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singularattitudeofasafetypin · 2 years ago

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Guardian Angel

Masterlist

Summary: After the travesty in the Upside Down, Eddie is rushed to the hospital for surgery. Clinging to life and still a wanted man, the ordeal is far from over, but just before he slips unconscious, he thinks he sees his guardian angel, come to look after him.

Word Count: 17.4K

Warnings: Blood, Injury detail, obviously hospitals, vomiting, ptsd and nightmares, depression and self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, reference to childhood trauma and parental death, angst.

A/N: Okay I changed my mind, I like it better as one part!

Well, here she is! Finally! This is the longest amount of time I’ve ever worked on a fic and I really hope it’s paid off. Please, please, if you enjoyed it leave a comment and tell me what you liked! Comments and reblogs are my lifeblood!

***

Eddie gasped for breath. Liquid iron filled his mouth, his throat. Filled his lungs until they were burning. Lights blinded. There was shouting too! Distant, faraway screams.

The world spiralled around him like some wild, unstoppable rollercoaster ride and his stomach rolled. He was drenched all over. Was it sweat? Blood? Someone was carrying him but he couldn’t make out their face. Dark splotches kept splashing over his vision, thrusting him in and out of darkness.

The rough transfer to a hard surface was nothing more than a vague notion. Like it was happening to someone else. Sounds came out of his mouth, desperate, anguished whimpers between retching coughs. All he knew was pain. Blinding, fiery pain.

‘Was this it?’ the thought flashed through Eddie’s mind, ‘Was this what dying felt like?’ Hot liquid dribbled down his chin, and a sob tore through his chest. Whatever it was he wanted it to stop.

‘Stay with me!’

He just wanted the agony to end.

‘Stay with me!’

A hand, firm and solid as steel, gripped his forearm. It took all his strength to follow the voice with his eyes.

His heart stuttered.

The face of an angel was gazing down at him. Her eyes were wide, full of fear. The most beautiful colour he’d ever seen. A halo of light seemed to shine around her before his vision went dark again.

Perhaps that was some comfort? Dizzy from blood loss, and exhausted from pain, his eyes fell closed. Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad if she had come to take him?

You were almost sick when they brought him in.

Volunteering at Hawkins Memorial when news of the earthquake hit had seemed like a good idea before. You could put your first aid skills to good use, take the strain off the medical staff, that sort of thing. Bandage a few broken arms. Make a few strong cups of tea.

It had all been going so well until a bunch of kids showed up carrying two lifeless bodies between them.

‘Help! Please, you have to help them!’ a boy sobbed. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Most of the group weren’t much older. They looked like they’d been through hell.

Medical professionals sprang into action. A few nurses rushed over to the older girls who were carrying a younger, motionless redhead. One of the boys was clinging onto her hand and crying as they ushered them upstairs.

The other body was slung over the oldest boy’s shoulder. They were both soaking wet. Something dark red drip, drip, dripped against the floor at their feet. With a horrible lurch, you realised they were drenched in blood.

The rest of the nurses rushed past you, taking the boy from his arms and transferring him to a gurney. A gut-wrenching shriek sent shivers crawling up your spine. Not even a scream, just an awful, guttural cry that ripped from inside his throat.

Someone grabbed your hand, jolting you back to life and pulling you over. Instructions passed back and forth between the team, even their strict, professional voices betrayed concern.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Whatever shirt he’d been wearing was torn to shreds and sodden red. They started cutting away his clothing and your stomach dropped. Deep, ragged gashes raked his torso which was hitching and juddering up and down. He choked like he was drowning and blood leaked from his mouth, running down the side of his face.

You were frozen in place. Paralysed by fear.

The nurse next to you grabbed your hands, pressing them against one of the wounds. A horrified whimper escaped you as hot blood pooled through your fingers. You never really understand how much blood a person has until its all spilling out of them at once.

‘Push down harder!’ they ordered and you obeyed, sobbing when he let out another agonised sound.

‘Call Doctor Evans. Tell him to prep for surgery!’ someone said.

Disembodied voices moved around you, deathly calm. You heart clenched. You couldn’t look away. His eyes were rolling back in his head, fluttering open and closed. He was getting quieter.

‘Stay with me!’

The words were involuntary, a reflex response like the hand you closed around his arm.

‘Stay with me!’’

Imagination must have gotten the better of you. There was no way he could have heard you but he was looking up at you all the same.

Your eyes met.

With a shaky breath, you squeezed his arm, willing him to hold on, to fight just a little while longer.

‘Let’s go!’ someone moved you briskly aside, rushing the gurney and the rapidly expiring boy away.

You just stood there. Watched them go. Trembling like a leaf.

‘Honey?’ the cold touch on your arm made you jump. An older woman with kind eyes was searching your face anxiously. Her nametag read, ‘Wendy’. She asked again, ‘Honey, are you alright?’

Before you could answer, bile rose in your throat and you vomited all over the floor.

Bless her. She didn’t bat an eye, calling for a cleaner and hugging an arm around you while you retched, mouth burning. ‘It’s okay baby,’ she cooed, ‘I’ve got you!’

Tears poured down your cheeks, sobs wracking your body while Wendy dabbed at your mouth with a damp cloth. You reached up to wipe your eyes and almost threw up again at the sight of your hands. Crimson stained your quivering fingers, so vivid and bright, it was like something out of a horror movie. Your breath came shallow and rapid. Your head felt light.

‘Hey, look at me!’ Wendy coaxed, ‘It’s okay! You’re okay!’ You nodded shakily, pressing your forehead against her shoulder. She cleaned you up, helping you wash your hands in a basin, scrubbing away the red and wiping your face every now and then with a tissue. As she worked, she murmured words of comfort but nothing could get the image of that poor boy out of your mind. You didn’t think anything ever would.

After a while, you must have calmed down. She led you to a seat away from the crowds of panicked casualties, patted your arm and left to assist others.

More and more residents were pouring into the already overloaded waiting area, some wounded, some looking for loved ones.

You couldn’t see the group of kids from before. Perhaps they went upstairs with the girl? You hoped she made it through. They were too young to look so distraught.

What horrors had they seen?

You sat there for over an hour, unable to stop replaying the scene in your mind. The blood, the screams, the sobs.

At the two-hour mark, a man came rushing in. His clothes were worn and terror etched his weathered features. ‘Munson!’ he cried, slamming his hands on the front desk for support. He panted like he’d run the length of the town, ‘Eddie Munson! Is he okay? Some kid called; said he was here!’

The receptionist peered over her spectacles, inspecting the mess of a man in front of with contempt.

‘That’s my son-! Nephew!’ he explained, stumbling over his words, ‘I’m his uncle, Wayne Munson! Please! He’s been missing for days! Tell me he’s okay! Please, I gotta see him!’

The receptionist sighed and began flipping through a stack of papers, painfully slowly. The poor man was on the verge of tears. Anger stirred in your chest. He had to be looking for the boy you had helped. Why wouldn’t she help him? He didn’t know what happened. He just wanted his son!

‘He went into surgery!’ you blurted, pushing yourself to your feet and blundering over. ‘Two hours ago!’ He turned to face you and the look in his eyes sent a dagger through your heart. ‘I’m sorry…’ you stammered, embarrassment welling in your chest, ‘He was hurt bad. I don’t know anything else!’

Wayne broke down. All the pent-up fear from the last week came out at once in violent, terrified sobs.

You mirrored Wendy’s careful comfort, strength and resolve returning at the sight of another’s need. With an arm around him, you ushered him to sit where you had, before fetching a blanket and a cup of tea. You sat with him as long as you could but soon enough, someone pulled you away to aid more wounded citizens.

Periodically, you glanced back at him. He fluctuated between checking his watch and the digital wall clock above the front desk. Tears, silent now, slid down his face, shaking his shoulders. No one else sat to comfort him or even noticed he was there. Never in your life had you seen such desperation.

Never in your life had you felt so useless.

In the early hours of the morning, news came.

It was quieter now. Most of the injured had been treated, organised into wards or sent home. You were still here, cleaning up the mess with a few of the other volunteers who hadn’t staggered home to bed, and keeping watch over the man in the corner.

At some point, he had fallen asleep. The adrenaline had finally faded, leaving nothing but exhaustion to take over. He slept fitfully.

When the clock on the wall glowed 5:37, the sound of doors opening and the quiet thrum of conversation issued from the down the hall. Surgeons and nurses filed out of the corridor that led to the operating theatre. They looked half dead with fatigue themselves. You sprung to your feet, catching one by the arm.

‘Did he make it?’ your voice was thin and strained, terrified of the answer. Tell me he made it!

To your relief, she nodded. ‘It was a damned miracle! We could still lose him but Doctor Evans says if he makes it through the next twelve hours, he should live.’

You could have sobbed for joy. He was okay! He was alive!

‘You should tell his uncle,’ She added, patting your arm awkwardly and nodded over to him.

Uttering your thanks, you left her and padded over to the sleeping figure. ‘Mr Munson,’ you tried gently. When he didn’t stir, you crouched down and placed a hand on his knee. He started awake, worry contorting his expression.

‘What? What happened? Where’s Eddie? Do they know anymore? Is he okay?’ the questions flooded out of him like they’d been haunting his sleep.

‘He’s out of surgery, he’s okay for now.’ Fighting to keep your tone calm, you related what the nurse had told you.

Wayne looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. With his head in his hands, he thanked every god he could think of. ‘Can I see him?’ he begged, ‘Can I see my boy?’

You looked back at the nurse who shrugged and gave a slight nod, ‘Room 108,’ she said before going back to her duties.

Turning back to the desperate man, you took his hand, ‘I’ll take you.’

You took the elevator, leading him past room after room, studying the brass numbers on each of them. The nurse on call barely looked up as you passed. At last, you found it, room 108.

You pushed the door open, revealing the drab, monotone room that matched the rest in the hospital. A cold blue tone washed the space while beeping machines stood in the corners like sentinels.

‘Eddie!’ Wayne let out a strangled sob. He ran to the pale, broken boy lying in the bed, clutching his frail hand in both of his. Fresh white bandages concealed the vicious wounds that covered his body. You thanked the stars his uncle didn’t have to see them just yet. Wayne collapsed to his knees by the side of the bed, kissing his hand repeatedly. ‘Oh Eddie! My boy! My little boy!’

He cried, as though his heart were being torn from his chest. Tears of your own began to fall as you watched the father cling to his child like a lifeline. In that moment, nothing in the world could have parted them.

***

Over the next few days, your duties expanded. A small-town hospital like this had never expected to be at full capacity. They just weren’t equipped. No longer needed to provide first aid, you and the other volunteers became jacks of all trades. You ferried paper work and test results from one department to another and could be enlisted at any moment to assist a professional.

Since staff were scarce, a few of you noticed they couldn’t spend as much time per patient as they normally would. You decided amongst yourselves to spend whatever free time you had sitting with those who had no one to visit them, keeping them company and brightening their day. Someone even drew up a rota to make things simpler.

You might have marvelled at the way the town had come together, wondered at the innate human desire to give what they could in times of need if there hadn’t been one particular patient left out.

The boy in room 108 had been mysteriously missed off of anyone else’s list. He certainly wasn’t put on yours.

If they needed an excuse, they could have said he didn’t need anyone to sit with him. He had his uncle.

It was true you supposed. Wayne hadn’t left his nephew’s side except to use the restroom or ask for a cup of coffee but they didn’t need an excuse. No one ever asked after him. Nobody cared.

It wasn’t surprising. You hadn’t lived in Hawkins since you were a little girl but it was clear the Munsons were outcasts. People averted their eyes when they passed their room, like looking too long would brand them too. You couldn’t help but wonder why.

There were the rumours of course. All week the gruesome murders and wild accusations had been plastered over the news. The story was so sensationalised it reached you, the next town over, and all the while, the name Munson attached. The police hadn’t been by yet but surely it couldn’t be long before they came to question him. Maybe they were right to be wary? No, something about that didn’t fit.

Wayne Munson had known your father. You had vague memories of him babysitting. You couldn’t have been more than three. He was the best at telling stories and, if you closed your eyes and concentrated really hard, you could hear the sound of his voice, changing for all the characters alongside distant, hiccupping laughter. Perhaps it was silly not to believe because of such a flimsy association but the feeling wouldn’t leave you alone.

Eddie didn’t do this. You couldn’t explain it, you just knew.

That morning your mother had called.

She’d tried everything she could to stop you going back to Hawkins when the earthquake hit; in hysterics about how this was exactly why she’d moved you away from there in the first place. The news anchor raving on about how satanic cults must somehow be connected wasn’t helping.

You didn’t give in.

‘People need my help!’ you’d told her, ‘I have to go!’

You said the same thing on the phone this morning. A few hours later, your own words echoed back to you.

‘Don’t the Munson’s need your help?’

The thought had stopped you dead in your tracks. By some divine coincidence, you’d halted right outside his room. The door was slightly ajar. Your stomach twisted in knots.

They probably wanted to be left alone. After the week they’d had, didn’t they deserve their privacy?

Your excuses were cowardly and you knew it. You sighed at the posy of blue and yellow flowers in your hands. Another patient had requested something to make the room brighter; you were on the way there now. The image of that heartbroken old man sitting alone with the body of his boy, lifeless beside him stung and tipped the scales. ‘Sorry Mrs Gillespie,’ you thought, ‘These are needed more here!’ You pushed the door open before you could change your mind.

Wayne wasn’t there but he couldn’t be far away. The room was silent save for the ceaseless beeping machines and the faint but steady breath of their charge. His skin was just as pale as it had been before, almost translucent, and his dark hair lay, fanned against the snowy pillow. At least his face was peaceful. He didn’t look like he was in pain.

You busied yourself with the flowers, arranging them in a vase on the windowsill. Eddie wouldn’t see them but his uncle would. You wanted it to be perfect.

Behind you, the boy began to stir. His eyes fluttered open and closed, a veil of residual anaesthesia obscuring his surroundings. He blinked slowly. The effort to focus like climbing a mountain.

All of a sudden, he shot up. Panic and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He saw flashes of red lightning and between them, bats screeched and shadows whirled. Pain. He remembered. More pain than he’d ever known. Biting and tearing and killing and…

‘Hey! Hey it’s okay!’ a gentle voice broke through the storm. Gentler hands found his wrists; that same familiar grip, firm but this time not as tight. The heartrate monitor was going haywire alongside his erratic breathing. ‘Look at me, you’re okay!’

The words could have been an incantation. He looked as though compelled by intangible force. His eyes found yours, still wide with fear and confusion. He caught his breath. It was her. The angel.

Your anxious frown softened to a smile and every ounce of tension left him. His mind began to clear, giving him time to realise how much he ached. A dull, hollow pang in every inch of his body.

‘Where…’ he slurred, ‘Where am I?’ the words stung his throat on the way out. If this was heaven, why did everything still hurt?

‘You’re in the hospital,’ you explained, sitting on the edge of the bed and encouraging him to lie back. He submitted, the room beginning to solidify around him. Light blue walls, blank white ceiling, scratchy sheets. ‘You’re safe!’

It was hard to believe it. Eddie closed his eyes, concentrating on the immense task of breathing normally. His chest heaved up and down, up and down. Every breath ricocheted through his ribs and stretched against the stitches that held his torso together.

‘How long was I out?’ he asked after a while, voice still hoarse.

‘You came out of surgery three days ago.’ He made a small sound of distress but nothing more.

A thousand questions rattled through your brain. What happened to you? You’ve been missing for a week they said, where were you? What really happened to Chrissy Cunningham and the others?

A spasm of pain flitted across his face. Questions could wait.

‘Your uncle’s here,’ you said instead, ‘I think he went to get coffee.’

His eyes shot open, this time full of childlike hope. ‘Dad’s here?’ A boyish smile spread over his mouth and you couldn’t help smiling back.

‘Do you want me to fetch him?’

Eddie nodded as vigorously as he could.

Seconds later, Wayne was dashing after you, coffee cup abandoned as he raced down the hall. He was through the door in an instant, throwing his arms around his nephew.

‘Ow! Ow!’ Eddie rasped, ‘Careful, Dad! I’m okay!’

Wayne’s grip loosened by a fraction but he didn’t let go. Eddie buried his face in his uncle’s shoulder, hiding the tears that had sprung to his eyes. He wound his sore, bandaged arms around him, holding on for dear life.

Sniffing back your own tears, you eased the door closed on their reunion with a smile. Nurses could fuss over his vitals and analyse his condition later. For now, they deserved to share this moment in private.

***

From then on, you made a point of checking in on them. They didn’t need much, only each other. You got the impression that that was all either of them had ever really had. It was a surprise to find Eddie alone today.

You’d knocked gently, carrying fresh blankets and towels. The room was warm and tranquil, spring sunlight spilling through the window and casting soft rays over the bed. Eddie was dozing. He was still weak after the surgery. He would be for a long time. Still, there was something ethereal in his repose. The way his chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, drawing out faint snores.

You kept as quiet as possible but he shifted anyway. The sunbeams began to pry his eyes open. For a while, the room was a blur of golden light. He squinted against the glare, waiting for his eyes to focus when he saw movement.

‘It’s you again,’ he said eventually.

Though his voice was small and tired, he still managed to startle you. ‘Hi!’ you breathed, getting over your shock and smiling. Eddie tried to sit up and in an instant, you were at his side, ‘Hey, take it easy. You’re still mending!’

He stopped, staring up at you, ‘I saw you before!’ His eyes studied your face like it was a painting, analysing every line and brushstroke. In the sunlight, his eyes looked amber. Flecks of dark brown scattered in their depths and they were lined with the most beautiful eyelashes you’d ever seen. Their shining intensity made you feel fuzzy.

‘Hmm?’ you managed, forcing the feeling down.

He nodded, ‘I thought I was going to die and there you were…’ he frowned like he was trying to remember, ‘I thought you were an angel!’

You blushed. You couldn’t help it. It had to be the drugs talking, he must be hopped up on so many painkillers right now, but no one had ever said anything so romantic about you before.

‘Well,’ you perched a few feet away from him on the edge of the bed, smoothing your jeans, ‘I’m not… and you aren’t. I hate to disappoint,’ you added with a smile.

He laughed weakly, ‘Shoulda known! S’not like an angel would be coming to fetch me!’

You frowned, brow creasing, but before you could ask what he meant, he stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Eddie!’ You took it with a smile, giving your own name and shaking his hand gently. ‘That sounds like an angels name!’ he grinned, a triumphant glint in his eye.

Your heart skipped a beat. Hoping he didn’t see how red you turned, you looked down. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls!’

He laughed for real now, so hard he brought on a coughing fit. You filled a glass of water, helping him sit up against his pillows and bringing it to his lips to drink. He took a few sips until he calmed down again. ‘Still with us?’ you asked tentatively. He nodded, smile quickly returning. It must have hurt him so much but he covered it well. The mask was almost impenetrable.

‘Do you need anything?’

He wiped his mouth where a sliver of water had dribbled and scrunched his nose in thought, ‘I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now! You won’t let me have one though, will you?’

The doctors had had him on a strict soft foods diet for the last few days, it was running him ragged. What he wouldn’t give for the taste of real food!

Your smile was full of sympathy, ‘No can do, I’m afraid!’

He sighed dramatically, ‘Worth a shot!’

***

Most of the time you went back, he was sleeping. They both were; Eddie against a mountain of pillows and Wayne passed out in a chair, his head resting on the edge of the bed and an open paperback book in his hand. You’d eased the pages from his fist and replaced the bookmark more times than you could count.

From time to time, the nurses would wake them up to change Eddie’s bandages and take blood. You often accompanied them.

With the continued overwhelm of patients, there had been an idea to train some of the volunteers in basic medical procedures so the professionals could focus on those more seriously injured. It would never get off the ground, insurance on its own would have been a nightmare, but for now, you stood watching Eddie squirm in protest every time a nurse got near him.

‘Haven’t I already lost enough blood?’ he complained, dodging her reaching hands. He was being so childish, tugging his arm out of her reach; you couldn’t stop yourself giggling.

Eddie noticed.

He grinned at you, enjoying the attention, but pride came before the fall. Your smile distracted him long enough for the nurse to seize his arm and jab the needle into his skin.

He yelped and swore loudly. Wayne tutted and squeezed his other hand while the nurse drew blood. Frustrated with how long it had taken, she wasn’t particularly gentle. Eddie hissed as she yanked the needle out.

‘There!’ she hmphed. ‘That wasn’t so bad after all, was it?’

‘Yes, it was!’ he muttered, cradling his arm and licking it like a wounded animal. You laughed again and the nurse scowled. Eddie winked at you, a sly grin stretching his mouth.

She shooed you out of the room and pulled the door shut behind you. If looks could kill, you’d be halfway to heaven.

‘You weren’t even paying attention!’ she reprimanded.

***

All good things come to an end, and all leniency had its limits. The day came for Wayne to go back to work. He didn’t go down without a fight; you passed many an angry phone call in the hallway, but it was no use. All they had to do was threaten to fire him. There weren’t exactly many places hiring during the apocalypse and rent was due.

Eddie got it. He didn’t blame his uncle, not for anything. He didn’t blame the kids either. Their attention was split between Max and their own anxious families. He was, after all, the sole suspect in a murder case. Even without that, he wasn’t exactly the sort of person a mother would want their child hanging around with.

He was surprised the police hadn’t come to cart him off to prison yet. No doubt Wheeler and the others were orchestrating some miracle to keep him out of jail. He could only assume they were giving him a grace period while he recovered. If that’s what he was doing!

Eddie hated hospitals. The plastic personas, scratchy bandages, and the overpowering stench of disinfectant. As a kid he’d broken enough bones to warrant a whole new skeleton. ‘Which one is it this time?’ they would ask. It never got easier.

He’d never been incarcerated for this long before. It hadn’t been so bad in the beginning with his uncle to talk to. Eddie could talk for the Olympics.

Solitude was unbearable.

Once upon a time, he’d have fallen into his own mind, using imagination to craft wings and flying away to magical lands. He’d have invented stories from thin air and told them a million different ways to pass the time but now, even daydreams were dangerous.

Now there was something else in his head with him, waiting for him to let his guard down so it could sink its teeth back into his skin.

He was stuck in reality. There would be no escaping the incessant beeping heart monitor or the constant itch of the IV he wanted to claw out. The nurses flicking on the light at some ungodly hour, prodding him with cold hands and sharp needles.

He was trapped and bored and alone.

You helped, he realised. You were a change, someone new to break up the monotony. Almost every day, you greeted him with a smile and bright, unadulterated optimism. Your visits were brief, delivering necessities, checking he had everything he needed and asking how he was. Eddie always shot you a dazzling smile and alternated between witty quips and cheesy pick-up lines (the latter of which would earn him a swat over the head from his uncle if he were present and a jab to ‘Leave the poor girl alone!’) He would string out the moments as long as he could.

Today was different.

‘You okay?’ you asked. Eddie had been watching you intently while you replaced the water jug on his nightstand and piled some laundry into a basket. His expression was unreadable. How was he so expressive but so secretive at the same time?

‘Are you busy?’ he said eventually, looking down at the sheets he twisted between his fingers.

Confusion creased your brow, ‘Not for a while, why?’

That wasn’t strictly true of course, but hey, you were a volunteer. No one was keeping track of you. You could afford to lend your time and something told you Eddie needed it more than anyone else did.

He swallowed, still not looking at you, ‘Dad-,’ he winced and caught himself, ‘Uncle Wayne doesn’t get here ‘til late. Can you…’ Eddie scrunched his nose, ‘Can you stay?’

You knew that expression all too well. He thought he was asking too much, bracing himself for rejection. ‘Of course I can!’

Discomfort turned to surprise, then wide-eyed relief. ‘Really?’

You nodded, sitting down in the chair his uncle usually occupied and smiling your assurance. It was awkward at first. He barely knew where to begin, as though having someone’s undivided attention was a rarity for him. Before long, you fell into easy conversation and Eddie transformed. Lines of worry and care eased and, together with the childlike enthusiasm in his eyes, he looked much younger.

All it took was one question about his hobbies and he was away. He told you all about the fantasy books he like and the ridiculously complicated boardgame he played. ‘… and you can basically make it anything you want! I run this club at school and we meet every Friday! We just finished this epic campaign, the best one I’ve ever done about-,’ he stopped suddenly. Cut off by a strange, faraway look that crept over his face.

It was the same look he’d gotten when he first woke up and didn’t know where he was. Eyes wide and mouth contorted like he tasted something bitter.

You changed the subject. ‘You’re still in high school? You look too old.’

Eddie blinked, taking a second to get his bearings before turning red. ‘Yeah… I ugh…’ You instantly regretted bringing it up. ‘I had to retake senior year,’ he mumbled, ‘twice.’

He looked away again and you kicked yourself internally. ‘Hey, it’s cool!’ you shrugged, attempting to repair the damage you’d caused. ‘High School totally sucks right? It’s a miracle I ever passed Physics!’ Slowly, you regained his attention and smiled, ‘We used to have this teacher whose voice just droned on and on and on!’

He laughed when you rolled your eyes and put on a drawling, gormless tone. ‘Hey, we’re about the same age, right? How come I never knew you in school?’

‘You probably went to Hawkins High,’ you explained, ‘I went to Clivesdale Academy.’ The lines of intrigue didn’t fade. ‘My mom wanted me to go to school near her after she and my dad split,’ you sighed, ‘Something about getting us out of this hellhole!’

Eddie laughed, clear and bright. ‘I hear that!’

‘Right?’

You laughed together for a while until Eddie’s sides hurt, his lungs straining against his stitches. ‘Still, I wish I’d got to know you before.’

His eyes locked on yours again, catching you by surprise with their earnestness. ‘Yeah,’ you said softly, ‘Me too!’ His gaze lingered, perhaps longer than it was supposed to. A feeling started to spark inside you but before it could catch light, you went on, ‘So what about you?’ He looked confused. ‘You have any teachers like my Professor Hidgens?’

‘Do I?’ he launched into a performance of the numberless teachers who’d bored him out of his mind. The comfortable familiarity returned and you giggled at his theatrical impersonations until his uncle arrived a few hours later.

‘No way? You play guitar?’ you exclaimed a few days later in the same situation, this time waiting for some friends of his.

‘Yeah! Super cool right?’

‘So cool!’ you nodded excitedly and Eddie grinned.

‘I’m in a band and everything! Gareth and Jeff and me!’ those were the friends you were waiting for, ‘We’re gonna make it big one day, I know it!’ He spoke with such conviction; you believed him without question.

‘You play anywhere?’

‘Yeah!’ he could hardly keep still, flailing an arm out to the nightstand and rummaging around, ‘Tuesday nights at the Hideout-! Sorry!’ he cursed under his breath when he sent everything toppling to the ground. ‘I used to have flyers on me all the time!’ he said as you stooped to pick it up again, ‘You should come see us!’

‘I’d love to! You nodded enthusiastically, ‘Once you’re better obviously!’

Eddie was dumbfounded. He was used to people turning their noses up at his love of music. More often than not, they’d screw up his handmade posters and throw them back in his face. The only person who never belittled his rockstar dreams was Wayne. He didn’t know whether or not to believe you. ‘Promise?’ he asked warily.

You smiled, ‘Promise!’

***

‘You’re way too close to that Munson boy!’

The words caught you off guard, plucking your eyes away from the paperwork you’d been proofreading. Looking up, you found a few of the other volunteers standing over you. You recognised them. Jill, Beverly and Hannah were all much older than you but with their simpering smiles and the way everyone else was watching in their periphery, it couldn’t have felt more like a high school altercation with the popular girls.

‘Sorry?’ you narrowed your eyes, already putting up a wall.

‘The Munson kid!’ Jill repeated, wrinkling her nose, ‘You’re too involved!’

You raised an eyebrow. When the ice didn’t crack, Hannah jumped in with a faux air of concern, ‘Oh, honey, we just don’t think he’s the sort of person a nice girl like you should be fraternising with!’

Fraternising?

‘Oh?’ you asked, ‘And why’s that?’

The women glanced at each other, their smiles faltering at your tone. Clearly, they weren’t used to being questioned. ‘Sweetie, haven’t you heard?’ she continued, ‘It was all over the news! He’s a murderer!’

‘They said he sacrificed kids as part of-,’ Beverly glanced around before whispering, ‘satanic rituals!’

‘Satanic rituals?’ it was hard to keep from snorting. They nodded, completely serious. Was this town so gripped by hysteria that they believed that? As if the sweet boy you sat with every other day was involved in stuff like that! You’d only known him three weeks but without a doubt, Eddie wouldn’t hurt a fly!

‘He leads a cult right here in Hawkins!’ she went on, ‘They call it Hellfire-,’

You really did laugh this time. Mock concern morphed to indignation in an instant. You stared at them, ‘A cult?’ Jill crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. You let out another breathy chuckle, ‘Hellfire’s a club for high schoolers! They play a dorky fantasy boardgame! You think they’re a cult?’

‘That’s how they get new members!’ Hannah cut in, ‘They corrupt vulnerable children and then sacrifice them to the devil!’

She was reaching now, running away with the other two on wild accusations and theories. Apparently, people claimed they’d seen them meeting in the woods after dark. Stories about the mysterious deaths and disappearances over the last few years joined the fray, attached to the latest reports of cryptids and even the origins of the earthquake.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Sure, Hawkins was one messed up town, sometimes you even agreed with the idea it was cursed, but to pin it all on some nineteen-year-old kid? They actually thought it was all his fault.

‘We should have seen it coming really!’ one of them chimed in, ‘What with his… upbringing!’

To that you had no response. Eddie hadn’t told you what happened to his parents. Of course he hadn’t! It was none of your business. You’d never asked, never even wondered! You looked back down at your work and tried to shut them out.

When the obvious attempt at intrigue failed, they continued anyway, regaling you with sordid rumours about Eddie’s father in prison states away, first for stealing cars, then for killing his wife. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a cultist as well!’

‘Like father like son!’

‘His uncle isn’t much better!’ Beverly piped up, snagging your attention once more. ‘Letting his nephew run around selling drugs! Practicing witchcraft!’

‘Being a screw up must run in the family!’

‘It’s not surprising considering where they live!’ another sneered, ‘You can’t expect anything good to come out of a trailer park!’

You couldn’t help a gasp escaping your lips, glaring at the woman who’s spoken. Hissed the words like they were dirty, like they were obscene. As though poverty was some inherent genetic fault.

‘Oh honey, she doesn’t mean it like that!’ Jill assured, catching your horrified expression, ‘It’s just, spending so much time away from polite society… you never know what people could turn out like!’

You felt sick to your stomach.

‘If you ask me, the cops should have been called the moment he entered the hospital!’

You shot to your feet, unable to listen a second longer! A bitter taste flooded your mouth. How could they be so hateful? How dare they? You opened your mouth but the words caught in your throat. Tears threatened. ‘You don’t know him!’ you stammered, ‘You don’t know anything!’

Without waiting for a retort, you stumbled away, hiding in the ladies before letting the tears fall.

It just didn’t make sense! Sure, they were poor! Sure, they lived at the trailer park! Sure, Eddie was different. His personality had strengthened already in weeks that passed, healing alongside his body. He was passionate and animated and unapologetic, something this town evidently wasn’t used to, but he was the sweetest soul you’d ever known! You’d seen the innocent excitement he had when he talked about things he liked, heard the respect and gratitude with which he spoke about his uncle, and witnessed the love he showed for his friends. Despite everything he’d suffered, you felt the hope he harboured and imparted to others. You felt the fondness he held for you.

And how dare they talk about Wayne like that? Hadn’t they seen the way he cared for his nephew? Didn’t they see how his wellbeing consumed his every thought and action? More than once, you’d seen him staggering up the stairs, half-asleep, desperate to spend every moment he wasn’t working with his boy!

How could people be so cruel?

Eddie noticed your dejection the next day but before he could ask, there was a knock at the door. They didn’t wait for an answer. A man in a cop’s uniform stepped inside, followed by two other officers.

‘Ma’am I’m gonna ask you to step outside,’ the second one said. Panic tugged in your chest.

‘Is there a problem, officer?’ you fought to keep your voice calm for Eddie’s sake. Instinctively, your hand curled around his.

‘No problem, ma’am, we’re just here to ask Eddie a few questions,’ the man you recognised as the chief evidently thought his words were reassuring. One of the other officers gave him a condescending smirk. Eddie’s hand tightened around yours. He didn’t want you to leave.

‘Can’t I stay with him-?’

‘I need you to step out now,’ he cut you off, annoyance breaking through the façade of professionalism. His colleague opened the door for you. There wasn’t going to be a debate.

You looked back at Eddie, pulling your features into some semblance of confidence. You squeezed his hand. ‘I’m gonna fix this!’ you thought, hoping he read the words through your eyes, ‘I’m gonna get help!’ His face was full of fear, heightened when you eased your hand from his grip.

‘Now ma’am!’

You didn’t take your eyes off him as they ushered you out, straining when they closed the door. Out in the hall, Jill and her friends hovered, arms folded with self-satisfied smiles plastered over their faces. Of course, they’d been more than happy to escort the officers to Eddie’s room. ‘We tried to warn you honey,’ Jill said as you passed, words laced with smugness.

‘He’ll be in jail by this evening,’ another pronounced.

You pushed past them, wanting to scream. No doubt they went to church every Sunday, singing praises and pious testimonies, yet there they stood, gloating over someone else’s suffering! It made your blood boil.

No one had bothered to call his uncle. You flipped through the phone book, searching for the number to call his work. The phone rang over and over but no one picked up. You left message after message until there was no room on the answering machine, but it was no use.

You tried to go back to his room throughout the day but one of the officers was standing guard outside. It didn’t matter how hard you begged and argued, he wouldn’t let you past. The image of Eddie, scared and alone being accused again and again of crimes he didn’t commit haunted you all day.

Minutes turned to hours and they passed like days. Darkness was falling outside. Still his uncle didn’t arrive. It got so bad, you were considering driving over to the plant yourself.

At that moment, Wayne came bursting into the lobby. He was furious. ‘I saw the cop cars,’ he said, voice deadly quiet, ‘Where the hell is my son?’

The receptionist raised a shaky finger, pointing to the elevator, quailing under his gaze. ‘Upstairs,’ she squeaked, ‘In his room, go right on up.’

Wayne didn’t thank her. He stormed past, jabbing the button three, four, five times. You trailed after, stepping in beside him when the doors opened. ‘What the hell are you playing at, not calling me?’ he snapped. You stayed silent. He wasn’t mad at you. In your peripheral, you saw his eyes were fixed on the doors, hands trembling ever so slightly. Beneath the anger, he was scared.

The second the doors opened, he sprang back to life, powering down the corridors he paced almost every day. Worried stares followed as you trotted behind him. Whispers arose and rumours took flight.

Wayne didn’t care.

He had no trouble getting past the guard. All it took was a scathing look and the officer stepped aside, mumbling something under his breath. Wayne threw the door open, revealing exactly what you’d feared.

Eddie’s face was red and tearstained. He was breathless and his eyes held so much terror. He looked like a hunted animal. ‘I didn’t kill her!’ he sobbed. As he reached for his uncle, you realised, to your horror, that his right hand was cuffed to the bedframe. ‘I didn’t kill anyone!’

Wayne rushed to hold his nephew. The door slammed behind him.

Immediately, raised voices could be heard on the other side.

***

For the next three days, Wayne didn’t leave Eddie’s side. The cops came back again and again and each time they did, the pit in your stomach got worse. No matter how much Wayne pleaded, reasoned, threatened, they wouldn’t remove the handcuffs. At least they didn’t have a guard on the door anymore.

Wayne couldn’t stay forever though. They were counting on that.

His boss began phoning, demanding him back for shifts. The workforce was spread thin enough as it was, he said, he couldn’t be letting people take time off for ‘any old reason’.

Wayne wanted to shout and scream but instead, he agreed. Placated, like he’d had to all his life. Through gritted teeth and a steely tone, he hung up the phone, letting out a string of bitter curses. He leant his head on his hand, still clutching the phone. Then, sensing your presence, whipped around, ‘Entertaining you, am I?’ he spat, and stalked back down the hall to his nephew.

You looked away, face burning with shame. You tried not to take it personally. He was at his wits end, needing someone to lash out at. The words stung all the same.

Eddie’s friends were noticeably absent. So were the kids, undoubtably being kept under strict lockdown by their parents. For a few days, not a single person had gone in or out of that room without a uniform.

Every time you passed his door, you fought the urge to knock. Something was holding you back.

Perhaps you were too close with him? Not because of what the others said. Not because of the accusations you knew were baseless, but perhaps you were too intrusive?

You hadn’t seen him since the day the police arrived. He was broken and desperate and deeply frightened. What they were putting him through was humiliating. Wayne was right. They didn’t need more witnesses than they already had.

‘Hey, you wanna come out with us?’

One of your fellow volunteers was standing over the desk you occupied. Dianne was about your age, with a friendly smile and a good heart. She was one of the only others who hadn’t joined the vicious tirade against the Munsons.

‘If you aren’t busy, a few of us were gonna go out for pizza. We’ve all been working so hard over the past month, you more than anyone! We thought we could take the night off?’

You retuned a weak imitation of her smile, ‘Thanks Di, that sounds nice. It really does, but…’

‘I get it,’ she nodded, noticing your gaze wander in the direction of Eddie’s room, ‘Next time, okay?’

‘Next time,’ you thanked her and she left, shrugging on her raincoat to brave the downpour outside and leaving you to the dim lamplight.

You lost yourself in thought once again. It might not be your place to get involved with Eddie, but you’d content yourself with watching over him from a distance.

The room was swathed in darkness. Outside, rain beat steadily against the ground; its sharp pattering the only sound. Eddie sat alone in the shadows, knees draw up to his chest under the blankets, tears sliding silently down his cheeks.

It must have been the early hours of the morning. No one had walked down the corridor for a long while. Eddie couldn’t even remember why he was crying. He only felt the ache that squeezed at his heart.

A bright flash of light illuminated the room, throwing everything into sharp relief before dousing it in darkness again. On its own, the light was harmless but seconds later, the crack of thunder sent icy blades through his skin. He flinched and suddenly, deafening screeches filled his ears.

It was them. They were ramming against his window. Battering so hard, surely it would break at any moment. Lighting flashed again, but this time lurid scarlet. He saw them. Bat-like wings, writhing tails, and gaping maws.

Eddie cried out in terror. He strained against the metal cuffing him to the bed but it was useless. They were here for him. They weren’t going to stop. He couldn’t move.

Glass shattered.

Their shrieks grew louder and louder, he could feel the vibration through every inch of his body. They whirled around the room like a hurricane. Diving and gnashing at him. Eddie threw his arm up to shield himself, scrambling to avoid them. Ferocious banging started on the door. More? He let out a hopeless sob. The door crashed open. Light spilled into the room. He didn’t have long until…

‘Eddie!’

He whimpered, fighting the soft hands that reached for his arms, terrified of pain that never came.

‘Eddie, wake up! It isn’t real!’

Undeterred, the hands ghosted over his forearms, their touch grounding and soothing his fitful breaths. One cupped his cheek, caressing his tear-soaked face with such tenderness. Eddie caught your wrist, holding your palm against his skin as his eyes focussed. He saw you. Your face full of worry and concern. His eyes flitted about the room, now lit by the lamp at his bedside. There were no bats, no broken windows. Lightning flashed, white again, as the storm raged outside and Eddie broke down.

Wordlessly, you cradled his face into your shoulder, hushing him as tears began to soak your clothing. ‘What happened?’ you murmured, ‘Are you hurting? Do you need me to call the nurse?’

‘Yes… no… I don’t know!’ he sobbed. You tightened your embrace, stroking his hair until his tears turned to gasping hiccups. Tilting his face up to yours, you reached for a tissue and dried his frightened eyes.

‘What happened, Eddie?’ you murmured, ‘What’s making you so unhappy?’

He took the tissue from your hand, scrubbing at his face and looking away. ‘It’s nothing,’ he muttered, ‘Honest, it’s so… so stupid!’

You laid a hand on his arm again. He looked back to you. ‘Tell me anyway!’

With a shaky breath, Eddie’s eyes swam with fresh tears. ‘It’s just… Dad- Uncle Wayne,’ he flinched, correcting himself, like he was trying to drum it into his own mind, ‘He can’t be here all the time… and my friends, they’re trying! I don’t blame them! I’m not mad at them I’m just…’ his voice came out thin and strangled, ‘I’m so lonely!’

Tears began to spill over. ‘And I’m scared! I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t want to be like him! I can’t! I can’t be like him!’

His voice caught at the end and once again, he convulsed into sobs, this time bitter and raw. It wasn’t like he’d explained everything, there was so much more he didn’t know how to say but even so. He’d laid his soul bare in front of you and no words could call it back again. Now you were free to think of him however you chose.

You didn’t ask who he was, forcing the words of speculation from your mind. If Eddie didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t. You just held him. ‘I’m here,’ you repeated again and again, fingers carding through his hair, ‘I’m here!’

What else could you do? You couldn’t promise everything would be alright. You couldn’t release the cruel steel that bit into his skin, leaving a ring of crimson around his wrist. What comfort could you impart?

His sobs quietened once again. You reached for his jaw and smoothed your thumb under his eyes. ‘Come on,’ you murmured, ‘It’s so late and you must be so tired!’

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed him. Sleeping pills lay untaken on his nightstand on top of a book. You fetched a glass of water and helped him swallow them before pulling a chair close to his bedside.

‘Can I read to you until you fall asleep?’

The question took him by surprise. He sniffed and fidgeted, ‘You don’t have to…’

‘I want to!’

A strange look fell over him. It was one you’d seen before, wary and distrusting, like he was testing if you really meant what you said. Then cautious, as though he hardly dared hope you were sincere.

He nodded almost imperceptibly and you smiled, reaching for the worn-out book beside him. Gleaming gold embossing on the cover spelled out: ‘The Two Towers’.

You waited for him to lie back down but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the bed, winding the sheets between his fingers. ‘What is it?’

‘Promise this is real?’

When you didn’t reply straight away, his eyes flickered up to yours, a bashful smile gracing his mouth, ‘Like… I didn’t dream you, right?’ he laughed awkwardly, ‘Will you still… be here in the morning?’

You smiled and nodded, ‘Promise!’

He nodded as well, more to himself than anything else. Satisfied, he laid his head back on the pillow, pulling the covers up to his chin like a child waiting for a bedtime story.

‘It’s like in the great stories, Mr Frodo.’ You began, ‘The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were…’

Eddie wanted to listen to you read all night. He’d heard the story a thousand times before and read it himself twice that, but somehow, you made it feel brand new. Your cadence bathed the narrative in a fresh light.

‘…and sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?’

He didn’t want to miss a syllable, but the inevitable crept up on him. The medication did its work and before he knew it, Eddie’s eyes were drooping closed.

‘But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow…’

Warm, heavy blackness, fell around him. Comforting this time, like a vast, velvet blanket, it drew him away to dreamless sleep.

‘…even darkness must pass.’

His breathing evened out and soft snores began to issue from his mouth. You closed the book, replacing it on the nightstand and tucked your legs up in your chair.

True to your word, when Eddie woke in the morning, you were there. He didn’t know how you’d managed to sleep. You were curled in the most uncomfortable looking position but your face was serene, glowing softly in the early morning light.

Through bleary eyes and sluggish thoughts, it struck him once again how ethereal you looked.

***

Not twenty-four hours had passed before the police were back again.

You saw the cop cars outside the hospital on your way in and something in you snapped. Quickening your pace, Eddie was all you thought of. His panic-stricken face clear in your mind.

Blind rage drove you through the doors and straight for the officers standing by the front desk.

‘Can’t you leave that poor boy alone?’

Who knew what you might have done had another not caught you by the arm.

‘Woah! Easy tiger!’ he coaxed when you tried to shake him off. At the sound of his voice, you froze.

‘Hopper?’

His grip went slack as you stopped struggling and he shot you a familiar smile. ‘Yeah kid, it’s me! Long time, no see huh?’

It wasn’t possible.

‘But you-! You’re-!’

‘Dead? Yeah well… can’t believe everything you hear!’

Your mouth opened and closed, struck dumb with disbelief. Hopper had been another of your father’s old friends, a face you’d almost forgotten until last year. News of the mall fire and his heroic sacrifice brought back memories you hadn’t replayed in a long while. Birthday parties, family dinners, Christmases.

Pushing aside your bewilderment, you remembered your anger. Glaring past him, you shot daggers at his colleagues.

‘Don’t worry kid,’ he reassured, following your gaze and putting a hand on your shoulder. ‘They aren’t here to arrest him.’ When his disapproving glance joined yours, the two officers hung their heads. ‘They’re here to apologise!’

With a jerk of his head, they slunk away, tails between their legs. At least they had the decency to look sheepish.

‘Seems Eddie had an airtight alibi. There’s no way he could have committed those murders and I have it on good authority it was never in his character!’ Hopper turned back to you with a comforting expression, ‘He was a victim of mass hysteria and mob mentality and those involved in any defamation or aggressions toward him are going to be prosecuted.’

You didn’t know what to say. A small, ‘Oh,’ was all that made it past the lump in your throat.

Hopper gave you a last reassuring smile before following his co-workers upstairs, leaving you stood in the lobby.

That night, Officer Calvin Powell stepped down as Chief. He handed the press conference over to Hopper who pronounced Eddie innocent of all charges. ‘I was deeply concerned,’ he told the cameras, ‘To hear about the hostile behaviour encouraged over the past week toward a member of our community. Organisation of manhunts, vigilante attitudes…’

‘Finally!’ you thought, safe at home in front of your dad’s tiny television set, ‘Finally someone was pointing out how messed up all this was!’

‘We ask all of you to exercise some empathy at this time and to allow the Munsons the privacy they deserve. Rest assured,’ he continued, ‘Any antisocial or threatening behaviour will be treated like the offense it is!’

Reporters went on to ask about the earthquakes and what was to be done. What were the long-term plans to house those displaced? What about preventative measures? But you turned off the TV. It had been a long day.

On the other side of town, Eddie had stopped listening as well. His head lay in his uncles lap the way he used to when he was small. Wayne’s arm was wrapped around him, rubbing his shoulder. Tears slipped silently down Eddie’s face as he cradled his newly liberated wrist to his chest. Wayne switched the screen off, tightening his arm around his son.

‘It’s okay now Eds,’ he murmured, ‘It’s okay now!’

***

He was quieter after that. For a long while, Eddie seemed muted. He spoke more softly and less often and his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As soon as they were allowed, his friends started visiting again, and they came bearing gifts. You caught the kids stumbling down the hall balancing a tower of notebooks and assorted items you guessed were from their boardgame, and often walked in on them playing together. Dustin, the curly haired boy who always seemed to have a baseball cap was narrating with dramatic flourishes and an enigmatic tone. It sounded fantastical but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Eddie!

He was captivated. Eyes wide and shining with wonder, it was as though the world around him didn’t exist. He looked so alive.

His band came by three times a week bringing a Walkman and copious amounts of tapes, some of which, you discovered, were their own work.

You discovered, among his many other talents, he was a phenomenal artist! The Wheelers had brought over his sketch pad and pencils a few days ago and he’d eagerly shown you his character designs from previous campaigns. You marvelled at the intricate details. It wasn’t like he’d copied a picture; these were his own inventions. They were all from his head.

From time to time, Eddie would present you with small sketches. Pictures of intrepid adventurers, scenes from fairy tales, or even just the particular flower arrangement you’d left him that week.

You loved watching him work. The way his brow furrowed in concentration and his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he worked the lines darker.

One day, you found him absorbed in composition. He didn’t look up as you entered so you crept closer, peeking over the pad of paper. ‘What is it today?’ you asked.

He almost jumped out of his skin, hugging the page to his chest. You grinned, perching on the edge of the bed and looking expectant, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!’ When his expression didn’t soften, you frowned, ‘What are you drawing?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Well, that’s not true!’

His cheeks flushed pink. ‘Honestly! Nothing! Just… something from a dream I had,’

‘Can I see?’

Eddie laughed awkwardly, ‘Uh, no!’

‘Aww, come on!’ you whined, ‘Why not!’

‘Coz,’ he shrugged, gusto returning. You pouted and he laughed again. ‘I’ll draw you something else instead!’ he compromised, ‘Come back in an hour!’

‘Fine,’ you conceded, hopping up and moseying over to the door.

Eddie smiled as you went, dropping his gaze once more. Though you’d just left, your eyes looked up at him from the page, captured by his careful cross-hatching. With a deep breath, he carried on, tracing soft strokes to form a sort of halo around your head. He closed his eyes, trying to remember exactly, the way the aura of light had reflected on your cheeks.

Things were beginning to look up again. Eddie seemed happier, closer to himself. It was impossible to ignore. You were getting more and more excited to see him with every passing day. Conversation flowed so easily between you; you could have sat there forever. He was the most wonderful listener and seemed to genuinely enjoy hearing about you and your life.

‘Sorry, I’m rambling, you don’t wanna hear about all that!’ you would catch yourself. Each time, he would shake his head, grinning from ear to ear, ‘No! I want to!’

You looked forward to your interactions so much, you began to wonder if you had some ulterior motive, unbeknownst even to yourself! More than once, the faint lines that creased around his eyes when he smiled had given you goosebumps. His laugh reminded you of music and sent butterflies whirling in your stomach.

Was that it? Did you like him now? I mean you liked him but did you like him?

‘Now stop that!’ you berated yourself.

The elevator was out of order today so you were halfway up the stairs.

It wasn’t fair to entertain thoughts like that! They could lead to aspirations and that was the last thing you needed.

You reached his floor and started down the winding, repetitious corridors, still lost in reason. Eddie had been through something truly awful and it wasn’t over yet! He still had a long way to go and your feelings could not be allowed to get in the way of his recovery!

‘He isn’t out of the woods yet!’

That was the last thought you had before rounding the corner and stopping dead in your tracks.

The door was open. Doctors were rushing in and out, brushing past the trembling figure in the hall like he wasn’t even there. Your heart dropped.

Wayne’s eyes were red; he was shaking uncontrollably. You flew to his side, taking his arm to hold him steady. He looked ready to keel over. ‘What happened?’ he flinched at your frantic tone but didn’t answer. Trying not to panic, you repeated, ‘Mr Munson, what’s happened?’

‘They said… Eddie…’ his voice was hoarse, ‘His spleen or something… critical they said, condition… I don’t know!’ He sobbed hopelessly as nurses wheeled Eddie’s bed out of the room and down the hall at lightning speed. He was unconscious and you caught a glimpse of an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. His skin was stark white.

Your heart twisted in your ribcage, anxiety heaving in your chest but your forced it down. ‘Someone needs you!’ you told yourself, ‘You don’t matter right now! We can cry later! Not while someone needs you!’

‘Come on Mr Munson,’ you soothed, struggling to keep your voice calm. You led him back down the hall to where the interns and volunteers worked. Finding him a seat, you called over to your co-worker, ‘Dianne, can you fetch me a cup of tea please?’

Her eyes flitted between you and the distraught man in your care before she nodded and rushed away. People were staring; you shot them a scathing look and they went back to work, heads hanging sheepishly. Dianne returned in seconds with a steaming cup and you pressed it into Wayne’s shuddering hands.

‘Do you need me to call anyone for you?’ you asked softly and he shook his head.

‘No one left to call, sweetheart,’ he said it so nonchalantly, taking a sip of tea with a wry smile, but a lump formed in the back of your throat. Swallowing, you forced a smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘I’m gonna stay with you if that’s okay?’ he nodded gratefully, squeezing his eyes tight against the pain. You didn’t leave his side the rest of the day. The few kinder volunteers brought you food though neither of you could stomach much. Minutes stretched into hours and no word came.

By 9:30pm there was still no news. Wayne had been silent for the last two hours, not that he’d spoken much before. Words just weren’t enough right now. What was there to say? His eyes were fixed on the ground, glassy and unseeing.

‘You look like hell!’ a gentle voice made you look up. Your friend Dianna held your jacket out with a small smile. ‘Go home honey, I’ll stay with him!’

Uncertain, you looked over at Wayne. He didn’t look back but he nodded slightly. It wrenched your heart but Dianne was right. She eased your jacket over your stiff shoulders and only then did you realise how exhausted you were. Worry really drained the life out of you. ‘Get some sleep,’ Dianne ordered, taking your place next to Wayne, her hand on his shoulder.

You wanted to say something. A thousand ideas flashed through your head but none seemed appropriate. You almost asked him to call if he heard anything about Eddie’s conditions but you bit your tongue. It wasn’t your place. Sure, you and Eddie were friends now, but what right had you to ask for that? Give them the privacy they deserve! You took your leave.

All the way home you cried, praying harder than you ever had before. ‘Let him be alright! Haven’t they suffered enough? Please, have mercy on this family! Let him be okay!’

Your car headlights illuminated the familiar driveway, blurred into a haze from the tears you wiped on your sleeve. You fumbled with your keys, fitting the lock on your third try. Just as the door gave way, the sharp trill of the telephone made you jump.

You hurried to answer it, hoping it hadn’t woken your father.

‘Hello?’

A low gruff voice, thick with emotion, said your name.

‘Yes! Yes, that’s me,’ you recognised the voice instantly, ‘Is everything okay? Has something happened?’ you could hardly keep the tremor from your voice, dreading the answer.

‘Dianne gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind,’ Wayne took a shaky breath, every second built more trepidation. ‘Eds is out of surgery,’ he said, ‘…He’s okay, stable they said…’

Whatever he said after that, you never heard. Relief drowned out any and all subsequent sensations, washing over you like a tidal wave, like the whole ocean at once.

He was okay.

Tears began to slide down your cheeks.

He was okay!

‘… They’re keeping an eye on him for now but I just wanted you to know,’ he finished. Your heart ached for all he had suffered, all they both had. For their kindness and his thought toward you, someone so insignificant in all this. Surely there could be no kinder soul in the world.

‘Thank you,’ you hoped he didn’t hear you sniff, ‘Thank you so much!’

He didn’t say anything, for a moment you thought he’d hung up. Then, ‘You’re her, aren’t you?’ he didn’t need an answer. ‘You’re the girl who keeps looking out for him!’

You didn’t know what to say but you didn’t have to. ‘The nurses say he should be awake by tomorrow noon,’ he continued, then hesitated, ‘Will you come by and see him? He’d like that.’

Despite the fact he couldn’t see you, you nodded, ‘Of course I will,’ you bit back a sob, ‘…Thank you Mr Munson!’

‘Thank you, kid!’

The line went dead and you wept. Curled up against the wall with your knees clasped in your shaking arms, you cried tears of gratitude. Tears of tenderness. Tears of thanks.

You only managed a few hours sleep. It was stupid to drive with the state you were in but you arrived at the hospital parking lot nevertheless. The early-summer sunshine began to burst over the horizon, its golden fingertips peeking between the buildings, spreading over the asphalt and smoothing across your face.

The clock moved sluggishly. You busied yourself with menial tasks, anything you could find, to make the hours go faster. From time to time, you’d spot a nurse who came from the direction of room 108 and had to stop yourself begging for news. ‘Is he safe? Is he in pain?’ you wanted to plead, ‘Has the colour come back to his cheeks and the vibrant spark to his eyes?’

‘Stop it!’ you shook yourself harshly, ‘You sound like a lovesick fool! Isn’t it enough that he’s alive?’

With your head buried deeper in your work, you only just realised the hands had finally reached twelve. You shot up, gathering the papers into a haphazard pile before hurrying down the hall. You paused to breathe, then knocked softly.

Wayne opened it and gave you a welcoming smile. He stepped aside to let you in, offering you the chair he must have sat in all night and clearing away the crumpled tissues on the nightstand. You hardly noticed the clutter. Your eyes were fixed on the bed.

Eddie was even paler than he’d been before. His veins were stark under transparent skin, face thin and gaunt and his lips a faded pink. His eyes were still closed but moving rapidly under their lids like he was dreaming. A gentle hand on your shoulder grounded you back to reality.

‘Eds,’ Wayne called softly, moving away from your and ghosting his hand over his nephew’s slender wrist. He shook it slightly and Eddie murmured something intelligible. A spasm of discomfort warped his features and made your heart clench. Wayne didn’t flinch, ‘Someone here to see you, Eddie!’ he cajoled.

Groggy and disoriented, Eddie’s eyes struggled to open. The effects of anaesthesia were still wearing off and he was so tired. His head fell to one side, looking right at you. You saw his eyes focus and he breathed your name. You tried to smile, to comfort him, but seeing him like this just reminded you just how close you’d come to losing him. Dread and fear flooded in and tears began to spill over.

It took him a second to react. A frown creased his brow. ‘What’s wrong?’ Eddie rasped. You let out a breathy chuckle.

Without a word, Wayne squeezed his arm, avoiding the tender scars that were only just beginning to heal, and stepped outside. Eddie watched him go, the world gradually becoming more solid, his thoughts more coherent. ‘Hey,’ he looked back at you, concerned. ‘What’s the matter?’

You sniffed and stifled another tearful laugh. He really didn’t know? ‘Sorry! I was just-! I was so worried that you wouldn’t-!’ Words failed you. They caught in your throat, ‘I was so scared that you’d-!’ Your mouth contorted and you squeezed your eyes closed. If you said it, it was real!

You really could have lost him!

‘Hey!’ Eddie reached for your hands, gripping them as tight as he could, ‘Hey, it’s okay! I’m okay!’

You couldn’t stop crying. It was all so ridiculous! After everything he’d endured! All the pain, the agony, the fear? He’d almost died twice yet he was the one comforting you!

You clung onto his hand with both of yours. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, murmuring words of solace. When that didn’t calm you, he raised your hands to his lips and kissed them gently, hoping to see you smile. It worked. A faint and watery one but a smile nevertheless crossed your face and he gave you one of his own. ‘See?’ he laughed. The sound pulled a faint, half giggle from your chest. ‘I’m fine!’

He teased you between sniffs and tried to wriggle around to offer you a tissue but he was still too weak. Even on deaths door, he was still a gentleman. His uncle had raised him so well. You took one yourself, thanking him anyway and he grinned.

‘I just… I don’t know what I would have done if… if you didn’t make it,’ you mumbled, blowing your nose, ‘Sorry, I’m such a mess!’

Eddie didn’t answer straight away. His eyes were wide and inscrutable. For a second, you worried you’d overstepped but then, he smiled and reached for your hand again. ‘Hey, you and me both, okay? …Colossal messes! Both of us! …Yeah?’

You laughed at the feigned sternness in his expression and nodded, ‘Yeah!’

Your eyes met and held for a moment. If Wayne had been watching, he might have noticed what you were still trying to comprehend. He might have smiled to himself and wondered whether to say anything or let the two of you work it out on your own.

You stayed for almost two hours, never once letting go of his hand. Eddie laughed and joked as much as he could, desperate to keep you smiling, but he was utterly exhausted. Eventually, Wayne stepped back in, informing Eddie he needed to rest now. He didn’t miss the disappointment on both of your faces.

Eddie squeezed your hand again, ‘See you tomorrow?’ he petitioned, his big brown eyes even more doe-like than normal.

Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn’t resist. ‘See you tomorrow!’

Eddie nodded, releasing your hand. Wayne held the door, then stepped out with you into the hall, easing it closed behind him.

You looked away, wiping your eyes on your sleeve, trying not to let him see. He saw anyway. ‘I wanna thank you,’ he said, ‘For looking after my boy. Hell, for looking after both of us!’ He paused. Wayne didn’t often meet people’s eye but he didn’t need to. No one could doubt his sincerity when he said, ‘You’re a real guardian angel, you know that?’

A lump formed in your throat. All you could manage was a grateful nod. It was all he needed. Both Eddie and Wayne seemed to understand in a way that didn’t need words. He patted your arm softly before ducking back into the room.

You stood in the hall feeling more whole than you could ever remember.

***

For a long time after that, you barely left Eddie’s side. He kept insisting he was fine but it had been too close a call. You started sitting in with Wayne too. Eddie was often sleeping and the two of you got to know each other, swapping stories and fussing whenever he stirred.

Wayne was just as good at telling stories as you remembered. It was clear where Eddie got his flare from. With a little help, he remembered who you were,

‘Harry’s little girl?’ a gobsmacked smile spread across his face, ‘Never thought I’d see you again kiddo! Look at you, you’re all grown up! How’ve you been? Tell me everything!’

Eddie would complain he wasn’t getting enough attention but really, he couldn’t be happier. Seeing you get on so well with his uncle gave him so much joy.

You got to know his friends as well. The kids brought back their boardgame and as his strength returned, Eddie started scribbling in notebooks again, working on a small campaign to lead. He tried to explain it to you to no avail but you listened anyway.

‘It sounds amazing Eddie!’ you would smile.

The next week, he returned to his role as Dungeon Master. The kids all came in their matching shirts and brought a pristine new one for Eddie. It was a sight to see, the way his eyes lit up like fireworks and got more than a little dewy. He had to take it easy, careful not to overextend himself but the party looked at him with reverence. You marvelled at his capability for story-telling. If this was him holding back, you’d kill to see him at a hundred percent!

And it didn’t escape your notice that one of his characters bore a striking resemblance to you.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses however. Silver scars marred his skin, mapping him all over. Haunting reminders of the pain he had suffered, the horror he had known stretched across his chest, neck and arms. They would fade in time but nothing would ever make them disappear. Eddie could hardly stand to look at them.

His moods varied from day to day. Alongside his blissful highs, there were devastating lows. He hid them well, especially from his friends, but you and Wayne could always tell when his heart just wasn’t in it. He said it was better when you were there. You’d dread to know what he was like when you weren’t. Too often at night, the monsters would catch up to him and you’d end up with your arms wrapped around him while he sobbed into your chest.

It began to get a little better in late-June, once the doctors decided he was well enough to begin a course of physical therapy. Eddie was desperate to get out of bed. He was antsy. Restless. He babbled non-stop about how he was wasting away and finally, this was his ticket out of here!

It hurt all the more to see his confidence falter when he realised how far he had fallen. Lying in bed for months would have taken its toll on anyone but after two major surgeries! And Eddie had been so weak when he arrived! He could barely put weight on his own two feet anymore.

Everyone rallied around him but the process was excruciating. The exercises were difficult and humiliating. After several weeks, he could only just manage to stand unaided.

‘This is so stupid!’ he yelled, bitter tears stinging his eyes. Desperate for progress, you’d been walking together in the hallway. You’d held tight to his arm, helping him practice for his next session. He’d been doing so well but insisted on trying a few steps on his own. On the third, he stumbled. You shot out your arms and caught him but the damage was done. ‘I’m so stupid! I can’t do it!’

Defeat pervaded his tone, wearing cracks into your heart. You helped him to a seat then knelt in front of him, taking his hands in yours. ‘Yes, you can Eddie!’ His cheeks burned with shame. ‘And you aren’t stupid!’

It was a while before he met your gaze. When he did, he found no condescension, no patronising pity. You didn’t look at him the way others did, the way the doctor did before he tutted and scribbled down yet another failure. In you he saw faith. In you he saw strength. You knew he could beat this. Doubt never darkened your mind. And looking at you, a tiny part of him wanted to believe it too.

‘Come on,’ you said, getting to your feet and extending your hand, ‘Let’s try again!’

And try he did. Over and over and over again. His steps were stilted and unsteady. His legs would shake like a baby deer’s but before long, he was even starting to walk independently.

The first time he crossed the hall on his own, he all but collapsed into your arms, sobbing with triumph. You rejoiced with him, crying just like Wayne did when Eddie told him the next morning. He was doing so well, when you broke the news that you had to go away for a while, his hope didn’t waver

Your mother was still beside herself. She’d been begging you to come home for weeks. It was only the next town over but she seemed to think the small distance would keep you more than safe from the natural disasters and rumoured supernatural sightings in Hawkins. Regretfully, you’d given in. Two weeks visit was promised.

‘Just to put her mind at rest,’ you explained.

Eddie nodded, ‘I get it!’ then he grinned, ‘I can’t wait to show you how much better I’ll be when you get back! I’ll come running down that hall to see you!’

He spoke with such determination you couldn’t help but smile.

Eddie worked harder than ever before over the next two weeks but when they became two more, and then a month and a half, his resolve started to fail him. Wayne never stopped congratulating his dwindling victories but doubts and fears wormed their way into his bones. He started going backwards, stumbling more and more and hating himself every time he did.

At night, he lay awake wondering, Why didn’t you come?

The shadows of night made his thoughts crueller. His mind presented the obvious answer. You’d grown tired of him. It couldn’t be enjoyable, watching him try and fail over and over again. You had your whole future ahead of you; Eddie couldn’t blame you for not wanting to spend it chained to an invalid. He was only holding you down.

‘You knew it would happen eventually!’ a voice hissed in his head, ‘It’s your own fault for getting your hopes up!’

Tears began to run down his face, slipping down his temples and soaking the sheets. All this time he thought he’d been so careful. But he’d let you pry open his heart with your kindness and smiles. How could he have kid himself? That’s all it was! You were just kind! A wonderful, kind person who just wanted to help people.

You had, hadn’t you? You’d helped him more than you could ever know, but how could he have fooled himself into thinking it was more? Even charity had its limits. Eddie had trespassed far beyond them.

He sat up suddenly, trying to ignore the way his head spun. Sitting here was no good. His muscles itched to move. Swinging his feet to the floor, he tested his weight, gripping the edge of the bed with his fingertips before limping to the door.

Outside there was no one. The entire floor was silent, deserted. Nobody saw him.

He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care. Eddie stumbled blindly down corridors; the floor cold against his bare, quivering feet.

Every movement ached. His chest shuddered up and down, hand pressed against the wall to steady himself. ‘One step at a time,’ his thoughts mimicked the words you used to repeat, ‘One foot in front of the other!’

Left… Right… Left…

His foot caught. It all happened so fast, he barely had time to throw his hand out before pain shot through it. He hit the floor, wrist twisting awkwardly and tugging a sharp yelp of discomfort. His knees were grazed and fresh tears sprung like an open floodgate, cascading down his burning cheeks as though they would never stop.

Eddie curled against the wall and cried. He cried until his head hurt and his diaphragm felt like it would split in two. It was hopeless. He’d let himself be convinced that the world wasn’t ending but he was wrong.

The world ended a long time ago. It ended the day he invited Chrissy over to her death. It ended the first time he failed senior year and had to look Wayne in the eye. It ended the day his dad got sent to prison and the day his mom walked out and showed up later that night on the news in a car wreck. There was no going back. Not ever.

‘Eddie?’

He almost laughed. Hallucinating now? Was he that far gone? He was hearing your voice, feeling your arms around him. As if he was ever going to see you again! As if you would want to see him!

‘Oh, my darling, it’s okay! I’m here!’

Why not? Why not live in the dream a little longer? He was so tired, so lonely, and your arms felt so warm. So real!

He sobbed against your jacket while you cradled his head into your shoulder. Funny, he could almost feel your fingers carding through his hair. The sweet nothings you would murmur after every nightmare came flooding back to him, all but audible.

Somewhere in the silence, his cries faded to broken whimpers and he realised you were still there. You hadn’t disappeared like you always did in his dreams. He gripped your arm, feeling soft, genuine flesh. He looked up at you tentatively and mouthed your name over and over like a lucky charm.

You cupped his wet cheek in your hand and he caught his breath, eyes fluttering closed as he clung onto your wrist. You smiled through your own tears, ‘What are you doing out here all on your own?’

Eddie only sniffed, squeezing you tighter, but you didn’t expect an answer. ‘Come on, darling,’ you soothed, ‘It’s ever so late. Let’s go back to bed!’

Without words, you helped him to his feet, letting him lean on you as much as he needed. Worry lined your face but every time he looked at you, you smiled away the concern.

‘What happened, Eddie?’ you asked once he was tucked back in bed. ‘Why were you out there all alone?’

He didn’t look up straight away, staring at the sheets the way he always did when he was too afraid to tell you something. You sat next to him on the bed and gathered his hands in your own, pressing gentle kisses against his skin. He didn’t speak for a while longer but you stayed, waiting until he was ready. Eventually the words came, strangled and small.

‘I was afraid you weren’t coming back!’ he whispered, ‘I thought I’d never see you again!’

Nothing could have prepared you for the knife that slid into your chest. His voice caught on the last syllable, convulsing into sobs again. You reached out and embraced him, drawing his head to rest over the steady thump of your heart and blinking away tears.

‘I’m sorry!’ you fought against the tightness in your throat, ‘I’m so sorry! I should have called! I should have come home sooner!’

Home. You called Hawkins, home.

Your mother had pleaded, guilted, all but threatened you into staying longer. You had relented, but not a moment had passed where you hadn’t thought about the boy you left behind.

His sobs subsided and you helped him lie down to sleep. You folded his blankets around him with meticulous care before stroking his cheek, thumbing away the last few tears. Before you could pull your hand away, he caught it. A frightened look, haunted his eyes.

He didn’t want you to go.

You hesitated before brushing his hair aside and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. ‘Close your eyes,’ you instructed.

He held your gaze a moment, afraid to trust. Afraid to lose, but he obeyed. You shrugged off your jacket, draping it over the chair and slipping off your shoes. He flinched as you lay down on the bed beside him. ‘Is this, okay?’ you asked when his eyes opened in surprise.

With a shaky breath, he nodded and timidly curled his arms around you. You took care not to press on his scars as he eased himself closer. His eyes closed properly this time, tranquillity falling over his features like a curtain. You breathed in his scent, warm and comforting, and hoped he felt as peaceful as you did.

Heaven knows what the nurses would think when they looked in tomorrow morning but it didn’t matter.

For the first time in a month and a half, Eddie Munson slept well.

***

As the months went by, the hospital emptied. Even old Mrs Gillespie’s hypochondria was put to rest and she was sent home. Volunteers were no longer needed but you still spent nearly every second with Eddie. You practically lived at the hospital, leaving only to see your father and sleep.

Eddie found a new kind of determination in the coming weeks. Little by little, the brightness returned to his eyes. For the first time, he really wanted to get well. It was beautiful to witness.

You gave up pushing away the feelings he gave you. ‘Fine!’ you admitted, ‘You liked him! Maybe even loved him!’ You loved being around him, seeing the lines that creased around his mouth and eyes when he laughed, feeling his smiles, warm like summer sunshine. Every moment he was out of your sight, you thought about what it would be like when you saw him again. Would his eyes light up? Would his face fall into a grin? How would it sound when he said your name?

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie wondered the same. He craved your presence, your gaze, your touch. You’d embrace him whenever you had to leave, even for just a second, and every time, he held on just a little longer.

If he hadn’t noticed before, Wayne definitely noticed now. He saw how happy you made his son; how happy he made you. Truly, he thought, you were the best thing that could have happened to them both.

‘…and I got this one when I was 16 with my first pay cheque from the tire shop!’

Eddie’s voice was muffled by the shirt he held above his head, his other hand groping for the inked spider crawling along his collarbone. You giggled just as Wayne walked in.

‘Put your shirt back on, boy!’ he scolded and Eddie jumped, turning red and peering over the hem. Wayne rolled his eyes at you and muttered his apologies. You only smiled. He picked up the bag he’d left behind and closed the door once more.

Eddie began sheepishly pulling his shirt back down but you couldn’t stop your eyes sweeping over the bare skin. The scars were fainter now, wrapping his torso like massive spiderwebs. Eddie hadn’t found it so hard to look in the mirror recently.

‘Like what you see?’ his voice made you look up, a blush rising in your cheeks as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes at him, shooting him an exasperated smile and he laughed.

‘I know I’m skinny right now,’ he said poking his tummy, ‘But it’s all this lying around! I was sculpted like a Greek statue before!’ He nodded earnestly. You burst out laughing. ‘I mean it!’ He looked offended.

Your belly hurt, doubled over as you cackled. Eyes squeezed closed, you felt Eddie begin to chuckle beside you, unable to maintain his poker face any longer.

With tears in your eyes, you looked back at him. ‘You don’t believe me?’ he asked, struggling to look sad against the smirk that tugged at his mouth.

‘I never said that!’ you grinned.

On the eve of November 14th, almost eight months after he’d been admitted, Eddie called you.

‘Hello?’ you asked, slightly breathless having run to the phone.

‘I did it!’

‘Eds?’

‘I did it!’ he cried, ‘The doctor said I’m well enough! I can go home tomorrow!’

Joy exploded into your heart. There was pure, unsaturated excitement in his tone. You could feel him beaming through the phone.

‘Oh Eddie! That’s so wonderful! I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!’ Your eyes welled up, swimming with happiness.

‘I couldn’t have done it without you!’

You shook your head, ‘No, Eddie! This is your victory! You did this all on your own!’

He was quiet a moment; you caught Wayne’s disembodied voice in the background, too muffled to make out the words. Eddie sighed, ‘Uncle Wayne says I have to go to bed!’ he informed with dramatic vexation, ‘Honestly! Everyone’s treating me like a kid again!’

‘He’s probably right!’ you laughed, ‘It’s a big day tomorrow!’

‘See, now you’re against me too!’ he whined, eliciting another giggle from you. He laughed with you, loud and unapologetic. The sound made butterflies whirl around in your chest. ‘Will you come tomorrow?’ he asked, voice suddenly smaller. ‘You know… come and see me off?’ On the other end of the line, Eddie winced. You’d been there all the way through his recovery but he was always afraid to ask you to be. Like this time, it might be too much.

‘Of course I will!’ the answer came with no effort, no hesitation. If he wanted you, you’d be there! His relief was almost tangible. You talked a while longer until Wayne said something again, no doubt pestering Eddie to hang up the phone.

‘I know! I’m coming!’ Eddie shouted back, ‘I’ve gotta go,’ he said into the phone, ‘Promise you’ll be there?’

‘I promise!’

With an elated goodbye, he hung up, making his way to bed and his uncle’s good-natured teasing.

You stayed there. Holding the phone with a delirious smile plastered over your face. He was going home at last!

The moment should have been pure bliss, but a small, niggling voice began to wonder what came next. All of a sudden, things were going to be different. You weren’t going to see him anymore. Visiting Eddie had consumed your every thought and most of your time for the last several months. Was it right to not want things to change?

Of course, you were happy he was going home and you couldn’t forget the circumstanced that allowed you to meet him in the first place. No doubt Eddie would want to put every memory of the hurt and agonising recovery behind him.

You would just be a reminder.

***

The morning dawned exquisite. The sky was clear as ice and amber rays of light burst over the horizon, piercing the cold November air. Tree branches stood bare, etching their intricate patterns against the blue. Any leaves left were brittle and brown; they rustled and skittered about in the light breeze.

Eddie had been up since the crack of dawn, anticipation and excitement flickering beneath his skin like firelight. At last, it was over. All his effort had been worth it. Life was finally about to go back to normal.

The thought made him chuckle. He’d never imagined normality was something he’d long for. He didn’t even know what normal meant. The trailer he’d shared with his uncle since he was seven had been swallowed up in the ‘earthquake’ along with most of their possessions so it wasn’t like he was even going home!

Eddie shuddered at the memory then put it out of his mind.

That was over now. A few months back, his friends had gone up against Vecna with that girl Harrington wouldn’t shut up about. The one with super-powers. They’d fought him and won, closing the gates for good and stitching the town back together.

Wayne had managed to put a down payment on a new apartment. According to him, it wasn’t much more space than they’d shared before but Eddie wasn’t worried. He knew how easily his uncle could turn the bleakest of hovels into a haven. Still, whatever normal meant, it was going to look different than he remembered.

Eddie watched the sunrise, twisting his rings round on his fingers. They’d been returned to him not long after the first surgery but he hadn’t been allowed to wear them. The nurses had a thing about it in case he had to be rushed back into theatre. It felt good to wear them again, like another piece of himself had fallen back into place.

That’s how Wayne found him an hour later, ‘Ready to go Eds?’ he asked.

He didn’t answer straightaway so Wayne continued, ‘The kids dropped by!’

‘Really?’ Eddie’s face lit up.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded, ‘and the band. And Wheeler, Buckley, and what’s-his-name, the Harrington kid!’

Eddie tried to hide how much that revelation touched him but Wayne saw. He always saw.

‘Is she here?’ he asked, so quietly it was barely audible. Hesitantly, Wayne stepped closer, hugging an arm around his shoulders.

‘I haven’t seen her yet,’ he answered, ‘I’m sure she won’t be long!’

Together, they made their way out, closing the door on room 108 for the last time. Eddie insisted he could walk himself and Wayne let him, staying close all the same. Ready to help if he stumbled.

When they reached the lobby, Eddie hardly had time to register the occupants before Dustin bowled him over. The two of them staggered, Dustin’s arms wrapped tight around his middle. For a moment, Eddie’s arms hovered, not used to this level of affection, but soon enough, they settled around the boy, squeezing just as tight.

The other kids weren’t far behind. Mike and Lucas, even little Erica Sinclair had tagged along. Gareth and Jeff were next, having shot to their feet as soon as they saw him. They were hugging him the second Dustin let go. Gareth sniffed back tears. Then came Robin and Nancy, the former in the middle of a relieved spiel of joy the whole time.

Steve hung back at first. He offered a handshake awkwardly, muttering something about, ‘I knew you’d pull through!’

Eddie took his hands but pulled him into a hug so tight, it strained his frail muscles. ‘You saved my life, man!’ he mumbled into Steve’s shoulder, feeling his arms close timidly around him.

When they finally broke, Steve’s face was beet-red, dithering that it was nothing and, ‘You’d have done the same for me!’

Looking around at everyone, Eddie’s face was flushed too, his eyes welling up with tears. Never in his life had he imagined this many people would show up for him. All along, there had only been three or four people he really trusted at one time but here they all were. Smiling and celebrating that he was okay, Erica making a sarcastic but good-natured remark about how stupid he’d been to get himself hurt.

Without his knowledge, his family had grown three times in size. His heart struggled to keep up. All the same, there was something… someone missing.

The group settled in a corner, taking up a third of the space in the waiting room and making the receptionist scowl over his glasses at the noise. They laughed and joked with each other and Eddie tried to join in but he couldn’t stop glancing at his watch.

Wayne laid a hand on his bouncing knee.

‘She’ll be here!’ he said.

‘Dammit!’

A string of obscenities fell from your lips while you kicked your tire in frustration. Your car was dead. It sputtered and coughed but stubbornly refused to start. Your dad had already left for work, there was no one you could call.

Why? Why today?

You slammed the door shut and checked your watch. It was tight but if you ran, maybe you could catch the bus?

It was almost noon. Most of the group had drifted in the direction of the cafeteria, looking for lunch. Only Eddie, Wayne and Lucas remained. Eddie was staring at the clock now. the seconds passed impossibly slow; he never shifted his gaze.

Doubt began to creep in. Just as it was about to seal its icy hold, you burst through the doors in a flurry of haste and autumn leaves. ‘Eddie Munson!’ you panted, barrelling toward the reception desk. Your cheeks were red from cold and exertion. ‘He was getting discharged today! I promised I’d come! My car wouldn’t start and the bus never came so I ran! Please, is he still here? I promised I’d-!’

But the receptionist wasn’t listening. She stared pointedly over your shoulder. You stopped short, turning to follow her gaze. Your eyes met. You caught your breath.

There he stood, barely able to keep from trembling. Eddie’s heart was swollen in his chest, mouth hanging open in the widest smile. You were here! Against all the odds, you were here!

You mouthed his name, still breathless form the race you’d run. Chest heaving. Lungs burning. He took a stilted step forward in the same time you crossed the remaining gap.

‘You came!’ the words were almost whispered. Eddie was so happy he could burst.

‘I promised I would!’ you beamed, ‘I’m sorry it took so long!’

‘I don’t care!’ Eddie insisted, ‘You’re here now!’ he took your hand on instinct then frowned, ‘…Did you run all the way here?’

With peals of laughter, you guided him to a seat. Eddie never let go of your arm. Conversation came as easily as it always had but something felt different. You danced around it but the unspoken reality hung in the air like a pinata. Neither of you wanted to take the first swing.

Somewhere in the midst of discussion, Eddie’s fingers laced with yours. He might as well have entwined them around your heart. Over the last yeah, this boy had burst into your life and weaved his way into your soul. Even if today changed everything, even if you never saw him again, you’d be thinking about him for the rest of your life.

‘Hey, where’d you go?’ he stopped in the middle of a sentence, noticing the faraway mist in your eyes. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Nothing!’ you forced a smile. What else could you say? What else was there? ‘Sorry, I know I’m supposed to be happy for you but I can’t bear the idea of being without you! Please! Please! Please make room in your life for me!’ It was selfish. Unkind!

‘This doesn’t have to be goodbye!’

It was like he read your mind. Eddie squeezed your hand, chasing you for eye contact. What brave, emboldened spirit possessed him, he couldn’t say. ‘I don’t want it to be goodbye!’

You couldn’t meet his gaze, tears welling up in your own. You swiped a hand over your cheeks and hoped he didn’t see. ‘Besides,’ he went on, ‘you said you’d come and see my band play! You promised!’ he drew out the last word in a childish taunt.

A faint smile flitted across your lips at the memory. You sniffed, ‘Still, you won’t be on stage for a while,’ you countered, ‘I know for a fact, Dr Evans has you on bedrest until further notice. No over-exerting yourself!’ A rush of confidence convinced you to venture, ‘How will I know when you’re back?’

Eddie grinned, satisfied he was winning you over. All the pieces were aligning the way he wanted. ‘I’ll give you my number!’ he triumphed, digging around in his pockets for something to write on. He chattered away the whole time, ‘You’ll probably have to call me at least three times a week just in case I make a miraculous recovery out of no-,’ he broke off, slumping suddenly and cursing under his breath. His cheeks turned pink.

‘What?’ the smile that had grown as you watched him, hesitated.

‘I don’t even know where we’re living now!’ he confessed, ‘It took me two years to memorise the number we had! Let alone the new one!’

He looked beaten. He wanted to keep seeing you, you realised. He wanted you in his life! With a smile, you foraged in your bag for a pen and paper, scribbling on a scrap before holding it out to him.

‘There!’

Eddie took it. Your handwriting sprawled across the page, tracing out your dad’s house phone number. ‘You can get your uncle to call me with your new one! Then I’ll call every day if you want!’

Eddie was speechless. He folded it carefully and tucked it in his jacket pocket. Then he frowned again, ‘Why can’t I call you?’ he demanded.

You laughed, ‘Because you’re going to be in bed! Looking after yourself!’

Eddie grumbled indignantly, crossing his arms like a toddler, ‘Well in that case, you’re just gonna have to come over!’

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment, Eddie wondered if he really had overstepped this time.

‘If you want,’ you answered softly.

His eyes searched yours, ‘I do,’ he said eventually, ‘I really do!’

It was harder than you’d thought, seeing him off. The kids swarmed around him while Steve helped him to the car. Eddie’s older friends retreated to their own cars, his band mates nodding a farewell to you, and began to drive off. Surrounded by the people he loved, who loved him more than anything, you’d never seen Eddie happier.

Wayne hung back. He thanked you for the hundredth time for taking care of his boy. You found yourself blinking back tears as the old man expressed his gratitude. ‘I’d do it all over again, Mr Munson!’ you assured. Eventually, he too made his way to the car and together they pulled out of the tiny parking lot.

You watched as they headed downtown. Once they’d rounded a corner, out of sight, you headed back inside. Wayne had offered you a lift home but you politely declined. You had business to take care of. Your mother wasn’t going to be happy when she heard you’d be staying in Hawkins with your father but she’d come around. They said home is where the heart is, and yours was undeniably here.

For the last time, you looked back the way Eddie had gone and, in the chill autumn air, felt the sun warm your face. Today wasn’t an ending, you decided with a smile.

It was a perfect new beginning.

***

Yeah, I originally posted this in two halves, but I decided I liked it better this way! Thank you for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed it! I won't lie, I'm kinda feeling insecure about this one now but I do feel like my high school English teacher would be proud of it!

Please do check out my masterlist for the rest of my work and if you liked this one, please consider reblogging and/or leaving some feedback!

Taglist: @neewtmas, @sadbitchfangirl

Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season four #amber writes #st4

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genshin-impact-writings · 3 years ago

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Could I please request headcanons for Zhongli, Kaeya, and Diluc with an s/o that gets a serious injury during a fight but doesn’t notice it until the adrenaline wears off several hours later once the intensive quest is finished? I need some angst of s/o collapsing into the boy’s arms and them fearing for their lives while the rush to get them help and the fluff of them caring for them in recovery once they wake up 😭🙏🏻💖

Heya, dear anon! Thank you for your request but I'm really sorry that it took me so long to finish this. I hope you're still interested in this and like what I came up with. Take care and stay safe. <3 The HCs for Kaeya and Diluc are under the cut.

Reacting to their s/o getting hurt in battle & taking care of them afterwards (gn!reader)

Zhongli

When it comes to fights and stuff like that, Zhongli is incredibly focused. He pays attention to everything around him, including you, to make sure that nothing goes wrong. He also wouldn’t hesitate to use his powers to shield you from the enemy as soon as he notices that you’re in trouble. However, since you don’t act like you’re injured or anything like that, he assumes that you’re fine throughout the whole battle.

That’s why he’s more than worried when your legs give out and you collapse right into his arms, your clothes drenched in blood. It shocks him to see you like this, especially since both of you assumed that you were fine, and it’s also a painful reminder that you are mortal and not invincible at all.

Zhongli feels really guilty about the whole situation but he tries his best to stay calm and collected because he knows that it won’t help you if he freaks out. The way back to Liyue is horrible nevertheless since the thought of losing you is enough to make his heart ache in a way he never experienced before. If you should die, he’d never forgive himself – after all, he was there when you got injured and he should have protected you.

While the healers take care of you, he refuses to leave your side but he wouldn’t pester the staff with constant questions or advice. He’s worried, yes, but he has faith in their abilities and trusts in them to do everything in their power to keep you alive.

When it comes to your recovery, Zhongli makes sure that you have everything you need and asks you quite frequently how you’re feeling. He stays by your side the entire time, telling you a few stories or just watching you sleep. He won’t reproach you in any way about the incident because he knows that you never planned for something like this to happen, and he thinks that it’s his fault as well since he failed to protect you. With that in mind, he promises himself that he will do everything to prevent something like that happening again.

Kaeya

Kaeya is aware that you are a skilled fighter and don’t need him to protect you. However, he still keeps an eye on you during battles because he feels better when he knows that you’re okay. He never hesitates to rush to your side to help you if you get into trouble, no matter how often you tell him that he doesn’t have to do that.

That’s why he has no idea how it actually happened that you got hurt. Perhaps it was because he was distracted for a second but whatever’s the reason, he feels awful about everything that happened, even though he knows that it’s not his fault in particular. Stuff like that isn’t inevitable, he’s well aware of that, but he hates that it happened while you were with him. He should’ve kept his eyes glued to you throughout the whole battle, he shouldn’t have let anyone hurt you.

Kaeya feels incredibly guilty about the whole situation but as soon as you collapse right into his arms, he can’t think about guilt anymore. Every thought is filled with concern and a nagging fear that you may not survive.

He carries you all the way back to Mondstadt after giving first aid. When it comes to your medical treatment, he insists that only the best healers take care of you. He can be a bit rude in a situation like that but he definitely apologizes afterwards since he only acted like that because he was so worried about you. While he waits for them to finish your treatment, he can’t sit still for a second. His thoughts are racing, no matter how much he tries to calm himself down, and he finds himself wondering how he could go on with his life if you wouldn’t wake up again. He’s on the verge of tears until Barbara finally tells him that you’ll be fine.

During your recovery, Kaeya complies with your every wish. He takes a few days off to keep you company while you have to stay in bed and rest, and he does everything in his power to make you feel better as soon as possible. Also, you’ll notice that he hugs you more often than before since he’s so glad that you’re still alive. He also has to admit that it’s quite nice to spend so much time with you (although he definitely doesn’t want you to get hurt ever again), and sometimes, he even dozes off while he’s lounging around next to you.

Diluc

Most of the time, Diluc refuses to let you accompany him when he’s out to fight the Abyss Order. It’s not that he doesn’t trust in your abilities or thinks that you’re a bad fighter; it’s more because he can focus better when he knows that you’re far away from any trouble or danger. He knows that you would love to help him though, so if you’re persistent enough, he eventually agrees to take you with him from time to time.

He kinda feared that worrying about you would distract him in battle but once he sees you in action and realizes that you can take care of yourself just fine, all of his attention goes back to the mission. That’s why he completely misses the moment in which you get hurt, or else he would’ve been by your side immediately to protect you. He only notices that you’re injured when you’re on your way back to Mondstadt and you pass out because of the blood loss.

He tries very hard not to panic, especially when the memories of his father’s death kick in, and constantly reminds himself that this is not the same situation. You’re not going to die, you’re not going to leave him, not like that. It still takes a toll on him, and he knows that he could never forgive himself if you died. It’s likely that he has to hold back the tears while he rushed back to Mondstadt but he definitely refuses to give in to the urge to cry. He needs to remain level-headed, although he really has trouble with that whenever he looks at you to check if you’re still breathing.

While Barbara and the others treat your wounds, Diluc can’t stop pacing about the room. He knows that you’re in good hands but he’s so worried that he feels like he can’t think straight, no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t care if he loses his reputation of being unfazed by almost everything – all that matters to him is that you survive and don’t hate him for putting your life at risk like that.

Diluc keeps his eyes glued to you during your recovery period. You’re not allowed to do anything as long as you don’t feel better, and whenever he can’t stay at home with you, he asks one of the maids to keep you company and have an eye on you. Most of the time, he tries to rearrange his schedule though, so that he can be with you. He makes sure that you have everything you want and need because he wants you to get better as soon as possible.

#zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #zhongli genshin x reader #kaeya genshin x reader #diluc genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda x reader #oc x reader #avaskian caldwell #j has ocs #re8 village #resident evil: village #hcs

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imagineyourworld · 3 years ago

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Congrats on 100!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Can I possibly get C with the one and only Commander Wolffe?

Thank you! <3

Sure thing, I hope you like it!

Love, Charlie

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Wolffe x Genderneutral!Reader

Warnings:

c. "Don't cry, I'm alright."

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The moment you opened your eyes you knew something bad had happened, though you had no memories of the mission, you just knew it hadn't been pleasant, couldn't have been if it ended up with you in the med bay. “How are you feeling?”, you heard a familiar voice to your right. As your gaze began to focus more and more you recognized your Master sitting beside your bed. You tried your best to smile at him, though you knew it probably looked more like a grimace. “I’ve been better”, you told him truthfully. You knew from experience that lying to Plo Koon never did you any good. He nodded and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It might take a couple of days, but you’ll be fine.” The unspoken words unlike others ran in the air. You had lost a lot of men on that mission, you didn’t need to ask and Plo didn’t need to tell you, you just knew. Though there was one presence you could still sense, though changed. “How is... everyone?”, you asked, managing in the last second not to ask after your fellow Commander directly. But Plo being Plo knew what you really wanted to ask, who you were concerned about just a little more than any of the others. The hand on your shoulder grew heavier, his sadness noticeable even despite his mask. “Wolffe is... he’s awake. He woke up just before you, but he’s not as well as you are, no Jedi reflexes to save him.” His words were both comforting and alarming. Wolffe was alive, but he was hurt and... No, you stopped yourself from thinking about the worst, about all the clones who had died from their injuries, and the ones who survived only to be send back to Kamino when the medical staff realized they were no longer fit to serve. “Can I see him?” Your Master sighed. He didn’t like the idea of you leaving your bed so soon after waking up, but he also knew that now that both of you were awake there was no sense in trying to keep you and Wolffe apart, you’d find your way to each other sooner rather than later. “Go ahead. He’s in the other room, two doors to the left.” Plo had barely managed to finish his sentence before you all but jumped from your bed and made your way to the door. Only in the hallway did you realize that you were still weaker than you’d have liked, your legs barely carried you, you were dizzy and the pounding in your head wouldn’t stop. But no matter how bad you felt, you had to see Wolffe, even if you’d have to crawl the rest of the way. And see him you did. It felt like an eternity until you finally sat down on his bed, not bothering to pull up a chair and instead sitting right beside him on the small mattress. At first you thought Wolffe was asleep, his head was buried halfway in the pillow, the one eye you could see was closed and his breaths were deep and even. Only when he spoke up did you realize he was actually wide awake. “How did you convince the General to let you visit?” You blinked a few times, your brain was still not as fast as it usually was and it took you a few moments to really register his words. “You know”, you said, a bit of humour finally returning to your voice. “I always found that with Master Plo asking nicely works best.” Wolffe mumbled something you couldn’t understand while you lifted his blanket to lay down next to him. Once you were comfortable you put your arm around his waist and intertwined your legs. It was rare that the two of you were in this position, usually Wolffe prefered to be the big spoon, but for once he didn’t argue. “How are you feeling, cyare?”, he asked instead. You shrugged and snuggled even closer to him until you face was buried in the back of Wolffe’s neck. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse. All in all I can’t complain. I’m just glad you’re alright.” All of the sudden you remembered what your Master had told you earlier. “Are are alright, aren’t you?” When Wolffe didn’t answer for a while you thought he never would. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d ignore your question and ice you out. Wolffe wasn’t the best at communicating, especially when it came to his feelings and even more when admitting to his own weaknesses. But finally he did answer. “I’m not the same as I was. I never will be again.” You understood, or at least you thought you did. Losing that many brothers couldn’t be easy, especially on someone who cared so much and was so hard on himself as Wolffe. “I know it’s hard, it hurts and it’ll hurt for quite some time, but we won’t forget any of them, their sacrifice. Maybe we can hold a memorial once both of us are released from the med bay?” Wolffe sighed. You didn’t know. How could you know? After all, he had avoided telling you so far. “That’s a nice idea, but it’s not what I meant.” You could instantly tell that something was wrong, really wrong. Wolffe didn’t sound like himself, he sounded like the little boy he had never been allowed to be, scared and alone. Abruptly you sat up straight, though Wolffe didn’t move. You cupped his cheek, the one turned to you, in your hand and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Only then did you notice something on his face you hadn’t seen before. It was a stark white fabric, pressed against the white cotton of the pillow. “Wollfe, did something happen to your eye? Don’t worry, we’ll get it fixed. I’ll get you to the Jedi temple, they can fix any injury.” You leaned your forehead against his, hoping the familiar action would help him remember himself and finally turn to face you. And he did, though it took a while. “(Y/N), it’s not something they can fix, it’s not an injury. My eye...” There was no need for Wolffe to finish his sentence, you could see the space where the bandage clung to the empty socket where his eye should be and no longer was. Tears welled up in your own eyes, which a voice in your head told you was ridiculous, after all Wolffe was here and he was alive, there was no reason to cry over something that couldn’t be fixed. At least your tears seemed to remind Wolffe of who he was, someone who might not be in touch with his own emotions, but who hated to see his cyare cry. Instantly he placed his hand on your cheek, just as you had done earlier, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture brought a weak smile to your face, but the tears continued to run down your cheeks. “Don’t cry, cyare, I’m alright. I was luck, General Koon stood up for me and got me treatment, usually an injury like this would have gotten me decommissioned.” Though your vision was still blurry due to tears you managed to connect your fist with Wolffe’s arm in a harmless attack. The tears finally ceased as you leaned against him, now exhausted and just wanting to be close to the man you had almost lost. “We’re both alright, everything’s going to be fine”, Wolffe told you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer. You breathed in his familiar scent and tried your best to believe him, to focus on the future the two of you had nearly lost and, even if just for a moment, to forget the horrible events that had lead to the two of you hanging onto each other for dear life atop a bed in the med bay.

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The thousandth hurt/comfort fic of Wolffe losing his eye, but it never gets old (at least not for me). I hope you enjoyed it!

#wolffe x you #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x y/n #wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe imagine #wolffe imagine

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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When the Chips are Down

part 14

masterlist

Happy Mother’s Day, my darlings!--- Chaotic puff

It had been an incredibly bad day for Namjoon. Taehyung had been stabbed. Iyla had run away, and he had an increasingly irritable, very pregnant wife at home that was going to crucify him if anything happened to her little sister. Taehyung would be fine, and Iyla would be apprehended and brought back home, but neither of those things were going to mollify his wife. Y/N was nothing if not protective when it came to her little sister.

All in all, he was very close to snapping and shooting someone out of sheer spite when his phone rang again, the caller ID informing him it was Jungkook. His blood ran cold. Jungkook was the one keeping an eye on Y/N, and he knew better than to call when Namjoon was busy with something as important as this unless it was something of equal or greater importance.

“What happened?” he demanded, answering his phone earning himself a concerned look from Hoseok. There was a jumbled and panicked stream of words from Jungkook, but Namjoon picked out the important bits, Y/N and baby. Y/N was having the baby. “I’ll be right there.” he promised, cursing under his breath. “Call Jin and have him get everything together. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, eyeing the other man warily. It was unusual to see Namjoon looking so shocked.

“Y/N’s in labor.”

---

Jungkook was in a frenzy. He knew nothing about babies let alone birthing babies, and seeing Y/N in pain was making him nauseous. Luckily, Miss In and the maids seemed to know exactly what to do. They’d lept into action as soon as he’d told them what was happening. Miss In made a phone call to Jin who apparently would assemble the medical staff, and the maid, Miran or at least that’s what he thought Y/N had called her, ushered both him and Y/N to the back of the house where a birthing suite had been prepared for just this occasion.

He’d been swiftly kicked out of the room so that Miran could get Y/N into the delivery gown which gave him time to call his hyung and tell him what was happening. Namjoon had already had a stressful day, but there was no way he would want to be away from Y/N while she was in labor.

“It’s going to be okay, noona.” he smiled shakily, watching her pace back and forth with her hands braced against her lower back. “Hyung is going to be home soon.”

“Did they find Iyla?” she asked, looking at him briefly as she turned in her pacing.

The younger man flushed knowing full well he didn’t have an answer for her let alone the answer she wanted. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to kill him.” she hissed bracing herself against the bed as she was hit with a contraction.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I’m going to kill him.” she repeated with a groan as she began pacing again.

Jungkook smiled. At least her fighting spirit was still burning brightly, and soon enough he’d have a little niece to play with, one who was hopefully less grumpy than Yoongi’s baby. Yoonho tended to get fussy when anyone other than his parents held him which was a huge deterrent when trying to be an uncle especially to a bunch of men who didn’t have a whole lot of experience with kids. But if this little girl was anything like her mother, they were going to get along famously.

“Do you know what you’re going to call her?” he asked as she turned to cross the room again.

“I have a few ideas, but I’m waiting to see her before I pick one.” she smiled softly. “I could take one look at her and decide I don’t like any of the names I picked out.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle!”

“Probably.” she nodded. There were five other options, but Jungkook was like her little brother. It felt natural to think of Jungkook being the favorite uncle. “Just don’t get her into too much trouble okay?”

“No promises.” his nose scrunched up in a mischievous grin just as Namjoon came barreling into the room looking every bit the frazzled father to be.

---

Namjoon had never been more exhausted or excited in his life. It had already been a long stressful day between Taehyung’s stabbing and Iyla’s attempt to escape, but their baby was finally on the way. But even with all the excitement, there was lingering worry as well. Even with all the medical personnel wandering about and Jin’s reassurances that everything was fine, he couldn’t stop the panic that shot through him every time Y/N hissed in pain. Logically, he knew that child birth was painful, but he hated to see her in pain, and it only seemed to get worse the longer her labor progressed.

It had been a long labor, nearly twenty hours and still going. Jin assured him that since it was her first time, a prolonged labor wasn’t unusual, but that didn’t make it any less worrying. Ever since he’d brought her home, she’d shied away from his touch as much as possible, but twenty hours in and she was exhausted and slumped against his chest, her hair mussed and a little sweaty.

“How many centimeters?” She whimpered looking up at him pleadingly.

“Still five, jagiya.” He whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead and bracing them both as she was hit with another contraction. They weren’t regular yet, and the nurses said they weren’t very strong yet either, but to Y/N and Namjoon they seemed horrible. He was sure that both of his hands were going to be bruised by the end of this, but his pain was nothing compared to hers.

He had thought that the baby would be here by now, but she’d progressed slowly and had been stalled at five centimeters for what seemed like ages.

“It can’t still be five.” She groaned leaning further back into his chest. “It was five an hour ago, and the hour before that.”

“I know, jagi. I’m sorry. Just a little longer.” He promised shifting them back so that they were a little more reclined on the hospital bed. “Try to get some rest, jagi.”

“This is your fault.” She hissed.

“I know, jagi.” He cooed soothingly. This wasn’t the first time she’d said it. “Get some rest.”

“I can’t.” She groaned, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I know you’re not feeling great now, but just think, we’ll have our baby soon.”

She groaned again, rubbing a hand across her belly. “No. She’s never coming out. She hates me.”

“Our baby doesn’t hate you.” He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “She’s just taking her time.”

“Tell her to hurry up.” She grumbled shifting again as she couldn’t get comfortable.

“I’ll try.”

Rest had been a rarity throughout the ordeal. Y/N was in constant discomfort, and Namjoon was at a loss of how to help.

Namjoon didn’t move an inch until Y/N had drifted into a fitful slumber. He eased her back onto the pillows and got up to stretch and to get himself some coffee. This was going to go on for a while yet if her earlier progress was anything to go by.

“Jin,” He sighed walking over to where his friend was also grabbing some caffeine. “Is it supposed to take this long?”

“She’s stalled. First time labor can take a while, but it’s going to be a long one even for a first time mother.” He sighed giving his friend a tired smile. “I should have known your kid would be difficult.” Jin teased lightly bumping Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Not for the moment.” Jin shook his head tiredly. “She and the baby are fine, just tired, and she’s still in latent labor. The best we can do is keep her comfortable and hope things get moving soon. If she or the baby is in distress, we’ll intervene. Is she sleeping?”

“For now.” Namjoon sighed flopping down into a chair exhausted. It had been a long day.

“You should get some rest too.” Namjoon was going to argue, but Jin cut him off. “You’re no good to her if you’re dead on your feet. I’ll have them set up a cot for you in her room.” Jin cut him off again as he was about to open his mouth. “Don’t you dare interrupt her rest. She needs every minute she can get. You’ll take the cot.”

“But…”

“She’ll be three feet away. Take the cot, or I’ll send you up to your room.” he threatened.

Y/N had never been more exhausted in her entire life. She was tired. She was cranky, and she didn’t have the one person she actually wanted with her. It didn’t help that the labor seemed to stretch on for eons. The gynecologist, a kind if not stern woman that she wanted nothing more than to rip the throat out of, assured her that things would start moving again soon, but she said that every time she came to check in. The labor and delivery nurses that had been summoned were far more honest. They explained that first time moms could be in labor for sixteen to twenty hours, but it had been twenty hours, and she still wasn’t even close to having her baby in her arms.

The epidural helped, but contractions still hurt. Everything ached really, and she had to grudgingly admit that even if he wasn’t who she wanted with her, Namjoon was a fairly good birth partner. He put up with her whining and crushing his hands. He fetched ice chips and rubbed her shoulders. Namjoon had held her hand and kept her calm when they’d given her the partial epidural. She was fine with needles usually, but there was something about a needle that large being inserted into her spine that made her extremely nervous.

Miss In had been more than ready to usher her away to a birth suite that had been prepared in the depths of the mansion that she hadn’t even known about. Namjoon had been summoned home in a panic and immediately brought to her side in the suite. It had to be the nicest hospital type room she had ever been in, and she had been studying to be a nurse before Namjoon had thrown her life off course. She did clinicals though, and they never brought her to the VIP wing of the hospital. The hospital she did clinicals at wasn’t even fancy enough to have a VIP wing.

Namjoon’s position had its advantages. It was nice to have such a comfortable room when she was in so much discomfort. There were even real pillows instead of the thin pathetic ones that normally occupied hospital rooms, and normal pillows were so much more comfortable. Even the hospital gown she’d been forced into was more comfortable than the normal ones. It was made of a soft material that didn’t irritate her skin and allowed her to keep her modesty even though there were monitors hooked up to her belly. Every comfort was appreciated when labor stretched on so long.

It took another thirteen horrible hours for Y/N to be fully dilated, and as much as both she and Namjoon hoped that it would all be over after thirty-three hours of labor, but their baby was a stubborn one who was refusing to drop so that Y/N could finally start pushing. If Namjoon had thought the last thirty-three hours were bad, he had another thing coming.

By the time the baby was crowning, another three long painful hours had passed, and both parents were exhausted.

There had been screaming, crying, cursing. Y/N had threatened his life at more than one point. He couldn’t blame her for that after the labor she’d been through. No one could blame her.

“You have to push, jagi.” Namjoon encouraged holding his poor exhausted wife up as the doctors waited for the next contraction to come.

“I want Mark.” she sobbed, exhausted and sweaty against his chest.

“I know, jagi.” he whispered, soothingly even though the words cut him like a knife.

“Where is he?” she whimpered. “He promised.”

He hated seeing her in so much distress, and he knew he couldn’t blame her for anything she said right now. She was in so much pain and exhausted, but he hated hearing her call out for another man. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

“You’re alright, jagi. I’m right here.” he winced slightly as she squeezed his hands. “You’re doing so well.”

“I’m so tired.” She slurred, her head lolled back against his shoulder.

“I know, jagi, but the baby’s almost here.” He cooed feeling her tense up again as the next contraction hit.

Namjoon did his part keeping her braced as she did the real work hunching forward with a scream as the next contraction ripped through her. There was nothing else he could do for her at the moment.

“And we have the head.” The OB, Dr. Yang if Namjoon remembered correctly but there were a lot of doctors milling around, announced cheerily seemingly unaffected by his wife’s pain.

“Almost done.” He hushed as Y/N flopped back against him again. “Just a little more.” He promised even though he didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried that she was no longer screaming profanities at him. There had been a solid two hours of that once the contractions had gotten bad. Even with the partial epidural, she’d been in a great amount of pain.

A few more pushes and their baby was born. A strong little warbling cry filled the room much to the relief of both parents.

“Congratulations!” The doctor beamed showing them the red scrunched up face of their baby. “You have a healthy little girl.”

“She’s beautiful.” She sighed smiling through her exhaustion as she stared at the face of her little girl.

“What should we call her?” Namjoon asked, running a gentle hand up and down her arms.

“Nara. Her name is Nara.” Y/N smiled tiredly.

“We need to check her over, and we still have the placenta to deliver. We’ll bring her right back though. Okay, mom?” The doctor smiled, looking incredibly relieved that the ordeal that had been this delivery was almost over.

Y/N whined reaching out shakily for the baby as she was whisked away from her, but one of the nurses urged her to stay in bed. Even Namjoon knew she was too weak to get up quite yet. She looked like she was going to pass out from exhaustion at any moment.

“Don’t worry, jagi.” Namjoon shushed, gently shifting out from behind her settling her gently against the pillows. “I’ll go with her. I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

Namjoon was more than a little curious to take a better look at his daughter. He had hoped for a boy, an heir, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be disappointed. He had a little princess. After thirty-seven hours of waiting, he had Nara. His Nara.

The doctor checked her over and cleaned her up before handing him the little girl. He was amazed as he stared down at her. She stared up at him with dark eyes, and the tiniest bit of hair stuck out from under the little hat the doctor had put her in, and she was the most perfect thing that Namjoon had ever seen, tiny and perfect and his. Namjoon was half convinced that he was going to break her if he moved to quickly or shifted the wrong way, but there was something indescribable about having this tiny perfect being in his arms and knowing she was his that he had helped make her even if it came with the crippling fear of dropping her.

Namjoon knew immediately that he would do anything for her. She’d have nothing but the best, and nothing would ever harm her. She’d be the most spoiled little girl there ever was just as it should be for his little princess.

“Y/N?” He heard Jin’s panicked voice from across the room. “Y/N!”

Namjoon immediately whipped around searching for Y/N among the doctors and nurses that were now buzzing around her bed.

“Jagi?” He asked, approaching her bed and seeing a concerning amount of red on the sheets before Jin ushered him away. “Y/N?” He called again more frantically as he struggled as much as he could against Jin while he had Nara in his arms. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her?” he demanded as Jin pushed him further back.

“She’s bleeding... a lot.” Jin explained in a rush. “She tore, and it looks like she might be hemorrhaging.”

“Hemorrhaging?” Namjoon panicked once more trying to move forward to get back to her side.

“We’re going to do all we can, but we can’t work with you hovering over us. Besides, you have the baby to think of.”

“But…”

“I will tell you as soon as I have something to tell you, but you need to let us work.” Jin urged casting a concerned glance back at the bed. “Take Nara outside. I’ll tell you more when I know more.”

“Jin...”

“We’re prepared. We have blood ready to transfuse, and the equipment we need. If things get bad we’ll move her to the clinic.” he promised.

“She can’t die, hyung. I just got her back.” Namjoon growled, staring at the doctors buzzing around her. “She can’t. I need her. The baby needs her.”

“She won’t.” Jin assured even though there was a grim set to his mouth that told Namjoon that the situation wasn’t good despite his assurances.

“I can’t… I can’t lose her.”

“Go. Take care of your daughter. We’ll take care of Y/N.” Jin pushed him out the door only for them both to freeze as the sound of one long drawn out ‘beeeeeep’ filled the room.

part 15

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hualianff · 3 years ago

Text

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #xie lian #hua cheng #human xie lian #vampire hua cheng #sorry it's rushed

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tiramisiyu · 3 years ago

Text

Tears of Themis: Main Story Inspection Chapter - Conclusion [6]

Translation Masterlist | Video 1:32:25 - 1:39:18

Inspection Chapter - Eve of the Voyage: Intro / With Marius / With Artem / With Luke / With Vyn / Conclusion

Bonus: a timeline of everything relevant that’s happened in the Themis main plot so far!

✼ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✼

⊳ To: Long Beach ⊳ NXX Base ⊳ Observe

After a sleepless night, I rushed to the NXX base after I woke - but it seemed like others had gotten there before me.

⊳ Luke ⊳ Information Aggregation

MC: Everyone’s here?! Sorry, I… I got here late.

Luke: Don’t worry, we’re all just too early.

Artem: That’s right, your timing was perfect.

Vyn: …

Marius: Alright, the chitchat stops here. Let’s get to our discussion.

MC: Yep! So, who’s starting?

Marius: I’ll go.

Marius cleared his throat.

Marius: We visited Hang Jiahe at the detention centre. She provided us with lots of information, the most important of which had to do with Opaline Laboratory.

Luke: That lab that I broke into? What’s up with it?

Marius: According to Hang Jiahe, Opaline Laboratory was built in 2027 to develop longevity medicine. Every other quarter, he would board a ship called “Journey” for materials purchasing and personnel acquisition. The laboratory was closed for the first half of this year, then was restarted to develop special anti-cancer medication for Tyson. Though everyone knows what happened after – that fire burned that lab down to ashes.

Artem: Did Hang Jiahe tell you about what happened within the laboratory?

Marius: The lab was directed by Tyson, so aside from him and the lab people, no one knows what happened inside exactly. Same for the Heirson medical centre – information is kept on strict lockdown.

MC: So if we want more information about these two aspects, the most direct way is to find someone on the “inside”.

Luke: Xiao Ren just might be a suitable person when it comes to Opaline Laboratory. We found the tracing records of the Opaline Laboratory samples in Xiao Ren’s house. As that’s not information that anyone can get their hands on, it’s highly likely that he’s an internal staff member in the lab.

Marius: Awesome, that’s one target confirmed.

Artem: We found Zhao Fei in South Stellis and obtained what Simon gave him. As we had guessed, Tyson mixed the toxic substances into three specific production lines. I have looked into the staff where the abnormalities occurred and the involved people in the cases we have handled, and all of them have come into contact with these three production lines. According to Simon and Zhao Fei, the effects of these illegal substances are much like NXX. I have already sent the leftover samples to a professional detection agency for evaluation, and will contact everyone regarding any information when it comes.

Vyn: Luke, how has the investigation on Xiao Ren been?

Luke: As I thought, he’s an unregistered resident. He also has a non-blood-related sister named Xiao Qing, who…

Luke looked at Vyn.

Vyn: Yes, she is that special patient Xiao Qing. Additionally, it seems that Xiao Qing is currently under her nursing assistant’s monitoring… For unknown reasons, she is unwilling or unable to bring up the relationship between her and Xiao Ren. Aside from that, Artem may have been right about Xiao Qing’s illness.

Artem: !!!

Marius: If so, how did she come into contact with NXX?

Luke: Because of Xiao Ren, maybe? I found research notes on NXX in his house.

MC: But it doesn’t seem like the two siblings have a bad relationship… I have no idea why Xiao Ren would have Xiao Qing come into contact with NXX.

Luke: Yes, so we need to ask Xiao Ren about this. Someone who knows him says that he’s changed a lot, into a much gloomier person… I suspect that something happened to him.

MC: So it seems like our most urgent task is to find Xiao Ren.

Artem: Luke, have you found out about Xiao Ren’s last actions?

Luke: Yes, he last appeared in Stellis on the day that the bartender saw him. He then boarded the “Journey” cruise ship with that ticket.

Vyn: !!!

Vyn: …

Marius: “Journey”? The ship that Tyson went on?

Luke: They say that if you board that ship, you’ll get anything that your heart desires.

Marius: That cryptic, huh?

Luke: Yeah, seriously cryptic. After all, this is the ship where Tyson made his purchases and did his “personnel acquisition”.

Marius: So… we kind of have to check out that “Journey” ship next, right?

Luke: Yeah, what’s up? Don’t wanna go?

Marius: [laughs] …

Marius suddenly faced me.

Marius: Jiejie, do you want to try out the luxurious cruise ship experience with me?

MC: ???

But before I could respond, Luke immediately spoke to Marius.

Luke: Jeez, Marius, you have so much stuff to deal with all day as Pax’s CEO, so I seriously doubt that you have time for some cruise ship trip. So MC, if you want to go, I’ll accompany you. I’ll definitely protect you well.

MC: Uh…

Artem: I haven’t used my vacation days this year. If you want, I can also go with you.

Artem followed up right after Luke.

Artem: I promised you before that I’d accompany you to do things you want to do. I feel that this is a good chance…

MC: Uh… no�� before that…

How did we even end up talking about this?

Vyn: Unfortunately, aside from me, I’m afraid that no one else will be able to board “Journey” with her.

MC: ???

Artem: …

Luke: …

Marius: What do you mean, Vyn?

Vyn: As a top-tier cruise ship, the “Journey” has an unwritten rule – only those who have received an invitation may board. And I…

Vyn took out a gold-lined envelope from his pocket, setting it on the centre of the table.

Vyn: Have already received an invitation.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #tot spoilers #luke pearce #artem wing #vyn richter #marius von hagen #xia yan #zuo ran #mo yi #lu jinghe #this rounds winner: mo yi

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years ago

Text

Heart of a Hero

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Tommy Vega, Nancy Gillian, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes

Rating: T

Warnings: Mass shooting incident

Notes: A million thanks as always to @bluenet13 who beta read the heck out of this and listens to all my writing woes.

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo prompt “Ambulance Ride.”

Read on Ao3

It was his day off. It was his goddamn day off. But apparently crime didn’t take days off or respect the fact that he was just trying to run errands like a normal human being. Something that should have been a safe activity for everyone. Not a terrifying, violent event.

Carlos had been in the vegetable aisle when he’d heard the distinctive popping of gunfire. He’d dropped the mango in his hands, instinctively reaching for his duty weapon, despite the fact that he didn’t carry it on his days off. It had taken him only seconds to assess the situation, to realize the shots were coming from outside the store rather than inside, and to start running toward them. “Get to the back of the store!” he yelled to panicked customers and staff as he moved past them toward the doors. “Find somewhere to lock yourselves in and call 911!”

He stopped momentarily to help up a woman who had fallen to the ground, pushing her in the direction everyone else was fleeing as another round of shots sounded and the glass windows at the front of the shop shattered, causing everyone nearby to scream in terror.

Carlos paused at the front doors, trying to assess where the shots were coming from before exiting to the sidewalk outside. He could see people running, what looked like a body on the ground, but no sign of the shooter. Or shooters. There had been an awful lot of gunfire for it to be only one person.

There was a flash and more popping and Carlos caught a glimpse of someone in a black or dark blue hoodie running toward the building before ducking behind a mailbox for cover.

Running out into an active shooter situation unarmed seemed incredibly stupid, but there were still a lot of bystanders around and Carlos needed to do what he could to stop further casualties.

He crouched low, pulling the door open just enough to let himself out and moved quickly toward the fallen person on the sidewalk. The man let out a groan as Carlos got close and he felt a brief wave of relief that the man was alive. “Help me,” he said, breathing hard, eyes wild with fright.

“I’ve got you,” Carlos said, looking up and around for either shooter, but they seemed to have disappeared for the moment. “What’s your name?”

“Danny,” the man said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Danny where are you hurt?”

“My leg,” he said, in obvious pain. “I was running and I tripped. I think I broke my ankle.”

Another wave of relief. Broken ankles were an easy fix compared to gunshot wounds. “We need to get you somewhere safe,” Carlos said. “I want you to put your arm around my shoulders, I’m going to help you get behind that table over there. It’s probably going to hurt, but I need you to stay as quiet as you can, all right?”

The man nodded and Carlos wasted no time in putting an arm under his shoulder and moving immediately toward the table a few feet away just as the assailant reappeared, apparently having reloaded a fresh round of ammunition.

Carlos dragged Danny the last few feet, hunching over as more glass shattered nearby. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Danny gasped.

“Stay down!” Carlos ordered, putting as much of his body over him as he could.

And that was when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The door to the grocery store opened and another man stepped out, looking up and down the street.

“No! Get back inside!” Carlos yelled.

He was on his feet and moving before he even thought, gunfire ringing in his ears as he tackled the man to the ground, both of them grunting in pain as they hit the concrete.

There was a squeal of tires and Carlos looked up to see the man in the dark sweatshirt jump into the back of a jeep, slamming the door shut as the driver hit the gas.

He was just able to make out the first three digits of the license plate before it turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

“Are you all right?” he asked the man underneath him, still breathing hard.

The man let out a moan. “He shot me.”

Sure enough there was blood seeping from a wound on the man’s arm. “Okay, deep breaths,” Carlos said, sitting up and reaching for his phone with one hand while the other clamped down firmly on the man’s arm, ignoring the pained swear words coming from his mouth.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“This is Officer Carlos Reyes, badge number 1-3-0-8. I am at the Machado Family Market on Ninth Street and we have a mass shooting situation. The suspect fled in a white jump, first three license plate digits 6-3-1. I have two known victims both male. Victim one is in his early thirties and appears to be suffering from a broken ankle. Victim two has been shot in the arm. Requesting immediate police and medical assistance,” Carlos barked as he grabbed a wad of napkins from a nearby table and pressed them against the man’s arm.

“Officer Reyes I am dispatching all available police units in your area and rolling medical,” the dispatcher told him calmly. “Do you need me to walk you through what to do with a bullet wound?”

“No I’ve got it,” Carlos said as he tried to stop the bleeding. He looked down at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Ian,” the man said with a grimace. “How bad is it?”

“Just stay still and keep taking deep breaths,” Carlos said. “We have ambulances on the way and they’re going to take good care of you.”

It didn’t look that bad to him, the bleeding seemed to be slowing, but he wasn’t a medical professional and he wasn’t going to make any promises. “How you doing over there, Danny?” he called over his shoulder to the first man.

“I’m all right,” he called back.

“Just try and be still okay? The less you move the less damage you’ll do,” Carlos called back.

It felt like an eternity before sirens split the air around them. People had started emerging from the store. A woman who said she was a nurse had gone to take a look at Danny’s ankle while others sort of walked slowly through the debris in a state of shock.

“Reyes?”

Carlos looked up to find a colleague, Matthew Cruz looking down at him. “You just have to be in the middle of the action at all times huh?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Carlos said, managing a half smile.

“You need help?”

“I think I’ve got him for now. If you can just send medical over as soon as possible that would be great.”

“On it,” Cruz said, keying his radio as he and the rest of the officers worked to clear the scene so medical could come in. “Any idea what happened?”

“It was one person,” Carlos said. “Dark hoodie, medium build. I got a partial plate when they fled the scene.”

“Yeah they picked up the Jeep’s tail a minute ago. Nice work.”

Carlos nodded.

Within minutes the scene was cleared and medical swarmed the area. A paramedic that Carlos didn’t know ran over and knelt beside him. “Need some help over here?” he asked.

“This is Ian,” Carlos told him. “Single gunshot wound to the arm. Bleeding was under control until a minute ago but I think the bullet might have moved and hit an artery.”

Blood had begun gushing through his fingers in the last few seconds and Carlos felt panicky at his inability to do more.

“Okay I’m going to put my hands over yours and you are going to slide out, got it?” the medic asked.

Carlos gave an affirmative and they switched places as another medic came over and joined them. “You take care Ian,” Carlos said.

“Thank you,” Ian told him, his face pale and sweaty.

Carlos got to his feet, surprised at how shaky and nauseated he felt. This type of scene wasn’t new for him, but he’d never been out of uniform during a crisis of this kind before and it was getting to him more than he would have expected.

“Carlos?” He heard T.K.’s horrified voice before he saw him and his heart sank. His boyfriend was going to be beyond upset.

“Oh my god! Are you all right?” T.K. moved toward him eyes wide, a bag slung over his shoulder with Nancy right behind him, looking equally concerned.

“I’m fine,” Carlos assured them. “A little shaken up, but fine.”

“There’s blood all over your hands,” Nancy said.

Carlos shook his head. “It’s not mine. There was a man who was shot, somebody from the 130 has him.”

“Hey! We need some help over here!” An officer beckoned the medics toward a woman who was bleeding from the head.

T.K. looked back at Carlos who waved him off. “Go help everyone else. I’m all right, I promise.”

They didn’t look convinced. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” T.K. asked.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Carlos assured him as they moved to help the woman in need.

He was vaguely aware of T.K. calling out vitals, Nancy rushing past him to grab something else off the ambulance as he wiped his arm across the back of his forehead, sweaty despite the fact that he was beginning to feel cold. The adrenaline that had fueled his heroics was wearing off fast and he knew he should probably sit down before his knees gave out, but he couldn’t quite figure out where to go.

Another team had already packed up the man with the broken ankle and Carlos gave him a nod as he rolled by. He could sense T.K.’s eyes darting back and forth from him to his patient, but he ignored his boyfriend. He was fine and T.K. needed to focus on his job.

He sucked in a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, swallowing hard as the nausea in his stomach swelled.

“Carlos, are you okay?”

He had spotted Tommy speaking to the incident commander a moment ago, but apparently she’d finished and was now standing in front of him with a worried look on her face. “Did someone examine you?”

Carlos shook his head. “No, I’m fine. What’s the situation? How many casualties?”

“Several injuries, mostly minor from broken glass or trip and falls. One gunshot victim so far.” She looked him up and down and he could see that she wasn’t going to let him go. “You look like you’ve been through it; why don’t you let me check you out?”

“I should go see if I can help—“

“Carlos, you are not on duty right now,” Tommy said, guiding him to a nearby chair, her fingers settling on his wrist to take his pulse. “Do you have any pain?”

“Not really,” Carlos said, feeling extremely tired now that he was finally sitting. “I’m kind of nauseous. Shaky.”

Tommy hummed in sympathy. “That could be the adrenaline. All this blood is another victim’s?” she asked, looking at his hands.

“I think the bullet may have found an artery,” he said, by way of explanation. “I was on him pretty fast but I don’t know if it was enough.”

Her hands ran up and down his arms as he spoke, searching for injuries. “You did everything you could,” she said.

Her hands moved across his chest, down his torso and then she stilled. “Nancy?” she called without taking her eyes off of Carlos.

Nancy looked up from where she was bandaging a cut on a woman’s forearm. “Yeah Cap?”

“Can you go get me a fresh kit and some oxygen from the rig?” Tommy’s voice was calm. Too calm. Carlos felt his heart begin to beat faster.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Carlos I want you to listen to me and stay calm,” Tommy said, her voice smooth and gentle. “You’ve been shot.”

Panic jolted through him. “What? No I—I’m fine.”

“We’re going to get you on the ground all right? Easy does it.” She put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his left side, sliding him easily off the chair and onto the sidewalk even as his confused brain tried to catch up. He couldn’t be shot. He would have felt it. He would know if he’d been shot.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said, noticing now that his voice was shaking and he felt even colder than before.

“That’s probably the adrenaline,” Tommy said. “You’re out here being a hero and saving everybody without even taking care of yourself.”

Nancy reappeared and her eyes widened in horror as Tommy cut up Carlos’ shirt and exposed his abdomen. “Nancy, go get T.K.”

“Cap…”

“Go quickly please,” Tommy said and now Carlos heard the sharp edge of urgency in her voice. “Here we go Carlos, take some deep breaths for me okay? This might hurt.”

Oh! Carlos choked back a cry as she put pressure on his right side. A lot of pressure. Pressure that sent all the agony he hadn’t been feeling burning through his body. He tried to arch his back and move away from her, but either he was weak from blood loss or she was stronger than she looked.

“Easy, easy Carlos,” she said as he gritted his teeth and tried not to let out another pained moan. “Try and relax for me. I know it’s hard, but I need you to stay as still as possible.”

Stay still when it felt like he was on fire?

T.K. appeared above him, eyes wild with fear, a hand cupping his cheek. “Cap what—?”

“Gunshot wound to the lower right quadrant,” Tommy said evenly. “No apparent exit wound. Nancy get him on oxygen. T.K. can you work?”

“I—“

“Yes or no?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, yes I can,” T.K. said, but Carlos could see tears in his eyes. He wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but his arms didn’t seem to be working anymore. He felt weirdly detached from his body. Detached from everything except the pain radiating through his side.

“Okay let’s get him on some fluids,” Tommy ordered. “How you doing Carlos?”

“Fine,” Carlos slurred from underneath the oxygen mask. He didn’t like the way the air blew against his face, but breathing did seem easier so he didn’t try and pull it off.

“Carlos stay awake,” Nancy ordered when his eyes slid shut.

He forced them open again. Why? Why did he need to stay awake? He couldn’t quite remember.

“T.K.?” his eyes searched for his boyfriend, it was hard to see with the mask covering half his face.

“I’m right here babe,” T.K. said, appearing in front of his eyes. “You’re all right. You’re going to be just fine okay?”

He put a hand on Carlos’ head and Carlos felt an odd urge to cry, tears pricking at his eyes, his throat tightening, making it even harder to breathe.

“Let’s get him on the gurney,” Tommy ordered. “Carlos let us do the work okay? We’re going to get you out of here.”

He might have blacked out when they lifted him onto the gurney. He definitely threw up. It was horrible.

T.K. got the mask off just in time and Nancy rushed to put a basin under his chin. He fell back with a moan that turned into a whine, not something he was particularly proud of. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when he’d just been shaky and weak in the knees. Nothing had hurt then. Now everything hurt and he wanted it to stop.

“T.K.,” he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes as they slid him inside.

“I know, I know it hurts babe,” T.K. said and Carlos could see he was near to tears as well. “Tommy can we up his morphine?”

“Give him a few more milligrams,” Tommy said as she slammed the doors shut behind her. “Let’s go Nancy!”

Carlos felt a tiny bit of relief from the pain as medication flooded his veins. He pulled the oxygen mask from his face. “My parents,” he rasped.

“I will call them as soon as we get to the hospital,” T.K. promised.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said, closing his eyes as tears slipped down his face.

“No, no, no,” T.K. said quickly, putting the oxygen mask back in place and stroking his hair. “You don’t need to be sorry. You are good and brave and perfect and you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t want to leave you,” Carlos said, his heart splitting into two at the thought.

“You’re not,” T.K. said firmly. “You’re not leaving. Right Tommy?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said as she adjusted the IV’s. “You are staying right here with us. A little surgery, a few days in the hospital, and you’re going to be good as new.”

“See?” T.K. said, his voice breaking just a little as his thumb moved back and forth over Carlos’ forehead. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

He drifted in and out after that, everything coming in flashes and blurs of noise and light and pain.

“I love you,” T.K. said to him over and over again, pressing his lips against Carlos’ forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up."

And then he was gone and there was pain and strangers and the sharp smell of antiseptic burning in his nostrils. There were voices all around but he didn’t understand what they were saying, didn’t know what was happening until someone with a soft voice took his hand.

“Officer Reyes we’re taking you into surgery now. They’re going to remove the bullet and repair any damage. You’re going to go to sleep and when you wake up things will be much better.”

Then someone was putting something over his face, telling him to count, but he was so tired and his tongue felt leaden in his mouth.

He had no idea how much time passed. He woke up to voices, some familiar some not, and excruciating pain in his side. He might have cried, he thought maybe someone wiped his tears away. Someone definitely put a straw in his mouth and encouraged him to drink, which felt good on his dry throat, but then he was drifting again.

Everything was heavy and tired and painful and sleep kept dragging him under again and again like waves beating against the shore. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them, not even when T.K. was whispering things in his ear or when he felt his mother run her fingers through his hair.

It felt like a long time before he was able to swim up from the darkness and blink his eyes open in the harsh lighting of his hospital room. He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat still parched and tasting of medication. “There he is.”

Carlos turned his head and found his father sitting by his bed, a smile on his face. “Are you with us mijo?”

Carlos nodded, brain still foggy as he tried to piece together the events that had gotten him here. “Are you in pain Carlitos?”

His eyes searched until he found his mother sitting in a second chair, a pile of knitting in her lap. “I was shot?” he asks, his voice coming out raw.

“Yes, mijo,” his father said, sitting forward. “At the grocery store.”

“How,” he swallowed painfully, “how long?”

“It’s been about six hours,” his mother said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Carlos winced. “Bad?” he asked, apparently only capable of single syllable words.

“Nothing they couldn’t fix,” his dad assured him. “They were able to remove the bullet without complications. There was minimal damage. You can ask your boy, he knows all the medical stuff they’ve been talking about.”

“Where is he?” Carlos asked, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“He just went home to get some things for you,” his mom said. “He got here before we did and hasn’t left your side, but we knew it could be a while before you woke up and he was still in his uniform. He looked very uncomfortable.”

“He should be back soon. Do you want us to call him? Tell him what you’d like from home?” his father asked.

Carlos shook his head, already feeling himself drifting away again. “Just tell him to come back.”

His mother squeezed his leg through the sheets. “He’s coming Carlitos. He’ll be here soon. Just rest now.”

The next time he opened his eyes T.K. was there. His uniform was gone, replaced by jeans and a grey hoodie, the strings of which he was fiddling with absentmindedly as he stared a hole into the wall across the room. “Hey,” Carlos croaked.

T.K.’s eyes immediately flicked to him and he sat forward on the chair. “Hey babe,” he said softly, his face a mask of worry and exhaustion. “How are you feeling?”

In pain was the answer, but Carlos wasn’t going to let him know that. “I love you,” he managed to croak out, tears tightening his throat.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, reaching for his hand and threading their fingers together reassuringly. “I love you so much.”

Carlos shook his head and tried to get his emotions under control. “I made peace so long ago with the idea that one of us might die in the line of duty. But I never…I didn’t ever think that picking up groceries…”

“I know,” T.K. said. “Me neither.”

Carlos shook his head and had to swallow down a moan of pain as he tried to get more comfortable in the bed, a seemingly futile task. “Easy,” T.K. said, coming to help him. “Take it from someone who knows, bullet wounds hurt like hell.”

“I uh, I asked my parents but they don’t understand everything like you do. How bad is it?”

T.K. squeezed his hand. “As far as gunshot wounds go, you got very lucky. It missed everything vital. Barring any complications you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

Carlos exhaled slowly and looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Good.”

“How’s your pain?” T.K. asked. “Do you need more medication?”

“No, I’m all right,” Carlos said even though the pain in his side was slowly growing from an ache to a knifelike stabbing.

T.K. fixed him with a look. “You don’t have to be brave,” he said bluntly. “If you need more medication, you can have more medication. There’s no reason to tough this out. It won’t speed up your healing time at all.”

It was all said in a forceful, strained tone and Carlos took a good look at his boyfriend, noting the pallor of his face, how drawn he seemed. “Are you okay?”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed,” T.K. pointed out.

“And you’re the one who had to save my life while I was bleeding out on the street,” Carlos countered.

“You should be resting, not worrying about my feelings.”

“If you don’t talk to me I’ll just worry more.”

“Carlos.”

“T.K.” Carlos gave him a pointed look.

T.K. sighed and leaned back in his chair before looking into Carlos’ eyes. “It was terrifying. The most…terrifying thing I’ve ever lived through. And I feel,” his voice caught. “I feel so guilty that I didn’t see it when I first got there. That I let you walk around, bleeding out…Carlos I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Carlos said. “T.K., this was not your fault.”

T.K. clenched his jaw and shook his head. “You, and Tommy, and Nancy, and your parents and, my parents can say that all you want. But I’m going to have to live with the guilt for a while.”

“You were doing your job. You were helping people who needed to be helped.”

T.K. leaned forward, pain in his eyes. “My first, and most important job is taking care of you.”

“You did,” Carlos said. “You always do.”

T.K. still looked like he was in pain. “Is there something else?” Carlos asked. “You can tell me.”

He shook his head. “You’re tired and you’re hurting. We can have this conversation another time. You don’t need to be worried about me right now.”

“I always worry about you,” Carlos said. “That’s part of the deal in a relationship.”

T.K. blew out a breath. “You know, when Alex and I ended, I had to figure out how to be enough for myself. To look inside myself for strength. To find it within me to continue on with life even when it got tough.

“And then I met you and it was so easy. Being with you is…it’s the best I’ve ever felt. I feel whole. Like myself. And looking at you in that street, holding your hand, trying so hard to keep you alive…I had a lot of time in the waiting room to sort through my feelings and try to…try to figure things out.”

“And?” Carlos asked gently.

T.K.’s mouth shaped into a sad, forlorn smile. “I realized that…I can do it. I can do this life without you.” His breath caught and Carlos saw tears pool in his eyes. “But I really, really don’t want to.”

“Hey.” Carlos reached out a hand and gently grasped T.K.’s wrist. “You don’t have to. I’m here.”

T.K. finally managed a small smile. He reached up and smoothed a curl from Carlos’ forehead. “Yes. You are.”

He cleared his throat and Carlos watched him shove all his pain and feelings deeply back inside. They would need to pick up this conversation later. Maybe when his mind was a little less foggy and his entire body didn’t hurt like hell.

“And listen, we’re even now. I got shot, you got shot, that’s enough. It’s not a competition,” T.K. said, flashing a manufactured smile.

“I will definitely try not to get shot again,” Carlos promised. “How’s everyone else? The man with the gunshot wound and the guy with the broken ankle?”

“Both fine thanks to you. Everyone else only had minor injuries. You’re a hero,” T.K. told him. “Your face is all over the news.”

Carlos closed his eyes and groaned. “How did they get my name?”

T.K. gave him a wry smile. “Adriana and Francesca are in the waiting room with your parents. I think they’ve hit on every doctor, nurse, and orderly in the place.”

Carlos sighed. “And they talked to the news crews.”

“They really didn’t like you being referred to as an unidentified officer. They’d like you to get full credit for your heroics. And hopefully a medal. And a monetary reward. Which you will use to take them on vacation.”

“God they’re the worst.”

“They definitely are,” T.K. agreed. His face sobered. “But they’ve been here since I texted and refuse to leave even though they can’t come up. Underneath their astonishingly blatant horniness and greed, they’re really worried about you.”

“They always come through,” Carlos said.

“They also brought coffee and donuts. Don’t tell them, but I love them.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He shivered and winced as he was reminded that any movement at all was beyond painful.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asked.

“A little.”

“It’s probably the blood loss.” He reached into the duffel bag next to him and pulled out a blanket that Carlos recognized.

“You brought me a blanket from home?” Carlos asked, heart melting at his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

“Hospitals are notoriously cold and their blankets notoriously suck,” T.K. told him as he tucked it gently around his legs. He kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “You should try and get some sleep. Hospital wake up call comes early.”

“Thank you,” Carlos said. “You’ll uh, you’ll stay with me?”

T.K. smiled and leaned closer, carding his fingers through Carlos’ curls. “If you’re here, I’m here.”

#911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Tarlos #Gunshot wound #Hurt Carlos #Carlos whump #Ambulance ride #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Hurt/Comfort #911 LS #Tarlos Fic

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

baby, kiss it better - m. tkachuk

I saw a 13-minute video last night just called “the Tkachuk brothers annoying people” and immediately got an idea. Two and a half hours later, this was the result. Title is from cardigan off of Taylor Swift’s masterful new album folklore. Listen if you haven’t, and let me know what you think of this (and the album!)

——

You glanced up at the arena clock. 4:12 left in the first intermission. Taryn rubbed your shoulder lightly, catching your attention. “You good? You’re looking a little on edge.”

You blinked a few times, shooting her a tight smile. “Yeah. It’s good, I’m good. Just a little tired, nervous since the team’s down.” The score was 0-2, Vancouver having gotten in two early goals that the Flames hadn’t been able to catch up to.

“There’s still 40 minutes of play,” she said, shrugging, “so don’t get too worked up. Weirder things have happened.”

This smile was a genuine one. “Fair.”

Chantal shuffled back into her seat, precariously balancing two trays of food in her left hand while trying to hold her phone in her right. “Hot dog for Taryn, and nachos for you, love,” she said, passing the chips over.

“Thanks, mom,” you said. You and Matthew had been married for just under two years, but it still never ceased to amaze you how welcoming his family had been, straight from the start. It had never been a question of if you’d “fit in” or not with them; you were treated like a second daughter from the moment Matty brought you home to St. Louis. His mom was beyond grateful her son had finally found someone to tamp down his attitude, Brady loved having another person on his side when he’d chirp his brother, and Taryn was excited to finally have another girl around the house. You loved your own parents, but being grafted so easily onto the Tkachuk family tree was something unexpected but so, so welcome nonetheless.

It had become something of an annual tradition to have them fly in for a week or so at least once during the season, usually at some point between Matthew’s birthday in December and your own in March. Keith was tied up with something back in Missouri, so he had sent his regrets and his wife and daughter on a plane to Calgary in his stead. They stayed in one of the spare rooms in the house you and Matthew had bought just before the wedding, a gorgeous slate gray four-bedroom on the edge of the city. It had an enormous yard that was practically begging for a dog, so you had dragged Matty to the animal shelter right after returning from your honeymoon in the Seychelles. Cocoa was the other love of your life, an exceedingly friendly lab mix whose chocolate brown eyes had captured you the moment you saw her.

But Chantal really had turned into your second mom, even outside of your relationship with Matthew. You hung out with her and Taryn on your own accord during the off-season, and on more than one occasion Matty had walked into your bedroom only to see you on FaceTime with his mom.

“It’s nothing,” she said, waving you off. “I know how you feel about cheese.” It’s true, you had an ongoing love affair with cheese.

You bent down, taking a sip of water before replying to a text, slipping your phone back into your jeans pocket. You had never been the type of person to check your phone during games, even when Matty wasn’t on a shift. You were his wife, sure, but you were a hockey fan before you ever met and would rather step on a Lego barefoot than miss a single second of the action. The referee dropped the puck at center ice and the second period began.

Midway through the period, they had cut the Canucks lead by half, Lindholm sneaking a wrap-around goal in the fourth minute, but were still trailing by one. The frustration was beginning to show. Chirps were being thrown more freely, hits got a little dirtier, and more than a few sticks had been banged against the wall in frustration on the home bench. Which is why it wasn’t particularly surprising when Matty dropped the gloves after a decidedly nasty cross-check on one of their rookies.

Matty got into fights. It’s what he did, he was an enforcer; you knew that when you met him, starry-eyed and 21 and about to finish college. Even with the league’s increasingly restrictive rules on fighting, he always found a way around them. And if he couldn’t find a way around them, he just broke them. There was a reason he led the team by a mile in penalty minutes. You had long since accepted that some nights your husband would come home bruised and battered, a little worse for wear. It was the part he played on the team, and since he had been named captain after Giordano’s retirement, he felt a newfound responsibility to look after his team even more than before. Especially the new players, and especially the rookies. He remembered the feeling of being lost in a new city, in a country that wasn’t his own, with next to nobody that he actually knew. Nobody fucked with his boys, not on his watch.

Like the rest of the thousands of fans, you watched the fight. You were invested. You played with the hem of your jersey, the same one Matty had given you for your first anniversary when you were dating. You were as proud as anyone wearing it to games back then, and the sentiment hadn’t changed after more than three years. All that was different was that you were wearing a jersey that had your last name on it too.

Fights rarely made you nervous anymore. Hockey was a rough game, and fighting was a part of it. Everyone knew Matty could hold his own, and despite his devil-may-care attitude, he was usually good about not picking fights he didn’t think he could win. But all of the bets were off as soon as the gloves were thrown and the fists went flying.

For the first few seconds, it seemed like Matty had the upper hand; he had grabbed a hold of the other player’s collar and had managed to land a few well-placed punches, but his lead was short-lived. He lost his footing for just a moment, but the Canucks player saw an opening and moved in, landing hooks and uppercuts and jabs that Matthew barely missed. The linesmen tried to move in, break up the pair, but they shook them off. Matty tried to land a punch with his left hand, but he missed his face and hit the helmet. The close-up on the screen broadcast his wince for the whole crowd to see. You felt a pang in your heart. As much as you understood that this was his job, this is what he was meant to be doing, it never got any easier. He tried to take a jab with his bad hand, an ill-advised decision that led to him cursing not-so-under-his-breath. The Canucks player missed one, harmlessly hitting the air above his head as Matty ducked. Then he just barely grazed his neck.

And then he didn’t miss one, his fist leveling with Matty’s cheek. He lost balance, his skates coming out from under him as he fell to the ice, first his shoulder, then his head. You thanked God that he hadn’t been so stupid as to take off his helmet, but you didn’t like how he landed on his hand and how slowly he was getting up. The athletic trainer jogged out on the ice, kneeling next to your husband as your hand shot out to the chair on your left, fingers interlacing with Taryn’s as you held your breath, waiting for him to get up. And he got up a minute or two later, but there was blood and gauze and he had to be supported on both sides, gingerly skating off the ice and going straight to the dressing room.

You tried to steady your breathing, reminding yourself that injuries happened all the time in sports, that half the time they weren’t nearly as bad as they looked, and that Matthew was one of the toughest people you knew and he would fight tooth and nail to get back out onto the ice barring anything extreme.

Play continued for a few minutes. You broke your “no-phone” vow and pulled it out, flipping it over and over in your hands as you glanced down at the home screen, waiting for a text to come through. He knew to call you if it was something serious, or to get someone else to contact you, but leaving you hanging wasn’t something he was known for. At the next break in the action, an icing call against Vancouver, the PA system crackled to life. “Number 19, forward Matthew Tkachuk, will not be returning to the game following an assessment by the team’s medical and athletic training staff.” A nervous ripple of whispers chorused through the crowd. You gripped Taryn’s hand so hard you thought you’d break it. Your knuckles were so tight you feared they’d split. He’d never been pulled from a game after a fight; five minute majors here and there, once or twice a season he’d get a game misconduct and be thrown out for ten, but never in your entire relationship had it been his injuries that kept him from playing.

You turned to Taryn and Chantal, your eyes wide-open in fear and your heart racing. Fuck it, you weren’t going to wait for someone to give you permission to see your own husband when he was probably in the worst shape you’d ever seen him. Chantal’s expression mirrored your own; she knew this feeling, she’d dealt with it for the twenty years her sons had played hockey. She looked over at you, mouthing three words. Go to him. You frantically nodded, squeezing Taryn’s hand before shooting up from your seat, grabbing your bag and shoving the strap over your head. One way or another, you didn’t think you’d be back.

The heels of your boots clicked underfoot as you made your way out onto the concourse, following the familiar signs of the Saddledome to the private elevators on the far side of the arena. The attendant on call was an usher you knew, thank God, who opened the elevator doors immediately as you walked up. You tapped your foot nervously as the elevator descended down, down, down until it hit the lowest level, the underground corridors that were usually crowded with players, families, and media after games. It was eerily silent as you jogged through, the only sounds being your boots against the floor and the distant roar of fans as play continued. One left and two rights later, you were standing outside of the door to the dressing room, pausing for exactly two seconds to steel yourself to see whatever condition Matthew was in. Once you hand calmed your still-shaking hands as much as your body would allow you, you pushed the door open.

You were greeted by the team doctor and the head athletic trainer, crowded around your husband, who was propped up on what looked like a massage table. His jersey and pads had been stripped off, all that remained was his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He caught your eye. “It’s worse than it looks, I promise, babe.” You gingerly took a few steps forward. Matty’s good arm, the one that wasn’t being worked on, wrapped around your waist. He kissed you on the shoulder.

“What’s the damage?” You asked timidly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and looking at the doctor. He finished splinting Matty’s third finger.

“Couple minor cuts, mild concussion, sprained wrist, one broken finger,” he listed off. You sucked in a breath. He must have sensed the worry radiating off your body, because he smiled kindly at you. “I won’t lie, it’s not good, but I’ve seen worse. He should be back in a few weeks at the longest.” He turned to Matthew. “We’re done here, but you’ve got to promise me to take it easy.” He looked pointedly at you. “Listen to your wife when she tells you to slow down.” Matthew nodded, a hint of his old smile returning. “It really shouldn’t hurt much, but if it’s bothering you you can take some Tylenol. Let me know if it gets significantly worse.” The doctor zipped his bag shut, leaving with the trainer out the door and your husband with a finger splint and wrist brace.

You carefully hopped up onto the table, carding your hands through his curls, your foreheads just barely touching. He was sweaty, but you couldn’t have cared less. “You really scared me out there, you know,” your voice said, cracking.

Matty felt a pang race through his body, one that had absolutely nothing to do with his physical injuries. This was his wife, and he had scared her, even though it wasn’t entirely in his own hands and even though that was something he swore on their wedding day he’d never do to her. His heart broke like he broke his promise. “I’m sorry. He was about to beat up on the rookie, and I felt like I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand by and watch it when I could do something. But I worried you, and I shouldn’t have.”

You pulled away slightly, gently grabbing his good hand and running yout thumb over his knuckles. “I know, and how much you care about the boys, how deeply you care for the people in your life, is one of my favorite things about you. It’s one of the first things that made me fall in love with you.” The corner of his lip twitched up in a half-smile. “But I’ve never been scared for you in a fight before, Matty. And this scared the shit out of me, babe.”

His fingers skated up your arm to brush away the lone tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “I promised when we got married that I’d always take care of you, put your needs before my own. I didn’t do that today.”

“I get that it’s what you do, I get that you’re an enforcer,” you said, shaking your head. “And I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give that up for me. I married you for you, all parts of you. And like it or not, that includes the parts of you that beat people up on occasion.” You gave a watery laugh. “I’m not asking you to stop fighting altogether. The boys need someone to back them up, and I’m proud that you’re that person. I’m just asking you to maybe think a little more before you go to drop the gloves, you know?” His blue eyes pierced into your own, his expression softening. “This was fine when you were 21, and I knew what I was getting into back then. I know what I’m getting into now. But,” you took a shaky breath, “there’s someone else you’ve got to worry about.”

His brows furrowed, not quite able to piece it together. You took a hard swallow. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell him. “I want to bring our baby to games. There’s nothing more that I want than for them to get to see you doing what you love. But I don’t want our son or daughter to have to see their father laid out on the ice because he couldn’t keep his temper in check for once in his life.” The tears were coming more freely now, and you reached up one hand in a futile effort to try and wipe them away, while the hand that was holding yours tightened almost imperceptibly.

Matthew’s eyes searched your face, looking for any trace of a joke, but he should have known better. This wasn’t something you’d joke about. His breath hitched in his throat. “You’re pregnant?” His heart lifted. While the two of you hadn’t been actively trying, you had gone off birth control a few months ago, having agreed that you were both open to the idea of a baby now, choosing to let whatever happened, happen.

You nodded, a real smile emerging on your face for the first time all night. Almost on its own accord, his hand moved to your stomach, hovering over it as if he was expecting you to already be showing. You looked down at his awestruck face, silent permission for his hand to creep under your jersey, pressing flush against your stomach. “How long have you known?”

You tilted your head. “I found out two days ago, just before I left to go pick up Taryn and Mom from the airport.”

“Do they know?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I wanted you to be the first. I was going to tell you this weekend, but…”

“Plans change.” You nodded.

“How far along are you?”

You met his eyes. “Eight weeks.” Matty silently cursed himself. He wished you had been able to do it how you wanted. He leaned into you, ghosting a kiss over your lips that enchanted you and comforted you and took your breath away all at the same time. He pulled away. “I promise I’ll take a step back from the fighting. You’re right that it’s my job, but this, you, will always be more important.” He took a deep breath. “Being your husband is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. But this,” he breathed, running his thumb over your skin under his jersey, just above where your son or daughter the size of a raspberry was, “being a dad?” His voice cracked. “I’m never going to do anything better. I don’t care if we win the Cup, or I get into the Hall of Fame, or sign the biggest contract the league’s ever seen. You and this baby are the most important people in my life. And I swear I’ll never do anything again that could make you question that.”

He kissed you again, but this one was different. This one grounded you, somehow communicating all of the guilt, and confusion, and happiness he was experiencing without saying a single word. “And I’m so, so happy about this, babe. Do you know how happy I am?”

It was a little bit of a rhetorical question, but you smiled anyway. “Really happy?”

A full-blown grin burst out onto his face. “I’m fucking ecstatic, babe. We’re having a baby. You’re gonna be a mom. I’m gonna be a dad.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but just like the kiss, these were different. Happy tears. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

#matthew tkachuk #hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl imagines #nhl writing #nhl #rat king #hockey #matty tkachuk

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years ago

Note

Yo! Wassup? I read far away today and boy is it awesome like you totally slay as sis .. btw when is part 2 coming ? Not tryna rush you or anything.. Take your time

Far too long - P. Parker (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here

ITS HERE AND I’M SUPER NERVOUS. I FEEL LIKE I RUSHED THE ENDING BUT I ALSO FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE A FLURRY OF PENT UP WORDS AND EMOTIONS. I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT AND IF ITS BAD THEN LMK AND ILL APOLOGISE SINCERELY BECAUSE I’M SCARED OF THIS HAHAHA

(gif is not mine)

TW: Mentions of blood, grief, injury, abandonment, fear, angst, childbirth. If any of these themes may trigger you then, please, do not read for your own good. Your wellbeing is far more important.

My inbox is always open.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

It would be a lie to say that Peter hadn’t been in horrible situations before. However, with the development of his powers came the growth of thicker skin and stronger shoulders to bear the weight of his choices and others.

He fought, day after day, to withstand everything life threw at him. Heartache, mistakes, the one time he frosted the tips of his hair when he was 12 - Y/N knew that he would be alright.

He had to be alright. He had to be alive. She needed him. They needed him.

Y/N had watched him grow as a man, and watched him overcome everything. Then he was finally hers. She had everything she had ever wanted in him, and she was going to bring new life into the world with him by her side, until the missions came between them.

Now, she had been away from him for over 2 months and he was missing in action. Every news station was reporting that he was gone, but she refused to accept it. She knew Peter. She knew the strength he had. She knew that no matter what, he wanted to be a part of his baby’s life.

The minute she saw the broadcast her shaking fingers dialed Tony’s number and he was there to take her to the compound as soon as he could be.

Another three months passed.

Three agonizing months.

She gave birth in the medical bay of the compound, May by her side, welcoming her daughter into the world with a broken heart

Rosie May Parker was welcomed into the world, but the one person who was meant to be there wasn’t. She had her fathers eyes, his ferocious brown curls - but she didn’t have her father.

Y/N didnt have much knowledge of science outside of her computer mechanics degree, nor did she have any means to be a powerful superhero like the avengers, but she had fierce determination. Tony had ordered her to stay at the compound until they found peter - he was also determined that his faux-son would be okay.

Y/N harbored no intentions of leaving, more so, now that Rosie had joined her. May was there as well, watching Y/N fall in love with the small child over and over again, every day, helping where she could.

It was when they neared the day that her daughter would turn two months old, that it all happened.

Y/N had taken up residency in the lab. She was a computer science major at university, and she was able to pick up the workings of the technology Tony and Bruce utilized to keep track of mission data and surveillance measures for MIA operatives. She had spent nearly every day that she had been there inspecting every program, every website, keeping track on news outlets.

The world said that Peter was dead, but she refused to give up. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. Spider-Man wouldn’t submit.

If her eyes weren’t glued to a screen, they were on her daughter, both keeping her connection to peter alive. She monitored his Karen program for any inconsistencies, any sign that the program was online.

Karen had been offline for so long. The minute the building went down on Peter, the only thing letting Y/N and Tony know that he was alive was gone with it.

Rosie would sleep soundly in a bassinet set up next to her chair. There was a strain in Y/N’s head that hadn’t waned for weeks. Each day her head felt heavier, the harsh blue lights from the computers creating a constant reminder of her naive determination.

She was beginning to consider the possibility that he was gone, but something always made her thoughts shift in the other direction whenever the idea graced her cortex.

Her days had been filled with bouts of despondency, but the small babe that she cradled against her chest throughout the day brought light back into her life.

But still, nothing

Not until that day.

Rosie was sleeping in her crib I’m their room, recently fed, changed and cuddled - Friday monitoring the baby in all of the ways that the baby monitor she had with her couldn’t. The clock had just hit 2:38am and her eyes were heavy. She considered submitting to the crushing weight of her exhaustion, until Tony burst into the laboratory with Bruce and Natasha in tow, the woman suited up and heading towards the hallway leading to the quinjet hangar.

“Tony?” Y/N blinked, eyes darting to the baby monitor to determine if the commotion was linked to her daughter. Rosie hadn’t moved, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce had rushed over to the computer she was sat at, rebooting various programs that Y/N could barely recognize in her bleary state.

A vein in Tony’s forehead protruded - a clear sign that his stress levels were at a high. Bruce had been attempting to monitor his blood pressure as of late, knowing that his anxiety had been peaking with the disappearance of two of his team members.

Y/N had felt a overwhelming sense of duty to the man who had taken her in. She wanted to calm him, help ease his worries as he had done for her. He was as much family to her as he was to Peter.

His brown eyes were frantic, but there was something else hidden in the warm irises that seemed constantly framed by bloodshot sclera. Hope.

“Take off in 30, Nat.” Bruce spoke through an earpiece, connecting directly to the quinjet she assumed the Russian was boarding.

Y/N focused her gaze entirely on Tony, rising to her feet carefully and stepping towards him slowly, as one would a spooked animal.

The minute she was within arms reach, his hands were grasping her shoulders. There was no pressure under his hands, but there was comfort. “A few minutes ago, a transmission came through.” Y/N felt her eyes widen, mind racing with possibilities. The smile she received from the older man told her everything she needed to know before the words left his lips. “Pete came though. He’s with Barton, they’re safe. Romanoff’s on her way to pick them up.”

Y/N was in disbelief, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “The building,” she breathed. “It came down on them-“

“The kid will explain when he gets here.” His hands moved to her cheeks. “He’s coming home, Y/N. For the most part, he’s alright. I got his vitals from the Karen program and he is stable, may need some work when he gets home, but he is okay, physically.”

Tears slipped from her eyes, running down Tony’s fingers but he paid it no mind. The smile that split his face was enough of a pardon.

It was another two hours until the familiar sound of the quinjet hangar opening graced her ears.

Bruce had ordered her to get some rest while they waited, but she opted to spend the time watching her daughter. Rosie had woken for a feed, but her big brown eyes stared up at her mother with a knowing look. Y/N could do little to push down the excitement of Peter’s return, but the overwhelming fear quickly resurfaced.

They left on horrible terms. They were no longer a couple, nor did she have the chance to take back the horrible things she said about his faithfulness to their family dynamic. But there was a lingering part of her mind that pushed her to think he would want nothing to do with them.

She left her room, placing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead and asking Friday to keep a watch of the baby, clipping the monitor to her waistband and rushing for the laboratory.

She arrived in time to see the compound medical staff trailing alongside a stretcher, Barton sprawled on it with a smirk on his face and an IV cannula in his arm.

Moments later she saw him.

He looked as much a mess as he felt, he knew so. Soot and dirt coating his skin and his suit, his leg aggravated and aching from an incorrectly set break. He hadn’t expected to see her face, but when he did, it felt as if a building was falling down on him once again.

She caught his eyes darting down to her stomach then back to her face. She smiled at him softly with a nod, hoping he could grasp her meaning across the meters between them.

She hadn’t the chance to say a word to him, nor he to her. Bruce led him to the medbay, offering support where he could for the pain in Peter’s leg, and Tony went to Y/N, cradling her as the pent up grief escaped through her eyes. She wanted to follow after him, so badly.

Tony held her against his chest, sharing the grief that had been building over the months. They were beginning to think they had lost Peter, but to see him alive and standing in front of them - it was overwhelming for both.

“I, uhm,” Tony cleared his throat, his voice wet from tears. “I’m gonna go help Bruce out. I’ll send for you when he’s all fixed up. I promise.”

With a nod of her head, Y/N let him go.

Minutes after, Friday alerted her that Rosie was awake and she took her leave to sit with her baby.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she cradled the babe to herself. She had decided that even if Peter didn’t want to see her, she would at least hand Rosie over to Tony to introduce father and daughter. Despite her previous words, she just knew that Peter would be entirely smitten with the small human, just as much as she was.

As such, it came as a surprise when Friday chimed through her P.A. System requesting her presence at the medbay.

Her feet shuffled to stop at the door for the room they were in before she knew it, and Tony had opened the door to allow her entrance. He and Bruce took their leave, allowing the former lovers to have the space to themselves.

Peter felt the air drain from his lungs and he looked at her. He had sat up on the bed, leg bandaged and healing at an accelerated rate now that it had been set correctly. He was bruised and battered but he still smiled wider than he had in so long when he saw her and the small bundle she cradled.

She was the first to speak, “You’re alive.” Her voice was choked. The past months had been hard on him, but he couldn’t imagine the pain she felt thinking he was dead. Especially when they left things so horribly.

“The building... it wasn’t meant to go down like that,” he sighed, his smile shrinking. “I took most of the brunt because I can handle more than Clint. But we managed to get out and get our target... eventually.”

His eyes were darting to the bundle in her arms, but he didn’t dare to say anything about he baby. At this point, he didn’t even know his baby’s name.

Y/N noticed his gaze, and the unspoken question that his eyes held. Without warning, she took a seat next to him on the bed, unwrapping Rosie and placing her in Peter’s arms. She silently adjusted his hands to ease his fear and discomfort in holding an infant, and she could see the emotion forming in his chocolate orbs.

“Her name is Rosie.” Y/N whispered, eyes stuck on her daughter. “Rosie May Parker.”

“You named her after ‘Love, Rosie’,” he smiled, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. He had a daughter, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“It’s my favourite book. Two best friends who fell apart, only to come together and repeat it until they could finally be together.” Her fingers fiddled in her lap, picking at her cuticles. Her body was alight with nerves, her toes electric within her boots. “And I had to name her after May. She’s the only mother I have.”

“Rosie,” he tried the name on his tongue, noticing the way the baby scrunched her nose in her sleep. Her mother did the same thing.

Y/N sighed deeply, breathing out through her nose as she held back tears. “Peter, I’m so -“

“You have nothing to apologise for, Y/N.” He ran his finger over Rosie’s cheek. So soft, scared to stir her from her sleep. “Everything that happened, happened because of me.”

“Peter-“

“My list of discretions are unending. What kind of fiancé was I?” He let a soft chuckle fall from his lips, a humorless one, soaked from the sob he refused to let rip from his chest. “What kind of father was I? Who did I think I was, to keep you waiting on me, day after day. Every important event, I missed.”

“I never meant to say those things to you, Pete. To accuse you of not loving me, not wanting to be a father... it was uncalled for. But,” she sniffed, turning her head upwards to gaze at the ceiling. “I felt so alone. And then, you left, and I was alone.”

After what felt like eternity, his eyes met her face. Her skin was blotchy from tears, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. She was the most beautiful thing he had seen, apart from the angel in his arms. He felt almost complete, with the two girls by his side. His heart hurt a little less.

“I know. I’m probably the biggest jackass on the face of the planet, and I know that I can most likely do nothing to change that. It’s far too late for me to even begin to say the things I have wanted to say, but I can’t stand the thought of another day without telling you what’s been on my mind since the minute I left.” His body shuddered with a heavy breath, his lips kissing the small fist that rose towards his mouth as Rosie stretched in her sleep. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. Every second I was away, I wanted nothing more than to run home and apologize for every disgusting thing I had said to you, to put my hands on your belly and promise our baby that I would never leave either of you.

“Then the building went down. I helped Clint get out, but I was stuck there for a few days. Some of our operatives were working as hard as they could to find a way to clear the debris so I could go, but it took a while. The entire time, I had convinced myself that I would never be able to see you again. It was like, like, I knew, that I couldn’t breathe until I saw you again.”

Her hand moved slowly, resting against his cheek to thumb away a tear that trailed his smooth skin.

“I didn’t know how many months had passed while I was gone, but when I got out from under the building, I realized that you were all alone to have our baby.” The sob finally broke through his chest. “I left you all alone. The small little baby that would see the world for the first time without their father.” He rubbed the side of his face onto his shoulder to not drop tears onto Rosie. “I’m a horrible father. I was so horrible to you.”

His breaths were staggered, and Y/N took the baby from his arms holding her against her own chest as she pressed her body to his side. Her free hand turned his face toward her own, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing rhythmically.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise you,” he caught the way her hand tightened on his arm as he spoke. She was terrified of losing him again. “I would do anything, anything at all, to have you forgive me, but if you can’t then I understand. Just don’t make me leave your life, please.”

She felt her breath hitch, “I said horrible things to you. I told you to never come back, but I can’t stand another day without you. I need you here, with us. We need you Peter, like I told you all those months ago.” She felt his lips kiss the palm of her hand, the same one she used to brush away his tears. “I love you so much, and I don’t want you to leave. Ever.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his lips pouting from the strength it took to resist pressing his mouth on hers. He didn’t know if she would welcome the contact. He had done her wrong.

“I’m not leaving you anymore, baby. I’m not leaving either of you, ever again.”

Y/N knew that Peter would be alright. His resilience was unmatched, his love ferocious. Y/N had began to think she would never see him again, but the image of him perched in front of her, eyes locked on the child that looked so much like him was one that she would never forget.

The tears falling were no longer out of fear, or sadness, or anger. Her tears fell out of love and happiness. She had the final piece of her family back, and she would do everything she could to see the two people in front of her smile.

“I’ve been far away, for far too long, baby. I’m never leaving you again. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you and Rosie. I’ll make you Mrs. Parker and buy a house in the suburbs and do everything boring house husbands do,” Y/N snickered, forehead still against his. Peter was rambling, but she knew she would never force him to give up what he loves, so long as he came home to his two girls at the end of the day. “I will love you, both, until the day I die and beyond that.”

She leaned her head forward slowly, allowing him to reject her intentions, but when he didn’t, she poured her emotions from the last half year into the kiss. The love, the fear, the anger, the uncertainty.

When they broke apart, one thing was on her lips, “I love you, Peter Parker.”

Tag List: @starshonerose @snookiebrookie @mantlereid @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @another-lonely-heart

@uwucorpse @timeless-crow @eridanuswave @prettysbliss @amydancypants @allycat449-blog

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #tom holland #tom holland x reader #marvel #spiderman #spiderman x reader #mcu #tony stark #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #clint barton #far away part 2 #far away #caz writes

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albertasunrise · 4 years ago

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Mistakes - Chapter 2

Part 1

Summary: You’d known it was a bad idea to get involved with Javier Peña. You were just another notch on his bedpost but you were a notch he kept revisiting. You know you should have stopped it, declined his offers to rock your world but you couldn’t and now you had to deal with the consequences. Consequences that you knew he would refuse to accept.

Warnings: References to sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Blood and Injury, Descriptions of Childbirth

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

You were in the final month of your pregnancy. Things with Javier had been going well. You’d moved in. Decorated the room that was to be the nursery and the two of you had even started to date exclusively. Things were looking up. Connie and Steve had adopted a little girl, Olivia and you were delighted to have the chance to practice a little before your own came along, maternal instincts in full flow.

‘How's that pump working for you?’ Connie asked as she sipped her wine, watching as you finished fastening Olivia’s baby grow.

‘Wonderful thank you.’ You replied as you picked her up and rested her on your hip, grinning as she planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek ‘I don’t remember reading in any of the books you gave me that I would start lactating before she even came.’ You grumbled ‘Javi’s devastated that they’re now too sensitive for him to touch.’

‘Are you two still… you know?’

‘God I am like a sex fiend.’ You chuckled before nuzzling Olivia’s cheek ‘I thought that I wouldn't be in the mood at this point but I dunno, my hormones are just in overdrive and I want him all the time.’

‘And knowing Javi, he’s happy to provide.’

‘You cannot tell him I told you this.’ You said, your tone suddenly becoming serious.

‘What?’

‘He’s got a serious pregnancy kink.’

‘No… really?’ Connie asked as she covered her dropped jaw with her hand.

‘God yeah.’ You replied ‘The filth that comes out of his mouth about how “sexy I am, round with his baby”. He gets hornier and hornier the bigger I get.'

‘That's just…’

‘Unbelievable?’

‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘Well, it's true.’ You giggled ‘But you’re sworn to secrecy.’ You warned, pointing a single finger in her direction.

‘My lips are sealed.’ She replied, mimicking pulling a zip with her thumb and pointer finger ‘How are things? Things good?’

‘Yeah actually.’ You confirmed as you walked towards Connie’s couch and sat yourself down, positioning Olivia on your lap ‘He’s been really great. Literally runs whenever I need him. He was great when I was forced to take Maternity leave early.’

‘Oh, how are you feeling?’ Connie inquired, rubbing your arm.

‘I have good and bad days. Who knew that morning sickness was something that could come back?’ You paused, shrugging your shoulders. ‘I thought once I stopped suffering from it that that was it.’

‘Pregnancy affects everyone differently.’ Said Connie sweetly ‘But when she arrives it’ll all be worth it.’

‘Definitely.’ You replied, beaming at her as you bounced Olivia on your knee.

You were worried when Javier didn’t come home that night. He didn’t call. Not even Steve knew where he was. You lay there, cradling your bump, wondering if Javi was okay. If he was dead in a ditch somewhere. You didn’t sleep. You lay there staring at the ceiling until finally, in the early hours of the morning, Javier finally crawled into bed.

‘Where were you?’ You growled, taking him by surprise.

‘Did I wake you?’ He asked as he kissed you softly but you didn't return it.

‘No.’ You spat, eyes not leaving the spot they’d fixed to on the ceiling ‘Where were you?’

‘I was with Carillo.’ He replied, his tone a little nervous ‘We were staking out a potential bolt hole.’ He paused ‘Ran later than I was expecting.’

‘You could have called Javier.’ You growled, finally turning your head to look at him.

‘I left my phone in the office.’ He replied gingerly and you scoffed at that ‘Baby I’m sorry.’

‘What if I’d gone into labour Javi?’ You asked ‘What then?’

‘You’re not due for another few weeks baby.’

‘That's not the point.’ You snapped ‘She could literally come at any time. I can’t do this alone Javi, you promised me I wouldn’t have to.’

‘I know I’m sorry.’ he said, scrubbing his hand over his face ‘I promise I will keep my phone on me at all times. I have a pager now too so you can contact me on that if it's about the baby coming, send 911.’

Things only got worse over the next week. He got home later and later, consistently stinking of the cigarettes he smoked and the whiskey he drank. Steve was always with him so you knew that he was truly in the office late but as your due date loomed closer and closer, you started to fear that you were going to end up doing this alone.

‘Baby come on don’t do this.’ He begged as you grabbed your coat and opened the door ‘I’m sorry I’ve been getting home later but we’re really close, I can feel it.’

‘I’m really close Javi.’ You growled, turning on your heels to face him ‘I have literally 2 weeLet'sntil I’m due. Two weeks until our daughter arrives.’ You paused as tears streamed down your cheeks ‘You promised me that you’d put us first. You swore to me and I believed you, let me fall for you.’

‘Hermosa please.’

‘I need some air Javi.’ You snapped, storming out the door and down the stairs of your building.

‘You can’t be walking around at night eight, almost nine, months pregnant.’

‘Uh, I can.’ You growled, not even turning your head to look at him as you continued to walk.

‘Please cariño. Lets just go home and talk about this.’

‘Nothing to talk about Javi.’ You growled, continuing to stomp on.

‘Hermosa please.’ He yelled and you stopped in your tracks, shoulders heaving ‘I’m sorry. Sorry that I haven’t been there but works been so hectic and I-.’ You start to turn, mouth opening as you started to speak.

‘Javi I-‘ You stop dead, eyes growing wide.

‘What?’

The gunshot echos through the evening air. You stare at him and he stares back at you, his eyes then drifting down to see his off white button-up gradually turning red.

‘JAVI.’ You scream as you sprint to his side, remarking the gunman sprinting away ‘Javi, baby, stay with me.’ You pleaded as you pull off your coat and press it down onto his stomach.

‘FUCK!.’ He yells, eyes shooting open as your action tore him away from the darkness that had tugged at his consciousness ‘Cariño… you need to get out of here.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’ You sobbed, hands shaking as you looked around and you realised that you’d not made it far from your apartment building.

You started to scream, as loudly as you can, for someone to help you. You scream until your voice goes hoarse and just when you start to lose hope that someone will help you notice a familiar blonde figure sprinting towards you.

‘SHIT!’ He shouted as he came to a stop at your side ‘What the fuck happened?’

‘He’s been shot.’ You sobbed.

He made some calls on his phone before he finally dropped to your side, taking over placing pressure on Javier’s wound as you then tried your best to comfort him. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin and you noticed he’d started to shiver, eyes hooded and heavy as he tried to keep himself awake.

‘Steve he’s going into shock.’ You said, voice shaking as your stroked some of the sweat-slick hair away from his brow ‘Help’s coming baby.’

You hold his hand and sob, cursing yourself for leaving the house.

Why had you left the house?

The EMTs arrive a short while after, pulling you and Steve away so they could work on Javi whilst throwing medical jargon in Spanish back and forth that you and Steve managed to catch only the odd word here and there. You are both ushered into the Ambulance where you resumed holding his hand whilst Steve stared at him with wide eyes, knee bouncing nervously as he watched the stuttered rise and fall of his partner's chest. No words were exchanged, he didn’t even look at you he just continued to watch his partner as the ambulance sped through the now emptied streets of Bogota.

The ambulance came to an abrupt stop and the doors swung open to reveal a flurry of Medical staff awaiting your arrival. Javier’s gurney was pulled from the vehicle and wheeled into the hospital where he was then taken to a large room filled with a vast array of different medical equipment. Steve had flashed his badge and the doctors and nurses just let the two of you follow but you were ushered into the corner and forced to watch as they attempted to stabilise him. Alarms start to blare and your stomach dropped, the buzz of activity around the man you loved getting more hectic as a nurse finished up inserting a tube in his throat whilst another attached a bag to the end of it, proceeding to pump air into his dormant lungs as the doctor prepped a machine you most certainly recognised.

‘Javi.’ You sobbed as your knees buckled but Steve caught you before you fell to the floor ‘Javi please.’

SHOCK.

You watch his body arch and your blood goes cold, all colour draining from your face.

SHOCK.

His body arches from the bed again and your eyes roll back, darkness consuming you as you collapse into Steve’s arms.

You knew what was happening when it started and you'd sobbed as the contractions got closer and closer together but Connie held your hand as she desperately tried to soothe you. When the time came you were moved to a different room. A room you didn't want to be in. Not yet.

‘I can’t have her now Con.’ You wailed ‘Not without him.’

‘Sweetie she’s coming.’ She said gently, stroking some sweat-slick hair from your brow ‘You need to push Hunny. Please push.’

The doctor between your legs desperately tried to urge you to push along with Connie but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to have this baby without him. He should be there with you, holding your hand as you pushed your baby girl into the world like he'd said but instead you were here and he was undergoing life-saving surgery.

You let out a guttural scream as you were finally forced to push, tears streaming down your cheeks as you desperately tried and deliver your daughter.

‘That's it. You’re doing great.’ Connie said, resting her forehead against yours as you let out another scream as you pushed again ‘One more hun, one more and she’ll be here.’

One more you gave.

You pushed like your life depended on it and you were rewarded with the sound of your daughters cries. It was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard and for a moment you let yourself revel in it, sobbing as you were handed your daughter. She was small but healthy and Connie assured you that she’d be fine despite being a few weeks early. You studied her carefully and all you could see was him. She already had his hair, surprisingly long and curly and her skin was sun-kissed.

‘She’s beautiful.’ Connie said, placing a friendly kiss on your temple before gazing back down at her.

‘She looks just like him.’ You choked, unable to hold your sorrow back any longer ‘He should be here.’

You sat watching him as you cradled your infant in your arms. You’d been discharged the following day but had refused to leave, wanting to remain at Javi’s side until he woke up. He was still in surgery when you’d finished delivering your daughter, the bullet having torn a hole right through him and leaving mayhem in his wake. He was still hooked up to the ventilator, the machine breathing for him so that his body could focus its efforts on healing. You’d been told by the doctors that he was stable and that his chances were favourable but that hadn’t given you the hope that you needed. He wasn’t out of the woods yet.

‘Hun?’ Came a soft voice, averting your attention away from your lover to the doorway where Connie stood with an older man ‘This is Chucho.’ She clarified as she gingerly stepped inside with him right behind her ‘He’s-.’

‘Javier’s father.’ You interrupted, giving him a sad smile before glancing down at your still sleeping baby ‘He’s told me a lot about you, sir.’

‘Please, no need to be so formal.’ He replied, waving his hand at you ‘You and I are tied by blood now. Call me Chucho or even pops if you'd like.’

His kindness brought a genuine smile to your face and you nodded at him before pushing yourself to your feet, wincing from the soreness you still suffered.

‘Is this her?’ He asked as you stepped towards him, beaming at the tiny creature in your arms.

‘Yeah.’ You replied ‘This is her.’

‘Javi wouldn’t stop gushing about how excited he was on the phone.’ He started and the sad smile returned to your face ‘I know he was an idiot in the beginning but he…’ He drifted off as his eyes locked onto his son laying in the bed behind you ‘Oh Javier.’ He sobbed as he walked past you and to his side, taking his hand.

‘I’ll give you a few minutes alone with him.’ You said as you turned to leave and Chucho looked up at you.

‘Stay Mija.’ He said softly, holding out his hand to you ‘Please.’

You sat for some time with few words being passed between you. The doctors came by and after explaining who Chucho was, they'd updated him and you on the agent's condition. He’d remained relatively stony about the whole situation, clearly a man that did not like to put his emotions out there for the whole world to see.

‘I need to feed her.’ You said upon noticing that the baby was getting restless in her Moses basket, something that Steve and Connie had kindly bought you.

‘That’s fine Mija.’ He said sweetly ‘Nothing I haven’t seen before but I can leave if you’d rather be alone?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You replied, smiling at him as you scooped up the baby up and carried her back to your chair, nodding in thanks when Chucho threw a blanket over your shoulders to give you a little privacy as she started to suckle at your breast.

‘She’s strong despite being early.’ He said as he watched her little legs kick.

‘Takes after her dad.’ You reply, watching as she ate ‘God this feels so strange.’ You chuckled and Chucho reciprocated.

‘My wife said the same thing when feeding Javi.’ He stated, glancing at his son ‘She struggled at first with him. He didn’t seem to want to latch but once he did, well there was no stopping him.’

You laughed at that, imagining a tiny little Javier turning his nose up at breasts. He certainly didn’t now.

‘He’ll pull through Mija.’ Said Chucho, pulling you from your reverie ‘You are going to be a family. He just needs to rest for a while.’

‘I know.’ You replied, eyes settling on Javi as your daughter continued to feed ‘I know.’

Over the next week, you got to know Chucho well. He cooed over your daughter, taking any opportunity he could to cuddle her and who were you to deny him that? He was her grandfather after all. Javier was then taken off the ventilator and you’d all held your breath, saying a silent prayer as you willed him to take a breath on his own and he had. Now his breathing was assisted with just a nasal cannula, his chest movements all his own but he still hadn’t woken up. The doctors told you both to talk to him, that people in a coma can often hear you and so as the days continued to go by, that's what you did along with Chucho.

‘So someone's been a particularly greedy girl today.’ You said as you perched on the edge of the bed ‘She’s definitely got an appetite.’ You continued ‘I wonder who she got that from.’ You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Nothing.

‘Chucho’s gone to grab some sleep and shower. I said that he was welcome to use my apartment for as long as he needed.’ You paused, eyes glancing up at him ‘He loves her. Can’t get enough of her.’ You continued as you looked down at the sleeping infant in your arms ‘Oh Javi you need to wake up and meet her. She’s tiny but so perfect. Plus we need to give her a name. We never settled on one.’

Still nothing.

‘She has your hair and the most beautiful gold skin, I reckon it’ll get darker too as she gets a little older. Too early to tell whose eyes she has but I think she’ll probably have yours. She’s a little mini-me of you.’

He remains silent.

‘Come on Javi it's been two weeks.’ You grumbled ‘How much more sleep do you need?’ You looked at him expectantly ‘Javi I know you’re tired. I know you’re tired of fighting but I need you to fight for us.’

A groan made you jump and your eyes grew wide as Javier started to fidget, eyes scrunching as more groans escaped his lips.

‘Javi?’’ You asked, cradling the baby with one arm and taking his hand with your free one ‘Baby you with me?’

‘Where am I?’ He rasped, eyes cracking open and scanning his surroundings before coming to settle on you ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You were shot Javi.’ You stated as you gave his hand a squeeze ‘You’ve been in a coma for nearly three weeks.’

You saw the cogs in his mind whirring as he tried to process what you’re telling him but there was also something else in his eyes that scared you. Something that you didn’t want to be the case.

‘Javi I had the baby.’ You stated, lifting her slightly so he could see her ‘Meet your daughter.’

‘I don’t have a daughter!’ He growled, his tone suddenly angry ‘I don’t know who you are.’ He snapped, heart rate increasing ‘Who are you?’

‘Javi? It’s me, baby.’ You sobbed, telling him your name ‘We’ve been together for almost a year. You accidentally got me pregnant but after being a complete douche about it at the beginning you realised you wanted her. Our daughter. You wanted us.’

‘I don’t know you.’ He yells and you flinched, tears streaming down your cheeks as the baby started to wail.

‘Javi please.’ You sobbed but you were soon pulled out of the room so that the nurses and doctors that had entered could check him over.

You rocked the baby in your arms in an attempt to stop her cries, your own tears staining her pink onesies. The doctor emerged a little while later, steering you towards a seat and sitting beside you.

‘He appear to be suffering from memory loss.’ He started in broken English ‘He gone through a lot. It may be from the arresting that it caused some memory loss. It should return with time but need to be gentle with him.’

‘He doesn’t remember me.’ You sobbed ‘He doesn’t remember that we were having a baby together.’

‘That will return with time.’ He replied ‘Patience.’

With that, he left and you gingerly stepped back onto the room, a nurse still inside checking over his IV as he stared at the Moses basket in the corner. You weren’t sure what to do. Should you stay if he doesn’t remember you? Or should you leave and get Chucho to stay with him?

‘Doc tells me that you’ve been here the whole time.’ He says, not taking his eyes off of the basket ‘Said that you and the baby have slept here every night. That my father has been here.’

‘Yes.’

‘Who are you?’ He growled ‘And how have you managed to fool people into thinking that's my kid?’

‘Because she is Javi!‘ You snapped ‘Look at her!’ You say, laying her in his arms ‘Look at her and tell me she isn’t yours.’

Look at her he does and despite having no recollection of you he had felt drawn to you but now as she lay in his arm, he felt especially drawn to her. He looked at her and she looked at him, tiny orbs staring up at him and he smiled.

‘Why don’t I remember?’

‘What is the last thing you remember?’ You asked, taking a seat on the chair beside his bed.

‘Um... I just got a new partner. Steve.’ He stated, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the baby in his arms.

‘Javi that was a year ago.’ You stated ‘You and I met a month or so after he arrived. Practically collided with each other in the hall. I’m a secretary at the embassy. We went out one night and I ended up falling into your bed then it happened again... continuously.’

‘Then she happened?’ He asked, motioning to your daughter.

‘Then she happened.’ You replied, a small smile gracing your lips ‘She’s becoming a right grandpa’s girl you know?’ You chuckled ‘Got him wrapped around her teeny finger’

‘Well we can’t have that can we?’ He said as he looked down at her ‘If I’m your daddy then I need to be the favourite.’ He said to her with a softness that you'd never seen before.

‘Oh, I’m sure you will be.’ You piped up, grinning at him as he let his eyes settle on you again.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said suddenly and you gave him a bemused look.

‘What for?’

‘For not remembering you.’

Javier was discharged a few days later but his memories were yet to return. He felt drawn to the baby though and so he accepted her readily but you... You he still a little wary of. He felt something for you. A longing that he couldn't explain and it scared him. It was like his body remembered who you were to him, what you were to him but his mind was keeping that a secret from him. Upon entering his apartment he didn’t recognise the place he’d come to call home. There were photos of the two of you on the wall, ultrasounds images stuck to the fridge and toys everywhere. The spare room had been decorated and adorned with furniture for the baby.

‘When did you do all this?’ He asked, holding his daughter close to his chest.

‘We did this together a few months ago after agreeing your apartment was the better one to live in.’ You stated, clearing a few items ‘My apartments across the hall. Your dad's been staying there. I’ll go fetch him. Let him know you're home.’

Javi simply nodded, watching as you left before turning his attention back to his daughter who was starting to squirm against his shoulder. He supported her head as she leant herself back a little to look at him, her mouth open in a tiny ‘o’ that made him grin at her.

‘You hungry Hermosa?’ He asked as her eyes grew comically wide ‘Well mummy will be back in a moment.’ He paused, his heart sinking as he looked around at the home that he’d clearly shared with you for months but had no recollection of your time together.

‘Hello, son.’ Came a similar voice and Javier glanced up to see his father stood next to you, a smile crossing his face as he took in his son holding his daughter.

‘Pops.’ He replied, nodding his head slightly.

Chapter 3

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silverarmedassassin · 4 years ago

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Home For the Holidays (1)

Bucky x Reader | Words: 8,608 | Warnings: None

A/N: Happy holidays and happy December 16! This is my holiday submission for @wonderlandmind4 Fall/Winter challenge. My prompt was: B is very enthusiastic to introduce A to all their traditions, but tries to be sensitive when A seems like they’re struggling to fit in/enjoy themselves.

I’ve been working on this guy for so long, so I decided to split this up into two parts. Part two will be posted this weekend! I’m so happy to finally be sharing this bad boy with you all! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you think. Happy reading!🎄

From the time he was a young boy, Bucky has had an aversion towards the elderly. Which is ironic considering since, technically speaking, he is the elderly now. It’s not that he doesn’t like old people; it’s just that they make him uncomfortable. Which is why, on a balmy Sunday in October, when he walks into the Brooklyn Manor nursing home, he feels his skin crawl.

This trip has been a long time coming. Two years on the run, a voluntary deep freeze, a universal war, and the obliteration of half the earth’s population and its subsequent return, to be exact. But no amount of time would ever prepare Bucky for the visit he was about to make. But it was “essential to his healing,” as Sam so often liked to say. This, along with therapy and the establishment of a place of his own outside of the Tower, was meant to help him move past what had happened to him, help him see that he was a victim and that people still loved him despite what he was forced to do for all of those years.

"Good morning," a cheery redhead says from her spot behind the front desk. "Can I he-" She cuts herself off when she looks up from the computer screen and sees who is looming over her.

"Er, hi," Bucky says, suddenly convinced this is a terrible idea. He should expect nothing less, considering his line of work, both current and past. "I was told Rebecca Proctor lives here..."

It took a second for the woman to register what Bucky had said, but then she jumps into action and begins to type into her computer. "Of course! Are you a relative?"

"Brother."

Her eyes go wide for a second before it clicks. "Oh my goodness, of course." The woman grabs a sticky note from the pad next to her keyboard and scribbles down a series of numbers before handing it to him. "Her room number is 117. This is the code to get into the residence portion of the building. If you need help finding the room, there should be a nurse's station in every hall."

Bucky offers a tight smile and nod of appreciation as he takes the slip of paper from the woman. As he makes his way deeper into the facility, he can feel his nerves waxing and waning with each step. He shouldn't be nervous. It was just Becca, just his little sister, one of the last living ties to his life before all of this. But it had been so long, who knew if she would even recognize him?

When Bucky recruited Sam to help him find out where, or even if, his sister was living, he figured it would be a fruitless quest. He was surprised, however, when Sam came to him a week later with the address of the building he was currently attempting to navigate, shyly dipping his head every time he would pass an older woman in a wheelchair or a group of men concentrating on a board game. Sam had managed to hunt her down with a little help from his Avenger title. The nurse couldn't give him much information since he wasn't a relative or listed on her medical files, but what she could share broke Bucky's heart.

At 102 years old, technically a little less since she was a Snap victim, Becca's memory was less than stellar. Her children had made the tough decision to place her in a home after her mind had started to slip, and she was no longer able to care for herself. It makes Bucky feel guilty because he wasn't around to help.

But today, hopefully, that would change.

After a little wandering and a helpful point from a nurse, Bucky finds himself standing in front of the oversized, thick oak door with a golden plaque in the center proudly displaying "117." He waits a moment, listens for any sign that someone is in the room, but all he hears are the general noises of a nursing home just after lunchtime. He raises his hand to knock but stops short of making contact. Should he knock? What if she’s sleeping? He wouldn't want to wake her. He decides to slowly press the door open instead.

He enters the room slowly, unsure of what he will be greeted with when he reaches the end of the short hall blocking his view from his sister's bed. What he sees, however, thoroughly surprises him. Instead of finding a small, frail body lying in a too-sterile hospital-grade bed, he finds his sister sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of her window, quietly looking out into the garden just outside. After a moment of shifting back and forth on his feet, Bucky clears his throat in an attempt to catch Becca's attention.

The woman slowly turns her head to eye the intruder, and, to Bucky's amazement, a slight look of recognition flashes across her face. Despite her age and sunken appearance, her bright blue eyes still shine as brilliant as they did when she was a little girl. He focuses on those eyes as he slowly crosses the room to her.

"Hey, Becca. Do you," Bucky grimaces as the falter in his voice caused by the tears that are starting to form in his own blue eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

To save his sister from having to crane her frail neck to look up at him, he settles himself into the chair across from hers. The smooth velvet is cool on his overheated skin, and he could sink into the feeling of comfort it gives him. Another piece of home, he thinks as a picture of his family's home flashes across his mind, the two chairs nestled in a similar position to how Becca has them now.

Rebecca studies her brother for a moment before a thin but bright smile spreads across her aged features, and Bucky lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "You're from the pictures. Just over there."

Bucky watches as a boney finger points to the dresser, the top neatly cluttered with picture frames and trinkets, a sign that his sister had lived a full and happy life after he'd gone. He gets up and makes his way to the piece of furniture to better look at the mixture of black and white and colored photos scattered together. It's strange, he thinks, seeing his sister's life play out across the years in the span of just a few short seconds. When he lands on a black and white photo in an aged frame, he freezes. Smiling back at him are his parents, Bucky himself sitting in front of them on their home's front steps, and Becca nestled snugly in their mother's arms. From when they first brought her home, Bucky thinks to himself as he reaches out and caresses the delicate glass. He moves on to another older photo, this one depicting the two Barnes children dressed in their Sunday best with a scrawny Steve Rogers thrown into the mix. Bucky shakes his head at the sight of his best friend, remembering all the trouble he used to get the two of them in.

The last photo he sees, though, causes a lump to rise and settle in his throat. Frozen in time in the cracked and fading film is the last time he ever saw his family. Bucky, Rebecca, and their parents stand on the dock just in front of the boat he was to ship off on. Becca and his mother have a tight grip on him, and his father only offers a tight smile to the camera. Looking at the image of his younger self, not too different from what he looks like now, is a heart-wrenching moment. The man in that photo has yet to see death first-hand, feel the visceral need to kill or be killed. That man was still innocent, naive to the world, and convinced he was invincible.

Bucky remembers that day and how, despite the nerves, excited he was to see someplace other than dinghy Brooklyn. Yeah, that war wasn't one he signed up to fight, but he'd made a promise to himself he would do what he needed to keep his ma and sister safe.

As he reaches for the frame, a soft knock on the door startles him from his thoughts. "Mrs. Proctor!" a sweet voice sing-songs as the door is pushed open once again. "I hope you didn't fill up at lunch. I brought-Oh!"

Standing in the doorway, both hands full of reusable bags filled to the brim with goodies of all sorts, is a young woman. Her smile, one of the prettiest Bucky's ever seen, he thinks, falters just a little when she sees his towering form taking up so much space in Becca's room. However, she recovers quickly and nudges the door shut behind her as she makes her way deeper into the room.

"I didn't know you were expecting company this afternoon," the woman says and deposits the bags onto the bed. "Who is this?"

Bucky studies the woman in an attempt to figure out who she is to his sister. She couldn't be a daughter or granddaughter, right? She looked nothing like them. Plus, she was calling her Mrs. Proctor. Bucky also felt confident in his ruling that she was not a nurse or staff member at the facility, considering she wasn't wearing scrubs or donning a facility badge.

The only indication that she even belongs in this facility is the sticker she wears proudly just above her heart, with "Y/N" scrawled in bright red letters.

"The pictures," Becca finally says with a smile, pointing towards Bucky. "He's from the pictures."

Their visitor looks between Bucky and Rebecca with a soft look somewhere between pity and a faint sense of joy. "Bucky," the frail old woman says, and Bucky instantly feels the lump that had settled into his throat not ten minutes earlier begin to grow again.

Y/N must sense the energy shift in the room because she quickly pulls out a few homemade goodies wrapped in cellophane and places them on the rolling table next to Becca's bed. "Well, I'll let you be with your visitor, Mrs. Proctor," she says as she shoulders her bags again. "I'll see you Tuesday evening, okay?"

Becca simply nods as she watches the younger woman make her exit, then shifts her attention to Bucky as he steps back towards her and crouches down.

"Bec, you remember me?"

She says nothing at first but brings her hand up to rest on Bucky's freshly shaved cheeks, a fresh set of tears gathering in their twin blue eyes. "You came back."

Bucky sits with his sister for two hours after they reacquaint themselves. The nurse that spoke with Sam was right; it was difficult to be around her, as she often slipped up with her memory. She couldn't remember the names of her grandchildren, nor her great-grandchildren, but when she saw their smiling faces looking back at her in the pictures, she knew they belonged to her. Her fragile mind, however, seemed to favor older faces and memories. She could recall events from when she was a teenager and even got some details right from when Bucky shipped off. The remembrance came with a repeat of the same stories two or three times, but Bucky didn’t mind. He was never around to bear witness to some of these stories, and it was just good to hear his sister’s voice again.

It's around 3 o'clock when Rebecca begins to grow tired, and so Bucky takes that as his cue to take his leave. He helps his sister into her bed for a pre-dinner nap, then quietly makes his exit when he is sure she is fast asleep. For a visit he was hesitant to make, he can't think of a better way to have spent his Sunday afternoon.

As Bucky makes his way back through the winding halls of the facility, a jaunty tune he recalls from his teenage days plays through his head, and he feels like he could face the world if needed, which is why he finds himself doing the unimaginable as he reaches the redhead at the front desk.

“Excuse me,” he says with a renewed sense of confidence that had been absent earlier in the day. “I don’t know if you can give me this information, but there was this woman...Y/N I think her name is. I don’t think she was a nurse, but maybe someone else that works here? Would you be able to tell me if she was still around?”

The woman smiles gently back at him but shakes her head. “We’re such a large facility, I’d need to see a face to know exactly who you’re talking about.”

There’s a momentary lapse in his confidence, realizing just how weird the question could come off. He’s suddenly very glad she had no idea who he was talking about and hopes she doesn’t mention it to anyone else.

“Uh, thanks anyway,” he mutters as he gives a small nod. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Oh well, he thinks to himself, at least I could make it out my door this morning.

The Snap impacted each and every person differently. While most think the Vanished had it the worst, people tend to forget about those left behind. Many lost their jobs due to closures and shortages, others were evicted due to insufficient funds for rent. The uncertainty of it all, the not knowing what happened to family and friends, not knowing when you’d find your next job, if you’d have money to buy groceries this week, took a harder toll on some than others.

You had been a relatively fortunate one. Since moving to the city, you hadn’t quite made a large group of friends yet, which meant there were fewer people for you to lose. Your family had somehow lucked out as well. Due to an abundance of workers suddenly gone without a trace, you’d been able to snag a corporate position that you managed to hold onto even after the Snap was reversed.

However, the one downside was the aftermath of families coming back to their homes only to find that someone new was living in their space. That, unfortunately, happened to you. Two days after everyone reappeared, you had a knock on your front door. When you opened it, you found a lovely couple who had just been married before the Snap and had just started renting the apartment you were living in. And, even though you’d called this building your home for the past five years, you did what any half-decent individual would do and moved out. Goodbye state-of-the-art gym and central location, hello paper-thin walls, and a forty-five-minute one-way commute.

At least you were able to take a few days off of work to get your belongings out of the old apartment and into the new one. Most of the larger furniture had been the couple’s, which meant you only had to carry a few pieces into your second story Brooklyn brownstone apartment. The problem, however, was that there was no elevator in this renovated building, which meant you had to find a way to carry your low-quality Ikea TV stand up the too-narrow stairs without busting a wall or your furniture. The only thing you were close to bursting was a nerve because it was turning out to be more of a two-person task, and you were the only one participating in this moving process.

“Fuck you,” you groan as one of the stand’s legs gets caught on the stairs again. Despite the chilly breeze that was blowing in from the building’s front door you had propped open, you were perspiring more than would be deemed ladylike. With the rate you were going, you would need to need to take another full day off just to get your stupid furniture into your apartment.

“Do you need some help?” a voice calls from above you. You peek over your shoulder to find a rather tall, rather bulky man standing at the second-floor landing. It hadn’t even occurred to you that people might actually need to use the stairs to, you know, go about their daily lives. What doesn’t go over your head, however, is the fact that the man standing at the top of the stairs was not a complete stranger like you originally thought, but someone you knew almost too well for not actually knowing him at all.

“That would actually be wonderful,” you huff out a laugh, attempting to be nonchalant about the fact that Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier - soldier turned assassin turned Avenger - was standing just feet away from you for the second time in twenty-four hours, this time in your new apartment building. Maybe this place wasn’t as safe as you had thought?

He makes his way halfway down the stairs, and you attempt to shimmy out of the way so that he can grab the corners you had been holding up. “If you could just get this thing back down the stairs, I could-” Your meager offering of help is cut short when Bucky manages to slot his arms into place and life the entire piece like it was nothing. A metal arm will do that to someone, you suppose.

You awkwardly direct him to your apartment, shoving open the door to 2B and waving your arm to give him a vague idea of where you want the stand. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I thought for sure I was going to have to take the thing apart to get it up here.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Bucky says as he stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets, the stiff leather shifting and rubbing as he does so. When he looks at you for the first time, his bright blue eyes light up even more with recognition. “Hey, you were visiting my sister’s place the other day.”

“I was,” you laugh as you extend your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before a warm, leathered hand slips into yours. “Bucky,” he says as if you wouldn’t already know who he is. "Do you, uh, need help bringing anything else up?"

You watch him as he slowly glances around your small apartment, void of much except for a few boxes and the stand he just carried up and your mattress you've yet to shimmy into the bedroom. “Oh! No,” you laugh, realizing how pathetic your new home looks at the moment. “I have movers bringing the rest of my things from storage tomorrow. But thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really no problem. If you, uh, ever need anything, I rent the unit above you. Not sure how often I’ll be home, but for whatever it’s worth,” he shrugs as you follow him back out your front door.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

Despite his nod of agreement, you don’t see Bucky for another two weeks. You try not to let the unexplained but forewarned absence weigh on your thoughts. With the exception of listening for the creaks of his floorboards that never come and the brief visits with his sister, you find yourself doing everything you can to not fixate on the Grecian god of a man you have somehow come to call a neighbor.

It’s not until you receive a call from Rebecca’s daughter that you finally admit he was home.

“Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry…” you choke out when Mary informs you her mother had passed away in the early hours of the night. Despite having no real relation to the Proctor family, you’d known them for a handful of years due to your time spent at the nursing home. In that time, they’d come to be like family to you, so their loss affected you just as strongly as the passing of your own family member would. “Have you told her brother?”

“No. We have no way to contact him. I know he’d spent some time with Ma at the nursing home, so I left a message for them to pass the news and my number on if he came in or called. But I haven’t heard anything.”

“I actually have a way to reach him. I’ll tell him to give you a call, okay?”

When you get home the following day, you’re greeted by the sound of Bucky’s shower turning on. Five minutes later, it shuts off. You give him another ten before you make your way up to his apartment. The idea of telling this man, a practical stranger who you knew nothing about other than what you’ve read in books and seen on tv, that his sister passed away leaves you feeling nauseous. This isn't exactly what you pictured when you said you’d see him around.

He’s quick to answer his door. You’re taken off guard when his door is pulled open to reveal his broad chest covered in a blue Henley that is clinging to his still-damp skin. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and remember exactly why you were here.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” he asks as you drag your eyes up to meet his own.

You clear your throat and shake your head in an attempt to gather your thoughts. “Uh, yeah. No? I’m sorry to bug you, but I, uh...You haven’t heard from Mrs. Pro-er, I mean Rebecca’s daughter, have you?” When he says no, you sigh. You knew that was the answer you were going to get, but a part of you still hoped you weren’t going to have to be the one to deliver this information. “Mary called me yesterday. She, uh...She wanted you to know...uh...Rebecca passed away...early yesterday morning…”

You can visibly see Bucky shift through several emotions - shock, grief, anger, to finally an almost expressionless mask. You unintentionally stiffen at the sound of metal shifting and grating together, which seems to break Bucky’s haze. You can tell he’s struggling to find words in that moment, so you continue on, hoping a coherent sentence will come out.

“I know I’m probably not the person you want to hear this news from, but I couldn’t really give her a way to contact you and...Here!” You shove your hand out towards him, the small piece of paper you wrote Mary’s number down on resting in your palm. “I told her I’d give you her number. So you could call her or whatever.”

Bucky just looks at the slip for a moment before you clear your throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I wi-”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he cuts you off and grabs for the paper. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go call her.”

Before you can respond, Bucky is turning his back. “Yeah, okay,” you whisper to the dark oak of his door before making your way back down to your own apartment.

“The service was beautiful, Mary,” you say as you hug Rebecca’s daughter. “She would have loved it.”

“It’s all thanks to Bucky. He paid for everything.” Mary says as she sets her gaze over your shoulder. “Or, I guess Uncle Bucky is more appropriate to say…”

You turn and follow her gaze to where the man in question is, his great-great nieces and nephew using him as their personal jungle gym. You can tell, even from across the room, that his face is absolutely glowing, eyes crinkled in the outer-corners with delight as Bridget, the youngest of the bunch, wraps her tiny arms around his neck and demands a horsey ride.

“I’m glad they’re taking it so well,” Mary says as she watches her grandchildren. “It’s almost like he’s been a part of their life this entire time instead of just appearing out of nowhere.” There’s no hostility in her voice when she says this. Rather, she sounds remorseful. “I went my entire life hearing stories about my uncle. My dead uncle. Yet, after all these years, he shows up looking exactly like he does in the pictures I’ve been looking at since I was a little girl.”

You felt for Mary and the rest of the family. You couldn’t begin to comprehend how difficult and confusing it must be to find out that the man you’d come to know as just a ghost story was alive and real and more than willing to be a part of even the most difficult moments in life. It’s a testament, you think, to how good of a man Bucky really is. Despite the horrors of his past and the apprehension he’s likely still faced with every day, he’s still willing to put himself out into a world that has been less than kind to him.

As if your thoughts summon him, Bucky looks up and over to where you are standing. When he catches your eye, his smile grows. You’re sure there has never been anything as beautiful as Bucky Barnes flashing a megawatt smile at you. “At least you’re in good hands.”

You decide not to stick around for the luncheon after the service so, after snagging a few refreshments and a quick chat with a few of the family members you recognize, you begin to inch your way closer to the exit. You hadn’t seen Bucky since you’d spoken with Mary, and you were in the middle of trying to figure out why that left you with a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re abruptly stopped on your way to the doors.

“You can’t leave before I get the chance to apologize for the other day,” Bucky says, a small smile gracing his face. He cleans up well, you decide as you get a better look at his lightly stubbled face. He has his hair tied back in a neat, low bun, which allowed his eyes to stand out more than they usually did, and a black-on-black suit is stretched just right over his broad chest. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was a model on loan to add some cheer to the rather dreary day.

Bucky quirks his head and shifts his body weight when it takes you a bit too long to answer, and it’s only then that you realize you’re ogling him. His sister just died, Y/N, you chastise yourself, this is not the time to be checking him out.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, hoping he can’t feel the heat that is rapidly clawing up your neck radiating from you. “I don’t want to intrude on family time,” you say rather lamely. It was true, but for whatever reason, Bucky left you feeling almost guilty.

He lets out a humorless laugh and crosses his arms. “If anyone is intruding, I think it’s me,” he says as he looks over your shoulder back into the banquet room the rest of the family is in.

You turn to follow his line of sight and can’t help but smile when you see one of his great-nieces twirling around, showing off her dress. “Nah, don’t say that. The little ones seem to love you,” you laugh, hoping to lighten the mood just a little.

Bucky chuckles and then sighs. “Yea, but I just...don’t feel like I belong.”

Hearing Bucky, this man who had his entire life ripped from him multiple times, who, after spending just a few short hours in total with, you ardently believed deserved every good thing in the world and then some, say that he feels he doesn’t belong among those who are supposed to love him most broke your heart. You know that it’s likely untrue that Rebecca’s family was anything but unwelcoming, but that Bucky even felt that way caused a pit to open in your stomach.

“Oh, Bucky…” you say softly, trying to avoid sounding full of pity. “I’m so sorry this all has happened to you.” He averts his gaze and shrugs. “You know what? I could probably stay for a little while longer…”

At that, Bucky looks back at you, eyes as bright as when his own sister recognized him on that very first day. You knew then that, no matter what, you’d do anything to keep that look on his face.

“I promise it won’t be for nothing. They have a ton of food, and I guess there are some famous deviled eggs that, not to sound awful but...are to die for.”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head as Bucky leads you back into the banquet room, excitedly rambling on about the various food items his relatives have to offer. After piling your plates full and grabbing a coffee, you follow Bucky to a small table conveniently tucked away in the corner. Over the next hour, you watch Bucky’s perfectly constructed walls begin to crumble just a little. You quickly uncover which topics make him uncomfortable, particularly those revolving around his current line of work and those he can talk about endlessly. You learn the ins and outs of what it was like being friends with Captain America before he was the size of a brick house. You also discover that Bucky is someone you could listen to talk for hours on end.

“I don’t think it ever came up,” Bucky says as he takes a seat back at the table, two fresh cups of coffee in hand, “how did you know my sister?”

You hum your thanks and take a sip before answering. “Well, a few years ago, or I guess a few years before the Snap, I started volunteering at the nursing home. You’d be surprised how many families just shove their parents or grandparents in those homes and forget about them. They get lonely and just want someone to talk to that isn’t a nurse or whatever. It got worse during those five years. Rebecca never really needed me to sit with her; her family visited all the time. However, she was still one of my favorite residents.

“She talked about you all the time, you know. Even when she couldn’t remember her own children’s names, she always had a story to tell about you. She was immensely proud of you.” Bucky grunts, and you playfully roll your eyes at him. “She was a good storyteller. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was trying to pull my leg or not. She...she was something else, but she’s going to be dearly missed.”

A somber sort of silence falls between the two of you then. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s the kind charged with a unique sense of melancholy. It’s so strange, you think, to share a common heartbreak with someone you still barely know. Loss and grief have a curious way of bringing those once unknown together.

“Uncle Bucky,” a high-pitched squeal cuts through the moment and brings with it the excited, flushed face of an excited great-niece. “Uncle Bucky, I made you something!”

Bridget worms her way up onto Bucky’s lap, a piece of paper with her hand traced to look like a turkey in its center. “To Unkle Bucky, Luv Bridget” was written sloppily across the top.

You watch as Bucky’s expression goes from one of strain to that of absolute joy. “Thank you so much,” he smiles as he takes the paper and examines it as if it were a piece on display at the Louvre. “I know exactly where I’m going to hang this as soon as I find a frame.”

The little girl, who bears a striking resemblance to her long-lost great-uncle, beams as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. You catch Bucky’s eye, causing him to break into an even wider smile. You hope he can see how truly and unconditionally he is loved.

You watch as she scrambles off back to where her brother and cousin are sitting, coloring away. You nod at the sweet drawing. “Planning on spending Thanksgiving with them?”

Bucky smooths his hand over the paper in front of him and thinks for a moment. “They invited me. I guess they, we, have family in Indiana that they usually visit for the holiday. I just...I don’t think so. I don’t want to be that far from where I’m needed most, and I think meeting a whole new set of family would be a bit much, ya know?”

You hum in response, fully understanding the dilemma. It’s unfortunate, though. “Well, I’m sure I could never compete with a real home-cooked meal, but I’m staying home because I don’t...really agree with the holiday and will be heating up a nice frozen turkey TV dinner if you would like to join. I might just throw in a pumpkin pie, too.”

Bucky looks up then, a soft, small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Thanks, Y/N, really. But I’m not sure. Might not even be home,” he shrugs.

“Well,” you say as you look at the time on your phone, “the offer stands just in case you change your mind. But, hey, I think it’s time for me to leave for real now. I have some work to catch up on before I go back to the office tomorrow.”

You can tell he’s disappointed, but Bucky offers to walk you out anyway. He wants to stay and help his family clean up, or he would offer to walk you home. You make your rounds to say goodbye to the family you were familiar with and, when you reach the kiddie table to say goodbye, Bucky’s great-nephew Jackson refuses to let you go.

“Will I ever see you again even though we can’t come to visit Grammy no more?” he wails as he buries his little face into your stomach.

“Jackson, please,” his mother says as she comes to diffuse the situation. The little boy lets out one last sob into your dress before letting his mother pull him into her arms. “Y/N will still be around,” she smiles mischievously, directing her gaze over your shoulder to where Bucky waits at the front doors. “I’m almost sure of it.”

You can feel the heat of embarrassment as it claws up your neck, and you quickly give another round of hugs and goodbyes to the children before heading back to Bucky. “Is everything alright,” he asks as he hands you your coat.

“Fine. Jackson is just…” you slip on your coat and refuse to meet Bucky’s probing eyes, “dramatic sometimes.”

The weeks following Rebecca’s funeral saw Bucky locked away in his apartment. Calls from Sam and Wanda went unanswered, and the curtains were scarcely opened. He’d even ignored your attempts of delivering some semblance of comfort. The pasta dish you dropped off was left mostly untouched in his fridge, and he’d only managed to eat half a slice of a pumpkin pie you’d left for him on Thanksgiving. He knew that hiding away was doing nothing for his mental health, would do nothing to help him move past the loss and pain, but it was all he knew. How he reacted was all he could control, and Bucky liked to be in control.

His control, like most things in his life, came to an end far too quickly when Sam decided he’d finally had enough. Bucky knew that he couldn’t hide from his friends forever, but he would have liked to come out on his terms.

“Man, I know you’re in there,” Sam shouts as he knocks on the door of Bucky’s apartment. He’d been there for five minutes now, and, at this point, Bucky was testing to see how long he could keep the man waiting. “Seriously, Buck, open the door, or I’ll use Redwing to knock it down. And I won’t pay for repairs or reimburse your security deposit.”

Bucky sighs before hauling himself off of the couch. “What?” he deadpans as he opens the door. It takes everything in him not to slap the toothy grin off of Sam’s amused face.

“I was beginning to think I was going to have to call the Smithsonian - tell them to get your exhibit ready because, as far as any of us knew, you were dead,” Sam says as he pushes past Bucky into the apartment.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks again as Sam looks around the scarcely decorated apartment. From the discontent on his face, Bucky could tell Sam was less than thrilled with the state of his apartment. It was dark, the only furniture being a couch, a small coffee table, and an old TV he’d stolen from the Tower. Not exactly what one would consider a "space of their own."

“Listen,” Sam says as he moves to push open the curtains, “you’ve spent enough time locked up in here. You need to get out, see the sun, get some air. Plus, Wanda misses you, and that spider kid has been coming around asking for you.” Bucky grimaces at that. Peter Parker had asked his fair share of questions about his arm, and Bucky didn’t feel like entertaining the teenager anymore.

“Don’t give me that look,” Sam continues as he flops down on the couch. “Go get dressed. You can hang out with the crew for a few hours today. I promise if you have the worst time of your life, I’ll let you sit in your own filth and wallow for the foreseeable future, okay?”

After a moment of contemplation, Bucky agrees. Despite his dwindling interest in seeing anyone outside of his own reflection, he knew that seeing his friends - his chosen family of mix-matched misfits - would make him feel at least a little better. So, he allows Sam to tidy up the apartment, put away the dishes Bucky has been neglecting, and open the rest of the windows while he goes to get dressed. Bucky will never admit, however, just how much lighter he felt when he emerged from his room to the man he reluctantly called his best friend, smiling back at him.

December creeps up in a flurry of deadlines and personal obligations. The two-week break your company gave you every holiday season was a welcomed reprieve to the daily hustle and bustle of life, but it also meant long hours at the office in the weeks leading up to the holiday. Plus, the holidays were always a sour topic around the nursing home, as many of the residents were left to their own devices instead of being a part of family celebrations. That meant, in addition to staying until six or seven o’clock at work, you were spending hours afterward crafting decorations, cards, and personalized goodies for each of the residents you visited each week. This all, understandably, left you with little to no free time.

So, when the first of the month came rolling in, and you were yet to have played a single Christmas song or even thought about pulling your tiny table-top tree from storage, you felt deflated. You’d never been so thankful for online shopping and overnight shipping because, by Saturday afternoon, you had a brand new artificial Christmas tree waiting for you on your building’s front steps. In your excitement of getting into the holiday spirit, however, you completely overlooked just how you were going to get this tree up your narrow stairwell. It was like moving day all over again, except for this time you were sure a knight in shining vibranium armor was not going to show up to save the day.

To your dismay, you hadn’t seen Bucky since his sister’s funeral a month ago. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to make contact. You had prepared him a small meal the day after and had even left him half of the pumpkin pie you picked up from the market down the block. The only way you could tell he was even inside his apartment was the fact that, when you went back up to check, the items were gone. That or one of your other neighbors had taken them for themselves. Either way, you were missing Bucky. Even though you’d only had one proper conversation the entire time you’ve known him, you enjoyed just knowing Bucky was around. The thought of him suffering to any extent made your heart twist into unmanageable knots.

You sigh as you prop the building’s front door open, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. You were strong and independent, and you were more than capable of getting this hefty box up to your apartment. With that mindset in tow, you’re pleasantly surprised to turn around and find Bucky and another man making their way towards the building.

“He’s alive,” you exclaim, unable to hide the smile that blooms across your face. You’d feel embarrassed at the overexcitement that laced through your greeting, but you were genuinely happy to see that he had been out of his apartment and with a suspected friend.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” Bucky says as he looks down to his boot-clad feet. Despite his quiet demeanor and tendency to be closed off, you’d never seen Bucky so...shy.

So you turn your attention to the second man standing in front of you. “I’m Y/N,” you smile as you bound down the stairs to the men, hand out and waiting for Bucky’s friend to shake, “Bucky’s neighbor!” You hope that whatever icy tension that had settled over Bucky would thaw if you directed the spotlight away from him.

“Sam,” the man says as a toothy grin breaks across his face. “Bucky didn’t mention he had neighbors.”

“It’s an apartment building, bird brain, of course I have neighbors,” Bucky mumbles as he buries his hands in his jacket pockets. He looks at you then or rather looks past you at the tall box leaning against the brick building. “What’re you up to?”

“Well, I just got a new Christmas tree delivered,” you say as you bite your lip and try to hide your desperation for help. “I was just getting ready to take it up.”

Bucky looks from you to the tree before settling his gaze on you. “Do you need some help,” he asks coyly.

You don’t even attempt to mask your smile as you guiltily nod your head. As Bucky turns to look at his friend, Sam puts his hands up. “Nah, man, I was getting ready to leave. Plus, heavy lifting is more your thing,” he says before looking at you. “Plus, Bucky is still learning how to play nice with others. And it’s my day off.”

You chuckle and playfully roll your eyes. “You better go relax, then. I’m sure a day off is rare for a superhero.”

As Sam starts backing up towards the way they came, he nods. “I like her, Buck. She really gets it. It was nice meeting you, Y/N!”

“Bye, Sam,” you wave as you watch him make his way down the sidewalk. “He seems really nice,” you say as Bucky hauls the tree box over his shoulder.

“He’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles as he nods towards the front door.

All you can do is laugh and lead the way to your apartment.

“Thank you so much, Bucky,” you say as he finishes up pulling the faux tree from its too-small confines.

“It’s not a problem,” he shrugs and takes a step back to look at the tree. It’s in pretty rough shape, but once you’re done with it, no one will ever be able to tell it’s lived most of its life in a cardboard box. “You know, I haven’t had a Christmas tree since 1942.”

You stop shuffling around in the bin of ornaments and turn to look at him. “You’re joking,” you say, absolutely appalled. When Bucky shakes his head, you make a decision. “Stay and decorate with me, then.”

This obviously takes Bucky off guard, and before he can even attempt to come up with a reason to say no, you’re busting out your best pout, absolutely determined to share some holiday cheer with him this afternoon.

“Fine,” he sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile twitching on his lips.

You put Bucky to work immediately, pointing at boxes and bins full of ornaments, tinsel, and other holiday goodies. To your delight, he has quite the eye for placing ornaments, a skill he attributes to having a best friend who forced him into art classes and design lectures as teenagers. You’re almost certain he’s enjoying himself, a suspicion that is all but proven when he starts cheerfully humming along to the Christmas station you have playing on your phone.

“I’m really happy to see you out and about today,” you say as you hand him a sparkling orb to hang on one of the taller branches.

Bucky falters in his movements just a little before delivering the ornament onto its new home for the season. “I’m sorry I disappeared for a little bit…”

“Oh, Bucky,” you say as you place a hand on his metal forearm. You'd been surprised when he took his jacket off to reveal his metal arm with little more than the sleeve of his t-shirt covering it. You try not to think of the implications behind the small but seemingly intimate action. “Never apologize for how you grieve. We all process and deal with things differently.”

A moment passes in silence, though it’s not awkward. It’s simply a moment where both of you seem to process what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Bucky who breaks the silence. “That pasta thing you left me, that was really good,” he chuckles.

“Remind me, and I’ll write the recipe down for you. It’s one of my favorite comfort foods.”

Time passes easily with Bucky. Despite what Sam said early, Bucky is an excellent companion to decorate with. He cracks jokes every now and then and comments on your collection of antique ornaments. You even manage to get him to try some of that crockpot wine you had attempted to make earlier in the day. By dinner time, your tree is fully dressed and situated in its corner, and you’re tipsy on holiday cheer and alcohol. As you make your way towards the couch with a fresh glass in your hand, Bucky begins to hum along to Bing Crosby’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as the beginning notes start to float through your apartment.

“God, I remember when this song came out,” he says quietly as you take your seat. “They played it nonstop at camp. Dunno what they were trying to do, raise our spirits, maybe? It just made me think about how Ma and Becca were going to be all alone that Christmas.” He pauses then, likely lost in the memory. You’re about to say something to pull him back from wherever he drifted off to when he adds, “I couldn’t help thinkin’ that this was a song I’d ask a girl to dance to, too.”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you laugh as you set your wine glass down.

“Oh sweetheart, I had girls lining up outta the hall to dance with me back in the day. I wasn’t always so…” he turns to look at you and gesticulates with both arms to make his point, whatever that may be.

You squint your eyes in a challenging glare and stand. “You have to show me these moves, Bucky Barnes.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you quickly cut him off. “I’ll sing along if you don’t. I know you can hear the concerts I put on for my shampoo bottles in the shower. Save you and the neighbors the show, come on.”

Bucky gives you a mock grimace before giving in. You’re not sure if it’s the wine that’s causing time to feel so slow or if it’s the fact you want to savor the image of Bucky standing over you, flesh hand outstretched for you to take. You don’t question it, though, and simply step into his warm, welcoming embrace. It’s all too easy to melt into Bucky’s arms and allow him to guide you around your tiny living room.

A few moments pass with little more than Crosby’s melodic crooning drifting around the two of you. You hope that, despite how close you are, Bucky can’t hear how rapidly your heart is beating. When you finally muster the courage to look at him, you find that he was already looking at you. He squeezes your hand a little and gives you possibly one of the most tender smiles you’ve ever seen.

“Nice to know I still have it,” he exclaims as he winks, and you smile and shake your head before resting it on his shoulder.

When the song ends, Bucky ends his effortless glide across the antiqued hardwood floors, and you pull back from his chest enough so that you can look into his eyes. If your gaze lingers a little too long on his plump, pink lips, you’ll never admit. Despite the impossibly low lighting of the room, you can see the way Bucky’s crystal blue eyes sparkle and dance when they catch the lights from your tree.

“Thank you for helping me today,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“‘Course,” Bucky replies and, as the seconds pass, you’re pretty sure that he begins to lean towards you, eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

Just as you’re about to close the small distance, a disorienting ringing begins from somewhere. Bucky pulls away, irritation quickly taking over his expression. “Goddammit,” he practically growls as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “What, Sam?”

You watch as a range of emotions flash across Bucky’s face before a seriousness shadows his features. He barks out a gruff, “See you in a few,” before quickly ending the call. “We’re, uh, needed. Immediately.”

“O-oh,” you mummer, disappointed that he has to leave so quickly. You watch from where Bucky had stopped the two of you as he gathers his jacket and scrambles to put his boots on. He’s almost to your door when your brain finally catches up to what is going on, and, in that moment, you’re appreciative for how small your apartment is because you’re able to get to him before he is fully out of the apartment.

“Wait, Bucky,” you call as you grab for his arm. When he turns to look at you, you almost back out of what you’re about to say, but you persevere, knowing that the world will continue to turn if he rejects you. “Come to Christmas with me. My parents only live two hours away. We’re pretty low-key, no big party or anything. Please?”

Bucky considers you for a moment before he visibly softens and nods. “You know what, sure. That...that sounds great.”

You smile so wide when you hear him accept the invitation, something you thought for sure would be for not. Before you can even consider your actions, you’re leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his rough and prickly cheek. “Stay safe out there,” you say gently. Bucky simply nods, a blush begins to work it’s way up his neck.

You stand in your doorway until you hear the front door of your building click shut behind him. You’ll never confess to it, but when your own apartment door is securely shut behind you, you do an excited, happy dance.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

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