My Baby (Sun/Moon x Reader)

Hand-Fed Love

-x-

The nurse comes in with a worker trailing behind her. In her hands is a familiar tray with a new plastic bag to change the catheter bag.

Your hand is gently resting over their eyes, and they slowly pry it off as they begin to acclimate to the brightness. It stings and has their head throbbing, but they push past that to stare at the newcomers.

Rude! They would think maybe their chart acknowledged the problem with their eyes, but if the staff was acting like this, then that hadn't happened.

The unfamiliar people in the room has their mind slipping further down, fright gripping their poor heart. What if those people were here to take them back to that monster?! Or maybe they deemed them healed enough and now they'll lock a brand new collar on their neck!?

Small hands tighten their hold on your sweater, gripping a big handful of the material. An instinct buried deep with everything else rises to the surface, unbearable to keep down, and a raspy, pathetic hiss leaves their lips.

Pathetic in their own eyes, but it still has the two staff members freezing—even you seemed to blink in surprise.

Rays pinned down, they purse their lips as their throat tore at the harsh sound, and pain flared up, though dimmed by the painkillers running in their bloodstream.

The nurse holds one hand up to placate the situation, "I'm not hurting you. No, no." Her accent is particularly not good, the syllables a little off, but still understandable. Clearly, she wasn't from around here.

The worker in the back places a tray with food on the mobile table before hurriedly leaving, closing the door behind to attend to other patients. With fewer people in the room, Eclipse felt a bit better. A bit more secure. Usually, it takes three people to reinstall a collar, and it happens on a bed where they could be strapped down to successfully and safely lock it. The collar has to be aligned with the two arteries in their neck, and so miscalculating it would result in malfunction and maybe even inability to turn it on properly.

The knowledge has them relaxing further, but still tense and uncomfortable. What if she tried to snatch them away from you?

The question sits for only a second before they dismiss it. You have faced bigger challenges for them—that man was tall, his figure imposing, and he only won because he cheated!

The nurse was surely not as tall as him. If anything, she was quite short. Which is very rude to say, or even think, but it helped make her seem less of a threat. She held no weapons, not even a needle, and you weren't put off by her...

Their eyes trail to look up at you, but you're looking at her, and they realize she was talking.

They need to focus!

But you suddenly move, and they felt like their whole world was shattering, arms immediately moving to try and grab at you, a broken sound left them unattended.

No! Don't go!

Before they could spiral, you are back in their view, hands on them once more to ground them, reminding them that you're physically still here. You had simply just shifted to be more behind them up on the bed, making room. The hands on their shoulders sneak down to their upper sides and you carefully drag them up to lay their back against your front. A kiss is placed on their head, and you whisper an apology into their rays, soothing their racing heart, "I'm sorry, dearest. The nurse will only change the bag, alright? Nothing else."

They nod, their nerves immediately calming at the closeness like it hadn't been at the edge of panic just seconds ago.

The nurse nods along with your words as she sits to work efficiently, rising their gown till she has access to the catheter bag strapped to their thigh, disinfecting the opening of the catheter, and finally reinstalling an empty bag. She gives a small glance at the collected sample to give a quick diagnosis based on color and consistency. Eclipse stares into space, waiting patiently for her to be done. They are tense, half lying down while supported by your arms. Your legs are on either side of them, and it was a comforting reminder that you're here.