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joelismiller · 1 year ago

Text

misunderstanding

joel miller x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.0k

Summary: you liked joel and you really thought he liked you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (joel is in his fifties and reader is in her late twenties), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), jealousy, protective!joel, violence if you squint, no use of y/n

A/N: hi everyone my name is ariel and this is my first post ! I have never written for joel before and i have never written smut so please go easy on me and enjoy ! <3 (oh also i completely made up the currency idk how that works😭)

It hurts, you think.

Having an attachment to a man who has seemed to lose the ability to comprehend on an emotional level how to form one.

An exception of course made for one goofy teenager named Ellie Williams, which you can’t blame him for—she is an easy kid to love.

You however still can’t help but feel a little envious of the fourteen-year-old even if it is a silly kind of jealousy. You just wish you could be close to him—know him like no one else does or has.

It started 6 months ago: you had been living in Jackson for a whole year after braving the world overtaken by Cordyceps alone.

Tommy and a group of other people on patrol found you near the edge of town looking right about to just give up and keel over and allow fate to take over and decide if you should live or die from that point.

After making sure you were not infected, Tommy scooped you up and managed to get you back to town where Maria agreed to help nurse you back to health and eventually make you an official resident of Jackson.

You were given a house close to Tommy and Maria’s and they gave you a job at the local clothing shop of sorts; really just a place to trade or purchase clothing, bootlaces, etc. You began to not just live, but enjoy living—a fate you never thought you would be able to see for yourself after the events of the last twenty years.

It was more or less a life of routine and monotony, but it was more of a life you had before which is what made it special.

Then Joel Miller came in and ruined all of that.

Six months ago he rode into town with his little brunette companion for a second time after briefly visiting a while before. He walked up to Tommy and gave him a firm hug while confirming your hope that he indeed would be making himself a permanent member of the Jackson community.

His house with Ellie was only a few blocks away which allowed for you to wake up a little early to see him leave on his way to patrol.

Now the interaction that started your infatuation with the grumpy old man was nothing too special; at least probably to the man himself. However, to you, it made a very old and foreign feeling form in your gut.

Butterflies erupted just at the sight of Joel Miller’s beautiful brown eyes that, depending on the light, either shined a light honey-brown, or dark and rich, like the coffee beans you used to brew your coffee that morning.

His hair reflected his age—a fluffy mess of brown with graying streaks and a patchy beard to match.

And his broad shoulders and strong looking arms made it so you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up by him—consumed by him.

He looked awkward, you think, as he stood inside your shop looking around wordlessly. You decided to step out from behind the counter where you were going over some previous numbers for inventory to help the handsome man get what he came for.

“Hi there, can I help you look for anything specific?” you asked as you approached him slowly from across the room.

“Hi, um, I was just lookin' for a thicker coat than the one I already have—‘just got my first pay from patrolling.” He muttered, continuing to search the many tables and walls littered with all sorts of clothing items.

“Oh okay, for sure! If you just follow me they’re right over here.”

You began to lead him to a rack near the register which had a small assortment of heavy winter jackets. You were constantly selling out of them since Jackson was always cold no matter the season which is why there wasn’t a lot to choose from.

He took a look at the jackets and gave you a nod, “Thank you, um…” Joel trailed off as you breathlessly laughed and told him your name.

He repeated your name trying it out on his tongue; making you wish for nothing more than to hear him say it in his Southern drawl over and over and over-

“I’m Joel,” he stated simply and you gave him a smile and nod of your head, pretending like you hadn’t already done a bit of digging to find out the handsome newcomer’s name a couple months ago when he first visited.

“Well Joel, if you need anything I'll be back behind the register.”

You pointed over to the table with a broken old register that worked just well enough to store the currency the town came up with so there was an extra curtain of civilization despite the events that were anything but that.

You thought it was kind of stupid, but it worked and made people happy so who were you to say otherwise?

He nodded to let you know he heard you as you went back to your previous position: pretending the whole time you weren’t shamelessly ogling the rugged, big, Southern man mindlessly looking through the jackets.

He eventually settled on a nice tan one with flannel material on the inside lining with white fleece on the collar and cuffs.

You quickly looked back down to the inventory papers so you wouldn’t be caught staring when you heard his heavy footsteps approach the counter.

“I’ll take this one,” he grunted as he began to gather up some coins to give you in exchange for the warm, heavy jacket.

You quickly pushed his hand away to alert him that it wasn’t necessary, “You're new here right Joel?” You asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow and shook his head in agreement.

“Right, then consider it a welcoming gift—free of charge.”

You gave him a bright smile as he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head causing you to see the honey sparkle in his brown eyes under the bright store light.

“Ya sure? Jacket doesn’t look cheap,” Joel muttered, his gaze flickering to his boots.

“A hundred percent! You’re new and patrolling isn’t an easy job, accept it as a thank you for keeping us safe if anything,” you told him shyly, the smile never leaving your face.

He chuckled softly and nodded his head.

“Okay darlin’, well, thank you—much appreciated.”

You whispered a soft ‘yeah’ as his eyes looked over you, causing a burning feeling to spread throughout your whole body as if you were being branded. He gave you one last nod of his head as he began to turn around and leave the store.

Not to your surprise, an empty feeling immediately filled you in the presence of his absence.

You whispered to yourself to pull yourself together—that you’ve only met him once and that his effect on you should not be this intense.

It didn’t help however as every interaction after that caused your feelings for the large stand-offish man to only grow.

Whether it was a quick acknowledgement of each other when you happened to eat in the dining hall at the same time, or a wave of a hand when you left your houses at the same time in the morning as he headed to patrol and you headed to the store.

But your favorite interactions were when he would come into the store to maybe get a couple of new shirts for Ellie, or some new socks for himself.

Over time you felt him grow more comfortable around you as you did him. He would tell you about Ellie’s latest antics; swearing that the teen girl was trying to ‘send an old man to an early grave.’

You would giggle and tell him that he wasn’t that old and that Ellie was just a teen girl finally in a safe somewhat normal place where she can go to school and make actual friends.

“About that, I think I might needa talk with her teacher soon—she’s been missin too much school and heading off god knows where,” Joel confessed to you, a frown overtaking his aged features as his worry about his adopted daughter showed clear all over his face.

You shyly grabbed his hand across the register and gave it a small squeeze.

“Try not to worry about her too much Joel. She’s young and she didn’t get to have a normal childhood—It's only normal that school probably doesn’t matter too much to her after everything,” you explained hoping that your words may ease him a bit.

He didn’t respond right away, instead looking at where your much softer hand overlapped his bigger, calloused ones. An unreadable look came over his face before he gently took his hand away from yours and looked to the ground.

“Yeah you’re probably right,” he responded in that low tone of his as he slowly began to back up.

“I gotta go check and see if she made it home okay. It was nice seein ya.”

You barely were able to say another word, maybe apologize for touching his hand in such a careless way before his heavy boots were already heading out the door; the little bell ringing a hollow sound in your ears.

After that, you began to see less and less of Joel and it hurt to admit that it slowly felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

You hated yourself for thinking that all your interactions meant something to him; that when he started to come to the store, not even leaving with anything but a conversation with you, that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you felt for him.

Every time you even attempted waving at him in the morning when you both left—he just grunted and looked the other way—pretending like you weren’t even there.

The store was for some reason busier than usual today and you closed up feeling drained and ready to sleep. The long shift accompanied by the hollow feeling in your heart Joel had left caused you to want nothing more than to curl up and forget all the pain in nicer dreams where things were better between you, things were different.

Joel would hold your hand in your dream and walk you to work, leaving a kiss on your cheek and a whisper of having a good day as you giggled and kissed him right back—whispering the same sentiments.

You were shaken out of your daydream on your walk home when you spotted the very man at the center of all your thoughts on the porch of someone's house, a woman’s house.

She was gorgeous with long, blonde hair framing her face perfectly, while she looked up at Joel with gorgeous, crystal, blue eyes. She looked older than you too, maybe even closer to Joel’s age.

They laughed about something before she was leading him inside her house as he followed suit; the door shutting in a finality behind them.

You felt a mix of jealousy and an even greater sadness than before filling your belly as you continued what felt like the longest walk home in your life.

As soon as the door closed you slid down the old wood as tears and sobs that you couldn’t stop wracked your body.

You just didn’t understand; what changed, what did you do to make him start avoiding you?

And you knew how hard it was for Joel to come out of his shell, so why did it seem so easy for him to talk and laugh with that woman?

After what seemed like hours, you finally picked yourself off of the ground and trudged slowly to your bed where you collapsed immediately upon impact with the old tattered sheets.

Instead of the usual happy dreams about Joel, tonight you were plagued with endless nightmares of him and the mysterious blonde woman; standing in the place you usually would in your dreams about Joel.

You woke up in the morning with a feeling of restlessness as you readied yourself for another long day of work.

After work that night you decided to go to the Tipsy Bison which was Jackson’s bar that you would usually frequent when your nightmares from the time you were on your own came back to haunt you.

Mindless images of a group of clicker’s taking from you the only person you had left in your life since the virus took over: your best friend.

After she was gone it was just you, and that period never seemed to completely leave your mind even after a year in Jackson.

After last night’s sleep, you definitely needed a drink you thought to yourself as you made your way over. When you entered you saw that it was a pretty busy night for the Tipsy Bison as you did your best to find a seat towards the end of the bar.

Once you took a seat, you gave the bartender your drink order and surveyed the area to see who else was here as you waited for him to deliver your alcohol of choice. Your breathing stopped and your eyes widened when you noticed a familiar group of people at a table closer to the front of the bar.

There in all his ruggish, handsome glory was Joel Miller, smiling widely as he talked with Tommy, Maria, and her.

You quickly swung back around to face where your drink was just set in front of you as you begged the burn in the back of your eyes to go away.

Fuck this, you thought as you downed most of the drink in one go, using your hand to wipe away the bit that escaped at the corner of your lips.

You did your best to ignore the person that was at the center of all your sadness; drinking and drinking until you felt a familiar buzz kick in and begin to cloud your thoughts.

Right when you were about to order another drink, a skinny, tall, blonde boy walked over to where you were seated and said it was on him as he handed over a couple of coins.

“You didn’t have to do that but thanks, I guess,” you muttered, hoping your disinterest was a sign that you wanted to be left alone.

He smiled wide in a way that caused you to shiver, and not in a pleasurable way like when Joel would grace you with the corner of his lip twitching up, releasing a breathless laugh; but in a bad, unnerving way.

“Anything for a girl as pretty as you.”

He winked which caused you to roll your eyes and once again look away from him. “I’m not interested but again, thank you,” you told him with a finality in your voice that the man—no—boy, didn’t take very seriously.

“Aw come on don’t be like that I just wanna have some fun with you,” he said in a sleazy manner as he reached out to grip your shoulder.

You quickly shook him off but in your drunken haze, you accidentally fell off your chair onto the ground—single-handedly causing the whole bar’s eyes to turn onto you.

“Godammit, now you're just causing a fucking scene,” the man snarled at you, causing tears to form behind your eyes as this man's actions as well as having the entire bar watching the now-forming scene.

And if the night couldn’t get any worse, you hear the familiar sound of boots coming up behind the man and it takes just one glance to confirm your suspicions.

“What did you just say to her?”

You heard a deep voice growl out, a look of pure rage overtaking Joel’s features as he stood right in front of the blonde boy’s face.

“Look man I didn’t know she was taken, I was just tryna have a good time, you know?”

An animalistic sound leaves Joel’s mouth before he takes the boy’s arm and forcefully grabs it until he's facing the bar counter and his arm is pressed deep into his back.

“It don’t matter whether she’s taken or not, you never treat a woman like that,” he snarls into the shaking boy’s ear.

“I never wanna see you come near her again, you hear me?”

He shakes his head wildly until Joel finally releases him and he scatters out of the bar. The anger on Joel’s face morphs into one of concern as he gently stretches out a hand to help you up.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He questions softly as you bat his hand away and attempt to stand on your own.

“M’ fine,” you mutter as you stand on shaky legs—about to fall over when Joel rests his big hands on your shoulders to steady you. He chuckles and curls an arm around your waist as he begins to slowly lead you out the door.

“You sure darlin’? Cause’ you seem a lil drunk to me,” Joel says amused at your hindered state while you frown up at him.

“Don’t you have to go back to your girlfriend,” you huff out, avoiding looking at the grumpy man’s features.

“Girlfriend?” He responds confused, not understanding what you were talking about until he catches your eyes drifting to Veronica’s face—Ellie’s teacher.

After the day he left abruptly from your store, he sought out Ellie’s teacher Veronica. They have been having weekly meetings about how Ellie was doing in school as well as her continuous efforts to ditch class.

There was absolutely nothing romantic about it, the whole ordeal gave him a headache—a subject he was too old to be stressing about.

Besides, how could he dare think about anyone else when you had him wrapped around your little finger?

When he first saw you at your clothing store and you gave him his jacket for free, he knew you would be trouble.

And trouble you were as he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to visit you just to see you and hear your comforting voice promise him that all his worries about his adopted daughter were normal.

It was actually your idea that maybe he should at some point meet with Ellie’s teacher. But when your small hand wrapped around his he got scared— scared this could become something real.

Everyone he has ever gotten attached to he’s lost and he already accidentally went and got attached to Ellie, he didn't know if he had it in him to do it to another person.

And on top of that, he was a bad man, he had done horrible things. You were also so much younger and prettier than him—a sweet, soft thing Joel didn’t feel he deserved.

But looking at your heartbroken face now as you looked back at him and then at Veronica, he knew he messed up. He should have never started avoiding you.

It was never the answer, but Joel had never been good at feelings, this much is evident.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.”

The walk back from the Tipsy Bison to your house was a pretty close one, your hose only being about five minutes away.

Once you were at your door with a Joel who did not take “leave me alone” as an answer, you struggled to get the key in the lock in your drunken stupor which the large man beside you thankfully helped with.

“Let me do that, sweetheart,” he muttered as his big warm hands covered yours and twisted the key, letting the both of you inside.

“Joel, I don't feel so good…” you said shakily as Joel uttered a “shit” and quickly hurried you to the bathroom which he found pretty quickly—his hands quickly opening the toilet seat and finding purchase in your hair as he held it back, allowing you to empty the contents of your stomach.

“Joel I’m so sorry,” you groaned as a tear fell down your cheek; your sadness, tiredness, and embarrassment flooded in all at once with help from the lingering alcohol in your system.

He shushed you softly and cradled you to his chest taking a second to rock you until your tears stopped and you felt well enough to stand.

“How bout’ you brush your teeth and get your pajamas on—I’ll make you some tea then we’ll talk, yeah?”

You nodded as he gently brushed your cheek with his thumb causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as he made his way to your kitchen to attempt to find the ingredients and mug he needed.

You cleaned yourself up: showered, brushed your teeth, and put on sleepwear which helped you come back to a clearer state of mind allowing confusion to overtake you.

Why was Joel here taking care of you, wouldn’t his girlfriend begin to ask questions?

You weren’t allowed to keep worrying yourself with your thoughts as a knock on your bedroom door brought you back to reality.

“May I come in? Made ya tea,” Joel’s voice rang out into your room softly as you muttered a quiet, “Sure.”

Joel stepped into the room and handed you the mug which you took a generous sip of—the honeyed flavor soothing your throat and stomach.

“Thank you so much, Joel, for walking me home and taking care of me. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t go apologizing darlin’ you have done nothin’ to have to apologize for,” Joel interrupted sending you a soft smile as he went to pick up your hand laying on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the smooth skin.

In a reversal of roles, it was your turn to pull your hand away as Joel frowned and you looked to the floor; he should have expected that after everything that’s happened.

“I guess I deserve that,” he chuckles sadly as your turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well you have a girlfriend and I bet it would make her uncomfortable if she knew you were holding my hand, Joel.”

Joel couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him at your words which completely stopped when he saw your features form into one of anger.

“Why is that so funny? That’s why you stopped visiting and talking to me right? Because you found someone else.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitterly or as venomously as you said it but you couldn’t help it. You have spent weeks suffering over his actions towards you and now he helps you home, takes care of you, holds your hand like nothing happened?

“M’ sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was laughing at you. It’s just that…” He trails off collecting himself. Joel sighs out your name and begins to tell you that Veronica is not his girlfriend and that she was just Ellie’s teacher.

He explains to you all about their meetings and that tonight was just him getting her a drink to thank her for all her help.

“I promise you darlin’ it wasn’t anythin’ more than that—don’t feel that way about her at all.”

You process all the information Joel just unloaded on you; and though you do feel relief, you still feel irritation and sadness as his complete throwing away of your friendship—abandoning you without a word. You tell him as much as he releases another sigh and looks down toward the wooden floor.

“Look, m’ not really good at this…” Joel starts, eyes flickering up to your face as he continues.

“But coming into the shop and talkin’ to you started becoming the best parts of my day, sweetheart,” he pauses to give you a look of sincerity and to try holding your hand again—and this time�� you let him.

“And I was just downright a coward and instead of facing my feelings I shut you out completely and I feel so fucking awful darlin’ I’m so sorry.” He whispers, tightening his grip on your hand.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I'm hoping you can forgive me and that maybe we can try to be somethin. I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it and I’m so much older than you, but-”

You cut Joel’s rambling off by pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. You begin to pull away when you don’t feel him kissing back, but he doesn’t give you a chance as he cups your head in a big hand and begins to kiss back with more fervor.

“Joel,” you whimper as he begins to lay you back on your bed, his tongue licking the seam of your bottom lip asking for entrance into your soft, warm mouth—which you immediately allow.

“Shhh, darlin’ will you lemme take care of ya? Wanna make you feel so good baby, make up for how bad I've been actin’.”

You let out a moan when you feel the rough denim of his jeans buck up into your soft sleep shorts making contact with your clothed cunt.

“Please Joel, need you so bad,” you whine as he starts to place kisses from your jaw down to your neck—slightly nipping and leaving a trail of small red spots in their wake, which he soothes with his tongue causing a high pitched whimper to leave your lips; beads of frustration beginning to gather at the corner of your lashes.

“I got you sweetheart, I’m right here, can I take this off?” Joel questions as he lifts the hem of your tank top.

You nodded quickly as he borderline rips it over your head, quickly latching a mouth onto one of your nipples as he massages the neglected one with his hand.

“Ohmygod-” you cry as he expertly flicks the bud with his tongue, soon moving over to the other nipple to give it the same treatment.

Arousal pools in your gut as Joel groans, beginning to leave kisses from your sternum, down to the soft skin of your belly, and right to the hem of your sleep shorts.

He leaves a soft kiss there and looks up to you to ask for permission to take them off. You nod vigorously but he shakes his head and leans down more to press a kiss to your clothed core, emitting a loud gasp from your mouth.

“I need words darlin',” he states, glancing back up to you as you vocalize your permission. Joel wastes no time in taking your shorts down in one quick motion once you say yes—leaving you in your white lacy panties.

He runs a finger over the damp spot in your panties and then brings his arched nose close to the spot to breathe you in as well as to lick your folds through the cotton, his nose perfectly bumping your clit in this position causing you to squirm and moan his name.

“Joel please,” you begged as he pulled away and began to run soothing circles into the soft skin of your thighs.

“Please what baby, tell me what you need,” he demands as you try to buck your hips up to his mouth, but he won't let you, strong hands keeping you in place.

“Your tongue Joel I need your tongue,” you whimper but he shakes his head.

“Where do you need my tongue, baby? Gotta tell me if you wanna cum, sweet girl.”

You whine in embarrassment and look down to see Joel Miller with the smuggest smirk you have ever seen.

“I need your tongue on my pussy Joel, please take off my panties and use your tongue,” you beg as he chuckles and gently removes the white lace—quickly stuffing it in his back pocket before you can see.

“Good girl baby, that s’all I needed,” he murmurs as his tongue comes into contact with the bare skin of your folds causing you to gasp his name and grab his salt and pepper hair to hold him against your cunt.

“Oh my god Joel that feels so good!” You cry as his tongue moves from licking solid stripes against your folds to suckling gently on your clit, as your legs threaten to squeeze around his head.

“Fucking Christ sweetheart, you taste so good, can’t get enough of you,” he groans as he continues to lick into you—the coil in your tummy beginning to tighten but you need more to get you to your high.

“Mmm your fingers Joel, please I need your fingers,” you groan, causing Joel to growl against your pussy, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure.

“Okay baby, think you can take two, huh?” he murmurs as he presses several small kisses to the inside of your thigh.

You whimper a small “yes” as he gathers your slick on his middle and ring finger—the burn you feel from the sheer girth of his fingers stretching you open fades into a dull bliss.

“J-Joel I’m close,” you alert him as you buck into his face and fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Yeah, baby? C’mon then cum for me sweetheart, let go,” Joel coos gently and that’s all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap—a stream of your slick gushing out all over his face and onto the scruff of his beard.

He continues to lick you through it until you're shuttering and mewling from the overstimulation. He pulls away with a large grin on his face as he reaches down to kiss you passionately, the sweetness of your fluids on his tongue making the kiss that much sweeter.

He wiped the rest of you off of his beard before giving you small pecks all over your face until you were giggling and he was chuckling.

“I am sorry y’know,” he whispered in that silky smooth voice of his. You cupped his cheek with your hand, rubbing circles into the scratchy skin.

“I know.”

Joel got up to get a wet cloth to clean you up. He then took his time putting your sleepwear back on—leaving gentle kisses and massaging every inch of your body he could see.

He ended up spending the night as you curled into his strong arms as he stroked your hair until he felt your breathing even out as slumber took over you.

He stayed up and watched you for a while until he soon fell victim to sleep; the thought of him finally being able to be completely happy despite everything was a comfortable thought, and it was all because of you.

#i hope you guys like it omg #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #tlou x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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deliciousbasementtrash · 1 year ago

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Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Batman: Wayne Family Adventures #67-69 on Webtoon; Artist Inker Starbite

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are meeting the whole family for the first time. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, knife injury

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Part Four: Dinner and a Show

Anxiously, I took the napkin from the table and began twisting it vigorously. I felt Alfred leave his seat as he rose to meet his family. I swallowed hard, not wanting to look at all of the people that were entering the room. They just seemed to keep coming. How many people were in Bruce’s family?

Before I had time to register it a hand was outstretched near me. It nearly made me jump. The stranger cleared his throat and smiled, “Hello, I am Dick Grayson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

In an ungraceful motion, I put the napkin on the table and stood up to greet him properly. I took his hand in mine and firmly shook it. His hands were large, calloused, and a little clammy. It was almost like he was a little nervous to meet me. But that couldn’t be right.

“Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. I am y/f/n y/l/n,” I said, trying to make eye contact with him. Dick was an extremely handsome man. He was almost achingly pretty. With his soft blue eyes, dimples, and dark curly hair, he could definitely charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to.

His smile grew when our hands met. He just stood there for a moment looking at me, and then he pivoted to the side. He introduced Tim Drake and Duke Thomas. Tim was cordial and did the customary new person greeting, Duke was somewhat rambling.

“Your powers are truly something to be admired, thank you so much for everything you have done,” Duke said as he excitedly shook my hand.

I smiled at him and rubbed the back of my neck, “It’s really not that big of a deal but thank you, Duke. You guys are the ones that make the real change.”

Duke opened his mouth as if he were going to disagree, but a red-headed woman with glasses wheeled up to us and joined the conversation.

“You boys are hogging her. Hello, I am Barbara Gordon. This is Cass, she doesn’t say much, and this is Stephanie, she says too much.”

I greeted them both, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of new people. I was trying my best to act ‘normal’ and be as social and charming as I could be. A younger boy who strongly resembled Bruce stood far away from me. He surveyed the room, taking in the reactions. He seemed so serious for his age. I wasn’t sure if I should make the introduction or not.

“Where is Jason?” Bruce asked the room.

“He is running late,” Dick said, “he said he had some ‘other shit that needed to get done first.’”

Faintly, I saw Bruce tense, but just as quickly as it came, it went. “Alright, everyone leave y/n alone and go sit down.”

On my right, there was Alfred, who felt my anchor to the world. On my left, there was Dick Grayson, who felt like he was trying to get me to smile and laugh every chance he got.

The table soon became loud with conversations that finally were not about me. However, I felt eyes on me the whole night. Damian Wayne was across from me, staring at me the whole time like I was an intruder.

“So, you are a healer,” Damian said, skeptically.

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded, “I am.”

“What can you heal?” Damian asked, twirling his dinner knife in the air.

“Flesh wounds, broken bones, blood loss, head injury, organ injury,” I trailed off not knowing what else to say.

“How does it work?” His eyes narrowed at me.

“I’m not really sure. It’s as natural for me as breathing or blinking.”

“What are your–” Damien asked but then Bruce interrupted.

“Son, you do not need to vet our guest. Let her enjoy herself.”

Damien was suspicious of me and curious I wanted the boy to feel comfortable, “It’s okay, Bruce. It’s natural to be curious about it. What other questions do you have for me, Damien?’

“What are your limits?” Damien asked.

I felt the table go quiet. They all were curious and wanted to know my weaknesses. I instinctually did not want to answer, but I knew that if I wanted to be accepted I would need to be vulnerable and honest.

“I cannot heal a majority of terminal illnesses. Spinal injuries can go one way or the other it depends on the severity. I cannot heal tumors. And…. and healing is draining. If I am not smart about it, I can make myself sick.”

“Sick how?” Dick asked, leaning in.

“Well, it’s hard to explain. When I healed Bruce, it was after my shift at the hospital, I barely ate that day or slept the night before. So, when I put all that energy into healing him, it was exhausting. I nearly passed out on the ground next to him. When I got home, I slept for 16 hours straight. That is a more mild case though, it can get more… severe.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Bruce mumbled.

The boyish charm on Dick’s face vanished, “How severe can it get?”

“Oh, you know tremors, fever, bloody noses, vomiting, seizures. It can get bad. I’ve learned my limits the hard way, but I’ve learned them. Growing up my limits were more extreme. I couldn’t heal a paper cut without getting a headache. Small stuff like cuts and bruises doesn’t bother me at all now though. It barely scratches the surface of my limits.”

“Prove it,” Damien said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, annoyance filling my tone. I can handle his constant questions, but being told to prove it vexed me.

“You say you can heal cuts and bruises without it ‘scratching the surface.’ Prove it. Prove you’re not a charlatan witch.” It was a movement for a boy too quick for his age he took his dinner knife and sliced along his own arm.

“Damien!” Barbara yelled. Dick leaped across the table but it was too late, blood was already pooling. Bruce and Alfred cursed.

“Why did we allow Damien to have a knife at dinner?” Tim asked over the yelling.

“Tim, do you really think we gave him that knife?” Bruce asked, incredulously.

Anger surged as I slowly made my way around the table full of people yelling until I was in front of Damien. I glared at him as I rested my hands just above his cut. The room became silent as I healed him. The cut closed, and I replenished the blood that he lost.

Damien looked at me, dumbfounded. The whole room did expect for Bruce and Alfred.

“It’s one thing to hear about it, but to see it… you really are a miracle.” Duke said the words and I flinched from them.

I looked at Damien and let my anger show through. “I will not heal you if you pull something like this again. I don’t care how much your father pays me. I am not a monkey that will dance for you on a whim. Do not harm yourself to make a point or prove something again.” Damien angrily ripped his arm away from me. I didn’t care. It was unacceptable. He should never hurt himself intentionally like that just because he knows I can heal him. I turned and faced the room, “It was lovely meeting all of you. I hope you all have a nice evening, good night.”

And with that, I turned around and left for the night. Maybe I shouldn’t be as mad as I am right now, but I know I need a moment to myself. I heard light footsteps beside me as someone lightly jogged to catch up.

“I’m sorry about Damien we are still house-training him,�� Dick said, trying his best to lighten the mood.

I didn’t crack a smile, “It’s okay, Dick, really.”

“He can be intense sometimes, well we all can,” ever so lightly he reached up and grabbed my elbow, turning me so I faced him. “We are a lot. We are loud. We are sarcastic. We all think we are right all the time. We fight. We can be obsessive, protective, and socially inept. You will constantly have to patch us up–”

I shook my head, my eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You need to know exactly what you are getting into. It won’t be fair to you if you don’t know,” he said, absent-mindedly his thumb stroking the inner part of my elbow. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but I was acutely aware of it.

I just nodded, “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate the honesty. Besides, if I can handle my family, I can handle yours. Good night, Dick.”

“Of course, good night, y/n.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t have the energy for it.

I walked toward my room, suddenly so exhausted. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and accidentally ran into a wall.

“Um excuse you,” a deep voice said.

Taglist: I am just starting a taglist; if you would like to be included please comment :)

@soundsfunbutno

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waywardxrhea · 5 months ago

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stitches - a Matt Murdock one shot

pairing: Matt Murdock x nurse!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 1.8k

you get home after an awful shift to find Matt on your couch in need of medical assistance.

content: fluff, angst, blood, stitches, mentions of car accidents/heart attacks/CPR/death, gn!reader

a/n: no, claire does not exist in this AU, you have taken that spot. go you with your bad self lol

(not my gif)

"Jesus, Matt, you scared me!" you scolded the man in black sitting on your couch with his hand held tight to his side. You took in his state and shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders to get started on tending to his latest injury. His face covering was strewn aside, a formality he had long since abandoned when he came to yours to get first aid, and you saw his eyebrows knit together in a grimace of pain. Even with pain written all over his face he still looked as handsome as ever, with his hair mussed and standing up in every which direction. You shook away those thoughts though as your tired brain remembered that he was injured and you shouldn’t be thinking like that in the first place…

Through gritted teeth, he still managed to be a smart-ass, telling you, "Maybe leave your window locked next time, and I wouldn't scare you."

"I leave it open for you," you replied shortly as you dug in your bag and began pulling out the supplies you needed. "I'd rather you not bleed out on the cold streets."

"So you'd rather me bleed out in the warmth of your apartment, huh?" he smarted off.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when you began squirting a saline flush onto the wound on his lower abdomen to clean it. "Sorry..." you whispered as you patted the wound dry before getting a better look at it. "Yeah, this one's gonna need stitches," you informed him, taking off your now blood-stained gloves to dig through your bag once more.

"When do they not?" he asked, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth as he leaned his head back onto the headrest of the couch. Matt's brain was too focused on the feeling of pain from his wound that it barely registered that your usual witty banter was replaced with quiet and timid words that were barely louder than a whisper and in a shaking voice.

You worked in silence and focused on stitching Matt's wound as neatly as possible, but your hands began to shake as you remembered a patient you had earlier in the day who had a similar wound that ended up dying before your team could get him to the OR. "You okay?" Matt's voice interrupted your thoughts and you rapidly blinked the tears pricking the backs of your eyes away and took a deep breath to try and ground yourself once more. You didn't answer his question though, so after a few more stitches, he asked, "Hard day at work?"

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded and continued stitching up his wound, willing the shaking in your hands to go away as you neared the end of the gash. When you finished, you covered the wound and got up to get Matt some pain medication. "Tylenol," you told him quietly as you gently coaxed his hand open and placed two pills in it, offering him a cool glass of water afterward.

"Thank you," he said before taking the medication and downing half of the glass. As you cleaned up everything, Matt finished the water and placed the glass down on the coffee table, telling you gently, "Go change into something more comfortable and we can talk, yeah?"

You nodded and slipped away into your bedroom, taking off the surgical scrubs you had changed into after taking a shower in the hospital locker room. Tossing the scrubs aside, you put on an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants, blowing out a sigh of relief as you finally felt like you were off the job.

You looked toward a bag you had tossed into the corner of your bedroom a few weeks before and hesitated for a moment before grabbing the contents and heading back out into the living room. "What do you have there?" Matt asked, an eyebrow raising into his forehead as you walked quietly into the living area.

"Clean clothes for you if you want," you replied quietly, regret instantly flooding your body at the gesture. Not even a moment later, you closed your eyes that now had tears building once again, saying, "I- That's probably crossing a line, I'm sorry, I-"

"Thank you," he said, interrupting your babbling and standing up to make his way over to you. "Bathroom second door on the right?" he asked as he took the clothes from your hands.

"Y-yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him make his way into the room to change.

When he returned and sat back on the couch, he gestured to you expectantly and said, "C'mere." You sat beside him on the couch and were shocked when he fluidly pulled you closer and in between his legs as he leaned back onto the arm rest, telling you, "You're so tense..."

You could feel your heart leap into your throat in response to his proximity, but felt yourself instantly relax when his strong hands began massaging the tense muscles in your shoulders. His skilled hands knew exactly where you held the most tension. Of course he did... With the physical relief running through your body, you out a shaky sigh and felt the floodgates open as you suddenly couldn't hold back your tears anymore. Memories of what happened during your shift ran through your mind and you couldn't seem to get them to stop their assault on your mind.

You thought that would cause Matt to stop his ministrations, but instead he continued on and didn't say a word, just letting you cry it out. He would never admit this to you, but there were some nights when he went out that even if he was injured like he was tonight, if he heard you crying after you came home from a shift at the hospital he would give you your space. He knew you prized yourself on keeping calm in the face of chaos and didn't like expressing your emotions so openly, so he never wanted to pry on your private moments. Tonight felt different though. So he just massaged your shoulders until your tears began to slow and you whispered a shaky, "Thank you..."

"You're welcome," Matt replied, slowing to a stop when he was sure all of the tension was out of your shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it now?"

There was a moment of hesitation from you, but finally you nodded, telling him, "We lost a couple of patients today..." You took a deep and shaky breath once more before telling him, "One of mine coded with a massive heart attack... I pounded on his chest for probably a total of ten minutes trying to get him back but..." You stopped and covered your mouth as a choked sob escaped. "It wasn't good enough..."

You took a few deep breaths before telling the second story. "Then someone got into a car accident and got a huge gash in his abdomen... He was losing so much blood and we...we couldn't even get him to the OR before he died... He was so young... He had so much to live for... Wanted to be a police officer, but now..."

You dissolved into tears once more at the memory of the young man's blank eyes staring up at you as you helped pronounce him dead and you felt Matt pull you closer into his arms, mumbling into your hair, "It's okay. Let it out. I'm right here..." He allowed you a few moments before telling you, "You did the best you could. I know you did. That's all you can do."

A few minutes passed of you crying onto Matt's chest as he held you close and ran a comforting hand up and down your upper arm before he mumbled, "You're dehydrated..."

"I didn't drink much today..." you confessed quietly.

"Much or at all?" he asked, shifting his weight so he could get up to get you some water. When you didn't respond, he sternly said your name with concern in his tone.

"When I work I care more about my patients than myself, you know that..." you said.

"And as a healthcare professional you know the importance of drinking water, especially when you're on your feet running around for hours," he said, gently untangling himself from you and getting up, the pain already less evident in his body language as he navigated toward the cabinet to grab a glass.

"You're one to talk Mr. Devil of Hell's Kitchen," you told him, a huff of a laugh leaving your chest. "Wasn't it just last week I was telling you to hydrate?"

"I believe your exact words were 'Hydrate or die-drate, Matthew,'" he replied with a quiet chuckle, happy to hear that your snarky remarks were starting to return after your cry. As he filled the glass from the filtered tap, he asked, "You didn't eat either did you?"

"No..." you whispered. He chastised you once again by calling your name out and you shrunk into the couch as you said, "It was just so busy is all and when I was finally able to sit, the shift was over and I had so many charts to catch up on..."

"I'm ordering food," he said as he sat back down beside you on the couch and thrusted the glass of water into your hands.

"With what money? You don't carry your wallet with you when you go out. That would sorta defeat the whole mystery man thing," you said, a small smirk on your lips before you took a sip of the water, the cool liquid soothing your aching throat.

"Then how about I owe you one? Friday night at the Italian place down the block?" You nearly choked on the sip of water you were working on at the comment he made so casually, having to wipe the excess off of your chin as you looked at him with wide eyes. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he added, "As in a date."

"A...date? Matt, are you sure?" you asked in a hushed tone as you placed the glass on the coffee table to stop from spilling it with your shaking.

"Yes," he said as he wrapped you in his arms once more. "I think we both know we've been past the point of this being a strictly professional relationship for a while," he said before almost hesitantly leaning down to place his lips on your temple in a gentle kiss.

"I'm glad you said something," you said before turning your head up toward him and kissing his cheek. "I was afraid of messing things up..."

"You don't have to be afraid around me," he said, a sweet smile gracing his features.

"I know..." you replied bashfully as his stare focused on your chest, more specifically your heart. "Thank you for everything, Matt... It means the world."

"You mean the world to me," he said, that cocky smirk returning once more. Rolling your eyes, you leaned up and wiped it off of his lips by placing a gentle kiss on them, shocking him for a moment before he relaxed into the kiss, his soft lips melting perfectly onto yours. Perhaps you were grateful for that dreadful shift after all...

likes and comments are appreciated! <3

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader

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itspdameronthings · 5 months ago

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Urgent Care

Summary: Wrote this for @romanarose who's not feeling well. Reader is sick,and has to go to Urgent Care little does she knows? Reader would meet a hunky nurse. Feel better soon @romanarose

In a horrible state! Vomiting, cramps and shit! All I could do is try to keep anything down. Until my roommate took me to the urgent care near us. Thankfully it's a 24hr one. Was shaking even though it was a humid night. Teeth chattering while I was filling out information from. Wasn't long till a nurse took me back to check my vitals. Not knowing I'll be meeting a hunk of a man even if in a sicken state. Looked up just a moment to see his handsome face. Soothing , deep voice asked me,” okay, see ya vomiting and cramps? Oh not good. Let me take your temperature. “ Upon looking at the results. A frown on his pretty face,” oh honey, ya burnin up. Here's what I prescribed. Give ya some meds to take. Come back to see me if ya don't feel any better. Ask for Benny Miller kay? Now, sit tight. Be back.”

Omg! That voice is like velvet! Soothing! Oh wish I could see more of him! Only thing to remember is his voice! Followed by his touch when he handed me my meds. Followed by instructions,and follow up if I needed it. Then helped me up so I could walk towards the waiting room door where my roommate rushed over,” I got her. Thanks for your help.” He told her the same thing he told me. After we got home. She whispers to me while helping me to my bathroom for a cool bath,” oh that nurse is hot as fuck! Tall, blondish brown hair! Grrr.. love to have him when I get sick!”

After my bath. Got into bed. Sleep came rather quickly. Dreamed about that nurse. Remember the description of him. Dream about him taking care of me by laying next to me. Touching me with gentiest touch on my warm face with a cool cloth talking to me about anything at all. Oh to see him again.

Flashforward a few weeks. Finally got to go out after being ill for so long. Was working at my register cleaning up since we were closing soon. Familiar voice ,” Are ya opened?” Looked up to see him! Omg! Couldn't talk for a moment. Cleared my throat,” Ya , I'm certainly open.Your my last customer of the night. “ He replied,” I'm glad . By lookin at ya see you're all better from your illness. So glad. I'm Benny if ya don't remember.” Blushed as I scanned his items. Afterwards we chatted till it was time to close. What happened next surprised me! He waited for me! Followed me to my car ,and asked for my phone . Which he typed in his number,” text me when ya get home. Don't worry . Not workin right now.” Walked towards his Jeep winked at me as he drove away.

Laying in my bed reading till my phone pings. Smile on my face. Reading the text:

Benny: hi! Hope you're not asleep. Up for a late night texting season?

You: not sleeping yet. Just reading. How about you? Saving a lot of lives ?

Benny : Oh a few here and there. Sorry I missed ya on your follow up. A fellow nurse told me that you were okay. Was worried about you when you came in that night. Lucky I got to see you tonight .

That decoration made my heart jump! Quickly texted back:

You: So sweet of you! A nurse named William Miller told me you were with a very ill toddler.

Benny: Oh! Ya met my older brother then. Glad he took care of ya

You: He did. We talked for a while. Tell me about your time in the Army. That you were a fighter?

Benny: Yeah. Need a change. That's when I went to nursing school. Glad to be working with my bro. So tell me about you.

We texted for a while till both of us were getting tired. He asked if I was off tomorrow. Told him I was. Asked where I live. That surprised him since we live in the same building! Floor above me! What! How can I miss him! Now I can't sleep! Can't wait to be with him!

Few months later. I moved in with Benny. After finishing my medical billing course I got a job at the same urgent Care Benny works at. Typing away on the computer didn't feel a pair of string hands on my shoulder,” how about a break sugar? I'm starvin. How about we go to Waterburger for a burger and fries. It's my turn to pay.” getting up to tell others in the office I'll be back. Looking back, I was so glad I came here. Wouldn't have met Benny. Guess being sick was a good thing.

#triple frontier #benny miller x reader #garett hedlund

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honeysuckleharringtons · 9 months ago

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Part Eight: Lukewarm ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Summary: (Then) Motherhood gets a whole lot more complicated for Reader when someone who she thought was gone for good shows up to meet her baby. — (Now) When Steve confides in Reader about his not-so-good relationship with his father, Reader reminds him that he's so much more than someone's opinion of him.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,819

Content Warning: explicit language, infidelity/cheating (not by Reader or Steve), allusions to physical abuse, Lonnie is a creep and a douchebag, Steve's dad is an asshole, mentions of male genitalia as an insult, mentions of food, light mentions of medical stuff related to Steve's job, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this is extremely late, more to come on that later!! but for now, i hope you all enjoy!

Originally Written: 01/31/2024 through 02/19/2024

honeysuckleharringtons' main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, March of 1988 ]

The first thing that you heard after waking up was the sound of your baby crying. The thing that followed was the screaming match coming from down the hall.

Let it be known, all families fight, even the Byers. But it was a rarity for Joyce's voice to be heard amongst the yelling, unless it was to break up the fight. Generally speaking, if there was an argument at the Byers house, it involved one or more of Joyce's children.

Which was why you found it so strange that hers was the first voice you registered. Jonathan's voice came next, a weird pang stinging in your heart as you thought about him spending his spring break at home arguing.

In an attempt to comfort the baby, you picked her up from her crib and held her close to your chest. Her colic was slowly getting better, however you couldn't say you blamed her for being fussy over the verbal war happening in the other end of the house.

“Come on, lovebug,” you whispered, leaving a kiss to the soft skin of your baby's head. “Let's go investigate.”

You were used to playing the role of the mediator, especially when it came to arguments involving your mother. Joyce was usually the mediator, but you often took her place when she herself was involved in the fight.

An exasperated sigh left your lips as you entered the living room, ready to find out who stole the last brownie or who left their shoes in the wrong spot. “What is going o-”

Lonnie.

Lonnie fucking Byers decided to show up after seven years of being gone. After seven years of saying, “Sayonara, kids. My new wife is more important than my children will ever be.”

“What is he doing here?” Right now, you wanted to use every curse word in the book, but for fear of passing that habit along to the baby someday, you'd been holding them in. What you really wanted to ask was, What the fuck is this asshole doing in our house?

Lonnie turned to you, a surprisingly gentle expression on his face. “Can I see her?”

The thought of him being anywhere near your baby appalled you. “What? N-No. No, you can't.”

He started to walk over to you, arms stretched out as if going in for a hug, a hug you certainly weren't accepting. “Let me see her for a minute.”

“No,” you repeated, with more finality than the first time. “You lost the right to do that whenever you walked out of here.”

He had the audacity to scoff. The noise grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, and suddenly you had the urge to punch him in his scruffy, age-ridden face. “Is that what she's been telling you?”

Scratch that. You had the urge to rip off his scruffy, age-ridden face.

“Who are you kidding, Lonnie?” Disgust coated every word of Joyce's sentence. “Do you really think-”

“Shut up,” he simply said, and you could tell his command was bringing back all those old feelings of fear to your mother. Her eyes were going wide, she was taking a couple of fearful steps back. You hated it, and hated Lonnie even more for making her feel weak again. “I wanna hear what the kids have to say about this.”

Anger started to boil in your veins as you watched the way he was acting, standing there like he owned the place. The place that he left in the dust seven years ago. “First of all, do not talk to my mother—or any woman for that matter—that way.”

“Look at you.” His words were drawn out, poison coating every lengthy syllable. “Always thought you'd turn out like your brothers. Turns out you've got more balls than the two of them combined.”

Part of you wanted to argue, but the smarter part of you knew it was a waste of your breath. “Second of all, it doesn't matter what you think Mom's been telling us. We're not stupid.” And then, for a split second, the smarter part of you couldn't resist your vindictive part. “We have eyes, you know.”

“Well then,” Lonnie sneered, “what exactly did you see? Because from your dear old dad's point of view, it looked a whole lot like your mom trying to get some child support and her way.”

“Well, from your little girl's point of view,” venom dripped from your words like you were a vampire, “it looked a whole lot like you cheating on Mom behind her back.”

Joyce trembled, nearly falling over the couch as she attempted to sit on it. She knew he'd done it, it wasn't exactly something Lonnie did a good job of hiding. But knowing that her kids knew was like a knife to the gut—the one thing that proved her babies weren't quite babies anymore.

Lonnie scoffed, running a hand over his graying beard. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

For once that night, a small wave of silence passed over the room. It felt as though time slowed while you considered your response, like the universe's way of letting you know it wasn't too late to back down. But you'd been backing down for your whole life when it came to him, and it was time you put an end to that.

“If I don't know what I'm talking about,” you paused, sucking in a blood-curdlingly cold breath, “then why do I have to live with the mental image of you undressing some fucking teenager when I came home from school one day?”

You hadn't looked up from where your eyes had met the floor at some point, but you knew from the pin-drop silence that Lonnie was as white as a sheet and Joyce was about three seconds away from killing him with her bare hands.

“Get out.” In all your eighteen years of life, you'd never heard your mother speak with such poison in her tone.

“This is ridiculous-”

“Get. Out.” In an instant, she was up on her feet, directing—or rather, dragging—Lonnie toward the door. Still, his six feet of barely-there muscle was stronger than her five feet and three inches as he pushed past her and strided over to you.

It took everything in you not to punch him in the face once he reached you. “This is ridiculous,” he repeated, almost sounding genuine. “I don't care about that shit. I just wanna see my damn grandbaby.”

Hell hath no fury like a Byers woman scorned, because every ounce of anger that filled your mother was multiplied tenfold when Lonnie used that word to describe your baby. Your baby.

“Jonathan, take the baby, please.”

You could practically hear the crease forming between his eyebrows. “What-”

“Just take the baby,” you insisted. Without another word, he took the crying bundle from your arms and held her close to his chest. You could barely hear him cooing at her over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Murder had never seriously crossed your mind, but when you were looking at Lonnie fucking Byers, you felt like Jack the Ripper. Still, you had a baby to take care of, so you did the next best, acceptable, and extremely satisfying thing.

“Let's get one thing straight,” you spat, hands meeting Lonnie’s chest and shoving him toward the door. “Her name is Mandy,” one push, “Marie,” another push, “Maldonado,” a third, “Because she will never be anything,” a final push, “of yours.”

And with that, you were slamming and locking the door in his face, an unparalleled wave of relief washing over every molecule of your body. Seven years of being left behind by your sad excuse for a father had finally come to a head, and the feeling of the outcome felt like exhaling again after holding your breath for as long as you could remember.

Jonathan walked over with the baby, placing her in your arms. He looked as though he wanted to address the month-old elephant in the room but was too afraid. Hell hath no fury like a Byers woman scorned, and he knew it all too well.

Joyce, on the opposite hand, had no shame in addressing the situation. “Is that really what you're naming her?” A couple of tears pricked the woman's eyes as she placed a hand on your back.

You nodded your head, a couple of hormonal tears slipping down your cheeks as you looked down at the little girl in your arms. It was amazing, you thought, just how much she'd grown in the past four weeks. But now you knew what people felt like when they said, She'll always be my little girl. Because she would. Mandy would always be that tiny bundle you met on Valentine's Day.

“Yeah,” you answered, the word sounding a little wet as it excited your chapped lips. You were slowly starting to remember what self care was like, but apparently lip balm had been left off your mental list.

As much as he'd never admit to it, Will did want to be a part of the family bonding moment happening across the room from where he stood, previously trying to go undetected by his father. “I think it's beautiful.”

The oldest of your brothers nodded in agreement, eyes still glued to your mini-me. “Will’s right. It's a perfect name for her.”

Tears fell in thick droplets down your cheeks, love and comfort rushing through you as your family—your real family, not some stupid man who thought DNA was equal to family—surrounded you in a well deserved group hug.

“I think so too,” the words came out in a whisper. You wondered if those cerulean eyes were already seeing just how much love this little family had for someone so small. Leaving a kiss to the tip of her nose, you met the baby with soft eyes and an even softer tone. “Mandy Marie, you are more loved than you will ever know.”

[ Now, January of 1992 ]

Placing the porcelain cup down in front of your favorite customer at his favorite table, you smiled anxiously. “Here is that gingerbread latte,” you said, the words coming out slightly shaky. “I attempted to make a gingerbread man, but I don't think he came out quite right. I-If it's too ugly, I can-”

“Byers,” Steve said, the word deep and groggy, no doubt from a lack of sleep. You weren't sure if you admired his line of work or wanted to convince him to change to a career that allowed him a full eight hours’ rest. “He looks fine. Buttons are a little crooked but it's not like I'm not about to guzzle down this whole thing anyway.”

He was trying to kid with you, you could tell he was. But trying was the operative word, not actually spitting out his usual banter. His tone was sharper than normal, though you weren't sure if it was directed at you or just an unpleasant coincidence. Whatever the case, you decided then that you didn't like Steve in a bad mood, and you'd do whatever you could to get him out of it.

“Are you okay?” You looked around to make sure your boss wasn't looking before sliding into the booth across from him.

When he finally looked up at you, he looked… tired. Older. Weary. Words you didn't like having to describe him with. Dark circles had settled under honey eyes, but despite his exhausted look, he still made your insides flutter with one small second of eye contact. “I'll be fine. Just… family stuff.”

You let out a long breath, holding back a laugh. “Oh, believe me, I could tell you a million stories about my family.” This time, you did laugh, if for no other reason than an attempt to lighten the mood.

Steve simply pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing small circles by his eye. “It's just…” his voice trailed. You were left wondering if this man you didn't know outside the four walls of Brew and Me was about to reveal a deeper part of himself than what his favorite flavor of coffee was. “When I was born, my dad started a savings account for me to someday pay off my student loans. Now that I'm a semester out from getting my Practitioner's license, he's threatening to take the money back.”

“Huh,” you said simply. “You're a trust fund baby.”

His eyes narrowed on you sarcastically. “Is that really your main takeaway from all that?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you snickered. “It's just… You were a trust fund baby. Polos and knee high socks and country clubs and-”

“Y/N,” he stopped you, his tone nearly back to his normal, witty self.

Another snicker left you. “Okay, I'm sorry. I'll behave.” And after another silent moment, you whispered, “A trust fund baby.”

Ignoring your efforts to kid around, Steve continued on with his story, still furiously rubbing at that spot on his temple. “He's mad because I'm not following in his footsteps to become a lawyer. Hell, not even just his footsteps. My grandpa was a lawyer, my uncle is a lawyer, my cousin is a year away from taking the Bar exam. And then there's me.”

You swore you could see tears stinging behind those wire frames of his. “Surprisingly, I've been where you are. Wanting approval from your dad, just waiting and praying that something you do will finally be enough to get his blessing, so to speak.”

Something flickered across his face for a split second, something you couldn't quite identify.

“But that's when you have to ask yourself what it is that you want.” Tears pricked behind your eyes, but you wouldn't cry. Not here, not in front of him. “We are not our lineage. And we sure as hell aren't our parents.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment. Steve just sipped his latte, while you contemplated how much or how little to say about your paternal relationship. On one hand, it might've been useful for Steve to know he wasn't alone. On the other hand, if you said too much, you risked seeming insensitive—not to mention, there was the obvious: you weren't sure how many details Steve had earned from you just yet.

So, you went with what you told most everyone about your father. “My dad never cared about what was best for his kids. You don't have to let that be you too.”

You quickly scooted your way out of the booth, ready to get back to work so you could head home for the day as soon as possible. But just as you started to walk away, a firm hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending sparks right through you. “Hey,” he said, his tone gripping you as hard as his hand. “When you said I have to ask myself what it is that I want, I already know the answers.”

A smile pulled at your lips as you looked at him, astonished at how he was just as tall as you were, even while he was sitting down. “Oh, yeah?”

Steve gave you a small nod, removing his hand from you to push up his glasses. “I want to help people. In the ER, in free clinics.”

Something warm and fuzzy tingled in your belly and up your spine as you listened to his answer. Then, a crease formed between your brows as you noticed something off. “You said answers. Meaning you want more than one thing. That's technically only one,” you observed. “What's the second?”

“You.” Steve's hand reached for yours again, and you gladly let him take it. A calloused finger traced nonsensical shapes along the back of your hand, and your previous sparks multiplied tenfold. “I want to be with you.”

You stayed silent, honestly unsure how to respond to his admission. After a moment, he chuckled, almost in disbelief, running a hand over his hair. “That's crazy, isn't it? I'm certifiably insane, aren't I?”

With a shake of your head, you realized just how crazy you were for him too. You felt like a teenager in love, wanting to go home and gush to your diary about this handsome nurse that had stumbled his way into your life. “If you're crazy, I'm crazy,” you said with a shrug. “Only problem is you haven't won the game yet.”

Steve rolled his eyes, though you could tell from his expression, they might as well have been heart-shaped. “Believe me, Byers, I'm gonna win. And you're gonna be sorry you didn't say yes the first time I asked.”

A smirk pulled at the corners of your lips, your arms crossing in front of your chest as you looked over this man you'd fallen head over heels for. “I look forward to it, Doc.”

As always, I am posting this much later than it was intended to be. In my defense though, at least I have a good explanation this time?

So about a month ago, I was injured at work. And it took a toll on me both physically and mentally. I didn't want to write at all for a while. So it took me a very long time to crank this chapter out. Because of the mental toll it took on me, nothing ever really felt good enough to post either. It wasn't coming out the way I originally intended and I didn't want to put it out on the internet at all lol. But I finally got it finished and to a place where I think I'm genuinely happy with it.

I will (fingers crossed) have the next chapter out much more quickly than this one lol! But I have a couple of one shot fics unrelated to this series that I was able to write that I think you guys will enjoy too!!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @insertcoolnameherethanks

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basilone · 8 months ago

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Ooo maybe 25. Gentle with Brady? Would love to see some more of your writing on this blog again !!

Lovely anon, both yourself and @mercurygray had a similar thought... and I thought, well, why not combine the two? I hope y'all don't mind! 💙 It's been lovely to experiment more in the MotA-side of things writing-wise for sure. 😊

golden & gentle

He never liked hospitals much. John supposes most people don’t – too many tragedies – but it’s the antiseptic that gets to him most. He sniffs loudly. Brushes his tickling nose with his uninjured hand, then sniffs again. Lemmons uses something similar in the planes sometimes. Scrubs them clean. It’s got John sneezing so much that Curt keeps joking about him being allergic to the cockpit.

Kept joking.

He exhales past the suckerpunch that landed entirely too close to his gut. Supposes it’s a small mercy he didn’t say it out loud this time. The dead need to stay dead. Need to be buried somewhere in the past, in some unmarked memories, lest they become ghosts to the living. As far as hospitals go, they’re as near to ghosts as he can tread.

“Take a seat, Captain,” he hears somewhere to his left. “Will be just a minute.”

John makes the mistake of turning into the voice’s direction. There’s a familiar cadence to its lilt, though softer than his memories of it would normally allow. He spies dark hair pulled back beneath a nurse’s cap, dark eyes to match, and one hell of a familiar button nose. Takes a step back when he registers the dimple in her chin. Almost knocks the chair over in his haste to put more distance between himself and… and… and that woman.

That woman actually smiles, though, which gives him pause. “I see you’ve met Ida.” It’s not quite a question, and if it is it sounds like one she already knows the answer to. “My twin sister,” she clarifies, clearly registering his answering frown. “Cressida Dorrance-Jones, and she’ll never make you forget that name while you’re at her table?”

John snaps his fingers. “Her, yes,” he agrees, feeling a cold shiver course over his back at the mere mention of that particular interrogator. “Apologies, Lieutenant Dorrance-Jones, I didn’t realize she has a sister. Let alone a twin.”

“And that, Captain, is exactly why she and I don’t do the same job. You can drop the Dorrance part of the name with me, by the way. Plenty of those around here already, each more insufferable than the last, and I’m as far from the golden child status in my family as a girl’s ever gonna get. Take a seat, why don’t ya? Let me get a good look at that hand of yours.”

“It’s just a scrape,” he minimizes as he sinks down on the chair.

“With the way you lot work,” she says, clearly not quite believing him if the stash of supplies she dumps on the nearby table is anything to go by, “you would still call it a scrape if half your hand was in danger of falling off. No offense, sir.”

“None taken, Lieutenant Jones.” He knows for a fact that Cleven would be one of those fellows. Hell, the man would probably not see a hospital’s insides for himself at all if DeMarco wasn’t such an effective mother hen. “Plane’s damage was a little sharper than it looked, and I wasn’t wearing my gloves anymore.”

Her hand is warmer than his. Her touch far softer than her twin’s would have been. Gentle, even, with the way she presses down around the wound and retracts the moment it begins to sting. John hisses through his teeth when her little finger dances too close to the part that’s been coloring every shade of red and purple conceivable.

“You banged this up real good, Captain…?”

“Brady. John Brady.”

Her answering smile takes the sting out of her touch just a little. “Well, Captain Brady, you’ve got a sweet bruise here. Gonna be a bit of a rainbow there for a while. Scrape’s not too ugly, won’t need stitches,” she assesses with a well-practiced eye, “but you’re gonna need to keep it clean. You come see me before you fly, all right?”

“Sure?”

“I’ll bandage it up when you go up there. Get you a bigger glove, too.” She snorts. “Last time a fella had a scrape like this, he tried to worm his big hand into his little leather glove. I just about had kittens seein’ that, lemme tell ya!”

John winces. “That sounds ill-advised.”

“I know, right? Some fellas are just like that, sir.” A shrug. Another smile. “Can’t do much about that except yell at them, I suppose. I can tell you’re smarter than that, though. Bet you’re gonna be right as rain once we get this cleaned out.”

“And I can fly with this?” he checks, flexing his hand a little despite the pain. “You’re sure?”

“Seen worse. And you’re needed up there, ain’t ya?”

Until I, too, become a ghost to the living. “So people tell me,” he says, pushing all thoughts of a haunting back to his mind’s furthest recesses. He offers her a thin, wan smile of his own. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she warns, wet cloth in hand. His nose almost twitches at the scent that’s wafting up at him. “This is gonna sting like a motherfucker, sir, ain’t no other way to say that.”

“Appreciate the warning, Lieutenant.”

“I try to be good about that, sir. Them fellas who come in with the frostbite always appreciate it, too. Least you ain’t got that, that’d be somethin’ different to treat…”

Lieutenant Jones, unlike her sister, is an anecdotal talker pulling stories out of her mouth the way a magician would pull a rabbit out of a hat. She hardly seems to expect answers to all of it, though she goes through the niceties spiel of where ya from I’m from Georgia ooooh New York state how fancy and exclaims real-not-feigned excitement about his college classes. John lets the chatter wash over him as he chews on the inside of his cheek to keep the pain in check.

“You’d do all right as an interrogator,” he allows, once she’s managed to pull half his family history to the forefront of the conversation. “I’d already forgotten I’d scraped my thumb on that bike two summers ago until you asked me about that scar just now!”

“I would,” she snorts, “but can you imagine Ida as a nurse? That’s what I thought”– she laughs to his answering shudder –“so I’m right where I should be. As, it seems, are you.”

He can only hope that’s true.

#masters of the air #john brady #oc: lucy #mota oc #mota spoilers #basilonefic

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cricket-reader · 1 year ago

Text

Something in Common

Summary: you get captured and held in captivity. Bucky finds you and has an argument with your dad, Tony. Later, Bucky confesses his feelings for you

Warnings: language, kidnapping, torture, injections, near-death experience, amputation, fluff, Tony (yes, he’s a warning), Tony and Bucky’s strained relationship

Word Count: 1622

Prompt: "Breathe, damn you!” I Shock | Amputation | Infection

A/N: Day 8 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

You can’t remember when you got here. You don’t even know what day it is. All you know is that for the past however many days, weeks maybe, they have been coming into your room and injecting you with stuff you knew shouldn’t be in your body.

First it was bright green which only managed to get you a rash. Then it was blood red which again only gave you a rash, that time worse than the last. Then it was neon yellow which did absolutely nothing except make you really tired. After that it was kind of a blur. You’re suspecting they’re going to try the whole damn rainbow.

You know why they took you too. You are the daughter of some very influential and important people. Hell, your dad is Iron Man. Who wouldn’t want to kidnap you? But usually people kidnap rich people’s kids when they’re young, not when they’re your age, and when they do kidnap a rich person’s kid, they usually ask for ransom. You don’t think that has happened yet.

You can barely lift your head when the metal door creaks open. The same man walks in, you only know him as “the doctor”, but you have a fair amount of nicknames for him in your arsenal; none of them are that nice, though.

You’re so weak from all the injections that you’re surprised he’s still going. He’s probably trying to create a supervillain out of you as some ploy of revenge against your father. In his years on earth, Tony Stark has gained a lot of enemies. You wish you had been taken by some of his enemies that are actually good people like Hank or something.

At this point you can barely feel your arm, so when he inserts the needle, you can barely feel it. You don’t feel the liquid entering your veins anymore either. Really, it’s almost a blessing at this point.

When he finishes injecting you with the bright blue liquid, each of your muscles tenses up. Heart beating faster, you wonder if this is the one that finally kills you.

Tears form in your eyes as you begin to feel the first bout of pain you’ve felt in days or even weeks.

The feeling is so intense, you don’t even notice the door open again. You don’t notice the blood from the doctor getting shot In the head.

In your state of shock, you barely register your restraints being released and your body being carried out.

Tony clambers up behind Barnes, who has been the one to find you. Your left arm is marked with ugly purple and black bruises.

Bucky sets you down on a stretcher in the Quinjet and backs up so the doctor and nurse they brought along can do their job.

Bucky has tears in his eyes, and he can’t honestly remember the last time he’d cried.

Tony, on the other hand, was by your side in an instant. His hand holds yours and he mutters under his breath. He needs everything to be okay. He needs his baby to be okay.

“She’s not breathing! Stark back up!” one of the medical professionals yells. Tony freezes on the spot. His heart shatters hearing his baby isn’t breathing.

Bucky ends up having to drag him away from the scene as he starts yelling, “Breathe, damn you! Don’t do this to me! Please!”

Only once Tony is away from the situation, does Bucky let him go. Misplacing his anger, Tony shoves Barnes. “What the hell?”

“I should be asking you the same thing, Stark! You need to let the medical professionals do their fucking job!”

“You don’t understand, Barnes. Is that your child in there? Has your child been missing for the better half of a year? Has your child stopped breathing? Oh wait, you don’t fucking have a child.”

“I may not, but that does not mean I do not care for her.”

Stark scoffs and turns away, running his hands through his hair. “You don’t know what this has done to me… she is my child and you could never understand the pain of knowing she is out there and you’re helpless to do anything even though you’re a fucking superhero.

“Tell me what is the point of being a superhero if the ones you love aren’t safe? Huh? You wouldn’t know anything about that, though, would you?”

“Don’t tell me what I do and do not know,” Bucky mutters, “the person I love with all of my heart has been missing for the better half of a year and I had to spend that time going around as if nothing ever happened, okay?

“You got to be an asshole because your kid had been taken, but I had to carry on as if the love of my life hadn’t been ripped away from me before I even got to fucking tell them.”

“So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t fucking know what it’s like to be a superhero whilst the ones I love aren’t safe because I fucking love them and they weren’t safe and I was useless in finding them.”

Both men stare at each other, not uttering a single word after Bucky’s breakdown. They don’t exchange any more words thereafter.

When you wake up both of your parents are sitting next to you along with one of your best friends. That alone is practically a miracle given that your dad and your best friend are never in the same room.

Your dad calls out your name as soon as he sees you’re awake. Pepper, your step-mother that you consider your real mom, goes to get someone. Your best friend Bucky stays put in his seat, his hands twitching, aching to be near you.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” He’s crying. You know it’s serious when your dad is crying. How long had you been captured for?

You try to reach out for your dad but you still can’t feel your arm. Brows furrowed, you look down at the site of your injections to see it missing. Eyes blown wide, your heart starts beating faster. Tears form in your eyes as you panic. Where is your arm? What’s going on?

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, just breathe for me, okay? Everything is going to be okay.”

“Dad, what… where… what happened,” you choke out.

“Your arm was really badly infected. The only thing they could do was amputate it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“No, no, no, why?” you cried out. This isn’t fair.

Tony wrapped his arms around you,

and you cried into his shoulder. The doctor comes into your room not long after, and checks up on you. She makes sure everything is alright before leaving you.

“Stark?” Your heart beats out of your chest, having forgotten that Bucky has been in the room this whole time.

“Is it okay if I have a little time…”

Your father huffs, frowning deeply. “Fine, but just know I’m not happy about it.”

“I know,” Bucky dejectedly sighs. When your father is out of the room Bucky picks up the conversation. “So… I’d ask you how you’re doing, but I’m pretty sure you’ll punch me for it.”

You both chuckle. Bucky has never been one to be real sappy, and you like that. Especially now that everyone is going to be asking you that god forsaken question nonstop.

“I missed you…”

You smile. “I missed you too, Buckaroo.”

He shakes his head, “I even missed that stupid nickname.” You gasp, feigning shock.

“Don’t tell the others,” he warns, a small smile still on his handsome face.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You wink at him. You notice him shift uncomfortably as he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky opens his mouth to confess everything. To tell you how much he loves you. How much he cherishes every moment spent with you. He longs to tell you that you’re the only one he thinks about before going to bed and when he wakes up. He yearns to tell you how he needs you like he needs the very air he breathes.

Bucky’s past self would be kicking him if he could see him now.

He gets a text on his phone and ignores it. He has to tell you. Another ding from his phone and he wants to chuck it across the room. This moment is supposed to be perfect. Yet here he is standing like a bumbling fool with his phone going off like crazy. “Sorry,” he mumbles, taking out his damn phone.

Shock registers on his features when he reads “Stop staring at her like a gaping fish and just ask her already.” Bucky looks around the room with narrowed eyes.

“Buck?”

His heart stops hearing your small voice. How the hell is he supposed to ask you out when your father is watching his every move? Bucky take a deep breath and wipes a sweaty palm on his jeans.

“Iwaswonderingifyoumaybewantedtogooutwithmesometime!”

You blankly stare at him. In all the years that you’ve known Bucky, he has never acted like this before. What is going on with him?

“What was that?” You giggle a bit. He looks like he is going to be sick or something.

“I was… well I was just wondering if uh… if you maybe wanted…to go out with me sometime?”

“Is that why you’ve been so nervous?” You smile. He’s so adorable. “Of course I would, Buck!”

He breathes out in relief, shoulders realising their tension as if the weight of a thousand boulders have been released.

“And we already have something in common!”

Bucky furrows his brows. You smile at him and wiggle your stub of an arm.

Taglist: @harleycao

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watercolorfreckles · 2 years ago

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Hey, would you mind continue 'this one's alright'? Only if you want of course and take your time if you do it, don't stress out you are doing great job :)

(Thank you for the kind words, anon!! <3)

This One's Alright - Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Muffled voices roused Villain into consciousness, her mind staggering to catch up.

Her fingers flexed against the plush surface she rested on: Civilian's couch, she realized. Its every lump and dip was familiar at the curve of her back. It smelled like must and Civilian's shampoo.

The voices grew clearer, sharpening into focus.

"Are you crazy?" someone hissed. "We could go to jail for this! You are harboring a fugitive!"

The next voice, warm and familiar, made her heart leap. "Would you keep your voice down?"Civilian, her Civilian. "I didn't know who else to call, I can't call an ambulance or they'll- they'll hurt her."

"Hurt her?! Civilian. You're aware she's a dangerous criminal, right?" The voice belonged to a woman. One she didn't recognize.

"I'm only asking that you stabilize her, please. After that, you don't have to be involved. I know I'm asking a lot--"

The woman sighed. "I really don't think you do."

A moment later, hands were against her torso. Not Civilian's hands.

Villain's eyes snapped open and her hand lashed out, catching the culprit by the throat and squeezing enough to bruise.

Her eyes, wide with panic, stirred familiar somewhere in Villain's mind. A moment later, her face registered in Villain's memory. The girl from the photo in Civilian's room.

"Villain! Villain no, this is my sister, Cara- She won't hurt you. Let her go. Please." Civilian tripped over the coffee table in his haste to scramble closer, knocking all manner of things to the floor.

Villain's gaze shot to him, all but cementing him to the spot.

He held his hands up in a soothing gesture. As if he could be a threat to her. Something warm flicked in Villain's belly. Surrender suited him, in the adorably innocent way that everything suited that scrap of a civilian. From the narrow slope of his shoulders to the disarming spattering of freckles dusting his face, he was endearing. Like a house cat offering up a mouse to its owner.

"Let her go," he repeated softly, padding closer.

Villain's fingers twitched against Civilian's sister's neck. The girl's hands had flitted to Villain's wrists at some point, not quite daring to try to pull Villain's hands away.

"Why-" Villain tried to speak and the words splintered into a sharp cough instead. She swallowed and tried again, voice low and demanding. "Why is she here?"

"She's a nurse," Civilian said, risking a step closer.

"You called her."

"To help! To help you. I thought-" Civilian's voice hitched. "I thought you were going to die."

Villain softened. Her hand fell away from Cara's throat.

The young women coughed, staggering back from the Villain still half-dead on the couch. Villain smiled and wiggled her fingers in greeting. "Cara. It's a pleasure."

Cara gave her brother an incredulous look. "You cannot--!" She cut off and spoke in a hush more suited for private conversations. "You cannot expect me to treat this- this- lunatic."

"I'm still right here."

Cara startled, her face washing the same lifeless pale-beige of the peeling wallpaper.

"Please, Cara, I think she needs stitches," Civilian said, crouching down by the villain's side. His breath warmed her cheek.

Cara stared, looking suitably shocked that Villain hadn't bitten Civilian's head off for daring to come near her.

Villain's head gave a tilt, gaze fixed upon the other civilian.

"Okay... Fine. I stitch her up, make sure she's stable. Then I leave and you continue whatever the hell this is on your own. Got it?"

"Yes," Civilian said, then turned to Villain. His gaze warmed when he looked at her, something far softer than she was certain she deserved. "Will you let her patch you up? Please? She'll do a better job than I did."

Villain nodded, exhaustion sweeping over her as abruptly as a crashing tide. She'd been awake a few minutes and her throat still scraped like sandpaper with every swallow. A cold ache settled in her limbs.

She listened to the civilians' movements. Cara toed closer.

"I'm going to take a look at your wound now, okay?"

"Mm."

Even with her eyes closed, the world seemed to sway and tumble. She was only distantly aware of Cara pulling her shirt up, undoing Civilian's shoddy bandaging, and assessing the damage beneath.

The clattering of what Villain assumed was the nurse's medical kit pulled Villain back into sharp consciousness. Her eyes flitted open.

Villain watched the nurse thread a needle.

"I don't have an anesthetic with me," she said. "This will hurt."

Villain snorted. "I have a bloody hole in my waist, I think I can handle a few pinpricks."

Cara shrugged and leaned in, sliding the needle through the skin on one side of the wound with deft fingers.

Villain hissed in a breath through her teeth, her hand finding Civilian's and gripping it tightly.

"Told you," Cara murmured.

Through the next stitch and the next, Villain kept a firm hold of her Civilian's hand. He didn't let go, shifting to center himself in her field of vision.

A lovely distraction indeed, she noted.

"You still want my number?" He offered a soft smile. "Y'know, so you can call me next time you're on your way to... bleed out in my apartment. I can prepare, like, make some tea or whatever. Prop open the first-aid kit."

Villain smiled and it cracked through the crust of dried blood on her lip. "Next time, you should find some stronger pain meds."

Civilian wheezed a laugh. His fingers, light and delicate, brushed the hair from her eyes. "Make it through this, and we'll call it a date." His cheeks went abruptly pink. "Not a date-date! Just a, you know, non-date...date... Unless you want it to be a date! Not that I expect you'd want to-"

"Civilian."

"Huh?" His eyes shot to hers again as Villain reached up to touch his face.

Villain's smile softened, losing its edges, though no less amused than ever. "Let's call it a date."

Civilian looked startled. "Oh! Yes. I mean- sure. If you want."

Villain started to laugh--then winced as the needle pierced her flesh once more.

'Next time' felt an awfully long way away.

Idkkk if i like this, but I'm glad to finally get something done. I just skim-edited this so pardon any mistakes.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted , @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee , @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42 , @m0chik0furan , @mercurymomentum , @fairysprinkless , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie , @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000 , @ikiiryo , @moonquires , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm , @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @a-person-who-likes-musicals , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt, @medusas-hairband,

if you've asked to be added to the list and I've forgotten, I'm sorry, please remind me! Comments and asks get lost or I just forget sometimes. I feel like there are a few I'm missing. :) Thanks for reading <3 You're all very sweet

#villain x civilian #civilian x villain #heroes and villains #writing snippet #hero x villain #my writing #villains and heroes #shy civilian #female villain #flash fiction #this one's alright

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