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liliesoftherain · 5 years ago

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4 and 57 for kirishima please?

A/N: Whoops my hand slipped I..Angst guys anGST WATCH OUT-

Title: Never be the Same

Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima x Reader

4. “Look at me-just breath, okay?”57. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Eijirou Kirishima!:

Your ears were ringing, no other sounds were able to overpower the piercing sound. You were trying to gasp for air, but the smoke from the burning buildings that surrounded you made it harder to do. The fumes were making your head spin, but you couldn’t force your body to move. You sat with your back against one of the few still standing brick walls, trying hard to keep yourself awake and breathing.

You kept an eye on all three villains who were scattered around you, making sure they weren’t going to get up any time soon. These guys were smart, knowing that they’d have a better chance if they had split you and your group up. It was supposed to be a simple take down of a small, low-threat group of villains. The only reason you had the party you did, was because the board of directors, that mainly consisted of government officials, decided it would be best to have this powerful group together for the threat.

While they were a low-threat villain group, they were connected to something much bigger than that, and you heroes have been chipping away at them little by little. Hoping to hit the heart of the group before anything worse were to happen. However, these guys must have somehow caught wind of the plans, or they were becoming more antsy at having so many members lost, because they were ready.

At first, you hadn’t been worried at all, knowing that you, Bakugou, Midoriya, Todoroki, and Kirishima were more than capable. However, that confidence soon turned into unease once everyone was split apart, forced to take on three or more high-class villains on their own. That didn’t mean you weren’t about him though, although you should probably be worrying about yourself.

You were suffering from the battle as multiple gashes littered your body, and larger wounds on your side and thigh which were causing you to lose a lot of blood.

You heard a large explosion break through the white noise, and knew you had to help the others. You stood on shaky legs, before collapsing once more. You cursed in pain as you began to army crawl, pulling yourself to one of the villains and using your quirk to secure his hands behind his back. You willed your life force to create some makeshift cuffs on the other two as well before hardening it, creating an almost unbreakable substance.

You moved away from them, trying to stand once more, knowing now wasn’t the time to feel weak. You had to get to someone, had to get these guys in custody, you had to. You may have been swaying but you were finally able to stand without falling, squinting into the smog-filled area to spot something, anything.

Keeping one hand tightly on your wound, you manipulated your life force into a rope in the other, connecting it to the cuffs and dragged all three villains at once. Slow, trembling steps were all you could take, but at least you were able to move.

Painful coughs racked through your body, causing you to drop to your knees. The world was spinning and you were losing too much blood. A thin trail of it slipped past your lips, the metallic taste in your mouth made you spit in disgust with a hiss.

“Fuck,” You wheezed, “I gotta keep- ugh..”

Your body stopped listening to your commands, choosing to have you fall face first into the ground below. You felt the pain from your side lighten, becoming more bearable as it became numb. That would have been a good thing if it wasn’t for the fact the edges of your vision were going dark.

Was this how it ended for you? All alone, surrounded by knocked out bad guys and burning buildings?

What a way to go.

“Arcane!”

The sound of your hero name, while sounding quite muffled in your ears, made your body twitch. You wanted to look up, but you were way too weak to even think let alone move.

“Ac-(y/n)! No! Hey wake up-open your eyes!”

They fluttered open, you didn’t even realize you closed them. The feeling of being turned on your back didn’t even register until you were locked onto a blurred face you knew all too well. A smile, which you were sure didn’t look like a smile, spread over your face.

“Ei-” More coughing interrupted you, blood spilling from your mouth and spraying against his chest. You wanted to apologize, but the pain in your side had returned. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as the searing pain caused your nerves to pulse.

“No, no no no, hey! Look at me-just breathe, okay?”

You tried to suck in a breath but your lungs wouldn’t work, you brought your hands up, clawing at his arms and chest.

“BREATH, C’MON!”

A harsh press against your sigh made you gasp, and a shuddering breath opened your lungs. You were gulping down the air you needed, your senses both dimming and enhancing at the same time.

You were hyper aware of the wrong things, you should’ve been focused on the villains, the citizens, the battle ahead, but you couldn’t.

All you could focus was the warm arms that held you tight, the unshed tears rimming in his ruby red eyes, the dirt smudging his tan face, him.

“H-hey.. Eiji, I-” You grit your teeth as the throbbing in your side got worse.

“Sh hey, hey it’s okay. Don’t talk, c’mon you gotta fight through it okay? I’m going to get you help.”

You lifted your hand to cup his face, your fingers were tingling but the comfort from touching him helped you ignore it.

“You’re… okay, r-right?” You muttered, trying hard to keep yourself focused on his trembling jaw.

“I-I’m fine, I only had two guys to deal with. Look at you, taking on three all by yourself. So manly.” Kirishima tried to laugh, but it came out more as a broken whimper.

“Hm.” Your vision was spotty, and you felt yourself slipping.

The cold was creeping in, spreading up from your fingers and toes. You wanted to fight it, you were trying so hard, but you couldn’t. The pull was too strong.

“(y/n), hold on okay, hold on.” Eijirou didn’t even know he was crying till he saw his tears fall onto your cold cheeks.

He lifted you up and you moaned in protest, the light jolts of pain were enough to have you snap your eyes open. He didn’t care about the villains on the ground, he cared about getting you the help you needed. Kirishima tried holding your bleeding side as tightly as you could and he felt his heart squeeze at your pained cries. He rushed forward through the ashes and destroyed structures, looking for the ambulances that could help. Looking for anyone who could help.

“St-uh-op!” You groaned, your pain was coming in harsh waves as you were being jostled around.

“I can’t!”

“Please, it h-hurts..”

“The pain is keeping you awake isn’t it! Focus on staying awake okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, dammit!” Kirishima’s heart was going into overdrive, his fear taking over his entire being. There was no one around, the debris and rising smoke was disorienting him and he didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t wait, you needed help-

“S-stop Eiji p-pl..” You whispered, hand squeezing his shoulder as tightly as you could.

He did what you asked, your small voice caused him to hold you closer as he didn’t know what else to do.

He felt so lost, so insignificant, so helpless.

How could he let you down like this?

His eyes blurred with tears as you looked so calm, your fingers cold but that small smile on your face was the warmest and brightest thing he’s ever seen. Sinking to his knees, he tried to put on a brave face for your sake, but your gaze was unfocused. He knew you weren’t looking at him anymore, and his whole body ached with the hurt and pain of feeling you slip away, right in his arms.

You couldn’t focus anymore, the world completely lost to you. The feeling of bliss was lifting the burden of pain from your body, and you had never felt better. You knew something was wrong, you knew you shouldn’t feel this way, but you let it take over.

“(y/n), I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I love you so much and I’m going to take you on a date okay? You got that?” He sobbed, biting his bottom lip to keep his wails inside.

His voice was getting farther and farther away, why was he so muffled? Wasn’t he holding onto you just a second ago? What was he saying?

“Ngh-”

“I’m going to take you out to your favorite place, a-and we’ll laugh together as we goof off, blowing the straw wrappers at each other. I’ll walk you home and kiss you for the first time, i’ll probably mess it up b-but you’ll laugh and tell me i-it’s okay, and you, you’ll kiss me again. It’ll be the best first kiss ever.”

His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear the words, you felt a longing to hear everything he was saying.

“T-then after some time together, I’ll make a grand proposal, and i-i’ll have Ashido record the whole thing! We’ll laugh about how I-I almost dropped the ring, and how nothing went according to plan. But you wouldn’t have it any other way..”

You tried to focus on his face, you really did. It was hard but at least you could see the emotions in his eyes-God his eyes, they were so sad, why was this angel crying atop of you?

“We’ll have a small wedding with everyone we are care about, and I’d be the luckiest man alive… We’d be the power couple in the hero world, can you hear all the disappointed fans? I wouldn’t care, I would give it all up for you. The chance to love you, hold you every night, the chance to have you be by my side for the rest of my life.. So please, please, I can’t stand the thought of losing you. So don’t leave me.”

You didn’t know what was what anymore, but there was something nagging at you, something you needed to do.

“..I love.. you..”

Your body went lax in his arms after you said your last words, and he could only stare as your eyes fluttered closed. Your hand fell from his shoulder as your head tilted back, and he was in shock. There was no way this was real, there was no way-

“(Y/N)!”

He would never be the same without you by his side, not for the rest of his days.

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kiri x reader #bnha requests #liliesasks #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero headcanons

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blue-collects-things · 7 years ago

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ok IT book spoilers ahead so beware but stan kills himself as an adult and I'd like to imagine what it would be like if he struggled with suicide as a kid too. I also like to imagine what it would be like if bill walked in on him in the middle of an attempt. :)c

The Scent of Purple Hyacinth

Stan Uris x Bill Denbrough

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: suicide attempt, graphic descriptions of suicide, depression, anxiety

Author’s Note: This is something I’ve been kind of putting off for a while because it’s some pretty heavy stuff and I wanted to execute it well. The losers are about high school junior age (about 16/17) in this to give some perspective. It gets pretty graphic and I tagged that, but just be cautious please. My messages are always open if you need someone to talk to, to vent to, anything. Don’t stay silent. Also, I must have listened to Heal by Tom Odell and Oblivion by Bastille 400 million times each while writing this to get some perspective. Please enjoy.

Read it on ao3

The day that everything went to hell started out pretty normal, all things considered.

Bill had had a decent day, got to spend time with his friends and boyfriend, and only had a little homework to do after football practice. He was halfway home when he realized he left his history notes in his locker and needed them to study for the test tomorrow. He turned back around, hoping to catch someone who could let him back in. As he ran up to the front steps, Bill caught sight of the janitor tying a black bag full of trash and knocked on the main doors of the school building.

The older man fumbled with the keys on his ring momentarily before unlocking the door. “What are you doing here so late, Bill?” he asks.

“Hey, Gary. Forgot my notes,” Bill explains, “I’ll b-be back in a minute.” He rushes up the steps, taking them two at a time, to get to the third floor. He walks briskly down the hall to get to his locker and put in the combination. When he flings the door open, a piece of paper flutters to the ground. He crosses his eyebrows in confusion before bending to pick it up. He instantly recognizes the handwriting on the outside that his initials are written in as Stan’s elegant script. Bill unfolds it and reads the six-word note.

William, my love,I’m sorry.-Stanley

Something about this doesn’t sit right with Bill. He grabs his history notebook, slams the locker shut, not bothering with the lock, and sprints back to his car. He drives several miles above the speed limit to get to Stan’s house on the other side of town. He feels the panic ebbing and flowing with his bloodstream as he pauses at stop lights and gasses on green ones. He makes the near twenty minute drive in nine. He doesn’t bother with shutting the car door as he runs up the front steps of the Uris household. He thumps his fist against the front door and shouts, “Stan! Stan, a-are you in there? He-ello?” When there is no answer after ten seconds of waiting, Bill dashes to the side of the porch where a spare key sits under a pot of hydrangeas. He fumbles to fit the key in the slot but finally gets it.

After he shuts the door, everything inside is eerily quiet, save for the pounding blood in Bill’s ears. “Stan?” he calls out. Faintly he can hear the water running upstairs. So someone is home, he thinks, only worrying himself further. He climbs the stairs and figures out that the noise is coming from Stan’s room. “Stan?” he asks once more, pushing the door open gently. He notices immediately the adjacent bathroom’s door is shut. Bill passes the foot of the bed and trips over something, landing squarely on the floor. It is in this position he notices water leaking out from under the door.

“Hey, Stanny, are you in there?” Bill asks once he’s stood up. He tries to open the door, but it won’t budge. Not like it’s locked, but like something is pressed up against it. Worry renews itself in Bill’s body as he drives his shoulder into the door. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing and finally whatever was lodged under the doorknob comes loose and Bill can get inside. In the process, he knocks over the chair he assumes was keeping the door shut.

And then he almost falls over again. Water pools around his feet, completely drenching his sneakers and the edge of his jeans. He notices with increasing horror that the water is tinted pink. His eyes slowly, too slowly, follow the water back to its source. The bath is overflowing and in it lays Stan, incrementally sliding under the water. His eyes are closed and the veins around them stand out so prominently, they look tattooed there.

Bill goes into overdrive. He rushes to the side of the tub, falling to his knees and turning off the water. “Stanley!” He smacks his hand against his boyfriend’s cheek and pulls him into more of a sitting position. “C’mon, h-honey, open your eyes.” Bill gets no response as he looks over Stan’s body. He’s still wearing his clothes, a long sleeved sweater and jeans. Bill delicately rolls up a sleeve and backs away upon seeing what was underneath, covering his mouth with his bloody fingers. “Chr-christ!” Stan’s arm is shredded, littered with old, white scars and new open wounds. A long slash runs from his wrist to his elbow. Bill feels like he might vomit as he looks around again, seeing the glinting of the blade Stan used in the other end of the tub. He also spots an open pill bottle labeled Eszopiclone, a sleeping pill prescribed to Stan’s dad.

Bill lets out a string of curse words and feels his eyes water as he fumbles his cellphone out of his pocket. He slides to the emergency screen and dials 9-1-1, hating how long it seems to take for them to answer. “911, what’s your emergency?” a woman answers after two rings.

“I th-think my boyfriend tried to commit s-s-suicide,” Bill says, choking out the last word, the tears in his eyes falling freely.

“Okay, I’ll dispatch an ambulance to your location. What is your address?” Bill rattles off the Uris’s address and waits for the next question. “Alright, the ambulance is on its way. Is he breathing?”

Bill dashes back to Stan and watches to see if his chest goes up and down. In his panic, he had not thought to check for breathing. He notices a rise and fall, however a faint one. “Y-yes, b-but very, v-very sh-h-hallowly.”

“What about his heart beat?” Bill lays two fingers against the hollow of Stan’s throat and waits for something. The pulse is slow. So slow, Bill can count five seconds between the beats. He reports this to the 911 operator who tells him to stay on the line. He hears sirens in the distance and soon he hears footsteps coming inside the house.

“Where are you?” a man’s voice calls out.

“U-up here!” Bill calls back. Everything starts to move in slow motion after that. The paramedics enter Stan’s bedroom and Bill moves out of the way. He watches as they lift Stan’s limp body from the bathtub and carry him out to the hallway where a gurney is set up. Bill follows behind as they push the gurney outside and lift him into the ambulance. “Pl-please, let me-ee c-come wi-hith you.” The paramedic closest to him nods once and helps Bill hoist himself into the ambulance. He watches on silently as the two men in the back tuck cannulas into Stan’s nostrils and bandage his arms several times over.

Bill doesn’t know how long it takes to get to the hospital. All he does know is that he prays the whole way there. He prays when he hasn’t in years, asking for Stan’s life. He bargains and pleads and begs that Stan will be okay. He is still praying as he is ushered out of the ambulance and follows after the gurney until a nurse stops him. “I n-need to kno-how h-he’s ok-k-kay!”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the nurse says. He gestures towards a room full of chairs. “Take a seat and we’ll update you when we have information.”

Bill knows the nurse is right and deflates a little. “Pl-please,” he asks, “just make su-hure he’s okay.” The nurse nods and Bill goes to take a seat. He pulls out his phone again and calls Mrs. Uris. He sobs as he reports the news to her and tells her where they are. After he hangs up, he sends a blunt text to the losers club group message: stan is hurt, please come to hospital.

He clicks his phone off and feels the exhaustion of the day sink in. He dozes off before he knows what’s happening.

~ ~ ~

When Bill wakes up an hour later, he is surrounded, the near-empty waiting room now filled with his friends and some others. Bev is seated directly next to him and notices he’s awake first. “There’s no news,” she reports without Bill having to ask. He nods and buries his head in his hands.

“A-hare the U-urises h-h-here?” His voice comes out muffled.

“Yeah,” Richie says from across the room. “They’re talking to the doctors.” Bill notices with muted shock that Richie is crying silently, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face. In the next chair over, Eddie places his hand over his boyfriend’s and closes his eyes. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I’m going insane.” He pushes out of the chair and angrily walks towards the exit.

From the other side of Bev, Mike begins to follow after, but Eddie waves him down. “Just let him go. He needs to cool off.” His voice is incredibly tight and Bill rises from his own chair to sit next to the small boy.

“Ho-ow are y-y-you holding u-up? I kno-how Stan is your be-e-est friend,” Bill asks. He hesitantly looks up to see the incredulous face Eddie is making. “What?”

Eddie just chuckles humorlessly and shakes his head. “Even when I should be the one asking you, you’re worried about everyone else. Jesus, Big Bill, how are you holding up? Stan is your boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know what I’d do if that were Richie.” And suddenly, he breaks down, ugly sobs racking his tiny frame. Bill carefully places an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulls him closer. The other losers slowly surround them, Ben taking the chair on the other side of Eddie and rubbing slow circles on his shoulder, Mike coming up from behind and wrapping him in a bear hug, and Bev kneeling in front of them all, her hand delicately threaded through Eddie’s.

“I just wish he’d have said something to us,” Mike says, also crying. Bill has only seen him cry once and that was years ago, so it sends him over the edge. Soon all of them are crying and huddled together, dependent on each other for support. Eventually, Richie comes back, face a red mess from his own crying. Bev reaches out a hand for him to join them, which he takes and sits on the floor near Bill’s feet. They all have a grasp on one another, making sure that they’re all still there.

Distantly, Bill hears the squeak of shoes coming towards their group, but he doesn’t look up until he hears a small, “Ahem.” Donald and Andrea Uris stand in the hallway flanked by doctors. Mike is the first to go to them and hug Mrs. Uris, followed closely thereafter by the rest of the losers.

A doctor explains to them what they did: “Hello, I’m Doctor Rose Mendoza and this is Doctor Jarred Alexander. We’re two of the surgeons who worked on Stanley. I’m sorry we’ve had to meet in such circumstances.” She gives a sympathetic look before continuing. “We pumped Stan’s stomach and had to repair the damage to his arms. It also seems he gave himself a concussion, presumably from falling in the tub. We gave him a blood infusion and he’s doing well at the moment. It’s a good thing you caught it as soon as you did.” This last part is directed at Bill. “Had you not found him so early on, we’re not so confident he’d be alive right now.” Bill bites back a sob and feels Richie grab his hand on one side, Bev on the other.

Another doctor adds on to his colleague’s report, “He’s still under the anesthesia from the surgery, but it might take him a little longer because of the head trauma and excessive blood loss. I suggest that you go in there and talk to him, tell him about your past week at school, any plans you might have had for the weekend. Let him know you’re still there. He can hear you and he’ll wake up in his own time.”

“I’ll go first,” Richie offers. He turns to Bill. “Are you okay with that?” Bill only nods and Richie gives his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and following the doctors down the hall and to the left, disappearing into the sterile whiteness.

~ ~ ~

Stan can’t move or see, but he can hear everything.

He can hear the doctors telling his parents what happened and knowing that he failed to do what he set out to, hears them crying and feels their tender touches, hears the heart monitor beeping slowly, hears trays and and carts and voices passing by, though sounding far, far away.

Right now, he’s hearing a familiar voice say, “Hey, Stan the Man. How are you doing?” Richie, his mind supplies, feeling a little appalled it took as long as it did to recognize his friend. “Wow, what a dumb question, you’re obviously not doing too hot or else we wouldn’t be in here.” There is a silence and Stan hears Richie suck in a sharp breath and a gentle warmth encloses his left hand. “The doctors told me to talk and apparently I’m really good at that, so here goes nothing.” And Richie does talk, about school, about the photography club he’s in, everything. He tells Stan secret wishes and hopes and dreams, things he’s only shared with Eddie, he discloses.

I wish I could ask you questions and talk back, Stan thinks helplessly.

“You know, I wish you would have said something. We-” Richie stops and Stan can tell he’s trying to swallow the emotion rising in the back of his throat. “We’re so worried. I mostly feel like a shit friend for not noticing you were suffering.” And suddenly there is a choked sobbed coming out of Richie and he rises from the chair, taking his warmth away from Stan’s hand. “Bill is a mess. He won’t say anything, but I can tell. If you can hear me in there, Stanny, I want you to know we’re all here for you, but that boy would go through hell and high water to make you happy. Talk to him when you wake up because he loves you.” A short pause. “We all do.” And then the door opens and closes again, signaling his departure.

Stan notes Richie’s use of the word when and not if and a small shred of determination to wake up takes root in Stan’s heart.

~ ~ ~

Bev and Ben come in next. Together they tell Stan about how want to go on a road trip all over the country to visit all fifty states after they graduate. Ben wants to see the world’s largest rubber band ball and the Golden Gate Bridge. Bev wants to visit New York City to see whatever show is playing on Broadway and the fashion district. They talk about wanting to move in together and the kind of house they’re going to get.

Ben says he’s going to design it. A wide open kitchen with all the newest appliances where they can practice cooking and make pancakes every Sunday morning. There would be a big living room with plenty of couch space for losers club movie night. An office for Ben and a sewing room for Bev. A big garden where they grow their own veggies and fruits and seasonal flowers. There will be one big bedroom for them to share and plenty spare rooms for their friends.

They speak about wanting to adopt a dog, but can’t decide which breed they want. Bev really wants a black French bulldog and a Dalmatian, but Ben says only one dog. He argues that a golden retriever would be the best option. Either way, they can’t decide on a name. They want Stan’s advice because he always has insightful things to say.

I think Maisie would be good for a girl dog and Jackson for a boy dog. Or maybe you should name the dog based on what it looks like, he thinks in response, but of course they can’t hear him.

They speak energetically and Stan appreciates that; it’s a welcome distraction from his immobility. But he can tell that their laughter is forced because of the strain in Ben’s voice when he speaks and the nervous tapping of Bev’s foot against the tile floor. “Wake up soon, Stanley,” Ben says quietly, a sullenness like Stan has never heard filling his words. “We miss you.” Then someone leaves, the door opening and falling shut again letting him know.

The sudden fragrance of pomegranates and mangos filling his nose tells him that Bev is still in the room. She leans close, her body heat easing some of the chill Stan is feeling. “Please wake up,” she whispers, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face. She places a soft kiss that lasts for about three seconds on his forehead. He feels a drop of wetness fall there when she pulls away. “Please.” And then she is gone as well, taking with her the comfort of another’s presence.

~ ~ ~

Eddie and Mike come in together a little after the previous couple leave. Mike does most of the talking with an interjection from Eddie once in a while.

“On Saturday, the farm is getting some baby chicks. I was going to ask you guys over to help my dad and me sort them. There’s always too many for us to do in one day and we could always use a set of helping hands or six.” Mike chuckles at his own joke before talking about his farm more. The animals and what’s being planted and harvested right now. All the while, Stan can hear Eddie moving about in his tiny room. There is the sound of spritz bottles and the smell of cleaner fills the air.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing?” Mike asks at one point, interrupting his own story.

Stan hears Eddie let out an exasperated sigh and wants to laugh at the sound. “I want this room to be germ-free when Stan wakes up so he can heal as quick as physically possible. Being sick won’t help anything.” Stan feels grateful for Eddie’s fussing and wants more than anything to hug his tiny friend.

Stan hears Eddie disappear into another room, cleaner bottle still going, and assumes there is an adjacent bathroom to his room. Mike leans closer to him, the comforting smell of his laundry detergent and aftershave calming Stan’s spinning mind. “I have a secret for you,” he says incredibly quietly. “When you come to, we’re going to be here to help you. We love you and want you to get better. Just remember, every step of the way, we’ll be there right beside you to catch you when you slip and to simply be in your company when you’re feeling good. Don’t forget that you have six personal shrinks at your disposal.” He chuckles melancholily, and Stan hears him swallow thickly. He wants to throw his arms around Mike. He wants to embrace all of his friends, but since he can’t, he adds it to his list of reasons to wake up. He is starting to understand that he doesn’t have to ache on his own, but it is okay to be hurting. “Get better, Stan.” He ruffles Stan’s curls and then the door opens, shuts, and there is silence.

Then, he hears Eddie flush the toilet and the sink water running. It is a while before the sink water turns off, but Stan is not surprised Eddie washes his hands that thoroughly, especially considering that he was just handling cleaning supplies. After the water stops running, Eddie comes back into the main room. Stan hears him come closer before laying his head on Stan’s chest and hugging him gently around the waist. “I- I love you, Stanny, we all do. Please wake up, but do it for your own sake, okay? Want to get better.” Eddie is tender as he mirrors Bev’s actions of pushing his hair out of his face. Stan hears a sniffle before the door opens and shuts again, leaving him alone once more.

~ ~ ~

It’s hours before someone visits Stan again.

He realizes offhandedly that visiting hours would’ve ended soon after he got admitted to his own room, but he still panics. What if they stopped caring about me? he can’t help but think. That’s stupid. They all literally came in here to tell you how much they love you, dumbass, another part of his brain counters. Yeah, all of them, he thinks.

Except for Bill.

Visiting hours, remember? He’ll be here. The rational part of his brain does a pretty good job of calming him down.

The nurses check on him periodically, taking his vitals and replacing the IV drip medication. A nurse, who introduces herself as Daisy, tells him that this is the first time she’s had to take care of a suicide survivor and that he should want to get better, that she’s seen all his friends’ faces, his mother’s tears, his father’s set jaw and clenching fists. Daisy says that he definitely has great things and people to live for, but the greatest one is himself. It makes him want to cry. How had he not realized that his friends would always be there for him, that this burden was not his alone to bear? Daisy squeezes his hand every time she checks on him, “To let you know I’m here when you wake up,” she explains once. She seems kind even though Stan can’t see her and for that kindness, he cannot wait to thank her.

It has been a few minutes since the new nurse, Dahlia, had taken his vitals for the morning shift of nurses when his door opens again. The room is suddenly filled with an overly sweet scent. At first, it feels like the smell is suffocating Stan, a feeling that he relates to being force-fed syrupy cough medication. After a bit, however, it is comforting, like the scent has been there all along. Whoever is in the room with him sets something down on the table next to him, the sticky sweet smell getting stronger, and drags out the chair on his right side. The person picks up his hand and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles before planting one on his cheek and another on his knuckles. Stan would recognize the smell of the shampoo with a permanent underlying tang of chlorine without the sharp, clean fragrance of familiar cologne.

Bill, my Bill.

“Hi, Stanny,” he says, a thumb brushing over Stan’s fingers. “I miss you.” And right out of the gate, Stan wants to burst into sobs. I miss you, too, he wants so badly to reply. I miss you so goddamn much. “It f-feels a little strange having a one-w-w-way conversation, but I’ll try my ha-arrdest just to talk.” There is a brief pause where Bill sucks in a sharp breath. “I w-went back to your hou-ou-ouse last night. I cl-cl-cleaned up the bathroo-hoom so your m-mom didn’t have to.” Stan feels a hot spiral of guilt drill through his stomach. I caused that. Bill had to see me like that. He wanted to say something, but Bill keeps talking. “I m-m-made dinner for m-me and your pa-harents but no-nobody could eat. We w-w-were all so w-worried for you Stan. We cou-houldn’t sleep either. I tried to sl-sl-ee-eep in your bed, but I j-just couldn’t sh-sh-shut my thou-houghts down. I e-ended up on th-he roof and sat i-i-in the same sp-sp-spot where I told you I l-loved you the first time. D-d-do you reme-hember that, Stanny? I stuttered e-e-even more than u-usual. I was so ne-hervous.” He chuckles and Stan feels himself wanting to smile. Of course he remembers; it was one of the best days of his life.

It was a blustery fall day in Derry, but that didn’t stop Stan from showing Bill his favorite spot to think when his brain got to be a little too much to handle. He had dragged him up through the attic, the two boys’ hands desperately clenched together. They claimed it was so neither of them fell but there was definitely an anterior motive. The wind had caused them to pull the hoods of their hoodies up to protect themselves from its harshness.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Stan had asked, looking out at the incredible view he got of Derry from this high up. He sat down, legs dangling off the edge, Bill following suit. He could see the spires of the Methodist church across town and the American flag that rose from the pole on top of the high school. The sun was just setting and the sky was shades of pink and purple and red. Stan could just tell Bill’s hands were itching to get out his watercolor pencils and draw it.

“N-not as b-b-beautifu-hul as yo-oo-oo-ou,” Bill said. His stutter seemed to have gotten the best of him. Stan whipped around to look at his boyfriend. Bill’s eyes were unwavering and staring lovingly at him. Stan smiled at how cute Bill was and extended his fingers towards his boyfriend so they could hold hands. They are silent for a moment, the warmth between them reflecting back and forth. Stan leaned his head on Bill’s shoulder when he said it, “I-I lo-hove y-y-you.” For the second time that night, Stan whipped his head around to look at his boyfriend. Bill wasn’t looking at him this time and his high cheekbones were alight with a bright blush.

Stan squeezed his hand and smiled as he said, “I love you, too” and meant it. They had only been dating for four months, but they both loved each other to the moon and back.

That was before It. Before the Deadlights.

Stan is brought back to the present by Bill sniffing. His voice is tight when he speaks again: “I l-love you sti-hill. You kn-know that, ri-right? I w-w-will always love yo-hou, Stanny. A-always.” Then Bill is crying horrible, body-wracking sobs. “I’m s-s-sorry. I’m s-so, s-so sorry. I’m sorry I di-hidn’t n-notice you we-here in pain. I-I’m sorry I didn’t a-a-ask you ho-ow you w-w-were doing m-more often. I’m s-sorry I di-hidn’t force you t-to ta-ha-halk about what ha-a-appened wh-when we w-w-were kids. I’m just s-so sorry for being a sh-shitty boyfriend and fo-hor everything else. It’s m-my fault. I-I’m sorry.” Bill’s final emphasized apology sends Stan over the edge. He wants to shout at the top of his lungs and cry and get angry and be upset all at the same time. It’s not your fault! It’s mine! It’s all mine! his mind screams.

Then, Dahlia comes back in to check on his vitals again. She introduces herself to Bill who gives a clipped greeting. “Lovely flowers,” she comments, removing her rubber gloves and tossing them in the trash when she’s finished with her examination. “What are they?

“Th-they’re hyacinth,” Bill responds curtly. After Dahlia leaves, Bill returns to his spot by Stan’s side. He sounds remarkably calmer when he speaks: “Do you know th-the my-hyth how hyacinth got its na-hame?” Stan can’t answer, but if he could he would still say no. “Well, the sun god, Apollo, and the god of the west wind, Zephyr, were competing for the affection of a mortal boy they both loved. His name was Hyakinthos. One day, Apollo was teaching Hyakinthos to throw discus and Zephyr got very jealous. He sent a violent wind their way that made the disc come back at Hyakinthos, which struck and killed him. The brokenhearted Apollo named the flowers the sprouted from his spilled blood hyacinth to remember him.” Whenever Bill told stories, he never stuttered. It was like an override function that allowed to him to speak without ruining the flow of his tale. Stan always loves to hear stories from his boyfriend and this time is no exception, only he wishes the story was a little happier. “Th-that’s why I got you purple hyacinth. I’m sure you sme-helled them when I came in.” Bill lets out a short laugh. “Purple hy-hyacinth means asking for f-f-forgiveness and symbolizes deep regre-het. I h-hope you can forgive me for what a terrible boyfriend I-I-I’ve been, not being able to see when the only person I’ve ever lo-hoved was hurting.”

And suddenly, Stan is very angry, Because how dare Bill think he was to blame for Stan’s fucked up mind? How could he think he was the reason for aftereffects of that demented, child-eating monster? For the past two days, Stan kept telling himself how he wants to wake up, but now he was going to try. He focuses all of his energy on moving something, anything. I’m coming, Bill. Hold on. He feels his fingers tingle and tries to squeeze them around Bill’s hand. When he succeeds, he hears Bill suck in a gasp. “St-Stanny, is that yo-hou, love? Can you h-h-hear me?” Stan squeezes his hand a second time and Bill lets out a teary chuckle. “God, I l-l-love you so mu-huch. I’m here when you wake up, o-okay?” Stan gives one more squeeze before feeling totally drained and slipping into the darkness at the back of his mind.

~ ~ ~

When Stan comes to, he is surrounded by his friends. He blinks his bleary eyes open and studies all the familiar faces in his room. They are chatting in hushed tones with one another so they don’t see him wake. He shakily lifts his left hand to get Richie’s attention knowing his loud mouth will get everyone else’s attention. His fingers gently brush against his friend’s bare wrist, making him jump. When Richie turns to see his friend awake, tears immediately spring to his eyes and a sad smile turns his lips upward. He lets out a few quick breaths, saying “Stan�� on one of his exhales.

Then, there are five more pairs of eyes on him. They are all crying, even Mike who Stan had only seen cry a handful of times, which makes Stan cry as well. All the pent up emotions from yesterday, the day before that, all the way back to the sewers come flowing freely out. He tries to speak, but his voice pains him from so many hours of disuse. Bev rushes to the windowsill where a pitcher of water was being stored to keep it chilled and pours some in a cup for him. She delicately lifts it to his lips because his arms are shaking like leaves.

When he’s finished with his drink, Stan clears his throat a few times before beginning to talk: “I’m sorry.” And his voice is shaky, from the crying or something else, he doesn’t know. “I’m sorry you all had to go through that.”

Bill takes his previous seat and holds Stan’s hand like it’s going to break. “Sh, sh,” he hushes. “Wh-what do you have to be sorry a-a-about?”

Stan lets out a few more heartbreaking whimpers before clenching his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath to order his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you guys enough to tell you what was going on. You all- you just wanted to help me but I thought I could handle the horrors of my own mind by myself. I couldn’t.” Stan punctuates the awful explanation with a humorless laugh. None of his friends find that funny, though. “When It came to Derry and I was alone with that fucking clown, It showed me It’s true form.” Stan shivers as he recollects what happened that day.

They had ventured into the sewers to find Bev, the ominous bloody message sending them right into the heart of It’s lair. Stan, of course, was reluctant to descend underground through the house of Neibolt Street, but they had no choice. Bev was in danger and it was up to them to save her. They were almost all in the entrance way when Henry Bowers nearly killed Mike.

That’s when he heard it: Stanley, the wind seemed to whisper. He turned abruptly, his flashlight beam falling on another stretch of sewers. Stanley, come here, it said again. Against his will, Stan’s legs began to move towards the sound. He knew rationally that straying from his group was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop moving. His lungs expanded and shrunk rapidly as he entered an open chamber. All around him he heard the voice and the dripping of the pipes. We all float down here, Stanley. And then he was attacked. He got knocked to the ground and he tried to scream but he couldn’t.

“It opened It’s mouth and I saw-” Stan shudders as he retells the story. Bev places a grounding hand on his left shoulder and Mike stands by her to rub his fingers over the back of Stan’s hand. “I saw It’s true form. It was dark and cold and I felt like there was no hope left in the world. I felt so- so alone, like I’d never be happy ever again. And then you guys came and-” He draws in a shaky breath. “If you hadn’t pulled that thing off of me, I think I’d be dead or crazy.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Eddie says, a strange tightness in his voice. He looks a little angry with Stan, but Stan doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah.” Ben contributes, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “We would’ve understood. We were all tormented by It. We wouldn’t judge.”

“But you don’t know!” Stan says, frustrated tears rolling down his cheeks. He feels Bill put his elbows on the bed and raise the hand he was holding to his lips. He was crying as well. “I got so paranoid after that. If you guys didn’t answer my text messages in ten minutes, I got worried that you’d gotten taken, or worse, that you were ignoring me.”

“Never,” Richie says. It’s strange that he had been so quiet until now, usually the one to command a conversation’s direction. “Never, ever, Stan. Do you understand?”

“I do now,” Stan replies, reaching to link his pinky with Richie’s, the only movement his shaking arms could allow. “But before, nothing could convince me. I just- lost all hope. Food didn’t taste like anything, so I stopped eating. Whenever I slept, I would only see It and the horrible things It showed me, so I only slept as little as I could get away with. I’d get anxious every time I stepped outside my house alone, like people knew that I was depressed and suspicious about everything. Then I started- started cutting to release some of that pain. It worked for a bit but I still wasn’t happy or at least not sad. And then yesterday happened.” He realizes he’s taking short, choppy breaths and that his friends are crying full force again. They’re all silent for a while, long enough for Dahlia and Doctor Mendoza to check on him. His friends are banished from his room while they take his blood pressure and talk to him.

“We’re going to give you some antidepressants,” Doctor Mendoza says, pulling out a pad and pen from her breast pocket. “And there’s a therapist that’s ready to see you whenever you get out. She’ll want to see you for an two hours twice a week to assess you. Until then, you’ll talk to the one we have on staff here. Okay, Stanley?”

“Yes,” he says confidently. “I want to get better.”

“Well, that is certainly a step in the right direction,” Doctor Mendoza says, a smile lining her lips. “I’ll get your friends back in here.” She leaves with a small “thanks” from Stan. He sees, now that the door is open, that his friends only crowded together right outside. He smiles wide and finally realizes that these people are with him every step of the way.

~ ~ ~

Stan is getting better. He still sees Iris, his therapist, twice every month, but that’s an improvement. Some days are bad, yes, when he can barely get out of bed because he feels hopeless. But these are the days when Eddie comes by before and after school to make sure that Stan is still taking his medications and talks to him and brings him homework. These are the days Ben brings over Lego sets that have a thousand or more pieces to distract Stan. These are the days when Richie and Bev bring CDs and dinner and sit with him while they all eat and listen to whatever artist is singing. These are the days when Mike brings over his dog, Mr. Chips, so that Stan can pet him for focus. These are the days when Bill ditches school or work altogether to lay with Stan and hold him until he feels whole again.

These are the days that Stan realizes he has two caring parents, five incredibly persistent best friends, and one exceptionally devoted boyfriend who all love him dearly. And it’s all Stan could ask for.

~ ~ ~

I just want to say two things before I wrap this up.1. To the anon who requested this: you have the patience of a saint and I wish I had me some of that.2. Please, please, please talk to someone if you feel at all like Stan did in this. Even if it’s not a face-to-face conversation, it will help. I promise.Have a request? Submit one here. See my masterlist here.

#don't bottle it up #you are not a burden #please talk to me or a trusted friend/family member #tw: suidice #tw: graphic content #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #stenbrough #stan uris #bill denbrough #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #benverly #bev marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #it 2017 #the losers club

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silvxr-speedster · 7 years ago

Text

My Immortal

A/N: Okay, so I just wanted to let y’all know that this imagine is incredibly sad and intense and I don’t want it to trigger anyone so if you get triggered easily, please don’t read this! I hope you like it and I hope that this does the request justice! I hope the person who requested this doesn’t mind that I changed it a bit. Please let me know what you think!

If you like to listen to music while you read, or you want to make this more emotional, listen to Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie, My Immortal or Hello by Evanescence :)

Prompt: Anonymous asked: The reader and Bucky have been dating for a while. They go to a mission in HYDRA and for some reason, everyone can leave the base, less Bucky, the base explodes and everyone believes Bucky is dead. The reader enters depression and departs the Avengers. She spends every day in the room, crying in room until there are no tears and remembering happy moments between the two. The pain is so much that she comet suicide, but Bucky appears before she passed out. Happy ending, pls! Thank you xx

“Okay, breach the back door in three...two...one...” Steve spoke through your ear piece. You took a calming breath and kicked open the door you had already unlocked. The whole team was involved in infiltrating a main H.Y.D.R.A. base. It was difficult work to make it to the base, past all the guards, but you, Steve, Nat, and your longtime boyfriend Bucky had made it to the base. You had snuck around to the back with Bucky guarding you while you picked the lock and waited for Cap’s signal.

You took a deep breath and looked over at Bucky. During a mission, the two of you rarely acted more than teammates. It could jeopardize the mission and bring harm to the team if you didn’t. He clenched his jaw and nodded at you. You lifted your gun and quietly walked inside.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you started to notice just how empty the base was. “Cap,” you spoke into the ear piece. “I think they knew we were coming.”

You heard Bucky’s footsteps disappear down the hall to your right. Keeping your breathing steady, you walked into the first open doorway. You were greeted with a bare room that had only one thing in the center - a bomb. With just seconds remaining, your brain went into overdrive. “Everyone out, there’s a bomb!”

“What,” Nat shouted into the earpiece. “You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“Out!”

You turned on your heel and sprinted out. Just as your feet crossed the exit, you were flown into a tree with the recoil of the explosion. You coughed blood as you winced at the sharp pain in your side. You looked up at the building, taking in the destruction. “E-everyone out? Steve?”

“I’m here, Y/N.”

“Nat?”

“All good,” she breathed, irritated.

“Bucky?” Worry seeped into your mind as you waited for his response. All you heard on his end was silence. Tears filled your eyes as your brain processed what was going on. “Bucky?” Your voice cracked as you tried to stand. Your heart rate increased. Your side throbbed as a cry escaped your lips. You collapsed onto the snow-covered ground. “Bucky, please,” you rasped as you feared for the worst. You couldn’t lose him; he was your lifeline.

“I’ll look for him,” Steve answered. “Sam, get to Y/N and get her out of here. She needs medical attention.”

“No! I have to find Bucky!” Sam landed in front of you and shook his head. He easily wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up. “Let me go! I have to find Bucky,” you weakly fought against him, but you could feel your eyelids dropping. Soon, the world went black.

Your eyelids were heavy as you awoke in the infirmary. A tube ran out of your arm and your side was heavily bandaged. Your throat was dry and you were alone in the room. There were many ‘get well soon’ cards, flowers, stuffed animals, and even candy around the room. It made you smile, but all you really wanted was Bucky.

Bucky.

Your heartrate sped up as you remembered the events before you passed out. Where was Bucky? A panicked scream edged its way into your throat and threatened to escape. You heard the machine next to you beep frantically as you tried to sit up. You winced at the pain in your side, but you continued ripping the I.V. needle out of your arm. You needed to find him.

The door to your left opened, showing you Bruce and Tony. Tony immediately walked towards you and sighed. He started forcing you back into the bed as tears threatened to spill over your eyelids. “No,” you whimpered. “I need to see Bucky! Tony, please!”

Your panicked state created more beeping. Steve walked into the room, looking for the problem. His eyes widened as he noticed you wrestling against Tony. He walked over to you and helped Tony hold you down while Bruce gave you a sedative. “Y/N, please relax. You need your rest,” Bruce murmured, giving you an encouraging smile. “You have some internal injuries.”

“Bucky...”

Steve’s hand encircled around yours, making you look at him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you felt your limbs fill with lead. Steve shook his head, slowly and sadly. “He...he didn’t make it.”

You couldn’t form a thought as you looked into Steve’s eyes. They were bloodshot and filling with tears. Your heart rate couldn’t speed up this time and you felt your mind numbing. You wished that you could process what this meant, but your eyelids couldn’t stay open. Slowly, you were dragged into another deep sleep.

When you woke up, you were flooded with emotions, but numbed at the same time. You felt despair and grief, but you couldn’t cry. You stared at the bed, weakly, wishing you could scream or cry. You looked to your right to see Steve sitting next to you. He was reading the newspaper, but you knew he was aware of the fact that you woke up.

“He’s really gone...isn’t he?”

Steve didn’t look at you at first. You were afraid that you hadn’t actually spoken, but as the seconds dragged to minutes, you could see that Steve was holding back his tears. He finally looked over at you and shook his head. “We searched the entire location and inside the rubble. We couldn’t find him.”

A soft sob bubbled out of your lips as you clutched your chest. Now, you were really feeling something. Tears poured down your cheeks as you cried. You tried so desperately to breathe, but your sobs prevented air from entering your lungs, fully. Steve grabbed your hand as you cried, knowing just how alone you were feeling. “I-I don’t want to live without him!”

Steve didn’t say anything. He knew that no matter what he said, you wouldn’t change your mind on this. He knew that no amount of words could lessen the grief that was eating you whole. He traced designs on the back of your hand and listened to your sobs. “I’m here, I’ll always be here,” he finally whispered. “I won’t leave you alone in this.”

By the end of the week, you were allowed to leave the infirmary. The team hadn’t visited you, except for Steve and Bruce. You didn’t want to face them, but you knew you had to today. It was his funeral. You adjusted your black skirt and stared at your reflection. If you had just been a minute quicker, if you hadn’t let Bucky wander, if you had told him you loved him, maybe just maybe, you wouldn’t be hurting.

Your lip curled as you shook your head. Nothing would change the pain that was suffocating you with every breath you took. You continued to stare for a few more seconds before pushing the door to your room open and walking out.

You asked Steve to tell the team that you wanted to be alone when you walked to the cemetery where your love would be buried. He respected your decision and simply told you the time that the ceremony started. He informed you that it would be small and only the Avengers would be there. As much as the team knew Bucky deserved a special funeral, no one wanted strangers there. No one could really believe that after everything that had happened, Bucky had died so easily.

When you made it to the cemetery, you were alone. Bucky’s empty casket sat where it would eventually be lowered into the ground. It was black, shiny, and very much lonely. You grabbed a rose from the vase and set it on the top. A few tears slid down your cheeks as you rested your hand on the cold casket.

“I loved and I lost you,” you whispered. “And it hurts like hell.”

You weakly stared at where your hand rested on what would be Bucky’s eternal resting place. You shook your head as a sob bubbled out of your lips. You were alone, you’d always be alone.

The team arrived before you could gather the pieces of your soul and lock them away from their worried eyes. Wanda approached you, sadly. She didn’t say anything at first. She stood next to you and stared at the casket. “I know how ugly grief can be,” she said, quietly. “I want you to know that I am willing to be there for you. I promise.” She turned before you could respond and found her seat.

You sat down in the front row, next to Steve. You didn’t say anything to him and he didn’t say anything to you. You both were drowning in guilt and despair. A million ‘if only’s’ swallowed whatever thoughts you had. You found yourself wondering if Bucky would have lived if something about the mission changed whenever you allowed your thoughts to wander.

The priest began talking, but you couldn’t listen. You didn’t care what he had to say. What could possibly be said to comfort any of the Avengers? They’d given too much just to lose even more. You found yourself questioning your suitability with the team and your willpower to continue fighting crime.

When the priest finished, you were invited up to say a few words. You weren’t sure what to say, in fact, you forgot to even prepare anything. You took a deep breath and looked at Bucky’s empty casket. “I miss you with every breath I take. I miss waking up to your nightmares. I miss wiping away the tears you cried. I don’t want to continue without you. I can’t continue saving people if I couldn’t save you.’” You paused to sniffle and wipe away the few tears that escaped. You looked over at the team, taking in their worried stares. You took a deep breath and looked at Steve, pleading with him to understand what you were going to say next. “That’s why I’m resigning from the Avengers. I-I can’t keep fighting evil when I’m drowning in sadness. I hope you all understand. I just can’t.” Steve clenched his jaw, but nodded in understanding. Your lips turned upward as you gave the team one last look. Without saying anything, you turned and walked away from the cemetery and your family.

It was difficult to leave the tower and the team. Steve seemed to be the only one that understood your decision. Tony had tried to offer you money and bought you an apartment that was nearby. Wanda was constantly telling you how she survived the loss of her brother. Sam was telling you all about the importance of continuing without Bucky.

You wanted nothing more than to just shut out the rest of the team. As much as you loved them, you couldn’t stand their need to help save you. You sat in your living room, looking out the window at the blue sky. Not a single cloud hung in the way of the sun. It had been three weeks since you last saw Bucky. His face haunted you every time you shut your eyes. You couldn’t feel anything, but at the same time, you didn’t want to.

You stood up and trudged towards the bathroom. You filled the tub with scalding water, hoping it would remind you to feel again. You sunk into the tub, wincing at the hot water. You stared at the boring and plain white walls. You hadn’t done anything since you moved into this apartment. Hell, you hardly even unpacked. You held your breath and sunk under the water. For a brief second, you wondered what would happen if you starting breathing under the water.

You slowly floated back up to the surface of the water and shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, even end your life. The water was hot enough to burn your skin and your eyes, but you didn’t care. You let your eyelids slip shut as you tried erasing all memories of Bucky.

A knock came to the bathroom door and you fought the urge to groan. You didn’t care who it was, but you wanted them gone. You just wanted to drown yourself in your loneliness, even if you couldn’t literally drown yourself in the tub. “Go away,” you grumbled.

“Y/N,” a voice rasped on the other end of the door. You knew the voice. You knew it.

You shook your head, suddenly angry. How dare someone show up and impersonate your Bucky? You pulled the drain on the tub and stood up. You wrapped yourself in a robe, letting your hair drip on your shoulders and down your skin. You swung open the door, ready to yell, but the anger was knocked out of you, along with your breath.

Bucky stood in front of your door, bruised, weak, and tired. He scanned your face as relief swept across his features. He wrapped you up in his arms as a soft sob escaped his lips. You couldn’t process this. It had to be a dream. Your arms wrapped around Bucky as tears trickled down your cheeks. He felt so real in your arms.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, burying your head in his shoulder. “You’re alive.”

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

You pulled away and looked into his blue eyes. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t know. I woke up in the snow and none of my tech worked. I couldn't contact you or anyone. I walked for days to find the nearest town. I had to find you. I had to come back to you.”

You stared at him. “I thought you were dead.” Bucky sighed and wiped away the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. “I quit the Avengers because I thought you were dead.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms. “I’m alive. I’m here, now, darling.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #Winter Soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fic #fanfic #marvel fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #imagine #imagines #superhero #superhero x reader #superhero imagine #superhero fic

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