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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

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A Place To Call Home: Oh Baby

Summary: The reader and TJ decide to have their first baby together and the experience is anything but simple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, pregnancy, pregnancy/delivery scare

A/N: Enjoy!

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“Hey,” you said, rubbing TJ’s bare back in bed after he’d gotten Allie down for bed. He groaned happily as you gave him a massage, sinking further into the mattress. “You’re rocking this dad thing you know.”

“Back at ya mom,” he laughed. “You really think so? Cause I’m scared shitless half the time.”

“Same. But she’s happy and healthy and safe. We must be doing something right,” you said. He patted your leg and you slid off of him, TJ rolling to his side and wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you down. “What are you thinking, handsome?”

“I noticed you haven’t taken any birth control this week,” he said.

“We said we’d talk tonight about it. I wanted to be prepared,” you said. He brushed his hand over your cheek and your whole body felt warm at the touch. “This is way off base of our plan for kids. We can totally wait if you want to.”

“We could. But we said way back when we talked about this that when we had kids, we wanted to keep them not too many years apart. Allie will be more than two by the time we have one. I know our plans got changed completely when she came into the picture.”

“Well, the original plan was two of our own and then when they were in their teens, we’d look at adoption for number three. What do you think?” you asked.

“I think it doesn’t matter what our plan is today. It’ll probably change in some way. It already did,” he said.

“Do you want to make a baby?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said softly, sliding his hand down to your stomach. “I can’t imagine how adorable of a child you would make. Let’s start trying. Allie deserves a brother or sister.”

“Are you sure? We could wait until your student loan is paid off,” you said.

“Did I not tell you?” he asked. You shook your head and he smirked. “Work pays off my loan for me as long as I stay there.”

“Where’s the money in the budget for your loan going then?” you asked.

“It’s still student loan but it’s for Allie or kids to use. We got plenty and you got your raise and-”

“Raise? I didn’t get a raise.”

“Jensen said just the other night…oh I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” he said.

“I’m getting a raise?” you asked.

“Yeah. Like a big one. For how you’ve been stepping up lately,” he said. “Don’t let it out that I said something.”

“I won’t. So we can afford another kid, we have the time, the energy, Allie’s a good age...sounds like we got our ducks in a row,” you said.

“Wanna make a baby?” he smirked. “And then love it forever and ever?”

“Fuck yes I do,” you said. “Now get naked and let’s have some fun.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Six Weeks Later

“Want me to write down anything else for the grocery store?” asked TJ as you sipped on some coffee while Allie ate part of a waffle at the breakfast table. “I haven’t bought pads or tampons in a while. You’re probably running low.”

“Yeah, you can…” you said, staring at him. “I haven’t had my period TJ. I’m two weeks late.”

“I’ll get a pregnancy test,” he said, a cautious smile on his face.

“Yeah. I’ll call the doctor, see if I can get an appointment in soon,” you said.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he said.

“Momma, waffle,” asked Allie from her high seat, opening her hand up, her plate wiped clean.

“Sure thing, honey,” you said, TJ flashing you a quick smile before he was gone.

“Hey babe,” you said half an hour later into the phone. “You still at the store?”

“Heading for checkout now. Want me to pick up-”

“I just got my period,” you said. “Just now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said. “We can do the test to make sure, like triple make sure and I still have an appointment for the afternoon.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding a little off.

“We only tried that one night,” you said. “And we weren’t really even trying. We were having more fun with not using a condom for the first time than actively trying really.”

“True. We got a little carried away,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck and his cheeks sporting a light blush if you had to guess. “Do you want to like, really try?”

You turned your head and saw Allie sticking some pads to herself where she sat on the bathroom floor and you smiled.

“For some crazy reason, yes, yes I do. Also, I need more pads. Allie’s playing with them,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll pick up something special for dinner,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Three Months Later

“Another beer?” asked your dad as he stood up from your back patio.

“I can get it,” you said, TJ handing you his empty, Allie passed out on his chest from where the three of you sat around the fire. “I want a snack anyways.”

You ruffled his head and wandered inside, your dad following you in to use the bathroom. You took out a beer and set it on the counter before you opened the freezer and pulled out a pint of ice cream.

“Someone’s got a sweet tooth lately,” he said. He took out a beer for himself and cracked it open, smiling at you. “Been awhile since I’ve seen you have a drink. Not that you did a lot but the empty calories line doesn’t seem so convincing at the moment considering the tub of cookie dough in your hand.”

“You think I’m pregnant?” you laughed. He shrugged and you shook your head. “No way. Just been trying to eat healthier. TJ ate most of this anyways.”

“You’re really not?” he asked.

“No. When’s mom and everybody come home again? Tomorrow? TJ and I wanted to have everybody over for dinner,” you said.

“Sounds good,” he said. You stuck your head around him, looking at TJ outside. “What’s up?”

“Okay I kinda want your opinion on something. I got a present for TJ’s birthday but I’m not sure if he’ll like it,” you said.

“What is it?” he asked. You left and ducked into your office, smiling to yourself but wiping it off your face by the time you returned. You held out a box to him, your dad opening it up. He looked confused as he held up a pair of blue sneakers.

Very small blue sneakers.

It took him a second but soon he was staring at you, a funny look on his face you remembered seeing on your wedding day.

“Liar,” he grinned.

“I know,” you said, getting a big hug from him.

“You’re gonna have a little boy,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That’s what the sonogram said. You’re the first person we’ve told. We wanted to wait a few months to make sure everything was okay before we said something.”

“How far along are you?” he asked as he peeled away, staring at your stomach.

“About three months. We found out the sex earlier this week,” you said. “You can touch, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t realize you guys were trying,” he said. He put a careful hand on your stomach, smiling to himself. “You made a baby.”

“We wanted Allie’s sibling to be close in age. We only like actually tried once. We were kind of surprised it happened so fast,” you said.

“Does it feel any different than Allie? It’s not like you’re a parent for the first time again but I imagine it’s got to be a little different,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“Obviously this time I’m actually going to be the one having him but I don’t know, it doesn’t feel that different.”

“Good,” he said, smiling still. “These two are gonna grow up and not even think about who was adopted and who wasn’t.”

“TJ thinks he’s gonna have his black hair.”

“He could. Boys are a spitting image of their fathers sometimes,” he said. “A little boy. He’s gonna grow up just fine with you and TJ.”

“Do you have any advice for boys?” you asked.

“Love him the same as you love Allie. Teach him boys can love and cry and feel their feelings and to help others and he’ll turn out to be just as good a man as TJ.”

“You’re not half bad either,” you said with a smirk.

“I could have been better, especially when I was younger.”

“Dad, you were shy. Mom’s told me stories. You’ve always been good. I know you feel stuff, you just like to process it inside and on your own sometimes, like me. Look at Zepp. What other boy do you know that talks to his dad about stuff the way you guys do?”

“Oh I could name a few,” he said.

“You’re doing good is all I’m saying cause you’re good. We just hope he’s kind and good too,” you said.

“Love ‘em and the rest of it pretty much works out on its own,” he said. “Oh. Changing diapers? Cover them at all times. Like every single time. You’re gonna get pissed on a lot more with a boy, especially in the face.”

“Oh god, dad,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Just being honest,” he chuckled. “Not much difference though.”

“As long as he’s happy, I’m good,” you said. “Are you...surprised? Happy? None of the above?”

“You are a kickass mom. I can’t quite describe it but yeah, let’s just say I’m happy,” he said. “I’m so happy for you both and to have another munchkin around. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Second one should be easier, right?”

“Should. It’s your first time pregnant though. I’m sure we’re gonna run into some fun things for sure.”

Five Months Later

“Hey dad,” you said, giving him a wave in the parking lot. He smiled and you walked over before you headed off into the park with him.

“How’s work going?” he asked. “All ready to go out next week?”

“You know most people don’t take the month off before their due date,” you said.

“Most people don’t work for mom and dad,” he chuckled. “You’re covered. I see you back at that brewery for anything more than a beer run and we’re gonna have problems.”

“I know, grumpy. I’m good. Well, I was until I was driving over here to walk and my stomach started killing me,” you said. He stopped and you walked ahead of him. “What? You forget your phone or something? We can-”

“Fucking shit,” he said. He grabbed you and you made a face as he walked you quickly back over to his car.

“Dad, what-”

“There’s blood dripping down your leg,” he said, not even bothering with his seat belt before he was backing out and speeding away. You glanced down, a small thin streak drying on your skin. You reached under your shorts and felt more wetness, a pit forming in your stomach. “Y/N, are you listening to me?”

“What?” you said as he ran through a red light.

“I said you need to call TJ right now and tell him to meet us at County West. You’re having the baby right now.”

“S’not supposed to be bleeding,” you said quietly.

“I know. On the bright side, it could just be a little tear and that’s what it is and you and the baby are perfectly fine.”

“When has my life ever been on the fucking bright side,” you said. “Something’s wrong isn’t it.”

Your dad hit a few buttons on the wheel before the sound of ringing filled the air.

“Sup, Jensen?” said TJ.

“County West. The baby is coming. Move your ass now,” said your dad before he hung up.

“Oh, I’m completely not worried now,” you said. You shut your eyes and by the time you opened them, you were parked and the drivers door was open. Your dad ran over to the entrance and said something, somebody coming out with a stretcher. You rolled your eyes but let a few nurses and a doctor you were guessing move you on top of it.

“How far along?” asked the doctor.

“I’m-” you said, throwing your head back when pain shot across your abdomen. You screamed, a bit surprised at yourself honestly and suddenly were inside, your dad talking a mile a minute to the people that were rushing you down the hall.

“Y/N, I’m Dr. Astle. Are you having contractions?” she asked.

“I don’t…” you said, shouting again when pain hit you. “Gah, it’s not supposed to hurt that bad, right?”

“No, it’s not,” she said. You kicked when you felt it happening again, your dad grabbing your hand and using his other to run over your head.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “The doctor’s are gonna fix you and the baby up like that.”

“We need to do an emergency C-section,” said Dr. Astle as you realized your shorts had been cut off.

“Dad don’t look that way,” you said.

“You and me right here,” he said with a smile. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine. Just breathe.”

“TJ needs to be here,” you said.

“Tall munchkin I don’t think they can wait,” he said.

“They’re gonna wait over my-” you said, a flop of sweaty black hair running past the room. “TJ!”

“Hey!” he said as he jogged back to the doorway. “Are-holy shit. That’s a lot of blood.”

“TJ, up here,” said your dad.

“We need somebody from maternity, Dr. Astle,” said a nurse.

“Baby and mom do not have the time. You’re the husband?” asked the doctor, TJ nodding. “If mom passes out, you’re calling the shots.”

“Please don’t pass out,” said TJ.

“I’ll try…” you said, something tearing inside and you were out before you could even register the pain.

You woke up in a quiet room, your dad sitting in a chair and bouncing his leg like crazy. You tried to stretch and felt your abdomen was flatter, hand instantly shooting to it. You looked around but saw no sign of TJ or a baby and swallowed.

“Dad,” you said quietly. His head shot up and he was out of his chair like that.

“Hey. How you feeling?” he asked.

“Is the baby…” you swallowed.

“He is a perfectly healthy boy. Big boy. Your due date was off by a couple weeks they think. You were over nine months. He got a little too big for ya. The placenta started to tear and he was kicking at it they think which is why you were in so much pain,” he said.

“Okay,” you said with a big smile. “As long as he’s good, I’m good.”

“He’s up in the nursery with TJ, just letting him get some rest while you got some. You had some pain but you’re okay. Perfectly capable of more kids. Maybe we use a different doctor next time is all,” he said.

“Can I go see him?” you asked, surprised to not feel a bandage across your stomach. “I thought they did a C-section?”

“Well, you passed out pushing him out in one go. Doc said you’d be sore for awhile,” he said. “Let me go see if I can find your boys.”

“Dad,” you said as he turned to go. “Did I do that?”

You nodded to his bruised hand and he shrugged.

“Let’s just say in labor you is kind of terrifying,” he said.

“Dad,” you said and he sat on the edge of the bed. “Thank you. I was freaking out before.”

“Little secret, I was freaking out more,” he said with a chuckle. “You, you were just thinking about the baby. Me, me I was thinking about the baby and you. Understand?”

“Yeah. Go get me my son, old timer,” you said, shutting your eyes again.

“Yes mam,” he said, rubbing your arm. “You did real good today, kiddo.”

“I’m getting a letter later, aren’t I,” you said. He laughed and felt him ruffle your hair.

“I’ll save it for when you guys head home. Nothing’s gonna top this,” he said. You heard the door open and opened your eyes, TJ walking inside with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

“You’re kind of a badass, you know that right?” he said.

“It’s why you married me, isn’t it?” you teased. “I want to meet him.”

“I told you I’d bring you back around to see mommy,” he said. Your dad slipped out as TJ sat on the edge of the bed and handed you over your son. You giggled when you saw the black head of hair under his blue cap. “Told you he’d have my hair.”

“It’s a good thing your daddy is pretty,” you said, booping his little nose. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I was at work. I took the stairs and then sprinted over. The hospital’s only a few blocks away,” he said.

“Why are you in scrubs?” you laughed.

“May or may not have ripped my pants in the said sprinting. Your mom is gonna bring me some clothes when she comes up. Somebody had to go and be all dramatic with his entrance,” he said.

“Dad said the doctor got my due date wrong,” you said.

“Based on my math, you actually did get pregnant that first night we fooled around. Your period was super light when you had it and the doctor did say some people can have them during pregnancy, especially at the beginning if…”

“Dude. I know how it works,” you said. “He’s cute.”

“I know. There’s a couple of really ugly babies down the hall. We got lucky,” he said. You laughed and the baby looked up at you, quickly shutting his eyes. “Someone’s smitten.”

“He’s not the only one,” you said. “You ever decide on a boy’s name?”

“What do you think about Colin? I know it wasn’t on the list but-”

“It’s perfect,” you said, giving the baby a kiss. “Just like you, aren’t you Colin.”

One Week Later

“Dad,” you said when you caught him peeking over the back of the couch again. “He didn’t wake up in the span of the last three seconds you weren’t looking at him.”

“Your father’s in love,” laughed your mom as she set a bag of takeout down in front of you. “I got tacos, burritos, quesadillas, nachos and brisket per your request.”

“Mmm,” you said, TJ reaching his hand into the bag. You stared up at him and he slowly backed away. “That’s what I thought.”

“TJ, yours is in with the other containers,” she said, setting a few containers down on the counter. Your siblings all grabbed one and took off to the movie room, JJ taking Allie up with them and your mom and TJ wandering into the kitchen and talking quietly. Your dad was still looking over the back of the couch and smiling down into the crib.

“He awake?” you asked.

“No. Just adorable,” he said.

“Well get dinner grandpa,” you said, reaching over to the end table for your drink and pausing. You shut your eyes and felt it pass, your dad suddenly right there and helping you to your feet. “Thanks.”

“Still sore?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. You sat up at the counter, grabbing a taco first and taking a big bite. “I’ve been dying for one of these for months.”

“Hopefully the spice doesn’t bother you too much,” he said, stealing a nacho from your bag. He looked over at the crib, Colin making a half-giggle sound. “Kiddo. Do me a favor.”

“What?” you asked.

“Enjoy it. They grow up faster than you think,” he said.

“I know,” you said. He nodded and you saw him look sad for a split second. “Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Just cause I made a baby doesn’t mean I’m not your kid anymore,” you said. “Based on how you are, I’ll never grow up so win-win for you.”

“Loser,” he said, ruffling your hair with a smile before he took your burrito. “Speaking of which, I was gonna prank the trio once they start watching scary movies later. You in?”

“Duh,” you said.

“That’s my girl.”

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A/N: Read the Jensen’s Day timestamp here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x daughter!reader #rpf #au #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #spn fanfiction #jensen x

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

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White Lies (Pt. 10 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.5 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Candle Lights

Keanu is driving back home after your third antenatal class. You enjoy them, but most of the things they say you already know. But it's not their fault you and Keanu do a lot of reading and research, and your doctors keep you updated. But you want to keep going.

“I'm thinking about a cesarian.” You tell Keanu, both hands cupping your bump.

“What?” He glances at you, and his face makes you giggle. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Why?” You ask, stretching your arm to touch the back of his neck.

“Because labor is something natural. Your body knows what to do.”

“Yeah, it just hurts like a bitch.” You snap back, playing with his hair.

“I know.” He sighs. “It's your call. You're the one delivering the baby.”

“I'm not sure yet. But we still have time.” You're currently in the middle of week 18. You feel more comfortable, and you have more energy now. The bump already shows depending on what you wear, but there's still a long way to go. “And we need to talk names, by the way.”

“I thought we decided on Clarissa or Henry.”

“Yeah, but we gotta be one hundred percent sure. Are you one hundred percent sure?”

“Now that you're talking about it, no.” Keanu giggles, a hand coming to lay on your thigh. “What were the other options?”

“Sophie, Nicole, Ethan, and Liam.” You recite them, looking at the landscape outside your window.

“They're all great. But... Liam. I like Liam. Or Sophie.” He takes a turn left, entering the condo.

“I like them too.” It's always like this. Whenever you bring this up, you just can't decide. “Maybe it'll get easier once we know the sex. Because we're clueless so far.”

“Do you want one of those parties where the sex is revealed?”

“No. It's not like I'd know the guests so...” Pushing this thought back before it starts bothering you, you sigh. “Let's just keep it between us. The rest of the world will find out eventually, but let it happen when it happens.”

“Alright.” As he slows down and stops to wait for the garage door to open, you see Mrs. Jackson walking to her front door. She spots you and waves. You immediately remember the amazing brownies she makes, and you suddenly need it.

“I'll go say hi.” You tell Keanu before leaning for a kiss and stepping out of the car.

Mrs. Jackson is a kind old lady who lives with her husband in the house on the left. When she sees you coming her way she stops, smiling. “Hello, (Y/N). Good morning.” Her long white hair is being blown by the wind, and she keeps it off her face with a hand.

“Good morning, Mrs. Jackson. How are you today?” Smiling, you hug her.

“You can call me Anne, child, it's alright.” She immediately touches your belly. “And how is this tiny little human? Are you eating well, honey? Exercising?” She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head at your house. “Is your husband taking good care of you?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Giggling, and blushing a little, you nod. “I have weekly appointments with my nutritionist, Keanu and I take a walk every morning around the neighborhood and he's being absolutely amazing.” You say with a sigh, your heart beating a little faster just at the mention of him.

“Are you falling for him?” With both hands on her hip, Mrs. Jackson inquires, a funny expression on her face. She knows about the accident since she has become a friend of yours.

“I am.” You mutter, biting your lip.

“That's true, genuine love, sweetie. Even after forgetting him, you're falling for him all over again.” She has a teasing look on her face that makes you blush even more.

“Yeah, I guess you can say that. In the beginning, I really thought we'd end up divorced.”

“Honey, you don't know the way Keanu looks at you.” She shakes her head no, taking your arms and pulling you to a seat on the steps that lead to her porch. “When you came for dinner earlier this week, I could see it clearly. He looks at you like you're his whole world.” Running a hand through your hair, you look down. “That man loves you with all his heart, I have no doubt.” She puts an arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah...” You mutter, a low chuckle leaving your lips. “Oh, sorry for yesterday's noise. We're changing a few things in the house for the baby and also working on the decoration. Since we just moved and everything is happening at the same time...”

Anne furrows her eyebrows a little, tilting her head to the side. “Honey, Keanu has been living here for a little more than a year before you came. It was a surprise to me as it was for everyone to find he was married.”

Mimicking her expression, you start thinking, counting. Keanu said you came here only a few weeks before the accident. “Well... We were keeping it a secret. He's a public figure so the goal was to keep the marriage private for as long as we could. But the accident happened.” The words come out slow, as you try to understand what she means by that. A year... It can't be.

“I don't blame you for doing that.” Squeezing your shoulders a little, she smiles. “People can be very intrusive with celebrities.”

“Keanu's fans are great. We bumped into some on our way to the Walmart a while ago. And Ke was kind, as always.”

“That man is a rarity.”

“He is.” Smiling, you look at her, remembering about your current craving. “Oh, do you think you can make some of those chocolate brownies?” You ask, pouting a little. “I hate to give you trouble but I really want them.”

“Don't worry, child.” Anne giggles, taking your hand in hers. “I'm retired for way too many years and I enjoy having something to do.”

“Thank you!” Pulling her into a hug, you place a kiss on her cheek. “I gotta go now.” Pushing yourself up, you jump to the sidewalk. “Important talking about this little one's name.”

“Won't you tell me the options?”

“Nope!” Winking at her, you start walking backward. “It's going to be a surprise.” With another wave, you turn around and head home.

Keanu is in the kitchen, starting with the preparations for dinner. Homemade pizza night, and he's just starting to make the dough. Moving to seat on the kitchen island, you're just about to ask how you can help when what Anne said comes back. That was certainly weird, but you don't think Keanu would lie to you like that. “Ke...” You make a small pause when he looks at you over his shoulder. “Mrs. Jackson said you were living here for like a year. But you told me we came to New York a few weeks before the accident.”

He stops, both his hands dirty with flour. There's something in his face you can't read, as Keanu avoids looking at you. “We bought the house about a year ago. I used to come and spend a day or two because of work, but we only actually moved when you found a good job here.” He speaks slow, only lifting his eyes when he's done speaking. You work with social services, and he said that your job is secure for when you're able to go back.

“Got it.” You mutter, furrowing your eyebrows a little. “Are you alright?” Getting up, you walk over him. Once you're close, he has no choice but stares into your eyes. Wrapping your arms around his midsection, you tiptoe to kiss him.

“I'm great.” When you step away, Keanu touches your nose in a quick motion, getting it dirt with flour.

“I can't believe you did that.” You giggle, stretching your arm to shove your fingers inside the bowl before showing them to your husband. “If you don't apologize, sir, I'll paint all this pretty face of yours.”

“Is it a threat?” Keanu inquires, raising an eyebrow.

“It's a promise.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles before cupping your face with both hands, getting your cheeks and jaw covered in flour.

“You're playing with fire!” You shout, running your fingers through your face before reaching for the bowl and taking a handful of flour that you succeed to half throw it at him, with half of it falling on the sink. He holds your dirty hand, some parts of his hair all white. “You're messing with the wrong pregnant lady, babe.”

“I surrender.” He says in between giggles, hands raised. “I'm completely at your mercy.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you only grunt before washing your hands. “Let me help you.” You say as you grab the dishcloth, damping it before starting to clean Keanu's face.

“No. Let me do this for you. Just sit there looking beautiful.” Once you're done with his face, you clean yourself the best you can.

“Only if I get to see you around the kitchen looking handsome.” Sassing back, you leave the dishcloth on the sink and head back to your place at the kitchen island. You love helping him, but you decided to let him do his thing this time.

By nightfall, the pizzas are in the oven. All three of them, despite knowing you won't eat that much. But one is for Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, and the other two will probably cover up all meals for a while. That if Keanu doesn't bug you with eating super healthy on every single meal. The brownies arrive too, and you thank Anne a lot as you bite one of them.

The only thing to ruin the night, well, that got close to, was that the sudden violent wind caused a blackout. You were eating at the kitchen table when it happened, and Keanu left to check if there was anything he could do. There isn't, but he did find some candles and the pizza night became a lot more romantic instantly.

Right now, already satisfied after two slices only, you admire his face in the different lighting, his hand holding yours over the table.

“We should go out. Like a date.” He suggests, and it makes your smile grow wider. “If that's alright with you.”

“Of course it is. We're married.” Shrugging your shoulders, you notice the subtle change on his face. You never get it, it's a mystery. “Ke, what's wrong?” It's not the first time it happens, but even though you're getting to know him, learning to read his expressions, this one is still difficult.

“Nothing, beautiful. It's nothing.” He assures you in a low voice. “Do you wanna head upstairs? A shower lit by candles must be quite an adventure.”

He always does that. He says it's nothing and changes the subject... But you guess it's alright. Maybe Keanu remembers the accident. The wife he lost that day. Or maybe something you shared before that's completely gone for you. “Great.”

“You can go first. I'll clean this up.”

“Leave the dishes to me. I can do them tomorrow.” You say as you walk past him, a hand on his shoulder. “You already made dinner for us.”

“Alright.” He agrees and you smile before going upstairs.

Showering with nothing but candles to light up the bathroom is weird, and you almost slipped. And that you'll never tell Keanu or else who knows what he'll do. But it was different. Once you're done, you leave the bathroom loosening the bun you had your hair in, letting it down. “Your turn with the medieval style shower.”

“I didn't know they had bathrooms like this back then.” Keanu snaps at you, smirking.

“You couldn't just go with it, could you?” Rolling your eyes, you walk over the slide glass door that leads to the balcony, just to watch as the wind still rushes through.

“Absolutely not.” It's the last thing you hear before the door closes.

With your eyes on the street down there, you hope this wind won't bring anyone trouble by tomorrow. At least the news said the weather will get better in a couple of days.

After some minutes watching the threes bending under the weight of the wind, you walk back to the bed, sitting on the edge. This place is feeling more like home as the days go by, and you're falling back into the life you once had. And it's good. Despite all the medicine you still take, the endless appointments, and a very, very overprotective husband, everything is good. More than that, actually. It does bring you relief to know you were this happy before. That you weren't alone, that you somehow managed to find someone so amazing. You know it was probably difficult in the beginning, with him being a public figure, and so many years older, but look where you are now. It was worth it. It ended up in the best way possible. And you couldn't ask for anything else.

“Lost in thoughts?” His voice startles you, as he comes from the bathroom.

“A little.” Getting on your knees on the bed, you cross it until you're face to face with him. Well, he's still taller, but you don't mind. You like it a lot, actually. Smiling you wrap your arms around his neck. “But they were good thoughts.”

“That's good to know.” He whispers, and you can't resist the proximity, so you just kiss him.

It was supposed to be just a quick thing, soft and sweet, but it soon becomes too needy. You shouldn't be this needy, and you don't know where it comes from. But it doesn't take much until you're awkwardly wrapping your legs around his waist, but the sudden change of balance makes you fall back on the bed, giggling through the kiss. But you don't mind. You don't want this to stop.

But you sigh when Keanu pulls away, opening your eyes to look at him, his eyes barely lit by the two candles, one on each nightstand. “What?” You ask, your voice a little weak, you're not sure why.

“If we keep this going...” His voice fades, and you feel when he removes some of his weight from you. He wasn't crushing you, but you were feeling all of his body. “...I don't think we'll be interrupted this time.”

You get what he means. There won't be calls this time, nothing too put a stop to whatever is going to happen. But you don't care. He's your husband, and you're falling for him. You want this. “I don't want it to be interrupted, Ke.” You tell him, thanking the darkness because you're sure you never blushed this much.

“Are you sure you want this?” A thunder almost clouds his voice, but you manage to hear it.

It's kind that he still wants to know how you feel. Keanu doesn't push you, he never has. It suddenly snaps that you love him, that this is right. “I'm sure.” You whisper back, eyes closing again when Keanu leans in for another kiss.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #imagine keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x you #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick #john wick x reader

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unholyobsessions · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to my dorm pt. 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Description: After eight months of dating, you finally go visit Spencer and are inconveniently introduced to the team.

Warnings: Implied sex

Word Count: 2.8k

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4

You bounce your leg impatiently as the crowded metro finally pulls up to your station. You pick up your duffel bag and push your way to the sliding doors. You frown when you feel someone else’s sweat drip on your arm and wonder if it is always this crowded or if it’s just because it’s Friday. It takes you a second to find who you’re looking for in the sea of people but when you spot him, he’s the only person you can focus on. You jog up to him and drop your bag at your feet before throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer’s joyous laugh fills your ears and you smile, happy to finally be in his arms again. It has been two months since you have last seen him, two months of absolute torture. Keeping a long distance relationship is stressful, even more so with his chaotic work schedule. Every time he calls you when he has a case, you spend the whole time worried sick, praying that the next call you receive is from him and not from a hospital.

This is an important weekend though, this is the first time that you make the trip to D.C. in your eight months of dating since it’s always him that goes to visit you. And it is finally time for Spencer to make good on the promise he made when you first met of giving you a personal tour.

He picks your bag off the floor and leads you out of the station. You grip his hand tightly in yours and make conversation as you walk all the way to his apartment catching up on what you couldn’t over phone calls.

His apartment is everything you expected it to be. The living room is lined with dozens mismatched bookshelves that are most likely thrifted or bought at garage sales, his coffee table is empty except for the two piles of FBI files stacked on the edge and there is a small television in the corner with Doctor Who DVDs next to it. His kitchen is neat and looks mostly unused except for the old coffee machine sitting of the counter. He guides you over to his bedroom and you stop at the doorway to study it. There’s an old wardrobe against the wall that he obviously thrifted, the walls are a pale grey color, contrasting the dark green of the living room. The king sized bed is in the center of the room against the back wall. The bedsheets are a navy blue and there is an abundance of pillows on top.

His bedside drawers hold pictures of who you assume are his coworkers at different events. You smile at the picture of a younger looking Spencer, his mother next to him with a book in her hands. The one that catcher your attention however is the three picture frame holding pictures that make the butterflies in your stomach flutter. The one on the right is of you smiling brightly at the camera, a half-drunk iced coffee in your hand. The one in the middle is of you and Spencer sitting next to each other in a bench, you’re laughing at something he said and he is looking at you, a lovesick smile on his face. The last one has both of you sitting on the same bench, but you are now kissing his cheek and Spencer is grinning at the stranger holding the camera.

You remember that day perfectly. It was the third time Spencer went to visit and you spent all day at a park frequented by students. You can’t help but smile at the memory and don’t even realize you are walking toward the frame until you are holding it in your hands. Spencer saying your name inevitably breaking you from your trance.

“That’s my favorite day with you. You were so worried about the midterm you had just taken when I arrived so I made it my goal to cheer you up. It didn’t take long after I bought you coffee.” You turn to look back at him. He had set your bag by the door of his closet and looked like he stared at you for a while before breaking the silence.

“I took you to the park because it was the only place I hadn’t showed you. When the photographer came up to us you reached for your gun before you realized that it wasn’t there. You did not let him anywhere near me until he showed you his id.” You giggled at the memory and set the frame down. “I never got the pictures, I just thought he never sent them.”

“He sent them to me and I guess I just forgot to tell you,” he shrugged.

“You forgot?” Your gaze was doubtful and his playful hum in reply caused you to roll your eyes.

He crosses the room and pulls you into a long awaited kiss. “I missed you,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I missed you too,” you pause and pretend to be in deep thought for a while. “In fact let me show you how much.” You push him to the bed and he grips your hips as you straddle his legs.

“What happened to me showing you around D.C?” He questioned as you kiss his jaw and suck lightly at the spot.

“We have the whole weekend, right now I just want to be with you.” He grins at you pulls you back into a kiss.

. . .

You stand in the kitchen in shorts and Spencer’s purple button up, the strap of your brallette visible as the oversized shirt slips off your shoulder. Spencer’s bare chest is pressed against your back as you whisk the batter of the chocolate chip cookies you decided to make.

“You going to help me roll the dough into balls or what?” You ask, turning around in his arms.

“Or what,” he cheekily replies. You slap his chest and gesture him to help you. He reluctantly agrees and you press play on your laptop, your playlist playing loudly throughout the kitchen. You take double the time you normally would as you take breaks to dance around the room or throw flour at each other. You make it halfway through the dough when there is a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it, don’t burn the cookies!” You call to him, walking away and shaking the flour off your hair.

“How could I burn them?” He called back incredulously.

You laugh as you walk across the wooden floor, making a stop in front of the door. You open it, expecting it to be one of Spencer’s neighbors complaining about the loud music you’re playing. However, you are met by the surprised stares of vaguely familiar people.

“Oh sorry we must have gotten the wrong apartment,” a pretty woman with blonde hair speaks up. “Do you happen to know where Spencer Reid lives?”

The realization hit you like a truck. Your eyes widened as you call out, “uhh Spence?” You glance down at what you’re wearing and curse under your breath. How is it that I am always dressed inappropriately when I open the door, you think.

The people in front of you look confused and are even more surprised when a familiar voice speaks up from deeper in the apartment. “I didn’t burn the cookies! They’re not even in the oven yet!”

You allow yourself to smile before turning a head over your shoulder, “No baby it’s for you.” The pet name slips past your lips so effortlessly that you don’t even notice but the people who have yet to be invited in definitely do.

“Who is it darling-“ he freezes. My team is here, he thinks, my team is here and I am shirtless with my girlfriend none of them know about. You notice his discomfort, so you grab one of his cardigans hanging by the door and toss it at him. He catches it with ease and slips it over his shoulders. “What are-what are you doing here?” He gulps. Morgan is blatantly staring at you, trying to determine why you look so familiar to him. You shift uncomfortably and hide behind Spencer.

“It’s your turn to host game night,” piped up an eccentric curly haired blonde. “But we can come back another time.”

Spencer opens his mouth to tell them that that is a great idea but you interrupt him. “It’s okay.” Spencer looks down at you surprised because he really cannot think of a worst way to introduce you to his family. He really did not want the first time you met them for both of you to be half-naked.

“No really we don’t want to intrude,” an older looking man spoke.

“You’re not,” you assure him. “We weren’t going to do anything tonight anyway. I’m y/n.” You step out from behind Spencer and lean forward to shake the man’s hand.

“That’s right!” The dark skinned man on the left exclaims, startling everyone. “We interviewed you for a kidnapping about nine or ten months ago.”

“Umm yeah. Agent Morgan right?” You question, although you know perfectly well who he is.

“Derek’s fine,” he answers.

They all introduce themselves and Spencer ushers them in. You skip back to the kitchen and place the cookies in the already preheated oven.

“So how long have you been dating boy wonder?” You jump and turn around, the woman who you now identify as Penelope smiles at you.

“Oh about 8 months, Spence could probably tell you the exact time down to the hour though.” You shrug. You start wiping down the counter as she gathers drinks for everyone.

“You love him don’t you?” She questions.

“I really do,” you reply.

“Good.” She links both your arms and you walk out of the kitchen together. You sit down next to Spencer on the couch and conversation flows easily, considering you are the main topic of it. You only leave to take the cookies out of the oven once the fifteen minutes are up. As you place the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the table the dreaded question comes up and both you and Spencer freeze.

“How old are you?” Prentiss didn’t mean any harm by it, but they can all instantly tell that it made you uncomfortable.

“I’m twenty-one,” you say shyly. You don’t know how they’ll react. Spencer already turned thirty and you won’t be turning twenty-two until another month. The age gap doesn’t bother either of you--you had a long conversation about it when you first got together--but you know it can make other people uncomfortable. It seems that they do not know how to react either because they all sort of stop their movements. Spencer’s grip on your waist tightens and is ready to defend you when JJ speaks up.

“Cool. For a second I though you were going to say twenty and that you were drinking illegally in front of a bunch of federal agents.” You started laughing and the tension immediately leaves the room.

“I am very much a legal adult even though my frontal lobe is not fully developed,” you say. Spencer takes your comment and starts explaining the functions of the frontal lobe and you turn your eyes to him and listen intently to what he says, even though you already know all of it.

Morgan waits for him to finish and proceeds to takes out the UNO cards. You all place piles of m&ms in the center at the table as your means of exchange. Hotch teases you and asks if you even know what gambling is and you stick your tongue out at him, further proving his point of you being young. The game is extremely intense and there is absolutely no mercy. At some point you give Spencer a +4 and he looks at you like a betrayed puppy.

“I’m sorry baby but this is war,” you lean forward and kiss his cheek. About one hour in, Emily, Dave, and Hotch have all been on the verge of winning but end up having to take dozens of cards before they are able to. Now, both you and Morgan have two cards left and everyone starts conspiring, trying to find a way to prevent the two of you from winning. You look Morgan in the eye and place a card down. “Uno.”

“Ohh pretty girl it’s so on,” he smirks. Spencer goes, then Emily, Penelope and finally Morgan. At his turn, he places a blue 2 on top of Pen’s yellow 2 and she curses under her breath. “Uno.”

When it’s his turn, Hotch, who has the turn before you, places down a +4 with a triumphant smirk on his face. They all look relieved, especially Morgan, until they see the smile on your face.

“Oh guys,” you start. “You really think I didn’t prepare for that?” With that said you place your own +4 on top of Hotch’s and they all let out load groans. “Don’t try to beat the college student. We take UNO very seriously.” You pull all the m&ms to you and pop one in your mouth.

Rossi angrily throws the cards on the table. “How about we play something that she won’t know, how about poker?”

“Noooo,” you whine. “The only card game I know is speed. Let’s play monopoly!”

“God no,” Penelope exclaims. “We will all end up hating each other.”

“That’s the fun part,” you reply. They all look iffy at your suggestion so you decide to play your cards right and turn to your boyfriend with a pout adorning your lips. “Please?” One look at you and Spencer falls.

“Okay let’s do it. And it is me hosting sooo what I say goes.”

“Yeah yeah pretty boy just admit that you’re whipped.” Morgan chuckled.

Spencer blushed a deep shade of pink and everyone laughed. You kiss his cheek and lean against his side.

Monopoly is even more deadly than UNO, if that is even possible. Emily and Rossi yell at each other over property, JJ screams because she keeps landing in jail, and you keep sneakily stealing Hotch’s money when he isn’t looking. Spencer gives you a disapproving look every time but says nothing. Spencer wins (he brags about it at work for a week) and you all vow to never play monopoly again.

By the end of the night you understand why Spencer loves his team so much.

Morgan is an ass but in the best way possible. He instantly takes to you and you find yourself wondering where he comes up with all his nicknames. You glare at him most of the night though because he keeps messing up your hair.

JJ is basically Spencer’s sister and it is obvious how much she loves him. She was cautious at first, and slightly offended that Spencer never told her about you, but by the end she bid you goodnight with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to invite you to girls night the next time you visit.

Hotch, surprisingly, is the one you click most with. From what you heard from Spencer, he has a reputation of not being able to smile but you don’t agree because in the few hours you have been in his presence he has done nothing but send caring, fatherly smiles your way. He offers to help when you complain about struggling with a political science class you decided to take this year and gives you his card telling you to call him anytime.

Penelope is protective. She will die before she lets anyone in her family get hurt. And although she isn’t a profiler, you find her studying you all night, trying to see if you are good enough for her boy genius. (You are, she concludes)

Dave reminds you of your grandfather. He teases you about your inability to play cards and promises to teach you the next time you visit. He tells Spencer that he will not be welcomed into his home for family dinner unless he extends the invitation to you.

Emily is…well Emily. There is no way to describe her. She is a total badass and you find yourself identifying with her sense of humor. She whispers to you that if you ever break up with Spencer, she would like to inform you that she is single.

After closing the door behind his team, Spencer pulls you to bed and lays his head on your chest. You protest at first, claiming that you need to clean up the mess, but eventually succumb and hold him close.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?” You move your neck to be able to look at him. He has his eyes closed and hums as you run your hands through his hair.

“For being you. For being so perfectly yourself.” he shuffles up and presses a loving kiss to your lips. “I love you. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

“I love you too,” you mumble against his lips. He lays against your chest again and you both drift off to sleep.

tag: @rexorangecouny

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s1utspeare · 4 years ago

Note

Hi darling

You write such an awesome metas on fictional character so I wanted you to ask that what's your thought on Huo Dao Fu.

😊

AH OMG!!! Your ask could not have come at a better time, cause I have a feeling this man’s gonna be an important part of my next fic, so I really should start figuring him out. He’s SUCH A LIL WEIRDO??? honestly i love him, even though he’s a total Bitch 97% of the time, but I think at heart he’s just Looking For Something, as are all the characters in this show.

What really interests me about Huo Daofu are his character parallels with Wu Xie, and I think that’s where most of the conflict between them comes in. Wu Xie, whether he means to be or not, is the Focus of Jiumen a good seventy-five percent of the time. Not always in a positive manner, because in Sha Hai they were all about ready to kick his ass, and in Reboot he pisses them off pretty good with his Warehouse Eleven stunts, but there’s a level of attention on him that other members of the families don’t receive, and I think Huo Daofu notices that, and is like “hey wait a minute why is he getting all the spotlight I want some spotlight >:( He’s not even doing a good job why is everyone paying attention to him”

Cause this bitch. THIS BITCH. He tried to be that bitch. He TRIED SO HARD. He went to EUROPE. He went to EUROPE and got a fucking like??? medical degree???? Like he went to GERMANY??? who does that?? not fucking wu xie, that’s who. Wu Xie went and got like a history degree or some shit which was just par for the course. But HUO DAOFU. He was DIFFERENT. He was gonna be THE SHIT. He was gonna be the unabomber of Jiumen, was gonna blow all that shit up and then say “fuck u” and all the future generations of Jiumen children were gonna hear horror stories about how Unique and Wild Huo Daofu was and he was never gonna have to deal with any of them ever again.

BUT THEN WU XIE DECIDED TO BE PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE AND HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING OFF THE BEATEN PATH. HE LITERALLY JUST FOLLOWED WU SANXING AROUND FOR LIKE. A YEAR. AND EVERYONE LOST THEIR MINDS. Like if I had been Huo Daofu and tried SO HARD to be different from everyone else in my generation and then this Dumb Little History Twink kissed a Zhang and found some wild swamp treasure and everyone went nuts about it, I would have been pissed off too.

Cause Jiumen is like. Annoying as hell, and everyone has a different way to deal with the fact that they’re a part of a treasure hunting org that has been around for hundreds of years and features immortals and weird-ass dudes with unbelievable martial arts skills and also Wu Sanxing. Xiaoge deals with them by Fucking Off Forever. Zhang Rishan deals with them by being The Most Competent Person In Any Given Room, and Huo Daofu deals with them by being The Biggest Bitch He Can Be, which isn’t even that much of a bitch, because there is always going to be a bigger bitch in Jiumen, and his name is Wu Xie. So it just backfires on him, because NO ONE GIVES A SINGLE FUCK.

We’re introduced to him at Xiao Hua’s fake funeral (which lmao i love that) when he’s making some Evil Plans with the rest of Jiumen, but not for the same reasons, cause when they actually get to the desert, Huo Daofu does not care about the treasure pits. He doesn’t even go down into Gutongjing (I’m pretty sure), he just hangs out in the camps because he doesn’t CARE about the treasure, he just wants to keep Wu Xie from succeeding, wants to say, see, look, I can do things too, I can be clever and cunning, I can take them all down from the inside out and I don’t even need friends to do it.

Huo Daofu is jealous of Wu Xie, I think, because Wu Xie is free of the confines of Jiumen, and Wu Xie has friends, and Wu Xie didn’t have to go to another country where he knew no one and didn’t even speak the language and work so hard and be fucking brilliant in ways that no one knows about and doesn’t always, always get overlooked in favor of someone who disregards everyone’s favor, but receives it anyway.

So when Pangzi shows up with Wu Xie, half-dead, on Huo Daofu’s doorstep, I think a little vindictive part of him goes serves him right.

But Huo Daofu is not a part of Jiumen in the ways that matter, and he’s a doctor, first and foremost. He took oaths because he wants to help people, he wants to save them, and even if he hates Wu Xie down in the pits of his stomach, he’s not just going to let him die. And so he follows Wu Xie to thunder city because, as he says, “I want to be there when you die.” He’s not going to kill him, he can’t do that, he’s a doctor, but that small, mean part of him wants to watch Wu Xie fall.

(Also I love @kholran’s headcanon that Huo Daofu is Wu Xie’s bitchy ex, bc like YES??? OF COURSE???? like they had an on-again, off-again thing cause they were like “we’re not doing this with the Jiumen women” but they’re WAY TOO ALIKE and just ended up fighting all the time.)

Reboot loves the Rule of Threes, which is where an idea is repeated three times in order to create a pleasing pattern. Human brains love patterns, and so when we see the Iron Triangle, when we see the three pills that mark the stages of Wu Xie’s illness, when we see the three missing people from Sanshu’s journey, our brains go oh that’s important (and Reboot ALMOST kills the game, ALMOST knocks it out of the park, but then they have FOUR story arcs instead of THREE, and it drives me ABSOLUTELY FUCKING INSANE. WHY DID THEY DO THIS. WHY).

And Huo Daofu is a FANTASTIC tri-tier replica of Wu Xie’s Greatest Hits, which are:

Being a sort of outcast/family runaway (Wu Xie has very clearly said Fuck Everyone Who Isn’t Sanshu, and Huo Daofu has aligned himself with the Chen clan, because the Huo’s are like Fuck Men (which honestly good for them but pLEASE love ur special doctor boy he’s getting a Complex))

Acting based almost Solely on Emotions when in the Heat of the Moment (i.e. dropping his entire life to go play doctor with a man who will not calm down for any length of time in order to actual REST)

Solving problems that no person should be able to solve because he’s smart as shit

Narratively, he’s a FANTASTIC foil for Wu Xie, because not only does he essentially hold this man’s life in his hands, but because he is what Wu Xie could have been if he hadn’t met Pangzi or Xiaoge, if he hadn’t had support from other people. And I don’t think that’s Huo Daofu’s fault, because he and Wu Xie are so, so similar. He just never got the people he needed, and its so clear that he’s achingly alone all of the time, so no wonder he’s jealous of Wu Xie and wants to become part of this little group so damn badly, even as he’s protesting and saying, “no, no, I want you to die, literally nothing would give me more pleasure, please die right now, I’m waiting.”

Sure, he’s a flipper-flopper ass bitch, but he’s trying his best with what he’s got, and shit, that’s not a lot. He’s got zero support system. I mean why the fuck is he making street churros? Even Zhang Rishan, who has NO culinary expertise or connections whatsover, gets to live in a restaurant, while Huo Daofu has to make fried dough in an alley and then keep people from choking on their own lungs on his damn kitchen table. Someone please help this man.

this is SO LONG i’m sorry but essentially I think that Huo Daofu is Like That because he’s trying so hard to be someone, and no one is paying any attention, and the person he would most relate to, Wu Xie, is off doing God knows what with his polycule of friends and Huo Daofu’s all by himself and like??? i would be SO FRUSTRATED??? please give this man a break and also give him Love??? like, this screenshot speaks VOLUMES (photo credit to @hey-its-wei)

LOOK AT HIM!!!!! LOOK AT HOW FUCKING HAPPY HE LOOKS!!!! JUST TO BE THERE!!!! WITH A GROUP OF PEOPLE!!!!! WHO HAVE SEEN HIM AND LISTENED AND SAID “hey, you can come with us, we’ll take you, you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

I said earlier that Huo Daofu, like everyone else in this series, was Looking For Something. And like many of our beloved Wu Crew, he was looking for a family. And look! He found them :)

#thank you so much for this ask???#i literally cried when i got it it made me so so happy #i love u nonny!!#dmbj #the lost tomb #the lost tomb reboot #huo daofu #huo dao fu #sha hai #tlt #tltr #meta #character meta

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years ago

Text

Absolute Cheeseball - Wally West x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Requested? Yes! From the lovely @officiallydarkgeek!

“Ohhh #28 "are you flirting with me?" "Thank god you finally noticed" with Wally, not because he is subtle but because she thought he flirted with everyone (which he didn't). (Alright I'm gonna stop now thanks and I love you)”

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

HELLO AGAIN ANGEL CAN I SAY HOW MUCH ILY! These requests are everythingggg. I love Wally ;) I love you ;) what a good day ;) I went for Young Justice Wally because he’s h o t and we can just pretend Dick and Artemis aren’t love interests but good friends... Hope you enjoy!

Wallace Rudolph West. What a confusing kid (flash). You’d successfully moved into Mt. Justice with the team and he’d been a big help making the adjustment. But that didn’t make your feelings for him less confusing. You’d caught him staring at you multiple times not to mention the quick quips about your eyes and how gorgeous they were. But he was a flirt, with everyone. He called everyone babe, though you realized you were the only one whose heart fluttered from it. Not to mention he was affectionate as hell. Constantly slinging an arm around people's shoulders Conner had commented multiple times on how your heart rate sped up when Wally was around.

But you knew you weren’t special to him. Sure he spent time with you but it was because you were new, and the team was slow to warm up to new people. And he toyed with everyone’s hair; and commented on everyone’s suit. You had to reign in your superhero ego knowing that in this instance you weren’t special. Besides, Robin was totally cute too, and even though he had advanced emotion controlling training he was easy to read, and he wasn’t looking for anything more than a flirt. You assumed it was because of someone back in Gotham. So you each had people you were pining to be with.

If nothing else it was fun flirting with Robin, especially on slow days. He was watching some medical drama with Wally and you plopped down on the couch right next to Robin, a little closer than is normal. “Hm, why do all the doctors sleep with each other? Do they even take care of patients?” Wally interrupted Robin, “because babe it’s fake ya know - made up?” he winked at you, and you stuck out your tongue, ignoring the butterflies twirling around your gut. Focussing more on Robin you rested your head on his shoulder, “so Robin do you have a secret identity or did Bats erase it. It can’t be as dumb as Wallace so you’re in good company!” Robin snorted and Wally sat up in his chair. “Yeah bird brain tell her your not-so-stupid name” he looked intrigued. “Well it’s a secret” Robin huffed. You didn’t want to upset him so you moved on, grabbing his hand by his wrist, holding it up to yours. “You have way bigger hands than me look!” you flattened your palm against his, grinning into Robin’s shoulder.

What you didn’t notice was Wally literally vibrating with jealousy. I mean what was Robin giving you that he wasn’t? He helped you move in, used all his famous moves on you, and tried telling you about all the things he liked about you, and yet emotionally stunted bird brain was getting the girl? Letting a little jealousy take over he zipped next to you, pulling your hand on to his.

“Ha look mine’s bigger” you barely registered Wally crossing the living room and nestling next to you. He hand was larger, he could bend his fingertips over your hand when you were palm to palm. “Congratulations Wallace you have the bigger hand but the dumber name” you teased Wally and noticed him lightly shaking, you’d clearly hit an insecurity or something. “Yeah really? Cuz his name’s Dick!” Wally blurted out. Dick jumped up angrily “what the hell dude? Secret identity much?” he glared at Wally who looked sheepish. “Sorry sorry, can I talk to you for a minute man?” before you could ask what was happening Wally zoomed off with Dick - it is a pretty lame name.

“Dude Wallster what is going on with you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at his best friend who was awkwardly rubbing his neck. “Erm, I kinda like Y/N and she’s all over you and I got kinda upset” Wally shrugged his shoulders and Dick tried to hold in a laugh. “Dude what are you on, I’m with Babs and Y/N totally doesn’t like me she’s into you dude” Wally looked up hopefully, and the two moved towards Dick’s room to plan.

A day later you and M'gann were baking when Wally and Dick came to join. More like watch. They sat at the counter make fun of you while you questioned your ability to cook. Wally couldn’t stop laughing “Y/N, babe, you’ve gotten more flour on you than in the bowl!” and you scrunched your nose at him, blowing some flour on his face. Eventually, after making fun of you, Dick and Wally got up and began to help. The first batch of cookies were being decorated by Dick and M'gann while you and Wally worked on the second batch.

“See this is why I watch the medical dramas, surgery and cooking are like the same thing! And I’m an expert!” Wally puffed out his chest while you giggled. To say you were close was an understatement. Wally would stand on one side of you then press against you to reach something from a cupboard or lean to grab the sugar with his face just inches from yours. You were intoxicated by his cologne, trying not to melt into his embrace. At one point you complained about being tired from stirring when Wally reached around either side of you, essentially trapping you in his arms and took the whisk from you. His breath was tickling the skin between your neck and shoulder, making you inhale quick breaths, trying to focus on the cookie dough.

M'gann mind linked you should we leave? You and Wally are doing more than cooking over there! And you mind-yelled back No! We’re just baking I wouldn’t be surprised to see you and Robin doing the same thing! You heard M'gann laugh lightly No Y/N he’s definitely flirting with you. And you got a little flustered, forgetting about the mind link. “No! he flirts with everyone not just me!” and you saw Wally’s gaze snap up from the cookies to you. Dick grabbed M'gann saying “oh wow hear that? Someone needs our help better go!” and the two of them basically ran out of the kitchen.

You stepped back, bracing yourself on the cabinets. “You aren’t flirting with me are you?” asking for confirmation. And Wally blushed “Uh, yeah I am. Are you just now noticing?” and your heart basically stopped. “No you aren’t you act this way with everyone! Right?” and again Wally shook his head “nope! Only got eyes for you Y/N!” you tried to let the words absorb into your love-shocked brain. “Only me?” you whispered, slowly leaning towards Wally who was closing the distance between the two of you. “Only you babe” he answered before bringing his lips down on to yours.

Pulling apart he didn’t let you out of his embrace. “You do like me right? Cuz you were all over Rob yesterday and it kinda sucked” he admitted. “You jealous KF? You haven’t even asked me out yet!” you teased and he blushed. “Oh! Yea. Maybe tonight I can run you somewhere cool! You ever wanted to see Star City stars?” and you couldn’t help but grin “sounds perfect Wally”. Both a grinning mess Wally’s hand fell to your chin, tilting your head up so he could capture your lips in another kiss.

“I bet I kiss better than Dick!” Wally winked at you. “Hm should I go find out?” you pretended to walk out of the kitchen when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. “Mhm nope. You’re gonna have to trust me on that one” and you laughed at how jealous he really was. You played with the fabric of his shirt. “So you really couldn’t tell I’ve been flirting with you for weeks?” he still looked shocked, “I thought my game was good!” and you rolled your eyes, “I thought you were using your ‘game’ on everyone! Didn’t think I was that special” you admitted as he toyed with strands of your hair. “Funny cuz I think you’re the most unique, special girl in the world” at that you couldn’t help but blush. “Save it for our date cheeseball” you poked his chest. “Well if you couldn’t tell I was flirting then I’ve gotta up the frequency and quality!” he grinned as you rolled your eyes. “Fine fine, now can we please go watch the sunset or something cheesy?” and he kissed you on the cheek before saying “Okay! I’ll be ready in a flash!” and you closed your eyes, trying to remove the horrible one-liner from your memory. “Gonna be a lot more of those huh” you whispered to yourself with a full heart for your flirt.

#wally west #wallace west #wally west x reader #wally west x you #kid flash #kid flash x reader #kid flash x you #dick grayson #m'gann m'orzz #robin #dc fluff #young justice #wally west imagine #kid flash imagine #wally west fluff #wally west x y/n #dick grayson x friend!reader #dick grayson x platonic!reader

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leechobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Night Garden

Words: ~2.3k

Characters: Ella the Apprentice, Julian Devorak

Content Warning: mentions of death, brief mention of vomit

Previous chapter, Masterlist

Over the past few weeks, Ella had decided two things.

The first seemed obvious, silly even, but she had to admit it to herself; she absolutely, positively, 100% did not have a crush on her boss, Dr. Julian Devorak.

It was inappropriate. Aside from the fact that he was her mentor, pursuing a romance in the middle of an epidemic just seemed… wrong. So wrong.

Additionally, there was just... no way the feelings were reciprocated. Because of their work relationship, Ella had spent lots of time watching Julian interact with people, and she had come to realize he was always incredibly friendly, pleasant, and (when appropriate), a little flirtatious. It was just who he was.

The drinks had clouded their judgement, she told herself. It was the alcohol that had given her the idea that she was desirable enough for a man like that to find her attractive. For her to have interpreted his demeanor as anything other than polite was delusional.

So she had decided to not have a crush on the tall, pale, auburn-haired, gray-eyed doctor any longer. He wasn’t even that good looking.

The second thing she had decided, was that the healing wasn’t helping anymore.

It seemed like the treatment was initially going to work. Not cure anything, but maybe, maybe buy the patients enough time to hold on just a little longer, in hopes that a real breakthrough for the cure would happen soon.

Ella visited Aleah and the rest of Dr. Devorak’s patients in the clinic every day for almost three weeks. Five days after their initial treatment, their symptoms returned, seeming to be worse than before. A second treatment bought them another three days, but that treatment proved to be less helpful than the first.

About two weeks after they had initially presented with symptoms, they died. Ella had sat with Aleah during her last hours of life, holding her hands, comforting her, praying to the Gods that they would take away this woman’s pain and allow her to pass easily into whatever came after this life.

The Gods didn’t answer.

Like all the patients who died before her, her last few moments were full of agony, dark red blood dripping from her mouth, ears, and nose, streaming out of her eyes like tears as she struggled to fill her blood-filled lungs with air.

It was the first patient Ella had seen die first hand, and it was more awful than she could have ever imagined. She had sat with Aleah until her heart stopped beating, then promptly rushed outside the clinic to get sick in the grass.

As hard as it was to watch, Ella knew that she had to stay focused. She continued to meet with Nazali and Isabel, tweaking the timing of treatments to see if earlier or more frequent healings would be more beneficial. And it seemed to, for a while, but Ella found her energy running low. It felt as if someone had pulled out an internal stopper and let all her physical, mental, and magical energy flow out. Nothing she did to try to recuperate seemed to help.

To make matters worse, ever since the first healing, she had the same nightmare almost every night: red clouding her vision, thick and suffocating air, hundreds of voices, ominous figures cloaked in black. Each night, more figures were present, always reaching for her, always screaming.

Ella spent most nights staring at the ceiling, willing herself to stay awake to avoid the dreams. She tried calming spells, herbal teas, and one night, she even drank herself to sleep hoping that would help, but all it did was give her a nasty hangover the next morning.

About a week ago, she had become so desperate, she penned a letter to her aunt Vivian, asking for any advice on how to make the dreams go away, but she knew it would take a while for an answer. So in the meantime, she had taken to walking around the palace grounds at night.

She had explored almost every corner of the palace, but enjoyed the gardens the most. The thick shrubbery and tall trees provided a feeling of safety and comfort that she hadn't found anywhere else. Every night, she would bring the remainder of her unfinished reports with her, roam around the maze of paths until she found a spot she liked, and then work until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Only then would she reluctantly drag herself back to her room to go to sleep.

This evening, Ella finds herself in an area of the garden she isn’t familiar with. Huge willow trees line each side of the path, their wispy tendrils seeming to reach for her in the unseen evening breeze. She can hear the sound of running water not too far away, and decides to head in the direction of the sound. She flips through her reports as she walked, reading them out loud to herself.

When she emerges from the trees into a large clearing, she’s pleasantly surprised to find that the source of the water is from a large, tiered fountain, illuminated softly by an unseen light source. She places her papers down on one of the stone benches surrounding the fountain before settling down on the stone wall around the water.

She kicks her shoes off and tucks her legs underneath her, facing the bubbling water of fountain. She reaches forward and dips her hands in the cool water, allowing her magic to pull the water to her hands. When she removes her hands from the fountain, the water stays floating around her fingers like a clear, thick glove.

Ella watches, smiling, as the light from the fountain reflects and refracts in the water around her hands. She compresses the water into a tight ball that she holds between her hands before pulling it apart like dough, and then compresses the water again to repeat the process.

She finds herself reminiscing back to her childhood as she plays with the water. This was the first spell she had taught herself as a child, one she had found in an old and dusty book of spells she from in the library. She remembers showing it to her siblings, how impressed and jealous they were, and how quickly they forbade her from using this new trick in their semi-regular water fights.

Ella frowns, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely.

“Ella?”

A voice from behind her breaks her concentration, sending the ball of water splashing back into the fountain and onto her legs. Ella turns quickly to find Julian, dressed casually in a loose white shirt and dark pants, standing by the bench where she had set her reports.

“Oh, Dr. Devorak.” She swings her legs back around so she faces him, rubbing her hands dry on the front of her damp dress. “What are you doing out here?”

The doctor raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing out here?” he asks as he sets his own papers down on top of Ella’s, making his way over to her at the edge of the fountain.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You too, hm?” He sighs as he sits down next to her, his long fingers wrapping around the lip of stone beneath him. His cool, smoke-colored eyes study her features slowly. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“I feel like I haven’t,” she admits, offering a small shrug.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Julian nods in understanding. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

To change the subject, they begin discussing work. Julian retrieves his papers from the bench and brings them back to the fountain, and together, the two of them start to review the day’s reports.

As Julian asks about certain patients, Ella responds flatly, her mind distracted, keeping her eyes fixed on the reflections in the water. “Dr. Devorak,” she interrupts suddenly, pulling her gaze up to meet his.

“Julian,” he corrects, not looking up from the papers.

“Julian,” Ella tries again. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the healings I’ve been doing, but I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you.”

The doctor nods, turning his body so he’s facing her, tucking one of his long limbs underneath him. “That, um. That may be my fault. Well, actually, I know that’s my fault.”

Ella frowns, genuinely confused. “What’s your fault?”

Julian blushes, rubbing the back of his neck, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. “The fact that you haven’t had much of a chance to talk to me.” He looks toward the magician, who raises an eyebrow in question. “I’ve been trying to um, distance myself from you? No, that sounds bad. I just--”

“Is it because of what I showed you the night after the Raven?”

Julian chews on his bottom lip, his eyes searching hers before clearing his throat. “Y-yes.” He laughs nervously, looking down at his hands. “I guess I lied when I said I wasn’t scared of magic. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly impressed by your talent just… it’s just very different from what I’m used to.”

She can tell by his posture and how he won’t meet her eyes that that’s not the whole truth. She studies his features as he traces imaginary patterns in the stone, reminding herself again that she does not like him that way.

Taking pity on him, Ella offers a smile. “That’s understandable. You didn’t have to avoid me though. Especially because I didn’t remember what happened until Isabel filled me in.”

Julian’s attention snaps up toward her, his eyes wide, a smirk dancing on the corners of his lips. “Maybe we shouldn’t have had that wine.”

She laughs, tucking a brown wave back behind her ear. “Yeah, maybe not.”

His eyes linger on her features a moment longer before he clears his throat. “So! What did you want to tell me about the healing?”

Julian listens attentively to Ella’s concerns about her magic. She reluctantly admits she doesn’t think she can keep up with the number of healings she’s doing, and how she feels she’s failing both him and his patients because of this. By the end of the conversation, Ella finds herself blinking back tears, feeling both relieved and anxious to have shared these feelings with someone else.

He frowns, reaching his hands out to take hers, running his thumb across her knuckles. The contact makes only makes her eyes water more, and she keeps them firmly focused on the water to avoid meeting his gaze. “Ella, you haven’t failed anyone. This is not a burden that falls on your shoulders alone.”

Ella shakes her head, pulling her hands away to wipe at her eyes. “I know. I just thought I would be able to do more. I didn’t expect the healings to take so much out of me.”

“Hm. It’s a shame we can’t just... bottle up your magic and distribute it that way,” Julian laughs, tapping his chin.

Ella sighs, nodding solemnly in agreement, before realization hits her. “Wait, what?”

“Ah— Not to say you aren’t doing a good job,” Julian says, backpedaling, his hands raising in defense. “You’re a phenomenal magician, I had just read—“

“No, no, Julian, you’re a genius!” Ella exclaims, jumping up from her spot on the fountain, startling Julian. “We can just bottle it up!”

Julian blinks at her as she rushes over the bench with her notes, dropping to her knees and reaching for the quill and ink Julian brought with him.

She quickly scribbles down a list of ingredients that may be helpful for potions and elixirs before bringing the journal back to Julian.

“Look,” she says, pointing to the drying ink on the page before her. “We can make potions. I used to do it all the time for the shop, I have no idea why I didn’t think about it sooner!”

Julian listens intently as Ella drops down on the bench next to him and begins to explain how different combinations of ingredients with the addition of magic can provide similar effects to her magic alone. She continues to explain that although it may not last as long, large batches of these mixtures can be made with minimal effort to ensure the patients can receive the treatment as they need it, whenever they need it.

“It makes sense to me,” Julian says, reading over the list.

“It might take a few tries to get the combination, the right mixture, but I’m sure this will work,” she says as she reads over his shoulder, nodding to herself.

She turns to Julian, who is no longer looking at the paper, but is instead completely focused on her face, the corners of his lips pulled up in a small smile. Blushing, she straightens up and away from him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, still smiling.

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His eyes flicker toward her lips for only a moment, his pale skin blushing a light shade of pink as she returns his gaze.

“Like nothing, Dr. Devorak.” She pulls her papers from his hands and turns to face him, standing up from the bench and hoping he can’t see her blushing in the dim lighting of the garden. “I’ll need a few days in my shop to figure out the right combination. I don’t think it’ll take more than a week.”

Julian nods, the smile still playing on his lips. “Take all the time you need. I trust you.”

#surprise! bet you though i forgot about ella's canon #this has been sitting in my drafts forever #so we're publishing it now to get it out of the drafts #ella the apprentice #julian devorak #the arcana #my writing #fan apprentice #death cw #the title is from the song night garden by benee

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janicho88 · 4 years ago

Text

In This Together Part 3

Pairing- Dean x Wife!Reader

Word count- 5821

Summary-Find out what these two have been up to for the last year. What obstacles are thrown at these two now?

Warnings- Possible sick reader, hospital/doctors, little language, little angst, fluff, implied smut, talk of possible infertility, pregnancy.

A/N-This is the third part of my first fic. It started as a oneshot but turned into more. The first part of this story was written, because I needed someone like Dean at the time. This miniseries I guess you can call it, is very personal to me. I’ve lived a majority of the first two parts. If you’ve read it you can see why I wanted someone like Dean to lean on. In this part I wanted to give the reader something I don’t know if I’ll ever have. Thank you for reading! Pictures found on google.

Part 1 Part 2

11 months later August 2021

Slowly opening your eyes back up, you were staring out the window of your fourth-floor hospital room. This time your window looked over the street below, every time you were on this floor you had a different view. Dean was still sitting in the bed next to you, you leaned your head on his shoulder as you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened.

October 2020 came around and your doctor let you go off your birth control. He knew you and Dean were trying, or more not trying to stop anything from happening. You knew nothing would happen right away and didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also trying to stay positive that nothing was going to go wrong with you again. You were due a win.

You had been back to work for about four months now, there were still some things you were trying to get used to at the new store. Because of the two surgeries you could wear down easily and were mostly five days a week trying to get up to six. You had already rearranged the office and some of the shelves in the kitchen area to make it more efficient, but some of your employees kept moving things on you so you had to redo them. It would take a good year for your foot to be back to normal which was February, but it would never be pain free. As long as it was better than before you were happy.

Halloween was coming close and Sam and Jess invited you over to their house again. Since you and Dean didn’t have any other plans you decided to join them along with Dean’s parents. Jake’s costume this year was an adorably fierce lion.

With things still crazy in the world and covid still around there weren’t many trick or treaters. Unfortunately, this meant more candy for Dean. Being a Saturday night Dean didn’t have to work the next morning. and you went in later on Sundays, so you stayed for a while. After Jake went to bed the guys turned on the, All Saint’s Day, movies Dean loves. They weren’t exactly your favorite so at least he could try and drag Sam into his madness this way. Dean was enjoying his brother being a bit more into Halloween now that he had Jake around. You bid them goodnight just before midnight and took your sugar high husband home, he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while.

Thanksgiving was late again this year, so your parents had decided like last year to do their Christmas party the week before Thanksgiving again. Even though you were working less this year you somehow got distracted and got to planning late. This meant the first two and half weeks of the month would be filled with baking. The nice thing about the store you took over was the regular oven it had so you could do some of it there. Although first things first, you had to assemble your as baking list. The night after Halloween you were sitting on the couch with the Hallmark Channel playing its Countdown to Christmas. Computer in front of you with Pinterest pulled up. Dean walked in from the kitchen during a commercial.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you up to? Anything good on?”

“Nine Lives of Christmas, is on. I’m looking..”

“No, Seriously Y/N? It’s the day after Halloween, and you’re watching Christmas movies?”

You turned and glared at him. “One, I have been watching Christmas movies whenever you weren’t around for the last week. Two, you like this one so hush. The guy is a fireman, your missed profession. Three, I’m trying to get into the Christmas mindset to put together my baking list.”

“Oh great, it’s that time of the year again. What crazy ideas are you going to come up with this year, actually wait, let me grab a beer first.”

You laughed as he walked back to the kitchen. Dean might give you a hard time with the Christmas crazy baking list you come up with, but you also know he very much enjoys the sweets you bake. You two had been dating since your freshman year of college and he was always your official taste tester. Although anything pie related was his favorite.

“I think I’m going to just do round sugar cookies again, while I was off after surgery, I watched a cookie decorating class that showed how to paint the frosting with food coloring and alcohol.”

“That sounds like a mess,” you threw a pillow at him. “I mean great Sweetheart, I’m sure they will be amazing.”

“Keep talking Winchester, see how big a hole you can dig. Here’s a recipe for mini pie like cookies, I co”

“Yes!”

“..uld try. Okay, adding to the list https://www.pinterest.com/pin/518406607102183606/

You were bound and determined one year you would get these cupcakes done; just not sure this year would be it. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040748115/

“How about Christmas Cheesecake Cookies?” You showed Dean the picture and this time he glared you. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040791076/

“Do you remember the red and green Krinkle Cookies you did last year? Your hands were dyed red and green and so was everything you touched while rolling them. I’m voting no more dyed cookie dough.”

“Fine spoilsport.”

“How about you put the computer away and come to bed with me.”

“You’re heading to bed already it’s only, oh. Be right there Babe,” quickly shutting everything off you chased after your husband to the bedroom.

The party was a little smaller this year, some people still weren’t all for getting together with people yet. It was mostly family and some close friends. Honestly, you preferred it that way, less entertaining you and your mom had to do, and the more you could relax and enjoy the night. The best part about having this early, was your baking was now done, you had even gotten Dean to get the decorations out and most of the house was done. You enjoyed cuddling on the couch with the Christmas lights glowing around you.

Thanksgiving was once again split between both of your families. You went to your dad’s mom for a late lunch and spent time with your family. Then headed over to John and Mary’s for well, for Dean dinner, you were still full, so you just picked at a few things. After cleaning you ladies joined the guys in the living room where they were watching the game and supposed to be keeping an eye on Jake. You and Jess talked sales you saw in the ads and tried to get gifts ideas out of Mary for her and John. Like your mom, she wasn’t very helpful and just said you guys didn’t have to get them anything. Usually you and your mom would hit a few stores tonight, but nothing was really open with everything going on. The two of you had planned for the next day to get a few things before you both headed for work. It was nice to spend time with just your mom anyways.

Every year December seems to fly by, it was the second week now and you had been feeling a bit off, and more tired than usual. According to Dean you had become a bit moody too. Which of course you snapped at him when he mentioned that. He’d been watching his step after that. One morning you were taking care of the dogs when you felt sick and had to run to the restroom. You didn’t go into work that day, since you didn’t want to get anyone else sick, but felt fine as the day went on. The next day at work you walked into the cooler and for some reason the dough smelled strong to you and you had to walk back out and get some fresh air. You attributed it to yesterday’s stomachache. Then the burping started again. Donna heard you at work and came over.

“What’s going on lady?”

“Something’s off, I haven’t been feeling well, I started throwing up and the burping restarted.”

“You know what you need to do right?”

“I know, but really Donna, can’t I catch a break. I don’t know how Dean is going to take it if the doctor tells me there is another problem, I don’t know how I’m going to take it.”

“Okay, well before we send you into the operating room again, maybe you should see what the doctor has to say first.”

“That would be the logical thing to do, I prefer worst case scenario.”

That night when you got home from work you told Dean what was going on and when you called your doctor’s office, they actually had an opening on Friday and could get you in then. Dean was unable to go since Benny would be leaving that morning for a weeklong trip to see his wife’s family for an early Christmas.

The day of your appointment arrived, the nurse, Julie that took you back was your cousin’s friend who first introduced you to this doctor. You two chatted on your way back to the room. When you got to the room, she asked what was going on and when your last period was. You explained your symptoms and how you were worried about another mass or fibroid. It had been over a month since your last, but you hadn’t been regular since your surgery and going off birth control. They took a blood and urine sample to send for tests before you saw the doctor. The doctor pushed near your uterus to see if he could feel any bumps around there. He wanted you to get an ultrasound, so that was scheduled for Monday, your labs would be done then also.

It was a quiet weekend for you and Dean. Monday rolled around and your appointment was that afternoon. Dean was supposed to meet you at the hospital, where the doctor’s office was located, but was stuck in a meeting with a new supplier. Since you were there for an ultrasound you were just supposed to see the tech who would do the test, but Julie was the one who came and got you. She took you back to the ultrasound room. When you were back, she told you the test results came back. You left the doctor’s office in a bit of shock after scheduling your next appointment. As you passed the mall on the way home you decided to make a quick stop.

That night during dinner Dean asked you what the doctor had to say. When he called you after your appointment you said you were fine and would talk to him at home you didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.

“I’m going to need follow up appointments for the next few months, but everything is good.”

“If it’s good why do you need follow ups, what aren’t you telling me?”

You got up and went to get the package you picked up from the mall, handing it to Dean you sat back down. He looked at you and back to the wrapped box.

“Open it.”

Ripping open the paper he looked at the open back and back to you. “Wait, what? Really?”

“Yes!”

You told Dean what happened at your appointment. The results came back, and you were pregnant. Because of your history though, the doctor still wanted an ultrasound just to make sure there wasn’t a fibroid or a mass there. They didn’t find any problems; the tech could just make out the embryonic sac the baby would be growing in. They figured you were around 5 weeks, and due around August 14th. Dean jumped up and grabbed you in his arms, tears were gathering in his eyes, he was so happy.

Later that night you were laying with Dean on the couch and he was going through his phone.

“Hey, the baby is about the size of an apple seed right now. An apple seed, that’s smaller than my fingernail!”

You looked over at his phone and saw he was going through baby sites. “Yes, that is tiny.”

“I can’t wait to see them in the activity walker car, they are going to love it like Jake does.”

“Dean, honey, you know we still have like 8 months till the baby is here, and then they aren’t going to be able to use that right away, right?”

“Yeah, well they still will one day.” He learned closer to your stomach, “right little on, can’t wait to play in the car walker daddy got you.” You had tears in your eyes watching Dean talk to your baby, you had been so afraid this day would never come.

Wiping your eyes, “I thought you said you bought that for Jake?” Knowing that was his excuse at the time, hoping one day it would by your child playing in it.

“Well, I, um,”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it.”

Sitting in the hospital bed you looked down at the little one in your arms, and still couldn’t believe how lucky you and Dean were to be here. Your mind went back to last year’s Holidays, and what happened after you found out you were pregnant.

The two of you debated on telling anyone about the baby yet, since it was early. As excited as Dean was you didn’t know how long he could keep the secret. You would only be seven weeks along at Christmas but decided to tell everyone Christmas Eve at your parents. You were going to tell them like you told Dean. You found some grandparent gifts for them to open. Since Sam had Jake it would be John and Mary’s second grandchild, but your parents first.

While playing games after dinner on Christmas Eve, you and Dean rigged a team game that had your parents all winning. Handing each of them the gifts you picked up Dean grabbed the camera to record their reactions. It took a minute before it sank in, but everyone was so excited for you. Mary and your mom rushed over to hug you while John and your dad congratulated Dean. The rest of the family joined in after the grandparents.

“The baby is the size of a blueberry now.” Dean proudly told everyone.

The two of you decided to have a quiet New Year’s Eve in. Your parents, Dean’s along with Sam, Jess, and Jake came over for dinner, and games. The guys ended up in the basement watching some competition, while you ladies were watching the New Year’s countdown and talking babies. On a trip upstairs Dean heard the conversation and informed everyone that the baby was now raspberry sized.

You had your 11-week ultrasound the Friday before Dean’s birthday. You scheduled it then because you thought it would be an early birthday treat for him getting to see the baby. They were going to confirm your due date, and there was a chance you would be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Dean looked over at you with a smile when you were walking up and threw his arm around your waist.

“What?”

“You’re starting to show, I can’t wait till I can feel him kick.”

“Remind me when this kid is playing soccer in me, how happy you are about it then.”

He put his arm around your waist as you walked. “Yeah, yeah, come on I can’t wait to see our little prune.”

“I can’t wait till next week, and we’re on a different food.”

Dean was so excited he could barely sit still in the office. They called you back and got you settled in the room before the tech came back to start. She started and was running the wand over your stomach when she found the baby and pointed him out to you. Dean grabbed your hand.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that’s our little one.”

“Yeah.” You both had tears in your eyes.

The tech turned on the volume so you could hear the heartbeat. “There it is, wait a minute.” She was moving the wand again.

“What’s going on?” You worriedly asked.

“There’s another heartbeat. Here, we have a shy one.”

Looking at the screen you saw another tiny dot.

“Wait, are you saying?” You looked over at Dean and he was looking at the screen it hadn’t hit him yet.

“Congrats, you’re having twins!”

“Wwwhat?” Dean finally tuned into the conversation.

“Happy Birthday weekend dad, you’re getting two babies!” Dean’s look of shock wasn’t one you would be forgetting anytime soon.

Leaving the doctor’s office, you both were a mix of shock, nerves and excitement. It was hard to tell which one was winning out right now. You had the family over to the house for Dean’s birthday on Sunday and you let him share the news with everyone. You also decided it was time to tell the rest of your friends.

You moved your gaze from the tiny bundle in your arms to Dean staring down at the tiny swaddled baby in his. Someone had Daddy completely wrapped around his finger. Sensing you watching him he looked up with a smile on his face. “Sweetheart, I can’t believe our babies are finally here, I can actually hold them and see them when I talk. You did so good,” he told you leaning over to kiss you. Dean had been constantly talking to the babies and trying to feel them kick before they were born. Ever since you got back to your room and the twins were brought in, he had one in his arms at all times, relishing in the fact he now could.

Dean wanted to go all out for Valentine’s Day this year. He said it was the last one with just the two of you, and last year it had been a week after your first surgery, so you just stayed home. Thankfully, you had a dress that had been fairly lose on you before, so you didn’t have to go find something new. Dean had reservations at a nice restaurant in town, where you enjoyed each other’s company and the food. You were beat by the end of dinner and headed home to cuddle on the couch. Dean was rubbing your stomach and talking to the babies while you watched a movie, you were running your hand through his hair.

“How are my babies doing tonight? Did you enjoy the nice dinner I took your mommy to? I can’t wait till I can meet you guys. A few more months, you have some growing to do. You guys are 14 weeks, that means you’re as big as lemons now. You would fit in the palm of my hand.”

The next month went by fairly quickly, both you and Dean busy with work. There were things around the house that would need to be done to get ready for the birth of the twins. It seemed like Dean was quickly lessoning what we would let you do without help so you wanted to get started soon before he had you completely sidelined. You had decided to turn your guest room into the nursery and move the spare bed into the office neither of you really used. You cleaned out some of the lighter things because you knew Dean would freak out on you if you moved anything heavy. One night you went through Pinterest looking for different ideas for the nursery before you rushed ahead with anything.

March 16th was your 6th wedding anniversary; you suggested a quiet night at home. Dean vetoed that since you stayed home last year, again because of you. He booked you a weekend stay at a bed and breakfast a little over an hour away near the beach. Being March, it was too cold to get in the water, but you spent time exploring the quaint little town and its cute shops. While you were walking the beach at sunset your first night you stopped to admire the view and Dean stood behind you wrapping his arms around your stomach.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Babe. Thank you for doing this.”

“You know I would do anything for you.”

“I know, you have always been so good to me, and you’re going to be such an amazing dad. These babies are lucky to have you.”

“I love spending time just the two of us, but I can’t wait to meet these sweet potatoes.”

“Really Dean?”

“What that’s what the website says for 18 weeks.”

The rest of the weekend went very well, the highlight would have to be the last walk on the beach you and Dean took before you headed home. When you had stopped and were looking out over the water you felt a flutter in your stomach, and a few minutes later another faint one. That’s when you realized it was the babies moving. You told Dean and he kept moving his hand around to try and feel it too but was unable. He was still excited because it meant he would be able to soon.

Easter was the first weekend in April, you split your time between your two families. Sam and Jess hosted this year. While you and Mary kept Jake busy the guys hid Easter eggs around the yard for him to try and find. There were only about ten, but it still took him a little while. He was more interested in playing with the colorful plastic egg then finding the next one. Dean stood beside you while Jess was helping Jake. His hand was on your stomach when he suddenly pulled it back.

“What was, wait was that?”

“Yeah, that was one of the babies kicking.”

“So awesome! I can’t wait till we are out there helping ours find eggs, take their first steps, holding them.”

“I think your order was a little backwards, but I know how you feel, Dean.”

You had a surprise to share with both of your families. A few days earlier you had gone for you third ultrasound. Since you already had the surprise of twins you decided to find out the genders. While you were sitting around talking after dinner you let Dean tell his family, you had told your earlier in the day. Jake was sitting in his lap when he started talking.

“Hey buddy, do you know how big your cousins are now?” Jake didn’t understand and just looked at his uncle. “They are the size of pomegranates.”

“Dean, Babe, he’s not even two yet, he doesn’t know what that is.”

“He’s Sam’s kid. Sam eats all kids of healthy shi.. stuff. I’m sure he has those around the house.” Sam just shook his head and glared at his brother.

“Do you think you want a girl or boy cousin to play with?”

Mary was looking between the two of wondering if this conversation was going where she thought. Jake never answered Dean no matter what he did to try and pull something out of him.

“How about one of each, what do you think about that?”

“Is that one you’re having?” Mary asked not being able to wait for any more of Dean’s game.

“Yep, we are having a boy and a girl.” Dean grinned proudly.

“Oh man,” Sam started, “a little girl is going to have you so wrapped around her finger.” They all congratulated you and Dean once more.

It was the second weekend in May and you really needed to get going on finishing the nursery or starting it. Who would have thought the hardest part was going to be picking a theme you and Dean could both agree on.

“Come on Y/N, what’s wrong with that idea?”

“Dean, I’m not letting your obsession with scaring your brother using clowns scar our children with a clown themed nursery. Not going to happen Winchester.” The mobile and matching blanket he found even creeped you out a little.

“How about race cars? No, I got it! Let’s paint Baby on a wall!”

“Um, nice thought. We were trying to keep it neutral remember? How about when they get older, and this little guy can appreciate cars almost as much as his daddy, you can do a car theme. Who exactly is going to paint Baby, or did you suddenly become Picasso?”

“I didn’t get to who was going to paint it yet in my planning. Fine we can do cars down the road. Where are your ideas?”

“You have already shot them down, you didn’t want to paint the chevron lines, the silver and blue was to girly.” You just shook your head and went back to looking. This was going just as well as picking out names.

Dean looked over at what you had pulled up. “I like that color.”

“Seriously?”

“What, I can’t like that?”

“No, I was asking do you seriously like it, because I do too?”

“Well we like it, but how about my little rutabagas?”

“Really Dean? Do you even know what that is?” mumbling something he turned back to his phone; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking up rutabagas. On the plus side you finally had the nursery plans worked out.

Jess, Mary and your mom threw you a baby shower the first weekend in June you were about 30 weeks now. They had the party at your parent’s house, this worked out nice for you since you lived closest to them and it would be easy to take things home. Dean and the guys could hang out at your house since they didn’t want to attend the party the whole time. Jake was almost 2 and very interested in the presents on the table. You all had to keep him from trying to climb up there. It was a great couple hours playing games and spending time with family and friends. Babies Winchester were spoiled greatly!

Dean did come down toward the end, you’re pretty sure though he just wanted food. You excitedly showed him the wonderful gifts people gave the babies and you. He eagerly described the nursery, told people how fast the baby was growing, and how they were now as big as cucumbers.

Your birthday was a few weeks later, and at 32 weeks you weren’t up to doing much for it. Your families came over to the house for dinner. Your parents and Mary had been around and helped with different projects in the nursery. John, Sam, Jess and your brother on the other hand hadn’t been over in a while, so they had not seen the nursey. Dean was eager to show them all

“This is where my little squashes will sleep.”

Jess looked at Dean and laughed, “It’s cute that you think they are going to sleep Dean.”

The majority of the nursery was done now. You had gone with the soft aqua color you both liked, along with white furniture and trim. You had gone with light grey and white chevron curtains and pillows to accent it, along with soft grey carpet.

The Winchester’s always did a big 4th of July BBQ, this year was no exception. Ever since Sam and Jess got married you rotated hosting it between the three of you. This year should have been yours and Deans’ but since you were 34 weeks along Mary graciously told you they would have it. The doctor had told you to really start taking things easier, so you were trying not to overdo it. Mary didn’t let you help much in getting ready for the party, but you did busy yourself in the kitchen at home making a few desserts and Dean’s favorite pasta salad. You were thankful for them taking over you hadn’t been getting much sleep and wouldn’t have had the energy to get everything done you would have wanted.

Dean was manning the grill talking with Sam, Cass, and Benny when you walked over to join him. You could hear him talking as you got closer.

“Right now they are about the size of butternut squash, although they could be slightly smaller cause it’s twins.”

“I could have sworn you called them squash a few weeks ago, or was that a nickname for them?” Sam asked his brother.

“A few weeks ago, they were squash, now they are butternut squash.”

“I wasn’t aware there were different squashes,” Benny added.

“You know Dean for someone with an aversion to vegetables I’m surprised by the number of them you have called your kids.” Sam teased his brother with a laugh.

“What will they be when they are born,” Cas asked.

“Babies, Cas, they will be babies.” Dean shook his head at his brother and friends catching sight of you waddling over. “And there is my beautiful wife, and mom to be.” Dean leaned down and gave you a kiss while his hand went to your stomach.

Night came and you were heading back to you seat next to Dean to watch the fireworks. When the first ones lit up the sky you could feel both babies start to kick, apparently, they were as big of fans as their dad. Dean moved you around on the bench so he was sitting behind you and could have his arms around you. When he felt the babies kick, he moved his hands around and started talking to them calming them right down. The last few weeks whenever they were really active at night Dean’s touch and voice were the only thing that would get them to settle down so you could get a little sleep.

They figured your due date was around August 14th, but since you were having twins, they would most likely be early. Because of your previous surgeries the doctor wanted you to have a C-section to avoid any issues. It wasn’t what you really wanted, but it was what was best. They scheduled that tentatively for Friday August 7th unless the babies had other plans. Which they did. You were laying on the couch Monday morning with some heat on your back to help with the pain you were having while Dean was getting ready for work. Just before Dean walked out you started to feel some cramping. You were fairly certain you were in labor now. Dean actually took it much calmer than you thought he would. He called the doctor’s office while you went to shower and change. When you came back, he had both you bag and the babies in the car, and called Benny to tell him he would need to handle the shop today.

Once you go to the hospital things were a bit of a blur. They checked you in, took you to a room to exam you and prep for surgery. Dean disappeared at one point and came back dressed in scrubs. Before you knew it, they were taking you back to the operating room Dean right beside you the whole time.

“It’s time to meet our pumpkins Sweetheart.”

You just looked over to him and laughed.

“It’s the last time I can say that.”

“I know Dean let’s go meet our pumpkins.” ��Dean smiled widely at you as you headed down the hall.

Dean was holding your hand and trying to keep you calm when the doctor asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. He did and came back to standing next to you with tears in his eyes as he watched a nurse take your screaming son. The doctor went back to work to get your little girl and Dean once again cut the cord. He was pushed out of the way quickly because she wasn’t breathing. The nurse who brought your son over said that could happen with C-sections and she should be fine. It seemed longer than the few minutes it really was before you and Dean heard her little cries fill up the room, both of you letting out a sigh of relief.

After recovering you were finally in your room with Dean and both of your babies. Your families were here and waiting for your okay to come meet the newest members. Dean proudly introducing the babies to the rest of the family.

“I would like you all to meet Patrick John and Sophia Allison. You spent a few days in the hospital Dean right beside you the entire time.

After everyone left your little family alone Dean sat down next to you on the bed holding Sophia, while you held Patrick. The two of you both lost in your own thoughts and the babies in your arms before you looked over to him drawing his attention to you.

Once you arrived home your mom and Mary took turns coming over to see if they could help you or just let you get some sleep. Dean had to go back to the shop but tried to be home as much as possible.

The twins were two months old and not sleeping well through the night which was leaving you and Dean exhausted. You were both working during the day, and the twins were waking each other up at night which had the two of you getting up each taking one of the babies. You told Dean that you would get up and he could sleep, but he just kissed you as he walked by saying you were in this together no matter what. One night you had finally got them calmed down early and both of you sank down on the couch. Dean asked if you wanted to watch anything on TV.

“Honestly, I don’t think I could follow along on anything right now, but the back of my eye lids. How about we head to bed before the little monsters wake us up?”

“Knew I married a smart woman.”

Just as you settled into bed you heard Patrick start crying, and then Sophia joined in.

“Seriously.” Dean grumbled.

As you were trying to calm both babies down Dean was playing on his phone. All of a sudden you head Samuel L Jackson voice reading Go the Fuck to Sleep. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cb0t9TUNLpg

“Seriously Dean?”

“What? They can’t understand and I completely agree with it.”

Much to your surprise the twins were starting to doze back off. If this actually worked, you weren’t sure if Dean would let you hear the end of it. This was the quickest they calmed down for you, and also the start of hearing this every night for the next four months.

Things weren’t always perfect, but they were perfect for you. You had an incredible husband who always supported you and two wonderful kids who would keep you both on your toes. No matter what happened good or bad you and Dean were in this together.

Thank you for reading! For now this store is complete.

Tag list @talesmaniac89 @deanwanddamons @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @katehuntington @malfoysqueen14 @anathewierdo @superfanficnatural @akshi8278 @sandlee44

#supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

Text

Feel Again

summary: Instantly captivated by the woman the nurses have dubbed the ‘frequent flyer’ of the emergency department, Bucky can’t help but fall for Y/n. He relishes every moment he can spend with her and with her apparent clumsiness, it’s quite often. That is, until he learns the real reason behind her injuries.

pairing: doctor!bucky x reader

word count: 13k 😬

warnings: mentions of a physically abusive relationship (no direct descriptions of violence), descriptions of injuries

authors’s note: this def gets a little dark but I promise it’s worth it. please enjoy a very lovestruck/protective bucky 🥰

“Alright little man,” Bucky chuckled, brushing his hand over the curls of the three-year-old boy name Nico sitting in his father’s lap upon a cot. The busy chaos of the emergency department had Nico clinging onto his stuff stuffed stegosaurus for dear life, curled up against his father’s chest.

Small brown eyes looked up nervously as Bucky knelt down at Nico’s eye level. He pointed to the Band-Aid he had obtained special from the pediatrics floor on the boy’s elbow, light green and covered in small cartoon dinosaurs.

“Don’t go running down the stairs again, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

Nico nodded, his curls bouncing into his eyes. Bucky stood up with a grin and shook the hand of Nico’s father who apologized for the fifth time in as many minutes for bringing his son in for such a small cut. His wife was away on business and he had a bad habit of panicking at the small things when it came to their son.

“Always better to be safe,” Bucky advised, offering the nervous father an encouraging smile as he slid the chart into the basket at the end of the bed. The man hugged his son tightly before he reached for their coats, thanking Bucky again for his time. He watched as Nico’s father lifted him easily into his arms and carried him to the exit of the emergency department.

As they pushed open the doors, Bucky caught a brief glimpse of the night sky, blanketed in darkness and freckled in stars. Last he knew the sun was still above the skyline. He glanced up at the bright red numbers illuminated above the nurses’ station to read it was nearing on one in the morning. Bucky sighed, giving himself only a moment to breathe before he recognized Steve jogging in his direction.

“Buck!” Steve called over the loud chatter of irritable patients waiting for their turn and the constant beeping of about a dozen heart monitors. He shoved his way through a hoard of interns in light blue scrubs gathered over the bed of a man talking casually despite the knife protruding from his collarbone and grumbled something about ‘dough eyed idiots’ under his breath. Panting for a moment as he reached Bucky, he glanced down at the clipboard.

“I need you on bed eight.”

“You doing okay, Steve?” Bucky smirked, leaning against the countertop at the nurses’ station. “Looks like being head of trauma ain’t all it’s worked up to be. You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“We’re swamped,” Steve grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. One of the nurses could be heard scolding an intern with defibrillator paddles in his hands as the patient was opening his eyes from a heavy sleep. “The interns are completely useless and I’ve got more patients than beds. This full moon shit is killing us.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder as he moved toward the bed at the end of the line. “Take a breath, Stevie. Sam’s on call for tonight. Why don’t you give him a ring?”

“Yeah I bet he’ll love that,” Steve rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll be sure to tell him it was your idea, too.”

"Wouldn’t that be a damn shame,” Bucky called over his shoulder, chucking to himself as he swerved his way through the crowd of people gathered for the injured soccer player in bed six.

Bed eight sat at the end of the series of cots lining the east wall of the department. It was tucked a little further into the corner, separated by a series of rolling carts and machines, so it at least felt slightly less claustrophobic than the rest of the beds around here.

The curtain was drawn around the bed, obstructing the patient from view, so Bucky took a minute to glance over the chart.

Y/n Rumlow. Female. No record of prior medical history, which was a bit unusual, but the nurses had at least taken down note that the presenting problem was pain and swelling at the wrist. Shouldn’t be too difficult to manage. He could have her out of here in a few minutes and on to the next patient before Steve started flogging the interns or actually woke up Sam, for which Bucky would face some serious death glares for the rest of the night.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the well recited speech he usually doled out to patients.

With a quick tug, Bucky swung open the curtain, eyes still glued to the clipboard, “Good evening, ma’am. My name is Dr. Barnes and I’ll be--”

A yelp sounded over the metal rings sliding against the rod over his head and Bucky froze.

He glanced up over the brim of the chart to find a young woman sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed in light wash jeans and a sweatshirt with faded lettering worn with years of use. Her hair was tied up away from her face, like she had thrown it up last minute before leaving the house, messy strands falling down from the bun. The faint discoloration of dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and the imprint of what appeared to be the fold of a pillow case on her cheek.

Bucky noticed almost instantly that she was undeniably, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

She was gingerly resting her right wrist against her knee just over the rip in of jeans. Her phone sat on the bed by her hip, softly playing music from the speaker as the headphones must have yanked accidentally from the plug. Wide eyes, a breath coming in too quick, a hand stabilizing against her chest, and Bucky realized he had startled her.

“Sorry I scared you there, Miss, uh,” Bucky chuckled nervously, glancing down at the chart for her name again, “Rumlow.”

“Y/L/n-Rumlow, actually,” she corrected with a soft, almost proud, smile and Bucky wondered if he ever heard a voice as sweet as hers before.

She pulled the headphones from her ears and quickly turned off the music playing from her phone. The strum of the guitar silenced, something that sounded familiar to Bucky though he couldn’t quite place it, and the unnerving noise of a busy ER filled the room again.

"Y/n is just fine,” she added and Bucky’s heartbeat kicked up.

“Okay then, Y/n,” Bucky smiled back at her as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, enjoying the way her name felt on the edge of his lips. He swallowed, cursing at himself for the flush in his cheeks that seemed to redden the longer she looked at him.

He had a job to do. Might as well focus on that instead of the anxious energy surging in his veins.

He gestured for her hand. “Why don’t I take a look at that?”

“I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time. I’m sure there’s someone who needs your help more than me right now,” she said nervously, glancing down at the series of bed filled with patients and the bustling families around them.

Bucky noticed then that she was alone, and he wondered why that was.

“I’m sure I’m probably fine,” she continued with a shrug, “but I didn’t want it to get worse, you know?”

Bucky nodded, watching the way she kept glancing down at the eight-year-old in bed five who hadn’t stopped coughing since he arrived, skin flushed red and sweat dripping down his back. His mother sat on the cot with him, running her hands along his damped hair as the poor boy looked like he was about to faint at any minute.

“You’re not preventing anyone else from getting care,” Bucky assured her genuinely.

Steve approached the boy and his mother just a moment later and Bucky nodded down towards them. Y/n followed his gaze and her lips curved up against her cheeks, watching intently as Steve took off his stethoscope and let the boy listen to his own heartbeat. A grin broke through the boy’s tired face and he gestured excitedly for his mom to try.

“I’m sure you see a lot of pain working in a trauma center like this,” she said, gaze still trained on the boy, watching him with a kind of secondhand joy that made Bucky’s stomach weak. He didn’t know people were still this genuine. She turned back to him. “Do you have good moments like that, too?”

Bucky nodded, his cheeks a little sore from smiling. No one had ever asked him that before.

“We do, actually. The good moments aren’t always cute kids, though.” He could feel her eyes on him and he took a deep breath, continuing. “Sometimes, the good moments are when a patient’s heart rhythm picks up again after flatlining long past when someone else would have called it or when we’re able to stabilize a patient coming in from a car wreck long enough to get them up to the operating room or when we catch a tumor in a scan for a concussion that’ll probably end up saving their life. That kind of stuff happens more often than you’d think.”

Bucky didn’t realize how wide he was smiling, caught up in the memories, until he noticed the bewilderment with which Y/n was watching him, eyes practically sparkling, as he was lost in his own world to just talk about what made this job worth all of the bad timing and the lost causes.

“But a lot of times it’s the cute kids,” Bucky added, chuckling softly under his breath.

“It’s really nice that you care so much about what you do,” Y/n said, almost longingly with a bit of an ache in her voice that Bucky didn’t catch. “Not everyone is fortunate enough for that.”

Bucky shrugged, trying to brush it off casually. He glanced down at her wrist, noticing the way she was favoring it as she had pulled it closer to her hip bone.

“I should probably take a look at that, then. Since I care so much,” Bucky said with a teasing smirk, one that somehow made her smile even wider and he swore he could just stare at the way her lips curved so sweetly against the soft hue in her cheeks for eternity and be content.

“Right, of course,” she giggled, extending her arm towards him.

She hissed as he took her wrist carefully into his grasp, a frown pursing over her lips and Bucky cursed himself for being the cause of it. He ran his fingers carefully over the swollen area, light bruising forming at the surface, and he glanced up to gage for her reaction to find her pulling her lower lip into her mouth, biting at the dry skin.

“What’s the damage, doc?”

“It’s definitely sprained,” Bucky admitted, reaching for the cart next to the bed and dragged it towards him. The wheels clicked against the tile surface and he pulled open the second to top drawer, rummaging through the supplies until he pulled out a long, tan bandage. “I’m going to wrap this, alright? It may hurt a bit.”

She nodded as Bucky began to unroll the bandage. He glanced up at her, finding himself wanting to know more about a patient than the necessary questions for the first time in years.

He wanted to know what school that sweatshirt was from because he couldn’t quite make out the faded lettering on his own. He wanted to know what artist she had been listening to when he startled her and if she made playlists for the weather and obscure kinds of moods like he did. He wanted to know if her eyes were naturally such a warm, inviting hue or if she smiled like that at everyone or if she wanted to go to dinner Friday night--

Wait.

Focus.

Bucky set the beginning of the bandage at the inside of her wrist and began to wrap it carefully around her arm and then up around her palm between her thumb and pointer finger, and then back around her wrist twice. As he worked, he could sense her eyes on him, watching, and he found himself needing to ask her more questions just to hear her voice again.

“So, no medical history, huh?”

“Just moved to the area,” she replied quickly, a little flatter than what her tone had been before though Bucky didn’t pay it any mind. “Haven’t had a chance to find a primary doc or transfer my records yet.”

Bucky nodded, satisfied enough with her answer, though he didn’t notice the way her shoulders seemed to sigh in relief when he didn’t probe further. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for patients to show up without a medical history, especially if they were from out of state or hadn’t been to a provider within the hospital’s network before. He didn’t think too much of it.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened that you sprained your wrist at this time of night?” Bucky asked playfully as he secured the adhesive end and released her hand.

She flinched slightly at his question and Bucky narrowed his eyes, pausing for a moment to watch her as she averted her gaze to his hands. She shrugged, though a sliver of hesitation slipped in before she spoke.

“Oh, I just tripped over some shoes in the hallway coming back from a shift. Landed wrong.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unsure. He swore he remembered seeing the indent of a pillow crease on her cheek when he first sat down, like she had woken up from a deep sleep, but then she started to laugh. She had those crinkles up by the sides of her eyes that made Bucky’s stomach flutter and he couldn’t remember why he asked in the first place.

“I’m pretty clumsy, actually,” she sighed with that grin that made Bucky’s stomach churn. She brought her left hand up to her lips to hide the smile Bucky couldn’t seem to look away from as a blush filled her cheeks.

That was, until he noticed the flash of a diamond reflect under the florescent lights and his heart sank.

He shouldn’t be surprised; didn’t know why he was. A girl like that, so effortlessly beautiful and a smile that could instant light an entire room; he didn’t have a chance. Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek, forcing out a grin to match hers despite the disappointment wallowing in his stomach.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long,” Bucky said as he stood from the bed, trying to mask the hurt in his voice. “Just make sure you ice that and get yourself a primary doc, okay?”

She nodded quickly, gathering her phone and headphones into her bag before she slid herself off the side of the bed. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I really do appreciate your time.”

“Bucky,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. She raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You can call me Bucky. You know, if you, uh, ever find yourself back here which I, um, of course hope you... don’t.”

Cheeks flushed red with an embarrassment he was entirely unused to talking to a woman and Y/n grinned so wide he was sure the corners of her lips might touch her ears. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Okay, Bucky,” she said sweetly and he wanted her to say his name a dozen more times. “Hope you have some good moments tonight.”

Bucky smiled, giving her a subtle wave as he watched her disappear into the crowd of doctors and patients before he caught sight of her again by the door. She paused, digging into her bag for her phone, brushing a fallen hair behind her ear and huffing it out of her face when it fell back a second later. The soft pout on her face made Bucky’s legs weak. Once she pulled the phone from her bag, a frown pursed over her lips and her shoulders seemed to stiffen. Bucky was about to walk over to make sure she was alright when he felt a nudge in his shoulder.

“You look like a complete idiot, just so you know,” Sam grumbled, arms folded over his chest as he clearly was following his gaze.

Bucky tore his eyes away from Y/n reluctantly as Sam began to snicker to himself. He grabbed a chart out of the hands of an intern as they walked by and tracked down some kid named Peter Parker in bed two with a glorified bug bite.

When he looked for Y/n again, she was gone.

***

“You’re thinking about the girl from bed eight again, aren’t you?”

Bucky lifted his head from his arms folded against the countertop of the nurses’ station and sent a glare in Sam’s direction. He hadn’t had a decent night sleep in four days and he was coming off a thirty-six-hour shift, the lack of sleep evident in the bags below his eyes and the messy wave in his hair. He only agreed to stay an extra hour to help Steve with the transition of interns coming onto the night shift so his patience was incredibly thin, especially for Sam’s antics.

“She’s married, Sam,” Bucky groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t matter if I’m thinking about her. She’s not available.”

“Maybe it’s a green card marriage,” Sam offered and Steve wacked him upside the head. He shrugged, seemingly unbothered, though he ducted out of Steve’s reach before he spoke again. “Maybe the guy’s emotionally unavailable and she’s looking for a way out. Or... maybe she’s in the market for some side action.”

Sam bumped Bucky’s hip with his own, making some ridiculous cooing noise. He apparently found himself to be incredibly hilarious as he nearly doubled over laughing at Bucky’s non-reaction.

“It’s been three weeks, Buck,” Steve said cautiously, shoving Sam away and stepping between the two as usually found himself doing. “Maybe you should let Nat set you up with the nurse in cardiology.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Look, I appreciate the thought but I’m way too busy for--”

“Dr. Barnes?” one of the interns came up behind him, timid voice barely heard over the hustle of the ER. Bucky turned around to face her. Wanda, he thought. She handed him a chart. “Bed fourteen is asking for you specifically.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell her that we don’t--”

“Thanks Wanda,” Bucky pressed out a smile, interrupting Sam as his eyes fell upon the name listed at the top of the chart.

Sam glanced rather obviously over his shoulder and started chuckling to himself, saying something to Steve Bucky knew would only come at his own expense, but he took off towards the west side of the department without waiting to hear what is was.

He couldn’t seem to get there quick enough. Several interns tried to snag him away as he walked past, asking questions they should have learned in their first year, but he shrugged them off, gesturing for one of the nurses to assist them instead. The nurses always seemed to know more than the interns anyway.

Sure enough, as he turned the corner, there she was.

Hair cascading down over her shoulders, exposing the soft curl amongst messy waves he hadn’t seen the last time she visited. She was in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, almost as if she had just crawled out of bed and still, she was hands down the most captivating person within view.

Her eyes glanced around the room, almost curiously, just watching the doctors as they scribbled their messy handwriting into charts, nurses as they drew IV and scowled at the interns, and patients as they muttered amongst one another, complaining of the noise and the long wait time. Bucky found himself grinning before he even took another step in her direction.

She hadn’t noticed him approach the side of the bed and when he cleared his throat to say hello, she recoiled away as if something had burned her. Her hand clasped to her chest, breath picking up in pace, eyes wide in such a familiar state to when Bucky first met her.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky blurted out, sliding her chart into the basket at the end of the bed. He scratched nervously at the back of his head. “Man, I’ve got a habit of scaring you, don’t I? Guess I should learn to walk a little louder...”

Y/n relaxed instantly as her eyes fell upon him, a blush burning in her cheeks as she grimaced at him, though it turned into that sweet smile Bucky missed so much.

“No, no it’s my fault,” she waved him off, laughing nervously. “I startle easy.”

Bucky nodded, already feeling a contentment just being around her again. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to captivate him so quickly, so easily, without much effort at all. The way she was looking up at him, under thick lashes and a soft red in her cheeks, Bucky felt like he could melt.

“So, what’s going on this time?” Bucky smiled, pulling up a stool and wheeling it under him as he sat next to her bed. She extended her right hand in his direction, wrist covered in the bandage that should have been removed over a week ago.

“I think I messed up your good work,” she frowned, her gaze darting to the ground, almost shamefully. It sat in startling contrast to the kind features in her face.

“It’s not my work I’m worried about,” Bucky said lightly, hoping to get her smiling again. “What happened?”

Y/n didn’t respond for a moment. Instead, her eyes were focused on the way Bucky’s hands grazed over her wrists tenderly, careful not to put too much pressure, his own eyes flickering up to hers every once in a while to make sure he wasn't accidentally using too much force.

“I um,” Y/n started, slowly bringing herself to meet Bucky’s eye when he paused, waiting for her to respond. A smile curved at her lips, though something felt a little off about it. “I tripped over the damn cat. Can you believe that? If I’m gonna fall so much maybe I shouldn’t use my wrist as my landing support, huh?”

Bucky nodded apprehensively, watching the way the smiling didn’t quite reach her eyes. But then again, it was nearing midnight and he was coming off a thirty-six-hour shift. Maybe he was just seeing things.

“Guess I should count myself lucky you’re so clumsy then,” Bucky said, flashing her a smile. “Didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

She bit on her lip in an effort to suppress the grin pushing at her cheeks and the light sparkled in her eyes again. Bucky chuckled under his breath as he started to unwrap the bandage, exceedingly cautious to touch her skin with only the gentlest of pressure.

She hissed as he pulled the bandage from her arm and the cool air brushed over the skin. Bucky narrowed his eyes, studying the swelling, though he was surprised to see some green and yellow marks, bruises about a few days old, wrapping around her wrist. They looked almost like stripes.

“When did you start to notice the bruising?” Bucky asked curiously, lifting her arm slightly to examine the other side.

“Oh, that’s been there for a while,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“You know,” Bucky started, thinking aloud as he took a closer look, “it almost looks like...”

Fingers? A hand print?

Bucky stopped himself before he could ask. He was sure he must be seeing things. He really needed to get some rest after this shift. Bucky sighed, gesturing for the nurse who walked by to bring him a few of the breakable cooling packs they reserved for favorite patients.

“Think I’ll be okay, doc?” she asked light-heartedly, retracting her wrist from his touch when he had stilled his movements and he was simply holding her hand. He swallowed nervously, not even realizing he had been doing that.

Bucky cleared his throat, nodding quickly to distract from the warmth in his cheeks. The nurse set the cooling packs on the edge of the bed and Bucky thanked her quickly. He picked one up and slid the rest into Y/n’s bag before she could do it herself.

“Use one of these once a day. You just break the bag at the center, like a glow stick, alright?” He snapped the bag, demonstrating how to activate it, and handed it to Y/n. She smiled in appreciation and let it set over her wrist.

"Let your wrist rest without the bandage at night if you can,” Bucky added. “I think you’ll be just fine, Y/n.”

“Thanks, Bucky. You’re a real savior,” she said as her left hand reached out for his and squeezed it firmly.

His eyes were drawn down immediately, staring at her hand upon his, the flicker of her diamond ring barely catching his attention from the way her fingers curled under his palm and her thumb brushed against the back of his hand soothingly. Her hand was so small compared to his, barely covered over his at all, but he could feel the warmth of it, the softness of her touch.

When she pulled her hand back again, Bucky missed it instantly.

“Take care, Y/n,” Bucky said, brushing aside the feeling swelling in his chest as he helped her to her feet. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to see me for a while this time,” Y/n offered, glancing up at him in a way that made his stomach a little weak. There was something unreadable behind her eyes, something that looked a little like longing, though he was certain he was just seeing things.

She was married, after all.

Bucky watched, again, as she made her way to the exit, sliding out of the way of the incoming swarm of interns barreling their way through the ED. She made herself small as she squeezed by a few family members of the patient in bed eighteen, too polite to even ask them to step aside. Then, she paused at the door, her shoulders rising with a deep, heavy breath, before she took a step forward and out into the night.

Bucky turned to head back to the nurses’ station when he found Sam standing behind him, shaking his head as hands planted on his hips.

“Man, you’ve got it bad."

“Shut up, Sam.”

***

It wasn’t the last time Bucky found Y/n in his ED. Over the next few months she’d come in for various injuries, requesting to see him specifically, and miraculously only needing to come in during the overnight shifts Bucky usually worked. It would be a twist in her ankle, or a soreness in her ribs, or sometimes an ache at her knee. She came in enough that the nurses began to dub her as a frequent flyer, though Bucky put a stop to that rather quickly.

She’d stay a little longer than necessary and Bucky would find himself moving a little slower when he examined her, just hoping to savor a bit of their time together.

He’d learned that she used to work as an editor at one of the most prestigious newspapers in the city until she stepped down once she got married, though she didn’t say why. He learned that she liked going to the zoo and just sitting by the red panda exhibit, waiting for them to come out from their hiding places or just to watch them sleep. He learned that her family lived out of state and she hadn’t seen them in a while, though she missed them terribly. He learned that she cared more about the lyrics in a song than the melody and would rather go to a dive bar with a band than a busy club on Saturday nights.

The more he learned about Y/n, the more he wanted to know. He could spend every minute just asking her questions, though he obliged her when he found that she seemed to want to know just as much about him.

So, he’d tell her about Steve; reluctantly, about Sam, too. He’d tell her about his years in medical school and the complete lack of a social life he had, though she didn’t seem to buy that for a second. He’d tell her about the tour he spent in Afghanistan as a field medic and how he nearly lost his left arm in an explosion. He’d tell her about how he liked to go to the batting cage on weekends and about the best ice cream shop in the whole city. He’d even tell her about his fascination with Stark Industries and she’d let him rant for a solid ten minutes on their new project that was set to redesign emergency medicine in the field for decades.

Every moment he spent with her left his heart swelling and it didn’t matter to him when she twisted and pulled at the ring on her finger absentmindedly as they talked. He was just happy to be around her, even if this was all it was going to be. A few stolen moments amongst a crowded emergency department, finding that when he looked at her, she was the only one in the room.

It had been nearly a month since he’d seen her last and part of him was thankful she was able to keep herself unharmed and managed not to trip over something else for a while, but he missed her like crazy. He’d find himself looking towards the entrance of the department every so often, a dozen times a shift, searching for her amongst the crowd.

Though, he knew it was unlikely he’d find her today. He agreed to do a double shift for Steve when Nat called out sick, so here he was, attending to patients with the sun shining outside for a change. Y/n only seemed to come in at night so at least now he’d be able to focus on something other than missing her voice or the sweet way she’d smile at him or the flicker of light in her eye when she --

“Dr. Barnes?” a voice called, rough around the edges from years of smoking.

Bucky blinked, pulling his attention back to the middle-aged man sitting in bed eleven. The man coughed again; an awful sound that probably ruptured something deep in his lungs. Bucky sighed, fiddling with the chart in his hands.

“You need to lay off the cigarettes,” he said simply, focus regaining on his task at hand. “You’ve got tar build up in your lungs and it’ll only...” his voice trailed off as a clanging sound erupted further down the hall, pulling his attention, as a nurse rushed to pick up the supplies that had been knocked over. Bucky shook his head, glancing back at the chart.

“It’ll only get worse if you keep smoking like this,” he continued, shrugging. “I can prescribe something for smoking cessation, but that’s the best I can...”

Again, a commotion at the end of the hall. Bucky narrowed his eyes, ignoring the way his patient grumbled under his breath, and he tried to get a better look.

“Sorry! Sorry, shit, I—I didn’t mean to cause such a mess,” a voice stammered out, one so familiar that Bucky quickly handed off the chart to the resident observing over his shoulder without a second thought and headed in the direction of the commotion.

The patient was calling after him, complaining about his terrible bedside manner as Bucky stalked off but it hardly even registered when he saw Y/n’s cheeks flushing red, stumbling over her words.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a moment of relief in his chest short lived by the way he noticed she was holding her hands; out right, like she was carrying an invisible platter, only her palms were red with blood. One of the nurses was gesturing for her to follow him to one of the open beds, pulling her away by a harsh hand on her elbow from the mess of supplies along the floor she had knocked over. His impatience was evident in his shoulders, the way he rolled his eyes at her, and a heat boiled in Bucky’s chest.

“I can take it from here, Grant,” Bucky called, jogging towards them as he grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the counter. He glanced briefly at Y/n, who’s eyes bulged at the sight of him, a near look of panic flashing over her features that Bucky didn’t quite expect.

“Bucky!” she gaped, swallowing thickly. “I didn't think you'd... Don't you work nights?”

Bucky shrugged, curving his lips into a smile for her the way he usually did. “I agreed to take an extra day shift to help Steve out. Lucky timing, huh?”

Y/n nodded, though she didn’t return his smile. It was unusual for her and it made Bucky raise an eyebrow in concern, though she tore her gaze away from him before he could ask what was wrong. It was then Bucky noticed Grant impatiently tapping his toe, waiting.

“We’re good here,” Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line. “Thanks.”

Grant rolled his eyes, letting go of Y/n’s elbow, and while her shoulders seemed to relax, her hands were still held stiff, her stare firm to the floor. Timid. Almost fearful. So unlike the light-hearted, quick witted woman he knew. It didn’t sit well with him.

Bucky swallowed, tugging on the gloves before he reached out towards her absentmindedly and let his hands cup the back of her own, holding them steady in place. He shook his head as he examined her palms, a deep red coating in the insides of her hands, shards of glass embedded in tiny fragments amongst the surface. Stealing a glimpse at her face, he noticed the faint reflection of tracks down her cheeks, like she had been crying. His stomach twisted into knots at the mere thought of it.

He glanced back at the line of occupied beds before he caught sight of the open door at the end of the hallway.

“Follow me.”

He led Y/n down the busy hall, past several patients who had been waiting hours before her and the dirty looks that followed, before he gestured for her to step inside of the exam room. He flicked on the light switch as she stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him. She had already taken a seat on the cot when he grabbed a chair and slid it up beside her.

He gestured for her hands again and she gave them over hesitantly. Bucky glanced up at her, noticing the way she avoided his gaze, shielded under his stare for the first time since he’d met her. As he held her hands in his own, he let his thumb brush comfortingly along her knuckles, trying to ease her discomfort as he took a better look at the glass puncturing her skin.

“I’m gonna have to pull the shards out with tweezers,” he said after some time, unable to come up with an alternative plan that would spare her more pain. She nodded, still yet to meet his eye. Bucky grabbed the kit from the drawer and pulled a pair of tweezers out. “This’ll probably hurt a bit. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

As he moved the metal rods to grip the first piece of glass, starting with the smallest fragments first to avoid additional blood covering his view, and tugged it out of her hand with a sharp movement. She let out a yelp in response, unprepared.

“Sorry,” she gritted through her teeth, a flush of embarrassment in her cheeks.

“No need to apologize, Y/n,” he replied sincerely and she seemed to relax a bit at that. “I’ll work fast, alright? It’ll be over in no time.”

She nodded in agreement and Bucky could feel her eyes on him as he worked. Each shard he pulled from her hands elicited a muffled whimper she’d try to hide from him. She’d bit down on her lip, tuck her face against her shoulder to hide the tears welling in her eyes, but he noticed. He cursed his own hands for bringing her this pain.

Hoping he could distract her as he moved to pull out the larger pieces in her hands, he let his mind wander to the question that had been swarming in the back of his head.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked carefully, keeping his eyes trained on her hands as he plucked out a rather large shard embedded into the lifeline in her palm. She winced as the glass clanged into the metal cup next to him. A few more pieces and he’d be done.

Her silence didn’t slip past him as he continued to work, though he didn’t push her just yet. He was already causing her pain by tugging at her broken skin, there was no need to add to that. When he finally got to the last piece in her left hand, Bucky pulled it out quickly and let the tweezers fall into the cup amongst the glass shards. The two of them exhaled in relief.

As Bucky reached for the disinfectant wipes and the gauze he would need to wrap her palms, he warned her that it would sting. He pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth to her right palm and she bit back a whimper, one that made Bucky’s stomach churn. He muttered an apology under his breath as he wiped away the excess blood and wrapped her hand in the soft material. Then, he moved to the other to repeat the process again.

Once her hands were wrapped and Bucky peeled away the latex gloves, tossing them into the disposal bin by the door, she cleared her throat.

“I, uh, dropped a pair of wine glasses,” she mumbled and first the first time that day she met Bucky’s eye. There was something clouding the light in her eyes that Bucky found himself so drawn to every time he was able to steal a few moments with her. She didn’t carry her usual carefree charm or the sweet smile that made Bucky’s knees weak or the laugh he could have listened to for hours on end. Something was off, but he couldn’t make sense of it.

“It was so stupid,” she continued, shaking her head. “The wine spilled everywhere, all over the white tiles and Brock—Brock was so mad, he nearly--” she paused, biting on her lip hard enough to stop the words from spilling out.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, an ache in his chest hearing her husband’s name for the first time. The way she said it, her voice practically shaking, Bucky found himself desperate for her to finish that sentence, though he couldn’t find the strength to ask her to do so.

Instead, she let out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve just lost my balance or something while I was trying to clean it up and caught myself on my hands, right in the glass all over the floor. It was my fault. I can be so clumsy.”

Bucky nodded, though there was a part of him, bigger than he wanted to admit, that didn’t believe her. The way she spoke, it was almost void of emotion, like she had said those words too many times for it to be real, like it had been taught and rehearsed in front of a mirror.

“You’re always so kind to me Bucky,” she said in a whisper, a lingering of remorse in her words that took him off guard. “I take up so much of your time here. I’m sure you have better things to do than pull glass from my hands. I bet even one of your interns could have done it.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Bucky teased, hoping to ease the obvious ache in her voice. He offered her an encouraging smile as he glanced down, realizing he was still holding her hands in his, though she made no movement to pull away. “I... I like when you take up my time.”

Bucky sighed, staring at her hands in his own, running careful fingers over the soft exposed skin, trying to gather some courage.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I...” Bucky licked his lips, a nervous shake of his head, and he let the words he had been holding back since he met her tumble out. “I miss you when you’re not here. I don't ever want to see you hurt but... when you walk through the door, it’s the best part of my day. Everything is just better when you’re around. I don’t remember the last time I felt this way... about anyone.”

Bucky glanced back up at her to find her lips parted in shock and a longing behind her eyes that made his stomach weak.

“I... I don’t deserve that, Bucky.”

Her gaze fell down to his lips and Bucky swallowed.

“You deserve the world, Y/n,” he replied and it was the easiest thing he ever said. Her breath hitched at his words.

“Bucky, I--” she exhaled and he could feel it against his cheek. When he had moved this close to her? At what point did he start leaning in? When did she meet him halfway?

His hand had found its way up to her neck, gently running his thumb over her jawline until she met his eye, speckles of light returning between the colors in her iris the longer he held her like this. They were so close, unbearably so, that he noticed the undertones in her iris for the first time and the faint markings of a scar along her forehead. He could stare at her for hours and find new features to appreciate, to want to kiss and hold and love.

He’d never fallen for anyone so fast before and despite the laundry list of questionable ethics, he couldn’t help but want every part of her; her mind, her soul, her body, the sweet curve of her lips, and the sound of her laugh that had marked its home in his chest, the crinkles by her eyes and the curious way she enjoyed observing busy rooms. He wanted it all.

Bucky held himself against her, nose brushing over her cheek bone until his lips sat only a breath from hers. He could feel the uneven exhale of her breathing, shaking in the same anticipation he felt deep in his chest. Eyes glanced up to his, nervous, longing, and he ached for her in a way he didn’t know was possible. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward, his lips tingling at the thought of her, though he stilled his movements instantly when he glanced down and noticed a dark purple mark peeking out from under her shirt.

Bucky pulled back, eyes narrowing on the colored patch on the left side of her chest, hidden under her collar, only a sliver of what appeared to be a much larger pattern.

“Bucky?” she questioned cautiously, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mark. It wasn’t until she followed his line of sight that she realized the sleeve of her shirt had slipped a bit and exposed the secret lying underneath. She quickly adjusted her top covering up the bruise again, but the damage had been done. He had seen.

Bucky felt sick suddenly. Nausea creeping up in his stomach for the months that had gone by and he so foolishly missed the signs, too caught up in wanting to see her, in being thankful he could spend another few minutes just talking with her, that he didn’t stop to think about why she was coming in to the ED so often for an otherwise completely healthy woman. The way she referenced her husband, in the rare moments she did, was filled with a kind of hesitation, intimidation, she shouldn’t have carried for a man she loved. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d never even known her husband’s name until a few moments ago.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it; how it was possible that a woman who was so filled with wonder and joy and kindness when Bucky first met her that he was instantly captivated by her, could be the target of a vile man with no other outlet for her anger.

Bucky let his hand fall from her neck and he pulled it into his lap. It clenched into a fist that punctured his nails into his palm, but he was careful to hide it. He let out a heavy exhale, though that did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

“How long has your husband been hurting you?”

She sucked in a gasp, her entire body growing stiff. “I don’t-- W-Why would you ask that?”

“You don’t have to lie for him, doll,” Bucky implored softly, his hand sitting upon her thigh, thumb circling in soothing motions. Her gaze fell down to the movement of his hand, watching the tenderness in which he touched her, cared for her. It was unlike anything she was used to, and for the first time, Bucky knew why.

“Please, let me help you,” Bucky pressed. “You don’t have to go back to him. I won’t let him lay a hand on you again. I can—I can help you, doll.”

“Bucky,” she exhaled, his name a plea in her voice. “Leave this alone, please.”

“I can’t do that, Y/n. Not when I know he’s hurting you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snapped suddenly, words harsh in her voice though her eyes were wide and fearful. It was too rehearsed, almost conditioned, the way she made her voice stronger, edgier, than she felt. She couldn’t force her eyes to be as hard as her voice or the movement of her hand as she batted his away. She couldn’t lie to him through the shades of her iris he had grown to care for so much.

“Doll, I’m beggin’ you. You gotta let me--”

Y/n jumped off the bed suddenly, shoving Bucky aside to grab her bag from the counter. Her hands were shaking as she did so, wincing as she put too much pressure to her wrapped palms. Bucky stood cautiously, trying to make his stature a little smaller, less intimidating, as he approached her. He reached a hand out to her shoulder.

“Y/n, please--”

“Drop it, Bucky. There’s nothing you can do,” she urged, a panic replacing the faux constructed offense and Bucky saw a glimpse of fear in her features that nearly made his legs give out.

Before he could have a chance to beg her to stay again, she pushed open the door and disappeared out into the crowd. He stared at the door as it closed behind her, frozen in a state of shock and panic for this woman who was so intent to go back to the man who kept sending her here.

Bucky snapped himself back to reality and chased out after her, calling her name as she pushed past the crowd of interns, bumping into their shoulders in haste. She didn’t hold up. Light blue scrubs dove out of his way when they saw Bucky running in their direction.

“Y/n, wait!”

He was stuck behind a gurney that had been wheeled out into the hall and she was suddenly down by the double doors. She glanced back at him, an unreadable expression on her face as she turned and pushed her way outside.

His heart in his throat, Bucky desperately tried to swing around the sides of the bed before he just lunged over the top, much to the annoyance of the nurses, and practically sprinted down the hall. An administrator carrying a dozen files in his hand nearly had to jump out of Bucky’s way as he ran past, clinging tightly to the stack of papers.

Panic surged in his veins when he couldn’t find her down by the doors. He slammed his shoulder into the release and stumbled out into the busy street. Ambulances lined up at the drop off point, pedestrians walking by, family members of patients sitting on the bench, and the man Bucky had been attending to earlier smoking off in the corner, still wearing his hospital gown.

But not Y/n.

Bucky raked his hands through his hair, eyes darting down the street in both directions. She was nowhere. She was gone.

“Shit!”

“What the hell is your problem?” Steve grumbled behind him, having followed him outside upon noticing the commotion. “You’re scaring the patients.”

“I need Y/n’s records,” Bucky said, shoving past Steve and ignoring his question. He could sense Steve on his heels as he raced back to the nurses’ station and rapidly began typing in the computer. It took some digging, her records not being readily available in the system, but he found them.

“Fuck.” He slumped back into the chair, his hand darting to brush over his parted lips.

Prior to her first visit to Bucky several months ago, she had shown up in various EDs in Seattle, one every few months for at least a year, and then to Washington, D.C, for the last two years where she’d been treated for broken bones, a fractured rib, and internal bruising.

She’d also been in New York for longer than she let on, using Urgent Cares and EDs from outside the hospital’s network before she met him. For some reason, when she met Bucky, she stopped her pattern of using different emergency rooms. It was the first time she went to the same place consistently for more than two visits.

She broke her pattern for him.

“You want to tell me what's going on?” Steve raised an eyebrow, hands planted firmly on his hip, though his features began to soften when he noticed the wave of desolation in Bucky’s face.

“I fucked up, Steve. I really fucked up.”

***

“I can’t tell whether or not it’s worse that she hasn’t come back yet,” Sam said as he jumped up to sit on the countertop of the nurses’ station. It was nearing two in the morning and he broke open his second bag of chips. It was a slow night and those didn’t sit well with Bucky. It gave him too much time to think.

“I should have fucking seen the signs,” Bucky grumbled to himself, words that he’s repeated consistently since he saw Y/n last. It had been nearly three weeks since she ran out of the ED on him. Three weeks of constant anxiety, of looking over his shoulder to the door, of expecting the absolute worst. “How many months was she coming in here with those injuries? Why the hell didn’t I realize it sooner? Am I just that fucking naïve?”

“It’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve said calmly. “None of us saw it either.”

“I just wish she had a phone number or an address listed in the chart so I could at least make sure she’s okay,” Bucky conceded for the moment, though he knew the voice in that back of his head would return soon enough to remind him of his failure. “It’s the not knowing that’s killing me. I keep checking the papers thinking I might find her name in there one day, that her asshole husband will have taken it too far and I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

“We’re not mandated reporters in New York state, Buck,” Steve reminded his friend. “We’ve been over this. You can only break HIPPA to report abuse of vulnerable populations; children, the elderly, mentally disabled. Y/n doesn’t fall in those categories so--”

“Am I just supposed to sit here with this knowledge that her husband is the reason she’s been in and out of this ED for the last six months, then?” Bucky grunted, raking his hands through his hair hard enough to tug out a few strands.

“If she’s not willing to press charges, there’s nothing the police can do,” Sam added, his voice a little softer than usual, more careful. “You have the evidence she’ll need if she ever does. You can even testify for her if it comes to that. But until then, you gotta sit still. Unfortunately, with shit like this, she’ll be back eventually.”

***

Another week passed by and still nothing. Bucky threw himself into every shift he could possibly pick up on the off chance Y/n might come back to the ED. He couldn’t risk not being here if she did. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he spent more nights sleeping in on call rooms than his own apartment. Steve was nearing kicking him out of the hospital for a week straight when Bucky finally agreed to take a day off. He slept nearly sixteen hours that night.

“Dr. Barnes?” Wanda called from across the hall. She handed him the chart of a twelve year old girl with what appeared to be a case of the flu judging by the redness in her nose, the cold sweats, and a general green color in her skin.

Bucky pushed out a smile that didn’t come as easily these days and knelt by the bed. “Hey kiddo, how you feeling?”

“Not good,” the girl murmured, clenching at her mother’s hand.

“We’ll get that sorted out for you, okay?” Bucky pulled out his stethoscope and pressed the cool end to the girl’s back, asking she take in a deep breath. Then, he took her temperature just to confirm his suspicions, and when it read 101.3, he grimaced towards the girl's mom. “I’m going to go ahead and prescribe an antiviral and hopefully we can get this flu under control.” He turned back to the girl. “That sound good to you, princess?”

The girl nodded sheepishly and curled into her mother’s side.

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” the mom said, offering a smile in Bucky’s direction as she moved to pull her daughter into her arms. He nodded, and turned to hand the chart over to the nurse to assist with discharge when he found Sam waiting behind him. He wore a nervous kind of look on his face that made Bucky narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“What’s your deal?”

“I need you to come with me,” Sam replied, his voice short though there was a lingering concern in his words that Bucky wasn’t quite used to. Having spent so much time ridiculing and teasing one another despite the fact that they were actually friends, he knew enough to drop his guard when Sam came to him in this voice.

Bucky nodded, following Sam down the hall to the exam room with the closed door. Sam put his hand on the knob, but he paused before turning it.

“I need you to take a breath,” Sam instructed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Buck. You need to be in control when you walk in this room.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bucky groaned, his patience growing thin.

“It’s Y/n,” Sam said and it was enough for all of Bucky’s defenses to fall. “It’s... it’s not great, man. But this is what I was talking about. She’s back and she needs you right now. Okay? So, take a breath. Please.”

Bucky nodded quickly, sucking in a deep breath to his lungs though it came in shaky. He wondered when these feelings had developed strong enough to make him this terrified to see you again; to have to wonder what Sam meant by ‘not great’ and sit with that mental image for a moment too long before the door finally opened for him.

Sam stood outside, closing the door behind Bucky as he entered. It was dark inside the exam room, the shades drawn and only the lamp by the desk illuminating the space. Y/n stood just a few feet from him, her back to him as she held her arms wrapped around her waist.

“Y/n?” Bucky called cautiously, though she didn’t move to face him. He took a step closer.

“Wait,” she blurted out. He watched as her breaths came in heavy waves through her shoulders. “Just... please don’t be angry with me.”

Bucky’s heart fell, his chest aching painfully at the very thought. “I could never.”

With a heavy sigh, a brief nod to herself, Y/n began to turn around. She kept her head down, hair shielding over her face, and there was a slight tremor in her hands as she gripped at her forearms crossed over her waist. Bucky took a careful step forward, so that he was standing close enough to see the hairs standing up on her arms and the hear the rustled intakes of her breaths.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” he encouraged softly, trying to keep himself calm despite the anxiety rushing through him. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you, okay?”

She nodded hesitantly and slowly allowed herself to lift her head, her hair falling away from her face and Bucky bit down so hard on his cheek he drew blood.

A dark purple bruise marked over her cheek bone, extending in angry red vein-like lines down the sides of her face from the swelling. Her lip was busted open down the center, dried blood caked in the cracks. But worse than that, her eyes were red, filled with tears that sent a painful stab straight to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky reached out, so tenderly, so slowly, that it felt like a century before his hand grazed against the side of her face. She closed her eyes at the touch, leaning into him as he looked over the bruising, searching for further injury. His thumb traced over her jawline, his hand setting against her collarbone, as he hoped to sooth her while he examined the wounds.

He let out a heavy sigh and pulled his hand back. The subtle gasp she let slip didn’t pass his notice and he wondered if he should reach out again. He parted his lips to tell her that nothing appeared to be broken, that the swelling and bruising made it look worse than it was, but the words fell heavy on his tongue. Nothing he could say could make this any easier. It didn’t matter if it would heal on its own in a matter of a month or two, because the damage had come from someone she was supposed to trust, supposed to love. There was no repairing that. Even if it had been happening for years. It wasn’t any easier.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” she whimpered as the tears began to well over her lashing as cascaded against her checks. Bucky shook his head rapidly, not wanting for her to apologize for a single thing, but she continued before he had a chance to interject. “B-Brock... he knows. He knows I’ve b-been coming here. I’m n-never supposed to go to the same place more than twice but I... I was selfish and- and I wanted to see you again. I c-couldn't stop wanting to see you.”

A sob racked through her and the sound nearly broke Bucky straight in half. On pure instinct he reached out and gathered Y/n in his arms, surprised to find that she came against him willingly, her hands gripping tightly at his scrubs, face pressed into the crook of his neck as he ran his fingers down her back in long sweeping motions.

“I’m right here. You’re okay, doll,” Bucky cooed, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

She nodded against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her hands spread against his back, bunching into the fabric of his dark blue scrub shirt and Bucky realized she was trying to ground herself. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head without thinking much of it and his breathe hitched when he realized what he had done. Though it seemed, at the gesture, her whole body seemed to relax, muscles losing their tension and her grip on his shirt becoming less tight.

After some time passed and Y/n’s cries had fallen silent, her breathing coming in at a normal rate, Bucky spoke up.

“Does he have consent for your records?”

Y/n didn’t pull away from him, mumbling against his chest, “he made me sign for it.”

“Okay,” Bucky exhaled, a slight relief at the plan formulating in his head. “We need to go in and revoke that as soon as possible. I’ll make sure everyone in this hospital knows not to give your information to him if he shows up. If we revoke consent, no one can even tell him if you’re here if he asks. Okay?”

Bucky started to pull away, just to help lead her to the door so he could get access to a computer, but she clenched her grip on him reflexively.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, doll,” Bucky soothed, his hand rubbing in soft circles on her back. “I won’t leave your side. Think you can come to the hallway with me? I’ll take you behind the nurses’ station so you’re out of the way of the patients. That alright?”

“Y-yeah,” she conceded, nodding to herself. She let her arms fall from his waist and brushed at the dried tear tracks reflecting on her cheeks. She winced when she grazed over the bruise mark too hard. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, doll,” Bucky said encouragingly in light of the heat boiling in his chest, wondering how long it took her husband to condition her to apologize so often. He could barely stand to think about how this woman who stole his breath away from the moment he met her, who was a filled with such light, could be extinguished by a man who was supposed to love her.

Bucky extended his hand to her, part of him wanting to make sure she had a way to ground herself outside of the room and a more selfish side of him just wanting to hold onto her a little longer. She stared at his hand for a moment, a look of relief on her face, as she took it carefully in her own.

“If it gets to be too much, you just let me know, alright?”

Y/n nodded, pushing out a smile that fell quickly from the pain in her broken lip. Bucky sighed, restraining the part of himself that urged to bring their intertwined hands to his lips and kiss at her knuckles. Instead, he pushed open the door, florescent lighting blinding for a moment as the chaos of the ED came back into view.

He felt a squeeze in his hand as he stepped out into the hallway and Y/n followed closely behind. Her other hand snaked its way across her and hooked onto Bucky’s forearm. She glanced up at him nervously, almost as if she was silently asking it this was okay, and he smiled encouragingly at her, nodding. She exhaled in relief as he helped weave her through the crowd.

Sam noticed them coming in the direction of the nurses’ station first. He raised an eyebrow and set down the chart he had been reading.

“Everything okay?” he asked as Bucky led Y/n around the back entrance and helped her settle into the chair Nurse Hill usually occupied.

“Revoking consent,” Bucky said as Y/n released his hand reluctantly so he could type his password into the computer. “Where’s Steve?”

“He’s been telling staff not to give out any info on Y/n since she got here. The ED’s on lockdown from that asshole as far as we’re concerned,” Sam replied, throwing a half-etched smile in Y/n’s direction. She struggled to lift the corners of her lips but he could tell she was appreciative nonetheless.

Bucky finished clicking a few boxes on the computer and he passed over a touch screen to Y/n. “Just need your signature, doll, and we’re done.”

She took the pen from his hand and quickly scribbled her name onto the pad. He noticed the hyphenated end of her name, his name, was illegible compared to the rest. She pressed her lips into a thin line when she was done and handed the pen back to Bucky. His fingers grazed over hers a moment longer than necessary.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” Sam asked, breaking through the tension that kept Bucky’s eyes drawn into Y/n’s.

Y/n shook her head. “No, I, uh... I don’t have friends around here and I haven’t spoken to my family in years.”

Sam sent a nervous look in Bucky’s direction, unsure of what to do next. This wasn’t typically his wheelhouse. First instinct was to call in social services, but he knew Bucky would want to be at the forefront of this.

“We’ll figure something out,” Bucky said reassuringly. “You can stay here with us until my shift’s up and we’ll go from there, alright? If that’s what you want...”

Y/n nodded quickly, a solace relaxing the apprehension in her muscles.

“Okay,” Bucky said, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Things were coming together. This mess had a few strings that could be tied to knots. There was a plan, at least, and she wanted him to be next to her through it. It was all that mattered right now.

Despite the break in her lips, Y/n started to smile back at him, a flicker of light returning to her eye that Bucky adored so much. Though it fell away instantly when a voice rang out through the ED and a surge of panic coursed over her features.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY WIFE?”

Bucky’s eyes darted over to the entrance of the ED where a man, over six feet in height and a growl tearing through him like a rapid dog, shoved aside two nurses attempting to calm him down. One glance back at Y/n, who had sunk so far down into her chair in an effort to hide herself behind the barrier, and Bucky knew instantly that this man was her husband.

Brock Rumlow.

“You have no goddamn right!” Rumlow bellowed, his voice echoing down the halls and drawing the attention of at least a dozen patients and staff. “I know she’s fucking here! Tell me where she is!”

A rage boiled deep in Bucky’s chest when he noticed the red marks on Rumlow’s right hand; marks he had obtained from the abuse he doled out to the woman he was supposed to love. Bucky's breaths were coming in too fast, his hands clenching into fists so tight it punctured his palm with his nails. Before he could take a moment to think, he shoved his way out to the hall and away from the nurses’ station, stalking in Rumlow’s direction.

“I’m going to need you to calm down,” Bucky seethed, clenching his teeth in an effort to control his voice, though it didn’t do much good. Rumlow paused, shaking off one of the nurses as he straightened his back, sizing Bucky up.

“Tell me where my wife is and we’ll be on our way,” Rumlow drawled, his eyes glancing down the series of cots.

“We cannot confirm or deny if your wife is here, sir.”

“Bullshit,” he spat, face boiling red.

“You’re scaring our patients,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. “Calm down, or leave.”

“Fuck you,” Rumlow grunted and he attempted to push past Bucky, though he was met with a hard shove.

“Don’t make me call for security to escort you out.”

“Security?” Rumlow scoffed. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but--” His eyes widened, locking in on something over Bucky’s shoulder. “Y/n! There you are baby!”

Bucky’s stomach dropped as Rumlow caught sight of Sam attempting to sneak Y/n back to the closed room at the end of the hall. Sam quickly stepped out in front of her, shielding her from Rumlow’s view as she did her best to hide behind him. A sickening smirk pulled at Rumlow’s mouth and he moved, once again, to push past Bucky but found he was met with a wall of hardened muscle.

“Don’t even fucking think about going near her,” Bucky growled, putting a hand on Rumlow’s chest and shoving him back a few paces. Bucky stole a quick glance back at Y/n, who had peaked around Sam’s arm, and tried to convey a lifetime of apologies for allowing this man even lay eyes on her again. She didn’t even spare Rumlow a second look, focused solely on Bucky.

Rumlow’s eyes narrowed, gaze darting from Bucky to Y/n, watching the silent conversation held in their stare. He cracked his neck to the side as his upper lip began to twitch.

“So, you’re the asshole that’s been putting garbage in my wife’s head,” Rumlow taunted, spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog. “Yeah, that’s right. I know about you. I know you’re trying to steal my wife from me. But newsflash, asshole! She’s mine!”

“She’s not your property, you piece of shit,” Bucky fumed, his cheeks growing hot with the rage coursing in his veins.

Rumlow let out an animalistic growl and he charged full force in Bucky’s direction, throwing a fist straight at the left side of his face. Bucky dodged it easily, bending down and shoving his shoulder into Rumlow’s gut and sending the both of them spiraling to the ground.

Chaos erupted as patients began to scream, nurses and interns darted out of their way as Bucky held Rumlow down by his collar and punched him square in the jaw. Blood spat from Rumlow’s mouth and he tried to get a grasp on Bucky before he took another swing, but he wasn’t coordinated enough for that. It seemed he was only able to attack when his victim didn’t fight back.

Bucky could barely see straight, red clouding in his vision, until he felt strong hands grabbing at his shoulders and yanking him off the ground. Two security guards hulled Rumlow off of the floor and restrained him by the arms as Bucky tried to shake off whoever was lugging him backwards.

“Buck! Stop!” Steve shouted into Bucky’s ear and Bucky stilled immediately.

Steve released his grasp and suddenly Y/n came crashing against him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist as Bucky stumbled back a step at the impact. He froze, caught off guard for a minute, arms stretched out to the side as he looked down to find her shaking, before he let himself hold her.

“Hey, I’m alright,” Bucky whispered so only she could hear. She squeezed him tighter in response, her face tucking into his neck and he could feel the stain of tears against his skin.

“I’ll fucking kill you! You hear me, bitch! I’ll kill you!” Rumlow roared, pulling against the security guards holding his arms back. Y/n flinched at his words, unable to even steal a glance in his direction, and Bucky tightened his grip on her, turning their bodies so she wasn’t in Rumlow’s direct line of sight. Bucky ran his hands along Y/n’s back, urging her to walk with him away from the scene.

As Rumlow continued to shout obscenities, Bucky glanced back over his shoulder to find security handcuffing him and Steve towering over as they restrained him to his knees. Patients and staff members parted alike as Bucky gently pulled Y/n along down the hall towards the exam room. He whispered endless apologies into her hair as he led her to the door. Once they were inside, Y/n let her hands fall away from his waist and they quickly jumped up to grasp the sides of his face.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked anxiously, eyes darting over his face. Bucky pressed out a sad smile, reaching up to her wrists and pulling her hands away from his cheeks.

“I’m okay, doll, I promise.”

She nodded, though he could tell she didn’t quite believe him. She took a few steps away from him, her hands falling from his outstretched grasp and he missed the contact instantly. One arm crossed over her waist and the other pressed up against her lips as she shook her head, like she was trying to contain words from spilling out. Bucky watched silently, unsure of what to say.

“I should never have dragged you into this,” she finally said, a heavy sigh in her words. She turned her back to him. “I don’t know how he even found out about you, that I’ve been coming to see you.”

“But we never... we didn’t... um,” Bucky stammered awkwardly, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

Y/n turned around slowly, her eyes downcast in shame as she nervously picked at the ends of her shirt. “There are other ways to be unfaithful, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart skipped as she met his eye, that longing he had been seeing hidden behind her iris’s for so long, now so abundantly clear.

“At first I thought maybe I was just confusing these feelings with the relief of someone, anyone, just being as kind and as gentle as you were to me when we first met,” she started. “I thought maybe I was just misplacing this need I had to be touched with something other than... other than cruel intent onto you because you reminded me what it was like when someone was gentle, when a touch could bring goosebumps instead of bruises.”

Bucky nodded slowly, though he let her speak as he took a seat on the edge of the cot. He could tell it was difficult for her to get this out by the way her hands wrung against one another and the subtle quake in her voice. He tried to ignore the way his heart had picked up in pace the longer she spoke.

“But then I realized it was you,” she said, a littler strong now, more assured, and Bucky’s heart nearly stopped. She shook her head, almost in disbelief as she walked a pace closer to him until she stood between his legs. “It was your hands I wanted to put me back together, your face I wanted to see when I closed my eyes at night, your voice in the back of my mind. It was you.”

“Y/n...” her name slipped past his lips like a prayer.

“All that and I still ran from you when you tried to help me,” she sighed, chewing on the dried skin on her lip, just next to the split. “I’ve just been so caught up in this lie for Brock all these years that the second you saw through it, I got scared, thought maybe you’d change your mind about me, think I’m weak or... or foolish for staying with him.”

“I don’t think those things,” Bucky interjected quickly and she smiled sweetly at him, the smile that he had fallen so easily for.

“I know you don’t,” she said, her hand reaching up to brush over his hair and push it behind his ear to get a better view of his face. His skin tingled at the touch. “You reminded me what it was like to feel again, Bucky. I was so numb before I met you.”

Her lips pressed to the center of his forehead and Bucky exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“I don’t know what happens now, but I want you in my life,” she confessed, nervous eyes meeting his and Bucky quickly reached up to the hand cupping the side of his face to hold it in his lap. He brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently and pulling a smile from her he adored so much.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m right here,” he affirmed and her smile widened. “We’ll have to get you a new doc, though. I can’t be treating you after this.”

“I can handle that,” she replied quickly, chewing on the inside of her cheek to suppress the smile tugging at her split lip though it didn’t do much use.

“And your husband?” Bucky asked nervously, a wince pulling at the corners of his face in anticipation of losing her smile again, but it didn’t let up.

“Let him rot,” she replied confidently. “I’ve got enough evidence against him to put him away for years. Always thought I’d find the courage one day to use it.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile at that, the pride he felt warming his chest. He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to the crown of her hair as he enveloped her into his arms. She sighed against his neck, the warmth of her breath leaving goosebumps in their wake and Bucky sighed contently.

There were so many unanswered questions, so many next steps, but Bucky couldn’t find the energy to care about a single one of them in this moment with Y/n pulled tight to his chest, the sweet smell of her shampoo flooding his senses.

She nestled in tighter against him and he wondered if had fallen for the version of Y/n who had been numbed for so many years, how much more he could adore her when she was allowed to express every part of herself unimpeded.

It didn’t matter there were so many unknowns. There was too much to look forward to.

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233

additional drabble 🌸

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statticscribbles · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: RENT, In which Mark and his family make cookies

Mark being from Scarsdale means he’s the only one of them to have actual family recipes. Being Mark he has no concept of how to actually cook them and he refuses to ask Maureen because he’s convinced she’ll poke and prod until he confesses that he never learned because his mother was paranoid he’d burn the house down.

When Angel and Mimi dig the book out from the closet, trying to make room for both of their clothes as Mark had offered it to them if they needed, he confessed he hadn’t actually gone through it. They refuse to do anything else until Mark cooks with them. Collins makes the decision that they’ll be making sugar cookies; it’s close enough to Christmas they can decorate them with the food colouring Marueen had brought over, and he knows there would be five hundred alterations to the other recipes with how most of them were content to shove whatever they had in the pantry into it claiming it was a replacement.

Joanne comes in with the ingredients they were missing; Benny having called and explained what he had been roped into when he’d come home from work. Joanne is glaring at the recipe and Mark sheepishly tries to hide behind Angel and Maureen who keep stealing bites of the dough. “Will you two quit it. Mark what is this word… Your mother’s handwriting is a mess; I see where you get it from.” Mark sighs carefully rewriting the recipe out and passing it to Joanne. “I meant to ask one of those thief’s to write it out; they have the best handwriting.” “Hey!” Mimi shouts from the couch where she’s half relaxing on Benny half painting her nails. “You’re too busy. Otherwise I’d ask you since you have the best handwriting besides myself.”

“What about my penmanship?” “If you weren’t so into music you could be a doctor based on that scrawl you call handwriting…” Maureen laughs almost grabbing another spoonful but Mark smacks her on the hand with a spoon and she glares but settles back towards the couch holding her hand out for Mimi to paint. Angel sits next to her pulling out metallic purple polish to start on their toes. “Roger great; come here.” Joanne nods and he looks unimpressed to the half mixed dough almost spilling out of the bowl. “So how much does this make?” He arches his eyebrow and Mark shrugs. “Like five dozen.”

“FIVE DOZEN?” Joanne glares and the couch group cheer. “Oh my god we’re going to be making cookies for the entire night!” Collins chokes on his coffee and Benny tries to laugh into his hand but fails; soon the entire group is either stifling giggles or laughing at the poor planning. “Just because I play guitar doesn’t mean my arm can handle this.” Roger’s huffs having been given the duty of mixing.

“Well thank god for the years you spent jacking off then; that’ll help with your arm strength.” Joanne comments dryly and Maureen actually hits the floor with how hard she’s laughing. “You two should know better; I haven’t had to do that for years; not with Markieeeee here.” He stretches out Mark’s nickname and smirks when they both roll their eyes. Collin and Benny are on rolling duty and Angel and Mimi cut everything out while Mark rewinds his camera. They make it through the actual baking; leaving all five dozen cookies; cut out like hearts and gingerbread people to cool.

They come back to the cookies minus a dozen; Mimi and Roger taking the blame, unable to escape the scrutiny of Maureen when she spots cookie crumbs under their nails. “So for frosting; I figured we could mix up.. ROGER NO!” Benny shoves him back before Roger can grab the massive bowl filled with vanilla frosting. He does however manage to grab the spoon which he promptly shoves into his mouth enjoying the mound of sugar he’s currently eating.

“Jesus christ.” Angel glares and Joanne makes Benny mix another batch of frosting to make up for his failure at preventing Roger and his sugar cravings from stealing the main mixing spoon. They’re also not sure how much frosting they actually need as they’ll be separating it and mixing it into smaller coloured batches. Mimi’s glaring at Roger; who’s spoon stealing has just earned both of them a ban from the kitchen until it’s time to actually decorate the cookies.

Mark’s winding his camera content to set in on a stack of books to film everyone as each of the group is assigned a colour to mix. Angel had insisted they do the full rainbow of colours and Mimi had dug around to find edible glitter she’d kept so they added that as well. Now with the rainbow of colours properly glittered do they call Roger in who’s still licking the icing from the spoon and Mimi who’d been hovering behind Benny as he’d mixed the green. “So… Fine, okay fine; Jesus I’ll finish this and then wash my hands mom. Christ you’d think we were making freaking gold dipped cookies or some shit; they’re just little rainbow hearts and little… is that glitter?” “You know maybe if you weren’t deep throating the fucking frosting spoon you-” Roger leans forward examining the purple and before anyone can explain the ten minute conversation he missed the spoon he’d stolen is firmly dunked into it.

“ROGER.” He laughs grinning as he successfully pulls the bowl over to the couch with the spoon. Mimi laughs as Mark is sent over to do damage control while Benny looks like he’s about to cry; having been handed another bowl and the ingredients to the frosting. “I’m sorry okay! I can’t help it; sugar helps…” “With..” Mark leads on and Roger glares. “With the cravings for heroin; happy?” Roger glares tongue moving to lick the spoon; Mark stares a little too long and Roger smirks back. Teeth tinted slightly purple. “Shouldn’t you be-” He pauses to suck the entire spoon, tongue swirling around the back of it. “Chewing me out?” He continues to talk, Mark glares swallowing and turning his head slightly. Roger’s smirk grows and his teeth clank against the spoon.

“Mark; you need to remix the purple; and we need that spoon… We’re all out otherwise.” Maureen nods towards Roger who just looks up to Mark a lazy grin on his face. “Take it then.” “I’ll take it if you don’t give it to him in like five minutes; since that’s when Benny’s going to be finished with the next batch.” “So what if we have too much frosting.”

“You can eat the extra and get the mother of all sugar crashes in like two days.” Collins assures and Roger reluctantly hands over the spoon to Mark who looks only slightly disappointed. “So now that everything has been made we can all decorate; Roger you can have as much of the leftover frosting as you want once all of the cookies are done.. Don’t you dare eat the cookies instead of decorating them or so help me.”

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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Dracula vs Frankenstein (1971)

I’ve been meaning to get to this one for a while. It was directed by Al Adamson and stars Lon Chaney Jr. from Indestructible Man in his last and worst film. Also featuring appearances by Greydon Clark (director of Angel’s Revenge), Forest J. Ackerman (the comic book guy from Future War), and Jim Davis (the grandpa from The Day Time Ended, not the guy who invented Garfield), and generally being one of the shoddiest and most confusing movies I’ve ever sat through, it is a mystery to me why Joel chose Carnival Magic and just left Dracula vs Frankenstein sitting there. Maybe it was the widescreen thing.

It’s hard to say what the hell is going on in this movie but I’ll give it a try. Under the cover of a carnival freak show, mad Dr. D’Ray is decapitating nubile young women and then sewing their heads back on, because… uh… because. One night, his work is interrupted by none other than Count Dracula! The Count reveals that he knows D’Ray’s secret – D’Ray is really the last surviving member of the Frankenstein family, and Dracula has recovered the body of the original Frankenstein’s Monster and wants D’Ray to help him bring it to life, because… uh… because. Meanwhile, a woman named Judith Fontaine is looking for her sister, Joannie, who was last seen on the beach near Dr. D’Ray’s Creature Emporium. Judith and her boyfriend Mike eventually find their way into D’Ray’s lair, and the doctor and his various deformed assistants (obviously he has deformed assistants) are all killed as the couple attempt to escape again. What Judith and Mike don’t know is that they’re not safe yet. They still have Dracula to deal with!

That outline actually only represents a fraction of the madness in Dracula vs Frankenstein. There’s a rapey biker gang and a bunch of noticeably over-age hippies who seem to think they’re in a very different movie. There’s D’Ray’s hunchback Groton and his pet puppy, and Grazbo the Angry Midget. There’s the stunningly unhelpful detective who’s supposed to be looking for Joannie. D’Ray brings the Frankenstein Monster back to life with the help of a magical comet. The idea that creatures like Dracula and the Frankenstein Monster actually exist is treated as obvious and commonplace, and the climactic fight between the two is over who gets to feel up Judith. It’s a mess.

The reason Dracula vs Frankenstein is such a mishmash of incongruous ideas, at least according to El Santo of 1000 Misspent Hours, is that Adamson filmed for a while, then ran out of money and had to set the project aside while he raised more. During this intermission, he got a bunch of new ideas, and had to shoehorn them in with what he’d already shot to turn his original sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll film into a monster-versus-monster piece. It should therefore surprise nobody if the results are about as graceful as a giraffe on roller skates.

The two title monsters are astonishingly shitty. Frankenstein’s Monster looks like the Pillsbury Dough Boy gone horribly wrong. He looks like his head got stepped on and they couldn’t afford to fix it. The first time you see him, when Dracula digs him out of a cemetery, you can barely tell you’re supposed to be looking at something’s face – it looks like a mass of home-made play-dough that’s been left out in the sun. He has claws for some reason. That sequence of similes still doesn’t do justice to just how absolutely terrible he looks, and yet, shockingly, he’s less stupid than Dracula.

Oh, god, this movie’s Dracula. His face is slathered in Observer makeup (though his hands aren’t, probably because it would have gotten all over everything) and he wears bright red lipstick and fake fangs that don’t allow him to fully close his mouth. His vinyl cape almost definitely came from Party City. His voice echoes like he’s talking into an empty garbage can, even when he’s sitting in the back seat of a car. He has an incredibly funky goatee and a ring that shoots fire. Everything he says and does is deeply, self-consciously dramatic and it all comes to an absurd crescendo in the series of priceless faces he makes as he turns to dust in the sun.

On a scale of absurd theatricality, Dr. D’Ray is only shortly behind him. The mad doctor dresses like Colonel Sanders, has some classic evil facial hair, and spends much of his screen time monologuing… but nothing he says ever makes a lick of sense. The stuff that comes out of his mouth is literally indescribable so I’m going to have to give you some examples:

Rambling in his lab, D’Ray describes his work as follows: “human blood is the essence from which future illusion may be created, but the secret is not to have the blood at rest. No, the circulatory system must experience a traumatic shock, one that is inconceivable to the human mind. The idea of trauma is not a new one, but I am sure I am the first such experimenter to incorporate the horror of an actual decapitation into later rejuvenation of a human body!” This is evidently supposed to be a justification for the sewing-heads-back-on thing – it ‘activates’ the blood and allows D’Ray to make his ‘serum’. He then injects that ‘serum’ into Groton, who transforms into an axe-wielding maniac. Later, Dracula claims that the same ‘serum’ would have made him invincible. I, uh… what?

Sorry, I was talking about D’Ray’s monologuing. When describing his Creature Emporium, D’Ray informs some guests, “the greatest mysteries in the world are not mysteries at all, unless we take time to become familiar with them.” Isn’t that the opposite of how mysteries work? It’s easy to believe in, say, the Loch Ness Monster, until you familiarize yourself with the history of the ‘evidence’ and realize that it’s almost all complete bullshit.

When Dracula shows up, D’Ray declares, “I am too old and too sick to be interested or surprised by anything, but when a man comes into my house and casts no reflection on my mirror, and on his hand wears the unholy crest of Dracula, there is no scientific answer to anything. Now, what is on your mind, Count Dracula?” Honestly, this nonsense is spoken with such conviction that you almost don’t notice that the end of the sentence has nothing to do with the beginning.

The movie has two things that might qualify as a ‘special effect’. One is Dracula’s zappy fire ring. It’s crummy, but you can tell what they’re going for. The other is the ‘comet’ that is instrumental in giving life to the Frankenstein Monster. This is represented by a slow pan past a flickering light bulb against a black background. Even having just heard Dracula talking about the importance of the comet, it took me a minute to figure out what I was supposedly seeing – it’s that bad. This might be halfway forgivable if the comet were somehow important to the plot… if the Monster, for example, had to complete some mission before it sets or something. But it’s totally gratuitous. They could have taken that out, avoided a distractingly awful effect, and made the movie a little bit shorter!

As for meaning anything… Dracula vs Frankenstein does not, and indeed seems to go out of its way to avoid it. The events that unfold are remarkably meaningless. Judith finds her sister Joannie, who is not dead but neither is she alive, and then the story just forgets about Joannie and gives her no resolution. Hippie girl Samantha is saved from being raped by her angry ex and his biker gang, but then she, too, is entirely forgotten. D’Ray and his henchmen die in a series of contrived accidents that serve no purpose but getting them out of the way so that Dracula and the Monster can fight uninterrupted. This is particularly anticlimactic because so far, D’Ray has been presented as our main baddie. Dracula disintegrates Mike with his magic ring and then the movie rushes to its climax without giving either Judith or the audience time to deal with it. Dracula, the movie’s actual main baddie, just turns to dust in the sun.

There are a couple of moments that are probably supposed to be social commentary, but they have nothing to do with the meandering main plot. One is the scene where a hippie guy says to his girlfriend, “let’s get ready for the big protest tonight.” She asks, “what are we protesting this time?” and he shrugs and replies, “I dunno, but I bet it’s fun.” Later we see this protest, which does seem to have a major ‘party’ component and features some very unspecific placards being waved. In another sequence there’s a druggie bar with the walls covered in graffiti that say things like POT and SOCIETY SUCKS.

Boy, I bet Adamson was really proud of sticking it to those angry young people.

Dracula vs Frankenstein is mesmerizingly bad. Usually the best bad movies are the kind where you can follow the story a bit, so you aren’t wasting time wondering what the hell is going on instead of appreciating the nonsense dialogue and unconvincing effects. Dracula vs Frankenstein is a singular exception. You never have any idea what anybody’s doing and yet somehow it doesn’t matter… the movie gives up on making sense very early, and just forges merrily ahead, dragging you along behind it. What’s actually happening never matters enough to distract. I honestly don’t know if this is a point in the movie’s favour or not… but it would have made a hell of an MST3K episode.

#mst3k #reviews #epsiodes that never were #dracula vs frankenstein #tw: rape #all carnival no magic #70s

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bang-and-a-blintz · 4 years ago

Text

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER EIGHT - TWELFTH NIGHT

I am terribly sorry this took so damn long to update. With everything going on right now, writing about having fun in Nola feels akin to writing about a lost loved one, but I’m trying to make it cathartic. I just miss the good ol’ days before the Plague States. Oh well. Here’s an extra long chapter for the wait!

Cheers!

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: TW bloooooooood

Word Count: 6,770

Sanguine looked different in the daylight. The shadows in which it hid were not so prominent underneath the bright sun. Dracula took notice of how well the dark tones of the exterior blended with the hanging branches of the oak trees. It wasn't as foreboding in the gentle light. In fact, it was actually oddly comforting; there was something reassuring in its darkness.

Dracula took a deep breath, if only just to smell the jasmine flowers lingering in the air, and smiled. He leisurely strolled down the crooked sidewalk towards the restaurant. He didn't know if she was there nor did he think of if they were even open; he just went ahead and made his way to the entrance, taking the unlocked doors as a good enough invitation. Not that it was important or anything, but he had already been welcomed in previously. It was more of an attempt to be polite, common courtesy, and…dare he even think it, kindness.

Perhaps eating people in the South was starting to rub off on him. Though, he was irrevocably grateful not to accumulate the accent.

Silently, he entered the establishment. The front entry was dark but there was a sweet aroma wafting from the kitchen and he could hear the sound of music playing softly in the background.

She must be cooking.

The music grew louder as Dracula made his way towards the back, pausing at the doorway. Her back was to him, she was swaying back and forth, fixing up some sort of dessert, and blissfully ignorant to the creature of the night that crept up behind her.

"Smells delicious." He commented lightly, leaning against the door jam. Roxana jumped and gave a strangled yelp, spinning around with wide eyes. She held the sifter up like a weapon, the powdered sugar that she had been using was now spattered all over her. Once she saw the owner of the voice, however, her face dropped into that of a furious glare.

"For fuck's sake, Dracula!" She groaned in dismay, placing a hand on her forehead while he fought a laugh. "You need a bell."

"Perhaps if you paid more attention to your surroundings, you wouldn't be so easily startled."

Roxana sighed, "Why are you even here?"

The Count just shrugged and gave her that unnerving smile. He was bored, but he wasn't about to let her know that.

She rolled her eyes and returned to the task at hand. He made his way over to her side, curious as to what she was so focused on. Before them was a large platter filled with golden pastries of some sort, piled high, there had to have been a dozen or so. She was topping them off with a dusting of powdered sugar as they cooled.

"What's this?"

"Beignets." She spoke, refusing to look at the vampire who had moved closer. He hovered over her shoulder, perfectly content with encroaching on her personal space.

Finishing up, Roxana wiped off the counter and tried to clean the remaining sugar from her shirt. It was futile as the powder just continued to seep into the fabric. With a huff, she unbuttoned the chef jacket and tossed it in a bin, making a mental note to have it washed later.

She had been baking several batches of beignets all day. It was Twelfth Night; a special holiday in New Orleans and the only day that Roxana made these particular pastries. Every year, she would whip up a platter-full and bring them all to her favorite bar so her friends could enjoy while they celebrate together.

After washing her hands, she wrapped the platter up for transport before finally turning to address the annoying bat in the room.

"Alright, what is it?"

Dracula looked at her innocently, hands in the pockets of yet another immaculately fitted suit.

"Do you need something or are you just here to keep tabs on me?"

"I was in the neighborhood." He said with a shrug.

"You're not a very good liar."

He had the audacity to look affronted and placed a clawed hand on his chest, "Ouch."

Roxana glanced at the clock on the wall behind his head. She knew that Al would be there any minute to pick her up and she needed to get the vampire out before that happened.

"Well, as much as I adore your company, Count," She said sarcastically, looking back into his onyx gaze, "I actually have somewhere to be. So if you would, please…"

She gestured towards the door, but Dracula didn't move an inch. He just tilted his head slightly and a smile spread across his lips, just barely showing the sharp teeth beneath.

"What?" Roxana snapped, exasperated with his stare.

The Count's grin widened slightly, "It's just curious."

"What is?"

"That this time around you're a chef."

There was a pause and Roxana furrowed her brow in confusion, "I'm not sure I follow…"

He slowly circled her, taking one large step after another, like a panther stalking its prey. Not baiting him, Roxana just crossed her arms and tensely waited for him to quit his theatrics.

"You see, dearest Roxana, the first Van Helsing I came across was Sister Agatha, a rather fiery nun from a convent in Budapest, I believe it was. She was full of repressed desires, finding interest in all things darkly supernatural. Agatha was...truly one of a kind. Sharp as a knife too!"

Roxana narrowed her eyes. Was it just her or did he sound almost nostalgic?

The Count continued on with a humorless laugh, "Yes, she...ah, taught me a thing or two. But then she had to go and blow up the ship, sinking herself into the bottom of the ocean. No matter. Her spirit popped up again in the form of a Doctor. Zoe was cynical to boot. As a scientist, it made sense, for she didn't truly believe something until there was foolproof evidence."

He came to a stop in front of her and motioned to himself.

"Must've been quite the shock to see me strolling out of the depths of the dark water, hm?" He smirked.

"It'd be a shock if you could wrap up this story soon." Roxana muttered, eyeing the time.

His head tilted to the side, "Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

She groaned, running a hand through her hair in frustration. This was going nowhere. He was nothing more than a child wearing the suit of a giant man…er, bat.

"Look, my friend is picking me up and we're going out. I would really rather not have a vampire loitering about in my restaurant. So I'd appreciate it if you would please leave, Dracula."

His eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulled at his lips; he looked like a kid who got their sno-cone knocked out of their hand on a blistering hot and humid day. She bit back her laugh at the thought.

"HAPPY TWELFTH NIGHT, BABY!" Al's shout rang loudly through the kitchen as the sound of his heavy footfalls came closer from around the corner.

Oh fuck, she thought as her eyes widened at the vampire and she instinctually grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the back door. Before she could get there, her sous-chef slash best friend let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Bitch, what! Rox, you brought back Mr. Tall, Dark, and Devilishly Handsome?!"

Roxana whipped back to face her friend who was looking between her and Dracula with a wide smirk. His eyes glanced pointedly at her hand clutching onto the vampire's arm and she ripped it away as if he was on fire.

"It's not what it looks like!"

The moment the words fell from her mouth, Dracula draped his arm around her shoulder and she could just feel the smugness radiating from him.

"Oh, it is exactly what it looks like." He purred, grinning ear to ear. "Good to see you again."

Al looked like he was going to explode, his mouth warping stupidly as he tried, and failed, to keep the glee from his face.

Roxana ducked out of Dracula's embrace and sent her friend a look of warning, making her way over to him. "Don't even start."

He made a motion with his hand that spoke of keeping his lips zipped, but she knew him far better than that. He would probably wait till later to hound her; most likely when she was too drunk to care because he was a sneaky asshole like that. Good thing she had a particularly high tolerance.

"What is that?" Dracula appeared at their side, gazing down at the rectangular box in Al's hands.

"It's a King Cake, baby!" At his dumbfounded look, the New Orleanians immediately took offense. Al gasped dramatically and placed a hand over his heart, almost as if the words had physically struck him, while Roxana looked at the vampire like he'd grown another head.

"You've never heard of a King Cake? How long have you been down here?" She questioned him incredulously.

The Count just made a facial shrug. It wasn't like he ate food anyway, so why would he be concerned about some local dessert?

"Oh my god, I just fucking can't. Let me find out ya boy don't know what a damn King Cake is…" Al grumbled and opened the box, placing it on the table so the three of them had space to hover over it.

The cake was made up of woven cinnamon and sugared dough that braided together to form a giant circle. A sleek pool of icing covered the entire top and dripped slightly down the sides; over that were layers and layers of purple, green, and gold sprinkles to give it the true Mardi Gras flair.

It was already sliced up into even little portions. Al took the first piece, glanced at the side, and then gave a huff, "Ain't no baby."

Roxana smirked and snagged a slice for herself, but before she could check her own piece, she noticed the look of absolute bewilderment on the vampire's face.

"Baby?"

"Not an actual child," She laughed at his wary visage, "No, no, it's part of the tradition."

Dracula's brow furrowed.

Well, with his aversion to holy symbolism, she supposed it made sense that he didn't understand what Kings Day even was.

"Okay, you look beyond lost so I'll give you a brief history." Roxana took a bite of her cake - no baby. She chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and continued her bit, "Today is the official start of the Mardi Gras season, or also sometimes known as Carnivale. It is called Twelfth Night because it is precisely twelve days after Christmas; the night that the three kings visited the sweet, little baby Jesus in his manger."

He grimaced.

Christianity was still a touchy subject, it seemed.

"So why a…cake?"

"It's a symbol of unity; woven in thirds to honor the three kings. The Mardi Gras coloring each have a meaning as well; purple represents justice, green for faith, and gold for power. We like to have fun down here, so we hideaway a small plastic baby inside, and whoever finds the baby receives good fortune!"

"And the next cake is on them!" Al supplied, already on his third slice and shoving it into his frowning gob as he still had not found the baby. He handed a piece to Dracula. "You have to try it, Dong Phuong makes the best!"

The Count gave Roxana a side glance to which she just smiled sweetly, "Yes, Mr. Balaur, you simply have to try it!"

She could see the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth tightly.

"I can't." He bit out, throwing her a dangerous look. Roxana noticed the darkening of his eyes and quickly realized she did not want to be testing the vampire's patience when her dear friend was so near.

"Shit, I forgot," She gave him a look of mock-concern before turning to Al and intercepting the offered slice, "He's on the Keto diet. Not allowed to have sugar or any sort of pastries."

Al's eyes grew wide in actual worry, "Oh no, that…that's horrible. I'm so sorry."

One would've thought that she had told him Dracula's mother had just died with how devastated he was at the news. The Count just shrugged with a placid grin, not knowing what the hell either of them were talking about.

He had never even heard of such a thing.

"Yeah, he's trying to cut back a little, huh?" Roxana couldn't resist giving him two small pats on his tummy for emphasis.

He then understood and was entirely unimpressed by her implication.

"Oh baby, you look fine!" Al waved his hand and boxed up the remainder of the cake. "Well, we should head out 'cause the crew is waiting on our slow asses."

Roxana threw on her jacket and grabbed the platter of beignets, but then paused, looking hesitantly at Dracula. She didn't want to be completely rude, but she had to figure out something to say to make him leave. The last thing she needed was for this undead warlord joining them.

That would be a recipe for disaster.

"Hey Mr. Balaur, you coming?" Al called out from the doorway.

Her sous-chef was incredibly efficient in ruining her plans sometimes…or maybe he just had a death wish.

Dracula gave a non-committal shrug, but she knew better as he turned and threw her a sly grin, "Why yes, I would love to join you all."

Of course he would, she thought with an internal groan. She sent a quick prayer out to the universe that nothing deadly would take place this evening, but knowing the Count, that was probably nothing more than a pipe dream.

He bent down and swiped something from the floor that Roxana couldn't quite see from over the mountain of pastries she was carrying. In a move of suspicious chivalry, he held the door open for her and as she went to pass, she saw what he had grabbed.

Sitting delicately between two of his claws was the tiny, pink plastic baby that Al was so keen on finding in his King Cake. It must have slipped out when he had moved the box.

A small laugh escaped her as the vampire gave a toothy smile, his brows raising in wicked delight as he tossed it in the bin, "There is no baby."

~~~

The car ride was…awkward, but Roxana had to admit she enjoyed how uncomfortable Dracula looked crammed into the backseat of the tiny coupe. His knees were nearly pressed up against his chest as he sat there glaring at her through the mirror.

Al was blasting some Big Freedia through the half-blown speakers and the Bounce Queen's voice was belting out her iconic song called 'Azz Everywhere'. It consisted of very loud bass and the very repetitive lyrics of the title.

The Count was not amused.

Luckily for him, however, the bar was just down the street on Magazine. He only had to suffer through one song before the car was parked and he immediately shuffled out of it, unruffling his suit as he waited for the others to join him.

The place was smaller than he expected, but New Orleans was known for cramming together as many businesses as possible into one building. There were two floors of apartments stacked above and several people already meandering about on the balconies, their happy chatter filling the streets.

Roxana quietly asked Al to take the pastries inside so she could have a private word with the other man. Her friend just waggled his eyebrows at her and relieved her of the beignets. She sighed, running a hand through her hair before walking up to the vampire.

"Now, I know you don't like being told what to do, but will you please just be good tonight?"

Dracula rose a brow, "I am always on my best behavior."

"I'm serious," She stepped up to him, hands on her hips, wearing a very stern expression that just tickled him, "If you fuck with my friends, I'll call the foundation in a heartbeat."

"Is that supposed to frighten me?"

"It should light some sort of warning fire under your ass."

The Count placed a hand on her shoulder, claws just barely squeezing her skin through the fabric. She tensed, eyes darting back and forth between his dark gaze and sharp teeth.

"Roxana, my dear," He drawled, leaning closer with a wicked smile, "I promise not to harm your friends...this evening."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged his hand away, "I suppose that's the best I'm going to get."

The vampire's grin widened as he opened the door and gave her a small bow, motioning her in like a gentleman.

Clearly, nothing more than a veneer.

Roxana snorted and entered the familiar establishment. Might as well get the evening over with.

~~~

The bar was a grungy pit.

The walls were covered in thousands of stickers in various stages of decay and what little wall showed from beneath was caked with the dried paint of endless graffiti tags. Stacks of board games were piled across the shelves lining the room, almost all had a missing component that basically made them unplayable. Old Christmas lights were strung up haphazardly along the ceiling and lit up the room with strange multi-colored hues.

It looked like an absolute shit show of a bar.

Dracula observed his surroundings with disgust, unsure that it even fit the building's safety codes.

"This place should be condemned."

Roxana elbowed his side, "You watch your mouth, this place is sacred."

"Oh my god, Al wasn't kidding, you actually did bring him!" There was a loud squeal and they looked up to see Angeline waving at them from the bar. From the looks of it, she was already down a few margaritas. "Hey there, Mr. Balaur! Fancy seeing you at this joint. Y'all getting into some after work extracurriculars?"

"What does that even mean?"

Angeline threw her arms around Roxana, whispering not-so-quietly in her ear, "It means that you're gonna schmooze him and booze him to woo him, baby!"

She could smell the waft of tequila permeating the younger woman's breath and fought a grimace, settling for awkwardly patting her back instead.

"Okay, you're having a water. Here, take a beignet too, cher." Roxana guided her back to her seat and gave Eric a smile, "Hey bud, how come you're not as sloshed as our little angel here?"

The poor kid looked like someone had poisoned his drink. His face, though already quite pasty, had paled considerably as he stared in open horror at the dark figure still lurking behind her.

"Rox, how come...he's here?" He asked quietly, eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Dracula. Trying, and failing, to not make his fear too obvious. "That dude is bad news."

She inwardly applauded him for picking up on the evident danger that was the vampire she brought to the bar. Too bad he was going to have to deal with the chilling feeling of pins and needles along his neck for the entire evening.

"Don't worry about it." Clasping him on the shoulder, she gave the kid her best reassuring smile and then addressed the group, "Guys, this is Dracula, it's a strange name, I know, but let's not tease him too much. Alright? Alright. Now, let's have some shots!"

After a couple of rounds, her nerves had mellowed dramatically now that various ounces of liquid courage ran like fire through her veins. She loved the rush of tequila. The vicious bite as the liquor hit her tongue followed by the soothing numbness was one of her favorite feelings. It never failed to pick up her mood.

The bloodsucking creature be damned, Roxana was going to have a fun night.

They moved the party out back to the courtyard; what the bar lacked in the interior, it made up tenfold in the back. Lights were strung up to illuminate the back patio and there were yard games for days. Anything one could imagine; billiards, pong, table-tennis, giant jenga, darts, cornhole, horseshoes.

The list went on.

There was not a more fun time to be had than copious amounts of liquor paired with the natural allure of friendly, or sometimes not-so-friendly, competition. The inhabitants of this particular crew were no strangers to drunken bar games.

"Alright! Let's break out into teams, shall we?" Al slurred a shout to gain everyone's attention. He waved absently in Roxana's direction, "You and me, bitch, versus them two hooligans!"

Roxana glanced over at Eric who went pale as a sheet at the thought of going anywhere near Dracula, so she immediately intervened, "No, no, no, cher, we can't have that - it wouldn't be fair. How about me and the big guy, versus you two?"

They had already sent Angeline home in an Uber, ensuring she was coherent enough to actually make it there. Roxana had to repeatedly insist to her younger friend that there was no shame in calling it quits when someone was too drunk. It happened quite often to her, and she'd be lying if she said it probably wouldn't happen again. Sometimes the liquor just got the best of a person.

"Are you sure that's fair for them?" Dracula purred into her ear. He had been close to her all evening, not once leaving her side and, to her begrudging enjoyment, he had not even paid the slightest bit of attention towards any of her friends.

Only her.

She stubbornly insisted to herself that she was grateful for the attention because it meant less of a threat to her friends. However, she couldn't ignore the pleasant shiver that ran down her back every time they caught eyes.

"It is as long as you hold off on your batty voodoo." Roxana said, tossing back another shot like it was water.

This made him curious.

While her friends had consumed quite a substantial amount of alcohol, they sure as hell weren't holding a candle to what the small woman beside him was pounding down. And she didn't even seem to be phased. It was encouraging to see someone else have an unquenching thirst like his.

Although he preferred something entirely different, he was still rather impressed.

Roxana snagged two pool sticks, eyeing them for any bends in the wood or scuffs on the cues before tossing one to Eric, "I'll rack it up."

Dracula watched with interest as she bent down to retrieve the balls and sorted them into a wooden triangle. From his angle, he had a delightful view of her cleavage and the vampire did not hesitate in sliding over to sit close to her on the table. Pressing a palm down flat onto the felt, he leaned closer under the guise of observing her movements of 'racking'. Whatever that was.

When she glanced up at him, he felt a peculiar pang in his chest that he didn't understand. She looked so…beautiful at that moment. With the hues of red and orange from the shitty lights hanging above casting her in a hazy glow, he was struck in some sort of spell.

In a flash, her gaze hardened as she realized how close he had edged over to her, and the spell suddenly lifted. He masked his confusion from the whiplash of strange emotions with an easy smile.

"Need something?" She asked, straightening up.

"What is this?"

"Pool?"

He glanced around with furrowed brows, "I see no pool here. That'd be disgusting."

Roxana couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at the idiotic bat. She pointed to the table, "This is pool, you know, billiards? Shit, do you even know how to play?"

"I could easily acquire the skill." Dracula licked his lips, dark eyes scanning the people around them as if eyeing some prey. She pushed him off of the table causing him to chuckle and stand beside her, "Alright! Teach me then, it can't be that difficult. You silly humans and your nonsensical pub games."

"You're just upset that you died before you could enjoy having any sort of drunken fun."

He looked affronted, placing a hand to his chest, "I'll have you know I'm quite good at games! I used to have a ball seeing how many men I could impale with one toss of the spike. Ah, those were the days."

Roxana was grateful that Al and Eric were busy taking turns trying to balance their stick on their chins on the other side of the table. Out of earshot.

"Enough of that now." She muttered to the Count and then grabbed her friends' attention, "Oi, tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, one of you break this."

As they argued, throwing their hands around in a match of rock, paper, and scissors, Roxana set out explaining the game of pool to the out-of-date vampire. By the time she was done with the rudimentary overview, Al gave a shout of victory and lined up the pool cue for his shot. The rack broke evenly, balls soaring in every which direction across the table, and a stripe sank into a pocket.

The game had begun.

Roxana prided herself in being a bit of a pool shark, so she was slightly disappointed when she only got in two solids before scratching. She handed the stick over to Dracula and they watched Eric fumble around before the Count's turn. The valet missed and slurred a slew of expletives, flipping off the table as if it were to blame for his loss of cognitive function. Dracula made his way to the table, copying the position he had seen the others use as he lined up his shot.

In his peripheral, he spotted Roxana sliding up next to him, reaching out her hands to adjust his stance. He was surprised at her willingness to be in such close proximity and he gathered that the copious amounts of tequila she had imbibed had something to do with it.

Gently, she wrapped a hand around his forearm, angling and lifting it slightly while the other hand wove his fingers to the correct positioning of balancing the cue between them.

With a hum of approval, Roxana finally looked up to meet his gaze and noticed how close they were. If she were to just turn her head slightly and lean forward an inch, his lips would be so easy to press against.

She jumped back quickly, creating a safe distance between the two of them once more and motioned for him to shoot. Dracula blinked, a little dazed himself at the strange pull he suddenly felt. He gave an imperceptible shake of his head and focused on the game.

When the stick hit the ball, he realized he might've put in a little more force than necessary because the ball shot off the table and bounced halfway across the courtyard.

"That's a scratch, bitch!" Al screamed with hysterical laughter while Eric ran over to try and capture the errant ball.

After a few turns, Dracula had become noticeably better, and soon enough, the pair of them were winning every game. The humans did not relent in their intake of alcohol and eventually, Al threw his hands in the air in defeat, swaying liberally back and forth. He was so very clearly plastered as his eyes tried to focus in on Roxana. "I think…I'm done. It's bedtime, bitch."

"Yeah, same -" Eric started but was abruptly cut off by his own loud hiccup, "S-s-same here!"

Roxana raised a brow and smirked at the two drunks who were hanging onto each other in an attempt to keep one another upright. It was incredibly amusing.

"Alright, y'all have a good night, then." She drawled, tossing back yet another shot. The sight made Eric turn a little green. He never understood how she could possibly stomach so much liquor and the mere thought drinking more made his gut turn. Al saluted them and then slung one arm around the younger man, whistling a tune as he dragged them out of the bar.

"Didn't he drive?"

Roxana was surprised that Dracula even cared.

"Yeah, he did. But he also lives one block up, which is why we usually come to this spot. I used to live super close, too." She said with a wistful sigh, "I miss the days of only stumbling a few steps to get back home."

She placed the cues back up on their rack along the wall and pushed the rest of the balls into the holes, wiping her hands down on her pants as she came to a stop in front of the vampire.

"And then there were two." Roxana spoke, a small grin lighting her face. "You were actually good tonight. Thank you."

Dracula shrugged, "I made a promise, did I not?"

"Yeah, you did." She patted him on the arm, "Great job, bat boy."

His brow rose but he said nothing to rebuke her comment. If anything, he was endlessly entertained by her constant need to call him names.

No one had ever dared before.

"Well, it's getting late and homeboy is about to shut down for the night…" Roxana shrugged on her jacket and swigged back the last shot of tequila that sat on the table, biting into a lime wedge and then tossing it into the empty cup. It must've been the liquor taking action finally because she couldn't stop the next words from flowing out of her mouth, "Would you wanna…walk me home?"

The Count gazed at her for a moment. Long enough for Roxana to drop her eyes and reach for her purse, fully intending on making a beeline out of the bar and running away from her sudden embarrassment.

He caught her arm before she could turn and snaked it around his own, tilting his head towards the exit, "Shall we?"

~~~

The night was cool and calm underneath the light of the moon.

A breeze flowed gently through the empty streets and wrapped the pair in its comforting embrace. Roxana loved nights like these, when no one was out and about and the usually bustling city lay dormant in its rest.

They walked in amicable silence.

It was pleasant to just simply enjoy the sounds of the night; there weren't many creatures that roamed about in a city like New Orleans, but the tropic region provided plenty of bugs. Although it was a strange tune, the buzzing song that the cicadas sang was calming as they hummed peacefully through the night.

He noticed that her posture was relaxed and although she wasn't outright stumbling, there was a little sway to her walk that entertained him. It was shocking how easily she had grown accustomed to his presence. Or perhaps she was just drunk, but he'd rather assume the former was true.

Roxana wandered off the sidewalk slightly, spotting a blooming Southern Magnolia tree. She did a little dance over, plucked a stem, and returned to the Count's side. He watched as she once again tucked the flower into his breast pocket.

This one was as pale at the moon above, smelling of fresh lemon.

"Do I still reek of evil?"

"Nah," She shrugged, "They just bring out your eyes."

Dracula couldn't help but laugh, the warm sound echoing in the street and bringing a smile to her face. If she didn't know any better, she might've entertained the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She always did have a habit of going for the bad guys in her past, but Roxana drew the line at an actual blood-sucking monster.

As they neared her home, she came to a stop just shy of her front porch and turned to look at the Count. "Well, thanks again for, you know..."

"Not eating your friends?"

"Yeah, that."

Dracula stepped closer and lifted his hand. She expected him to grip her around the neck, a strange and unnerving habit of his, but to her surprise, he gently brought her chin between his thumb and forefinger. The soft movement caught her off guard. He raised his own chin, looking down at her, searching for something that she could not possibly begin to fathom. It caused her a bit of apprehension as a toothy grin slowly crept onto his handsome face.

"My dear, I'm afraid I would find your friends to be rather…flavorless." He murmured lowly, enjoying the instant furrow in her brow, "I am a connoisseur, not a glutton. I prefer not to pick the low hanging fruit. The taste is always…off."

"Unbelievable!" She ripped herself from his grasp, sending the vampire the meanest glare she could muster and spun on her heel to walk towards the door, "You got some fucking nerve calling my friends flavorless, what a douchey thing to say -"

But the words died in her throat and her body froze.

Dracula was amused by her outburst; he always did enjoy pressing human's buttons. They were such sensitive creatures. But the way she cut herself short drew some concern.

He followed her steps, craning his neck to try and figure out what had caused her reaction. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Then he smelled it.

Instantly, his senses were taken over as he felt the pooling in his eyes and the lengthening of his dagger-like teeth making him snarl viciously. His shoulders went rigid as his body unconsciously tensed up, ready to attack. Every single one of his nerve endings was on fire as he fought the urge to consume everything in sight.

There was blood…and quite a bit of it.

The crimson liquid trailed from somewhere within her home to the entrance and it led to a red-soaked note nailed to the middle of the front door. Dark lettering read, "WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE - MEET US TOMORROW NIGHT - ST LOUIS CATHEDRAL - BEWARE THE BAT"

Dracula's growl drew her attention away from the letter and she glanced back with wide-eyes, looking at the vampire in horror. His visage was just as frightening as the sight before them. She took a step back and paused, nearly shrieking when he snapped his jaws at the pool of blood that entered his view.

He took a few deeps breaths, trying to control his natural inclination to feed, and then realized that the scent wasn't right. Something was different about it and he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Licking his lips, Dracula calmed himself down and Roxana watched as his face slowly returned back to normal.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, "I know you said you wouldn't harm me...but -"

"I'm fine." He bit out, making her jump. Noticing her palpable fear, the vampire ran a hand through his hair and changed his tone, "My apologies. I'm a bit famished and this caught me off guard."

"Yeah, you're telling me…" Roxana's eyes crinkled with worry as she gazed back at the scene on her doorstep.

"The blood is fresh."

Her bright eyes shot back to him, "What if they're still here?"

Dracula lifted his brows, "Then I'll be having a nice little snack."

Rolling her eyes, she went to move towards the door but was stopped mid-step by a clawed hand firmly pulling her back.

"Ah, ah, ah, I'll be investigating this, my dear." His lips quirked but the smile did not meet his eye, "I'm the immortal one here, remember?"

The Count carefully pushed open the door and made his way into her home, taking caution of avoiding stepping in the trail of blood. He let his eyes adjust to the darkened interior and listened carefully for any noises of someone inside, but all he could hear was the pounding heartbeat of the woman standing behind him.

Shame, he thought, it would've been nice to have a bite to eat.

He really was hungry.

Ignoring his craving, for now, Dracula reached over to flick on the light and called out to Roxana, "The coast is clear. Those cowards must have run off after slicing one of their hands like an imbecile and - oh, fuck."

His gaze landed on an object lying in the middle of her living room.

"What? What happened?" Roxana called, taking a step through the threshold.

Dracula's put up a hand, "Wait - don't come in!"

But it was too late.

Her eyes found the source of the blood and a gut-wrenching moan escaped her lungs as she felt herself collapse onto her knees, staring at the blank gaze of her mangled cat.

"No, no, no, no, no -" Roxana shook her head, tears pouring from her eyes as she tried to wrap her mind around the brutality that befell her sweet furry friend.

It was a shocking sight.

She felt her heart seize up painfully, squeezing so dangerously inside the cavity of her chest that she thought it might actually burst. Roxana didn't even register the tall man swooping down and picking her up into his arms.

"Breathe, Roxana! You'll be okay, just breathe." He carried her away from the scene of the crime, bringing her outside and placing her down onto the stoop. She was nearly hyperventilating and couldn't even focus on his dark eyes that blocked her vision. He grasped her cheeks, softly stroking his thumbs along her face, urging her to calm down, "Listen to me, deep breaths, alright? Come now, breathe with me."

He began to inhale and exhale, trying to get her to match his movements. She shakily did the same, closing her eyes tightly and clasping onto his hands.

"Good, keep going. Just like that." They continued the breathing exercise, in and out, until her gasps slowly faded and her heaving chest eventually evened out. "You're doing very well."

Roxana finally opened her eyes. If Dracula had a beating heart, it would've surely stopped at the sight of her look of utter despair.

"They killed my cat."

He nodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to her hair and stroking it back behind her ear, "I am sorry for your loss."

After a moment of silence, she spoke up again, her voice raspy, "Are you going to kill them?"

Again, he nodded and she gave a sigh of relief.

"Good. I hope they fucking rot."

"You're not staying here tonight."

Roxana's eyes glistened but she refused to let more tears fall, "Yeah, I should probably head to Al's. He has an extra couch or floorspace…or something. They're probably passed out, but I know where the spare key is."

"No," Dracula said, standing up and offering a hand. "You're staying with me."

"That doesn't seem like a good idea." She eyed it skeptically.

"Roxana, I'm not allowing you out of my sight until I find who did this." The vampire's tone was sharp and she felt the exhaustion from the evening finally catch up to her.

With a heavy sigh, she relented, "Fine. I'm too tired to argue with you right now."

Dracula saw her eyes drooping a little and with a small smirk, he reached down and drew her into his arms again. At her weak attempt to struggle, he tightened his grip and shushed her complaints, "Relax, just go to sleep. I've got you."

She gave up trying and rested her head against his shoulder.

The last thing she remembered before an uneasy rest took her away was the faint scent of citronella wafting up from the magnolia flower sticking out of his pocket.

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