutes, and it’s a feeling she doesn’t want to let go of. not even when you’re standing there, looking at her like she hung every star in the bitter night sky.

words would never be able to express how good she feels. how amazing tonight, with you, has been. so instead, her eyes flutter and find your fingers interlocking with hers, the softness of your skin, yet the rough edges of your fingers graze hers, shocking her slightly with wide eyes as you laugh at her reaction. “you’re so cute” you can’t help but admit, reaching your free hand up and cupping her face. enjoying the blush coating the apples of her cheeks and heat radiating off her skin. “i had fun tonight, by the way”

“i had fun too” abby mutters shyly, her body leaning into your touch without another thought. feeling safe in your hold. “although, i need to get better at dancing. you said you didn’t know how to dance” she pouted, baby blue eyes peering at you.

“never said i didn’t know how to, just said i haven’t done it in a while” you shrugged, giving her a cheeky grin when she rolled her eyes before letting a soft giggle past her lips. “you should go inside, it’s cold, and my jacket is only going to keep you warm for so long, pretty girl”

“will i see you again?” she can’t help but ask, fumbling with your jacket sleeve.

eyeing her up with a smirk, a soft hum vibrated through your throat before you nodded. “i will text you the second you go inside” you promised and tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. those baby blues that you’ve enjoyed looking into widen when you’re leaning forward and chuckling breathlessly. “i really wanna kiss you right now,” you admitted against her forehead, your hand comfortingly rubbing her arm slowly. “but you’re a little tipsy, and i want you to remember it”

abby huffs but nods slowly at you, fingers fumbling with the collar of your shirt. “that a promise?”

“it’s a promise until i see you again. then you can have as many as you want” you smiled, lips pressing against her cheek so softly that abby had to hold you tighter just to prove this was real, that you were here, and promising her.

“i’ll hold you to it” the blonde giggled, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “thank you for tonight”

“you better hold me to it” your reply was cheeky but abby loved it either way and hearing you laugh was a sound so special to her already. “m’glad you had fun, you deserve it. i can’t wait to take you on more dates if you’d let me”

“i would really like that”

abby simply rolled her eyes and gave you a smile, turning around on her heels, but not before looking at you a final time over her shoulder. “goodnight, nervous” she teased, winking at you.

scoffing playfully, you shake your head at her as you watched her walk up the steps to her front door. “goodnight, pretty girl”

#m’gonna eat you up until i’m swallowing #oops #my sweet angel ….. another banger #always a banger when you’re involved #my love this is so fucking good #getting your words transformed to liquid form so i can drink up every last drop #🩷🩷🩷#𖥔 ࣪ 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐬 ⋆｡˚#౨ৎ embear

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

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Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.

Three minutes past check-in.

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.

“Hi.”

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.

But that’s not the worst of it.

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.

“You let me know if you need a break.”

Still, there’s no response.

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands.

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction.

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.

For that, Bucky owes him everything.

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.

You’d killed them all.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow.

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you.

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly.

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye.

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you.

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax.

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze.

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you.

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again.

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n

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