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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

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Unspoken Bonds | 1 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader

Warning: NSFW; SMUT; PIV sex; fingering; oral sex, rough sex; multiple orgasms; spanking; established relationship; anything else I failed to mention.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , -

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

The sterile atmosphere of the operating room enveloped you as you stood beside the surgical table, ready for the high-stakes procedure.

The room hummed with anticipation as you prepared for the challenging surgery on the pregnant patient with a tumor near her baby.

Nurses passed instruments with practiced precision, and the anesthesiologist monitored both the mother and baby's vital signs.

As the first incision was made, your voice cut through the silence. "Scalpel," you calmly requested, your steady hand extending for the tool. The room buzzed with efficiency as the surgery unfolded, a ballet of expertise choreographed by the young surgeon.

Hours passed, and tension gripped the room. Your focused expression betrayed no sign of fatigue as you navigated the complexities of the delicate operation. Amidst the beeping monitors and hushed whispers, the team communicated seamlessly.

Finally, after seven intense hours, the moment arrived – the successful removal of the tumor.

You sighed in relief, a subtle smile breaking through your composed demeanor. "Sutures," you instructed, bringing the surgery to its triumphant conclusion.

In the recovery room, the patient stirred awake. You approached her bedside, a warmth in her eyes. "You did great. The tumor has been successfully removed, and both you and your baby are safe," you reassured the patient.

The grateful mother's eyes welled with tears as she held her newborn for the first time. "Thank you, Dr. Y/N," she whispered.

You nodded with humility. "It's my job. Just doing what I love," you replied.

In the hospital lounge, hushed whispers followed your departure from the operating room. Colleagues gathered, their voices lowered as they dissected your success with admiration and skepticism.

"Did you see how smoothly she handled that surgery?" one doctor remarked, grudging respect evident in his tone.

A nurse, however, chimed in with a skeptical undertone. "I heard she doesn't collaborate much. Always on her own.”

The conversation continued, weaving through a tapestry of gossip and half-truths. In the corner, the hospital director's grandson, Kyle Anderson, nursing his jealousy, added his commentary. "She's not as good as they say. Grandfather's just protecting her because she's alone."

Others nodded, some exchanging knowing glances. The lone wolf reputation clung to Dr. Y/N, the whispers amplifying your isolation.

The hospital director, Jonathan Anderson, aware of the murmurs, supported the talented surgeon.

In the quiet solitude of the changing room, you peeled off your surgical attire, the lingering scent of antiseptic filling the air. As you reached for your coat, Dr. Mitchell, a colleague, approached with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Y/N! That was quite the surgery today. We should go for a drink to celebrate, what do you say?" he suggested, a genuine attempt to bridge the gap.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with a message: "Can we meet?"

A momentary softening in your expression hinted at a hidden world beyond the hospital walls.

You politely declined the offer and explained, "I've got other appointments tonight."

Quickly typing a reply to her heartfelt message, "9 p.m. Usual place. Wait for me."

Mitchell, accepting your response. He saw you smiling. He thought the person who texted you must be close to you.

What kind of person can make a lone wolf like you smile like that?

Your leg strides to the parking lot, then enter your sports car.

You rushed to the hotel, eager and nervous. With a quick swipe, the door opened, revealing a softly lit room. There he was, Bucky Barnes.

Wearing nothing but dark grey sweatpants. Smooth, tatted skin exposed. Bucky is lying on the bed reading a book.

As you approached, he greeted you with a smile of confidence and playfulness.

Bucky's playful charm effortlessly swept away the hospital stress and gossip that plagued your mind.

He nuzzled your cheek, “I guess your surgery went well?” He kissed along your cheek, then down your neck. He gently takes off your clothes.

You hummed. Enjoying the kisses from him that made you relax.

In a minute, all your clothes are on the floor. Bucky gently carried you to the bed.

Tonight, you just want to be close to him. Being with him makes you forget everything at the hospital.

“Uh, huh…!”

The air in the spacious room grew heavy with impassioned cries.

With his firm, large hands, the man firmly gripped your breasts, eliciting a heated gasp that escaped your parted lips. His eyes glistened with anticipation, flickering like a candle flame in a breeze as you trembled and clung to the man’s shoulders.

Lowering his head, Bucky sensually licked your swollen nipple with his warm, velvety tongue.

The room was filled with lewd noises as the man suckled on your breasts, causing your arousal to intensify.

The sensation of his thumb’s firm tip pressing against your clitoris overwhelmed you with pleasure.

Then Bucky squeezed your legs into an M-shape and buried his head in your pussy to give your oral sex.

He opens his mouth and tastes your pussy; he uses his flexible tongue. You shuddered in excitement after feeling his mouth and tongue on your pussy, you were too sensitive, and your body was shaking in excitement.

Then you felt his cock enter your hole. He slowly inserted himself inside you. At that completed union, both of you let out low gasps. “Mmm…”

Finally, he filled you up. You've been waiting for this.

As soon as Bucky entered you deeply, he lofted your hips and began to thrust.

You felt as if this intense and comfortable pleasure invaded your entire body and limbs.

Your legs wrapped around his waist to make it easier for him to move in and out.

Your seductive actions made his eyes darker. His penis thrusting more fiercely inside of you.

Bucky frowned slightly and let out a low gasp, "So tight."

When Bucky is ramming his big cock into your pussy, he also spanks your ass.

He spanked your ass cheeks using the palm of his hands. Bucky found out you like to be spanked because he felt your pussy become so tight that clamping his cock so tight.

You were fucked roughly; in this position, both of you are very tightly connected, his strength is very strong, and his cock can penetrate deeper inside you.

You felt so satisfied that you cried.

You cried in delight.

This is what you want. Get fucked that made you forget everything.

When Bucky was about to ejaculate, he pushed his cock inside your tight cunt and ejaculated all his semen into the condom.

After he shot all his semen and calmed down from his orgasm, he came out satisfied.

You orgasmed three times and felt that you were one step away from heaven.

You reached your hands to him and said “Hold me.”

Bucky chuckled and happily gave what you asked. Only Bucky could see you being cute and vulnerable at the same time.

Both of you finally took a break and slept for a while. Then Bucky felt a little movement beside him and saw you sitting on the bed, reading the book he had looked at earlier.

The book was for a big doctor's exam. You were nice enough to share notes and give advice to help Bucky understand the medical stuff.

The relationship between you two is a bit complicated. Simply put, you're like the best doctor, teacher, and supportive figure – a bit like a sugar mommy – all rolled into one for Bucky.

How did you two meet?

For Bucky, you're the answer he's been looking for.

Flashback Start

Bucky met you while working as a hostess at the exclusive club, Elysium Haven, which is only accessible to selected customers with expensive annual fees.

The hostess salary, however, paid well for Bucky, who juggled multiple jobs to cover his college tuition and his sister's surgery.

One day, the manager tasked him with accompanying a new guest recommended by their VVIP patron. Upon entering the private room, Bucky was surprised to see you.

The female customers he encountered typically wore dresses, but you were different – donning scrubs and Crocs shoes, indicating that you were a surgeon.

This detail didn't escape Bucky's notice, especially since he was studying to become one.

Bucky introduced himself, and you simply nodded, appearing quiet.

The older man, whom Bucky knew as the VVIP Dr. Jonathan, laughed. "This girl, if I hadn't dragged her out of the hospital, she would have set a record for working a month without leaving. If she complained, it would reflect badly on the hospital. That's why I brought her here. Hahaha."

Bucky was amazed to hear that. He glanced at you, but you didn't say anything, choosing to sip your wine.

Jonathan sighed heavily, looking at you, who remained silent. He felt a sense of pity towards you. If you weren't born as an orphan without influential family ties, perhaps you wouldn't be bullied at the hospital that he owned.

What made it worse was that his grandson, Kyle, was the one tormenting you. Other young doctors followed Kyle's orders and always left the challenging surgeries for you to handle.

Hoping that you would fail, the hospital aimed to put all the blame on you. However, their actions became a double-edged sword. Due to the numerous surgeries you had to undertake, you emerged as the best surgeon the hospital had ever seen.

Jonathan looked at Bucky and said, “I'll leave her to you,” before exiting the room.

Once Jonathan left, Bucky waited and approached you, asking, “Can you perform a surgery for my sister?”

Your eyebrows raised at the unexpected request.

Bucky went on to explain his sister's case. Doctors had declared her sickness impossible to be treated through surgery.

"Impossible?" That was the word you liked to hear in this line of work. You questioned him, “Do you have her medical records?”

As a diligent medical student, Bucky always had his sister's files. Every day, he spent hours in the library, searching for answers. He grabbed his phone and showed you the file.

You carefully examined the records – photos, X-rays, blood tests – and remained silent for a long time.

Bucky anticipated that you would echo the sentiments of other doctors, deeming the surgery impossible.

However, to his delight, he heard, “The reason why other doctors said they can't do it is that they don't have the equipment and brain like me. It's difficult, and it will take 9 hours.”

Your confidence surprised Bucky; little did he know you were a surgery enthusiast, always seeking challenging cases to stimulate your brain.

Suddenly, Bucky felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him when you asked, “But how are you going to compensate me? My skills are expensive.”

What Bucky responded with caught you off guard, “I will pay with my body.”

You chuckled, unable to believe you had encountered someone as peculiar as him. Issuing an order, you said, “Stripped.”

Bucky knew he had sold his body and soul at that moment. Standing up, he slowly removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his well-toned body and six-pack.

As he was about to unbuckle his belt, you intervened with a firm “Enough.”

Bucky stopped, thinking you didn't like what you saw. He blamed himself for not working out for a month.

You didn't say anything. Instead, you gulped down the wine in one go, letting out a satisfied moan, “Ahh…”

You wiped your lips with your hand. Bucky couldn't help but see your actions through his eyes, making you appear like a vampire.

You stood up and headed out from the private room. However, before leaving, you said, “Bring your sister to Metropolitan General Hospital tomorrow at 9 a.m.”

You gave him a final look, “Remember what you just said.”

After you were gone, Bucky knelt on the floor, feeling the burden lifted from his shoulders.

He knew he had just sold his body, but the price he had to pay was to have his sister healthy again.

You fulfilled your promise, and Bucky brought his sister. You immediately booked surgery within the same week. His sister underwent the surgery and regained her health, now able to run again.

As he anticipated paying the price, you didn't seem interested and never mentioned it. However, he later learned that you had only slept with him to vent your frustrations. You sought his company whenever you were stressed, angry, or frustrated.

Then, to his surprise, you again gave him an allowance higher than any salary from his part-time job. Some people might roll their eyes if they discovered the story between him and you.

But for Bucky, you were an angel who saved him.

Flashback End

Bucky tightened his arm around your waist and sighed.

You asked, “What's wrong?”

Bucky said, “The man who could be your husband is a lucky guy.”

You flicked his forehead, making Bucky scream, ‘ouch,’ then gave you puppy eyes. You chuckled, blew on his forehead, and gently kissed it.

You looked at the ceiling and said, “If I had the courage to talk to another man. I would consider myself lucky to be with you since you're out of my league.”

Bucky's heart almost jumped; it was his first hearing of your confession.

Truth be told, he had started to develop feelings for you, especially after you saved his sister.

He never mentioned it, knowing you were way out of his league. That's why he studied hard to become a doctor, hoping to have the chance to stand beside you.

‘Ring’

A phone rang, and Bucky knew it was your phone.

You never missed a call; as usual, it was an emergency requiring you at the hospital.

You said to the phone, “Give me 30 minutes.”

Bucky knew nothing could hold you back.

You kissed his lips and said, “Thank you for today; go back to sleep. And good luck for today's exam.”

Bucky smiled and said, “Thanks, and be careful.”

After you took a quick shower and left, Bucky found a message on his phone – a significant amount of money had been deposited into his bank account. It was from you.

Bucky sighed heavily, grappling with the overwhelming generosity you consistently showed him.

In his eyes, you were far too good for him, and the weight of your kindness settled on his shoulders as he contemplated the depth of your unwavering support.

Bucky never thought this calm day could turn into a thunderstorm.

When the thunder comes.

Six months later, he found himself staring at you, pale and motionless. Now, your life depended on the rhythmic beeping of the machine beside you.

His once steadfast and vibrant presence now lay fragile and vulnerable. Bucky clenched his fists, a surge of determination coursing through him. He swore to himself that he would find the person responsible for putting you into a coma.

Author Note :

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Author Note: Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

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farfromstrange · 5 months

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him.

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true.

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks.

Foggy dislocated his shoulder.

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act.

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital.

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him.

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips.

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on.

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought.

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence.

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say.

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why?

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask.

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet.

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says.

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind.

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real.

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says.

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further.

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go.

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort.

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about.

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot.

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself.

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise.

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated.

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?”

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.”

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing.

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier.

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor.

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin.

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry.

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help.

“It’s fine,” he assures you.

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.”

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier.

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes.

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do.

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie.

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for.

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers.

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.”

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye.

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says.

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running.

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #doctor!reader #medical drama #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

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florrysgf · 11 months

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LOOK AT ME! alex karev x fem!reader

SUMMARY: in which you struggle after the loss of a patient, and alex is there to calm you down

WARNINGS: panic attack, grief, mentions of death

WORD COUNT: 0.8k +

The moment you heard the machine flatline, you swore you felt your heart in your throat. You also felt the sweat dripping down your brow as you immediately shook your head, locking your hands and starting compressions on the patients chest. You couldn’t lose her, you just couldn’t. She had four kids, for God’s sake. No matter how many times you pressed against her chest, she just wasn’t coming back.

“No,” You whispered, warm tears threatening to spool from your eyelids. “C’mon,” you breathed.

Dr. Bailey came up behind you, a similar look of grief in her eyes as she gently grasped your shoulder, attempting to pull you away. “Dr. L/N,”

“C’mon!” You yelled out with a shaky, broken voice.

“Dr. L/N,” Miranda tried again, a little more forcefully this time, but you just didn’t stop. The rest of the surgeons in the OR stayed silent, sharing looks, none of them wanting to interfere with your clear distress. “Dr. L/N, she’s gone.”

You let out a pained sob and your body suddenly went limp. Dr. Bailey stepped in front of you, pulling your hands away from the patient as you were positioned next to Dr. Shepherd. He rested a hand on your shoulder whilst you fixated your eyes on Miranda, inhaling as she looked up at the clock.

“Time of death: 21:04.”

Dr. Bailey’s words rattled through you so fast, that you felt yourself struggling to breath. “No, no, no,” The heat began to spread through your body, it felt like the walls were closing in, like you you were going to explode. You had to get out of there.

Ripping off your scrub cap, you burst through the OR doors, running out into the hall and collapsing against the wall. “No,” you whispered once more, clutching your chest with both of your hands, trying your best to steady your breathing. All you could hear was the screeching sound of the machine filling your ears, and the hospital corridor around you was now a blur.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” You ever so slightly managed to hear the familiar voice of your boyfriend calling out your name, as he knelt down beside you, concern spread all across his face.

“Y/N, babe,” Alex watched as you sat slumped against the wall, your hands pressed to your chest and you heaved. He extended out his arms, one tightly gripping your shoulder, and the other cupping your cheek at an attempt to reassure you. “Y/N.” He repeated, keeping his tone soft not to stress you further. “Y/N, I need you to look at me, please. Can you do that?”

When your struggles for breath got faster, Alex quickly started to panic, “Y/N, look at me!” He sternly said, shaking you slightly and pulling you harshly back into reality. He watched as your eyelids flickered open, as your rapid breaths calmed down when you looked at him. There you were. You never told him what happened - you couldn’t. Nor did you need to, the look in your eyes told him all he needed to know.

You studied his face. Alex seemed sad. For the patient and her family, but more so for you. He knew that you were blaming yourself, but it wasn’t your fault. And he needed you to know that. He pulled you in for a hug, allowing you to sob into his shoulder the second he wrapped his arms around you. You felt his hands rub soft circles on your back, whilst he pressed gentle kisses to your temple. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Need you to calm down for me.”

“It’s all my fault.” You croaked out between sobs as you heavy breaths finally slowed down.

“Hey,” Alex scolded, pulling away from the embrace. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands, pulling your chin up to ensure you were looking at him. “Don’t say that, don’t you ever say that.” His tone was stern yet sincere, “There was nothing else you could’ve done. She was sick, she’d been sick for a long time. It was not your fault, Y/N. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered under your breath, but loud enough that he could still hear you, “Okay.”

Alex continued to hold you as you calmed down, it felt as though the the whole world was crumbling away from underneath you both. As the two of you sat there against the wall, thoughts began to swirl around your head again, thoughts of what was going to happen next. “Oh god,” you whimpered, sitting up slightly as your eyes filled once more, “I have to tell her husband.”

Alex tightened his grip on you. He’s just calmed you down, if you got stressed out again you’d only hurt yourself. “No.” He was quick to shake his head, “No, you don’t. Bailey can do it. You need to stay here with me and calm down or you’ll make yourself sick.”

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itsgrimeytime · 11 months

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The Nurse (Part Five) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil @timotheesrealgf

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, hallucinations, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Much happier vibes this time around, but I figured a story like this one should be a little bittersweet. This one has got the good stuff. (Farmer Rick, patching up his wounds, TENSION, etc.) Also sorry if you're good at juggling, this is no longer realistic for you lol. Thank you for reading. ]]

"Alright," you hummed, bandaging up the hand, "-just try and keep the bandage clean, we're really only worried about infection."

Glenn nodded, simply just listening to you, "Right."

"Oh," you remembered, grabbing up just two bandages and antiseptic, "-and here's some replacements, just in case you get into something that can't wait."

"Got it," Glenn spoke, standing and kind of roaming towards the door, "-and how often should I check in with you?"

"Once a week," you answered, "-just to make sure the inflammation has gone down."

With confirmation and a smile that only Glenn could produce on prison grounds, your space was empty. You'd had a makeshift area down in one of the front offices of the prison because, well, the medbay was currently... off limits, so to speak. Your most important supplies, though, stayed on your person -certain medicine types and a few medical instruments in a fanny pack often hanging over your shoulder (unless you needed your hands).

You sighed, wiping your hands off with a spare rag, pushing your fingers into your temples for a bit of headache relief. It wasn't hurting in that moment, but you could feel the pressure building, keeping an eye on yourself was hard enough as is.

It was really not the time.

Muttering, you rifled through a few of your drawers -trying to keep track of the supplies was key to this working out in the long run. So, you were running through what you'd given out and what you still had. Eager to make lists for runners later on in the week.

Hershel still helped sometimes, so you couldn't always get the amount used down to a science, but you could get close enough. It worked.

"Hello?" a voice spoke, the drawl ever so familiar to you, "-Anybody in here?"

You, who were currently ducked behind a cabinet rifling through supplies, didn't even think about the fact you weren't visible, calling out, "Just a minute!"

"Alright," Rick hummed in response, seeming to trail off in his speech -looking at something else you assumed.

"Okay," you scribbled down some more numbers, before coming to eye level with Rick -focused and a touch playful, "-So, what can I do for you today, Mr. Grimes?"

Rick smiled, light and airy, "Mr. Grimes, huh? 'Been a long time since I heard that one."

You looked at him, donned in a plaid shirt and sweat dripping down his face -hands dusted in dirt, and pants even worse. But still, his blue eyes twinkled. Ever since he'd started to work on the farm, you'd seen that haze clear. He seemed to find it calming, easier to manage. You were happy for him.

"Too professional for you?" You hummed, trailing your fingers along some of the bandages -keeping count in your head.

Rick smiled before muttering off -tone soft and reminiscent, "Just feels like a different time."

The lull in conversation brought you back to the issue at hand, Rick was one to work as long as he could. Doing only a few checkups throughout the day, he'd found himself busy often. Or you guessed, you found him busy often; that was very much on purpose, though.

"Alright, enough of that, what do you need from me?" You questioned, fully focused on him now; the man had a tendency to under sell his injuries, so you'd need to see it.

"Hershel told me to come see you," he spoke, drawl slow and sure, "-I fell on one of the runs recently. Got a scratch on my chest. He patched it up a little, but-"

"He wanted me to take a look?"

"Yeah," Rick confirmed as you motioned to a chair -dousing your hands with some antibacterial.

He was sitting on a stool, one someone probably found in an old bar, the leather was worn, and the metal squeaked loud any time you so much as breathed. It would work.

You took your place beside him, pulling out some extra bandages, "Which side? And what exactly did Hershel do?"

"My right," he answered, and you moved to that side, "-and just cleaned it and bandaged it up tight."

"Okay," you noted, grabbing a few extra things (most likely looking like a chicken with your head cut off) before spinning around. Where he was sitting as still as a statue, "-Rick? You okay?"

He blinked, eyes cleared of the daze he'd apparent found himself in, "Oh, yeah, sorry. It's just... nice."

"Nice?" You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows together, and pulling up your own stool close to him.

"You," he paused, before stuttering through the rest -hand going to rub at the back of his neck, "-bein' in your element, I mean."

"Oh," you responded, softly -ignoring the soft blush rising to your ears, "-well, thank you."

He smiled at you, and the silent buzz was nice, warm even. You really couldn't dwell on it, though, not sitting this close to him.

"Alright, cowboy," you spoke, "-let's see."

Rolling his eyes at 'cowboy', you assumed anyway, his hands made quick work of the edge of the shirt, pulling it up in a swift movement. Just an edge.

You held your breath, watching as unblemished skin matched your eyes, and suddenly, you realized that it was much higher than you'd anticipated. So, that wasn't going to work.

"Rick, I'm not pressuring you into anything, but-" you spoke, kind and soft, this was a personal boundary, you'd treat it as such, "-I think the shirt's going to have to come off."

There was a moment there, where he just stared at you in silence -eyes focused and intent- and you were truly worried you'd just crossed a boundary.

"If you're not comfortable with that-"

"No, no," he shook the motion off, clearing his throat to himself -to clear the air maybe, "-it's alright. Just been a while."

You laughed, tilting your head a bit in curiousity, "Since what, exactly? Since you took your shirt off? Rick, you did that yesterday-"

"Oh?" he hummed, a smirk peeking at his lips, "-Didn't know I had an audience."

"Ha, ha-" you rolled your eyes, ignoring the buzz of warmth that hit your cheeks -he could not see that, "-you're just stalling."

Rick raised his hands in defeat, smiling at you in a way that you wish you could keep for yourself for later. His smiles had always been so bright, you supposed that was why you could notice when it was absent for a while.

Digging through your bag, you saw movement out of the corner of your eye, the fluid motion quick -so quick you'd hardly noticed it, really. He'd done it enough, you assumed.

Not the time, you chastised yourself, not letting your mind linger on that fact. Not now, you were professional.

"Okay," you pulled out some of the materials you may need, "Let's see what you've-"

Your eyes flew up to see his chest, which was bandaged, wrapped tightly around his sternum. They had gone over his right shoulder and under his left arm, the blood stain just a bit under his collar bone and down from there. It didn't seem too long, based solely on the pattern.

You were completely focused now, eyes drawn across the bandage and fingers dancing along the stain, "Did Hershel tell you how deep it was?"

"No," Rick answered, and it took you a bit out of you to hear him so close -drawl low and gravely, "-we didn't have much time. Needed to stop the blood, I'd guess."

Fingertips fluttering over the torn edges of the bandages, you could feel the heat of his skin a breath away. You pursed your lips, these bandages were quite worn, "And when was this?"

"About a week ago," Rick answered.

"Rick..."

"I know, I hear you," he started, explaining himself, "-it was the last run, ran over a bit. Had to camp out, remember?"

You hummed in confirmation -relaxing in the slightest, before continuing, "Did you have somebody check it then?"

"Couldn't chance it," he explained, tone soft and earnest, "-any fresh blood woulda been dangerous."

"Okay," you exhaled, "-okay. I understand, Rick, you shouldn't have to explain yourself to me."

Rick interrupted tone solid and unwavering, "I want to. You should- No, I want you to know."

"Okay," you whispered, softly, a bit speechless at the admitance, "-thank you."

There was a fizzling there, as you sat a breath away from him -fingers laid gently on his chest and barely a bandage between your fingertips and his skin. You could even feel the heat there, gentle gusts against your fingertips.

You took the biggest breath you could take without startling the man, deep and focused. Not the time to let your mind wonder.

"Okay, I just need-" you pulled back, the fizzle dissipating and began searching for one of your sharp edges... particularly one you could wipe down ahead of time, "-here it is."

Within seconds, you'd doused the instrument in whatever you could nearby, wiping it solidly with a cloth that has been safely sealed ahead of time.

"You're fast," Rick spoke up, eyes apparently watching you as your roamed around the room -gathering a few extra things in case of worst case scenario.

"You'll get used to it," you smiled, chuckling and making your way back to the chair -where he sat, his own little smile on his face, "-Alright, so, first order of business, Rick."

He blinked, and sat up a bit straighter in your gaze.

"If anything hurts, you tell me," you asserted, eyes connected to his directly, "-this will go as comfortably as it can."

"'Course," he answered, serious and eyes unwavering, before cracking a smile, "-plus, can't disobey doctor's orders, can I?"

You snorted, scooting in closer and trying to find a comfortable place to start, "Whatever you say, Grimes."

He laughed, small but still felt nice against your ears and on instinct, you smiled brightly. He was contagious. To you, anyway.

With a steady hand on the tool and the other gently holding his shoulder, you gently pressed it along the bandage. The threads unweaving themselves with the movement, almost like a seam breaking, it seemed quite fluid.

Gently peeling back the bandages, which were solidly tightened around his skin, your fingers drifted across the newly exposed skin. Even for just a second and your heart would jump out of your chest. You held the hitch in your breath without thought -you really needed to be focused right now.

And there it was.

The cut wasn't too much to look at. It was thin -the edges were a bit dirty from the worn bandage you assumed. No telltale symptoms of infection, you let out a hum of relief.

"Good," you spoke, mostly to yourself, leaning back from his space -sorting through your supplies.

Rick spoke, questioning, "Everything alright?"

"All good," you answered, hands preoccupied, "-just needs a bit of cleaning up. You're lucky, though. It's healing on its own."

"Lucky?" he hummed, watching you move across the space -eyes trailing behind you.

"Would've needed stitches, otherwise," you answered, dousing the cloth in your hands, "-although, I'm sure a scar would fit you well, cowboy."

Rick chuckled, motioning towards his other shoulder, "Already got one."

You paused, looking towards the shoulder; there it was. The wound you knew him from. It reminded you of so long ago, your coworkers, your friends, your boss-

"Right," you hummed, settling down back into your chair, "-I remember."

He shook his head, a little in disbelief, "Right, you were there."

"I was," with a distant hum, you pushed forward -warning before you started, "This might sting a bit. Feel free to keep talking if it helps. I'm told I'm a good listener."

"Oh, really?" his tone quirked in interest, and you could feel the familiar playfulness seep into his tone.

"What? You don't think so?" you questioned, gently dabbing at the cut -soft and gentle.

"No," he began, voice smooth and gravelly, "-just wonderin' what you aren't good at."

"Well, I could tell you that, cowboy," you smirked -the peek of a smile on your lips, "-if that's what you want."

He chuckled, slightly wincing as you cleaned the skin around the cut, "I'm all ears."

"Hmm, let's see," you hummed, pulling back and unraveling some bandages, "-I've never been good at juggling."

Rick laughed, his body leaning forward, his shoulder bumping into yours. There was a buzz there, between your skin and his - and your nose filled with the familiar smell of just... musk, strong wood tones, and a bit of dirt.

You blinked, bringing yourself back down from your head, where Rick was looking at you with a smile -the crinkling by his eyes sending warmth through your skin, "What?"

"Juggling?" He questioned, "That's all you got?"

"No," you laughed, pulling out the bandage and holding your hand in the beginning place of the wrap, "-you didn't let me finish."

"Go right ahead," he spoke, his tone lilting to a tease -you knew it well.

"Don't try me, Grimes," you tsked, before rearranging your hands, to hold the bandage in place, "-here, hold this."

Unflinchingly, he moved his hand where yours was -his fingertips (calloused) brushing against yours with a spark. You try to school your facial expression, cursing at the rising pink on your cheeks. Just because he was pretty and the low drawl of his voice was insanely attractive-

"Okay," you threaded the bandage around his shoulder, leveling to his eyes but not looking there -preoccupied with the placement, "-now. Something I'm not good at... You know, I used to think I wasn't good with kids."

"Really?" Rick asked, disbelieving, and you could feel his breath on your face -puffs of breath across the bridge of your nose.

"Yeah," you answered, humming as your hands completed the motion, "-why? You don't believe it?"

"I don't," He answered, simply and honestly, "-just... You with Judith and Carl... I'm surprised you ever thought you were bad at it."

"Well," you hummed, feeling oddly flattered, "-thank you."

"No, actually-" he began, tone a bit unresolved, "-I never... I never thanked you for taking care 'em. When I was..."

"Rick..." you interrupted, looking into his eyes -attentive and gentle, "-you don't have to."

"No, no, I do," his voice was thick with earnestness, "-I wasn't. I couldn't even think straight... And you- And everybody took care of 'em for me. You deserve a thanks."

You faltered, blue eyes so open and honest -it was so familiar, the same stare burned in your head so long ago. The one you couldn't shake as you watched over him when the world was falling apart, still stuck to your brain as you ran through the woods scared of every step you heard.

It would never leave, not now.

There was a cut along his cheekbone, thin, maybe from a tree branch snapping in his face. Your hand almost naturally went to it, to trace it with your fingertips. You held it back, fingers tightening on the bandage slightly.

"Rick," you hummed, holding your hand where it was -despite your instincts being elsewhere, "-it's really nothing. I'd do anything for them. For you, even. You needed your time, I'm not- You're a great father, you just couldn't be one then. So I helped, really."

He stared at you, eyes bright and warm -he looked like he was just analyzing you. Eyes skimming across your face in rapid succession, like he was trying to understand you, dissect you.

"Okay," he sighed, a hand laying on top of yours -soft, gentle, it sent a shiver down your spine, "-okay."

You exhaled, shaky and your head filled with a fuzz of intimacy, affection, that you hadn't felt in so... long. You felt safe, here with him. Seen amidst the darkest things you'd ever laid eyed on was Rick, and his open vulnerability that you could never shake.

Slow breathing, you had a thought. Just one thought and your eyes almost dipped to his lips. It felt so natural then, just lean a bit forward and-

Clearing your throat, you shook your head before scooting back just a touch -you couldn't think, not with him so close. The buzz under your skin was so strong, and you sat a breath away, it was easy to fall into it.

"Let's uh-" you stammered slightly, "Let's get you patched up, okay?"

Rick swallowed (you watched his Adam's apple bob for a second before dragging your eyes away), eyes darted to yours for a split second, and he nodded.

Without much more thought, you tightened the bandage around his chest -enough to allow it to heal without exposure. As the bandage ran thin, you carefully lifted his hand, which was heavily calloused from the days work against your own, and sorted out the ends.

Just like you'd done it often, rhythmically.

"Keep an eye on that," you spoke, pulling back and sorting through your supplies, "-if anything, and I mean anything feels wrong, come to me."

Rick hummed, eyes hazily focused on you -it kind of made you giddy, "'Course."

"You sure you listening?" You asked, smirking to yourself, "Everything alright?"

"Just... you too," he spoke, tone cautious and honest.

"What?" You tilted your head, turning around to view him in your curious.

"The headache," he hummed, not standing up yet -as he slipped on his flannel, hands working on the buttons.

"How-" you began, pursing your lips, "How did you-"

"Saw ya on the way in, with the temples," he added, fingers working their way up the shirt, nimble and practiced, "-high time you took a break, you know."

"I have," you spoke, stuttering a bit, "-I am."

Rick smirked, bright and boisterous, "Is that when you're lookin' at me shirtless?"

"Yeah, yeah," you hushed him, waving him off with a passive smile and a blush buzzing up your cheeks, "-get your laughs out now, cowboy."

He laughed, trailing towards the door but not stepping out of it -feet stayed solidly in your space, like he didn't really want to leave. It made you bite back a smile.

"But, seriously-" Rick continued, smile fading slightly and eyes leveling to yours as he put his hand on your shoulder, and leaned forward to brush his lips across your forehead -his words exhaling along your skin.

"There's people who care about you, ya know?"

"Okay," you whispered, placing your hand over his on your shoulder, "-okay."

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Note

I am IN LOVE with your writing! I’m a dedicated reader! 💓💓 thanks for taking the time to do it!

Hear me out. Reader pulls a 24 hour shift in the local clinic on a busy day and we get a protective worried din?

He would also be busy but he would definitely pull reader out and make her take a nap AT LEAST. 😂 anyway, I just thought that would be cute to think about.

I hope you have a wonderful day and keep up the good work!

[a/n: anybody wanna guess how many times it took me to try and post this b/c tumblr wanted to keep glitching and destroying it?? FUCKING FOUR. lord, im gonna go scream in a pillow. anyways, thanks anon for the great idea! also pls consider this my apology for the cliffhanger that i am so sorry (but not really) for.]

'A FRESH START' DELETED SCENE

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: reader overworks herself, mentions of injuries (burns specifically) but not in great detail

Word Count: 1,934

Summary: Everyone needs a break, and Din is hell bent on ensuring you don't skip yours.

#MID 17: TAKE A BREAK, DOC

[so not between chapters, but a scene within one of the time breaks in chapter 17.]

"be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but take care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that's you." -unknown

Trying to get the emergency clinic established was not easy. You agreed to the job, and Karga had given you free reign. The High Magistrate was essentially allowing you to run the clinic as you saw fit. Which in part was fantastic because it gave you incredible freedom, but it was also your worst nightmare. All your training had taught you was how to handle the medical aspect of an office. The business and organization side was a whole other issue. Especially because the people of Nevarro were not understanding that this was for emergencies only.

“My ankle hurts.”

“Alright, when did this start? When did you get hurt?”

“I twisted it while jogging three years ago.”

“You⏤ Wait, what?”

In order for this to work the way it needed to, you’d have to focus on actual emergencies only. Alone you would never be able to handle the patient load that would come with servicing an entire city. Plus, you really didn’t want to. The amount of time it would take to even attempt that was insane, and Din needed your help with Grogu.

So, the plan would be to establish that this clinic was emergencies only, emphasize it to everyone who walked in the door, but for today you’d manage all the small, routine problems.

Just for today.

By lunch time, you had already seen 47 patients. None of which were emergent. In fact, the biggest injury was a young man who had dropped a glass plate at home and accidentally cut his hand. He needed four stitches.

“Aayla?”

“Four more in the waiting room, doctor!” Aayla called out without even having to be asked the question. She was a gift from the Maker today. Already, you had decided to try training her more in depth medically and hire someone else to work the front desk. “You also have a guest.

“What?” You breathed, barely able to catch her words.

Aayla didn’t need to repeat herself because that was the moment Din swept into the room with the same confident strut he naturally seemed to have. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as your lips curled up into a smile.

“What is going on?” Din asked as he drifted closer to you. There were still two patients sitting on cots waiting for you to finish with them, but Din commandeered your attention by settling his hand on your lower back and staring down at you. Even through the helmet you could feel his concerned gaze. “Why are you so busy? I thought you were hired for emergencies only.”

“I was, but apparently nobody told all of Nevarro that.”

Din stiffened. “Did Karga⏤”

“No. I don’t think he tricked me into this or that this was on purpose.” You said quickly. “And everyone who comes in, I’m telling them that from now on it’s emergencies only.”

“But today?”

“Today, I am seeing every Nevarro citizen.” You chuckled. “You want a check up, Mando?”

“Ner kar’ta,” Din shook his head, “Have you taken any breaks at all?” You shot him a sheepish smile. “Come. Let’s get lunch.”

“I can’t. I’ll just get further behind.” You mumbled. Din looked like he was ready to argue with you. In fact, his hands even drifted to his hips as his head tilted. You had seen him take on the same stance before lecturing Grogu. You wrapped your hands around his forearm and gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry I’m bailing on you for lunch.” He sighed. “You poor thing, now you’ll have to spend more time with Mayfeld.”

Din huffed and you chuckled. Aayla called out that more people were filling the space, and for a second you thought the Mandalorian Marshal was considering sending everybody home just so you could have a moment for lunch. You squeezed his forearm.

“Fine.” Din grumbled.

“Also, I know this won’t help my argument or convince you of anything, but,” You scrunched your nose with a small wince, “Do you think you can pick up Grogu today?”

Din seemed taken aback based on his voice alone, “How long do you plan on staying?”

You knew his question was one more focused on the concern of you staying here for too long versus him being upset that you couldn’t get Grogu. When you shot him another sheepish smile he just grumbled under his breath in Mando’a. Din caught you off guard by leaning forward to lightly rest his forehead against yours for a second.

“This conversation isn’t over.” Din said simply and you just chuckled in response.

He squeezed your hand once before leaving and you were forced to return to the patients you had. Ten minutes passed at the most, you got two patients out with Aayla’s help, when Din’s heavy footfalls returned. You glanced over your shoulder to see he was holding a bag of food. He crossed the space to set the bag in your hands and you peered in to see it was your favorite sandwich from the local shop. Your eyes glanced back up at him with a grin. The warmth of being seen and known settling in your chest.

“Eat.” Din said firmly.

“Thank you.” You replied. “I’ll eat it as soon as⏤”

“No.” He interrupted. A tilt to his head and a challenge in his voice. “I’m not leaving until I watch you take a few bites. At the least.”

You rolled your eyes, in good nature, and handed him the bag so you could wash your hands in the sink off to the side. On your way back to Din, you asked Aayla to bandage one patient’s knee and get imaging of another patient’s hand. Din had already pulled out your sandwich to set on the desk you had brought into the corner. Before you could reach for it, Din pointed to the desk chair. With a chuckle you dropped down into the seat, the first time you were off your feet all morning, and only then did Din push the sandwich toward you.

“Thanks.” You said after your first bite. More sincere than your last. Din was leaning against the desk beside you. Close enough that your arm could press against his thigh if you moved it over even an inch. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Apparently, I did.” Din chuckled. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have eaten at all.”

You couldn't argue. Instead, you just shook your head, “Not gonna lie, I always did have a bad habit of getting caught up in my work.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Doctor, can you take a look at this?” Aayla called out.

You quickly took one last, large bite of your sandwich before standing. Din pushed off the desk to tower over you again. He nodded. “I’ll pick up Grogu, but if you’re not home by 5 I’m coming back to drag you home.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You teased.

Din leaned over to lightly tap his forehead against yours and you chuckled. He reached over to pick up your sandwich and held it up towards you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t budge. Rolling your eyes, you leaned over and took another bite. Holding a hand over your mouth, tucking the food into your cheek, you spoke. “Happy?”

“Yes. Be careful. Message me if you need anything.”

You watched him leave with a bemused smile.

Never before had you been so acutely aware of the saying ‘when it rains, it pours’. Today had already been stressful and busy so it would make sense that at 4:25 in the afternoon an actual emergency rolled in. Nothing to test and stretch your skills like having to handle a trauma case after a full day of working. There had been an incident, on the other side of this world deep in the lava plains, where a group of smugglers got a bit too close to a river of lava with their weapons and nearly blew one another sky high.

The least injured of the three had flown them in. She had some superficial burns all along her left side. Then the other two had third degree burns that required some serious fluid replacement. You didn’t stop working, barely paused to take a breath, until all three were stable and resting comfortably. Only then did you drop down into your desk’s chair and rest your head on your arms with a sigh.

About twenty minutes later, a pair of hands settled on your shoulders, squeezing in comfort, and you would’ve been startled if you didn’t recognize the creak of Din’s leather with the comforting smell of his flight suit’s detergent and the polish used on his beskar.

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“8:42.”

“You’re nearly four hours late.”

Din squeezed your shoulders once more before letting a hand settle on the back of your neck. You found the weight of it grounded you. “I got here at 4:50. Saw you were busy with something important. Left then came back.” His thumb caressed your skin, and you pushed your head up to glance at him. Din had the hand not on your neck resting on the desk. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” You mumbled and rubbed your face with one hand. “Grogu?”

“He’s with Peli. Missed you at dinner though.” Din replied. “He acts up when you’re not around.”

“No, no. He’s a perfect angel, always.”

Din snorted at that, and the sound made you chuckle. You glanced over at the cots that held the three smugglers who slept soundly. All their vitals still stable. Din’s hand slipped down to rub your upper back soothingly. “You coming home?”

“I can’t. Not until the emergency shuttle gets here to pick those three up.” You sighed. “They have to be at a facility with a higher level of care than just me.”

“‘Just you’ saved their lives.”

“You know what I mean.” You shrugged. “You should go though.” Din tilted his head. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for the ship to get here. I already sent Aayla home. I’m just babysitting right now. You should pick up Grogu and head home. Get some sleep.”

Din shook his head as if it were the stupidest thing you had ever said. He gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm and pulled you up from your seat. You let him drag you along to the fourth cot in the room which was currently empty. “You sleep. I’ll babysit.”

“Din…”

He lightly pushed down on your shoulders until you were seated on the cot. You stared up at him in question, but he just shook his head. “If something changes with their status I’ll wake you.” Din pushed you down a little further so you were laying down. The moment your body hit the relatively soft bed you felt yourself sink into it with exhaustion. Din went to walk, but you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the cot as well.

“You can babysit while laying down, can’t you?”

“My armor isn’t gonna be much of a pillow.”

“Neither is this cot.”

Din chuckled and dropped down to lay beside you. You rested your head on his chest, the cool metal of the beskar biting into your warm cheek, and just sighed. It hadn’t occurred to you how tired you truly were until now. Din had an arm wrapped around you so he could grasp your shoulder with his hand and use his thumb to trace patterns there.

“Take a break, doc.” Din hummed. “I got you.”

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition @thelovelyhann @harrys-sunflower-bakery @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #female reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #fluff #comfort #nanny!reader #doctor!reader

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ynscrazylife · 1 year

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Can i request a greys anat. fic? Where addison is newley devorced from derek and is falling head over heals for intern reader and gets v teased for it by mark, derek and callie? (I am only on s3 of greys anatomy and i love it sm!)

Addison Getting Teased for Liking an Intern | Blurb

It definitely took some time after the divorce for the awkwardness around Addison, Derek, and Mark to go away and it was difficult for all three of time. After some long and hard conversations, Addison and Derek came to the mutual agreement that their divorce was for the best and began to sort things out between themselves and with Mark (both individually and together).

Their past was still a bit of a touchy subject but they were getting there, which is why it came as a surprise when Mark noticed Addison and Callie standing together and made a comment. “Wow, I haven’t seen Addison look at someone like that since she met Derek in med school,” he joked.

Derek, who had been standing with Mark, and Callie both followed Addison’s line of sight, only to see the new intern who the hospital had been gossiping about talking to Meredith by the stairs.

“Oooooh,” Callie teased, nudging her friend playfully with her elbow as Addison’s face immediately went the same shade as her hair.

She straightened her posture and made a show of rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, I wasn’t giving her any type of look,” she insisted.

“You were practically drooling,” Derek chimed in, teasing good-naturally with a smug look on his face. Maybe he was being a bit dramatic now.

Addison scoffed, though it wasn’t very convincing. “It’s nothing! She’s—she’s . . .” There were no words for her to say to escape from this.

“You’re head over heels, oh my god!” Callie exclaimed excitedly, even clapping her hands.

Addison’s face got redder by the moment. Mark opened his mouth to add something snarky in, when he stopped at the sight of you, the intern, walking over. “Doctor Montgomery!” You said cheerfully, wearing a bright and contagious smile.

Mark and Derek had to stifle snickers at how quickly Addison turned around. “Y-yes?” She said, straightening her coat.

“Would you mind if I discuss a patient with you? I just had some questions about the chart,” you said, holding the clipboard out to her.

Not trusting herself to speak, Addison only nodded with a small “mhm!”.

You pinched your eyebrows. “Yes, you do mind?” You asked, a little dejected.

Addison’s eyes went wide but Callie quickly swooped in to save the day. “She doesn’t mind! She has all the time in the world,” the resident said, practically pushing Addison towards you. You looked confused, but went with it.

As Addison walked away with you, she glanced over her shoulder to see the three doctors wearing shit-eating grins. Derek gave her a thumbs up, Mark was making a kissy face, and Callie was mouthing at her telling her to make a move. She gave them one fierce glare that only she could before turning back to you and refocusing her attention.

#addison montgomery #addison montgomery x reader #derek shepherd #meredith grey #callie torres #mark sloan #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy fanfiction #greys abc #greys anatomy x reader #doctor!reader #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfic

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simonsomeriley · 3 months

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please would you write for Ellie x doctor!reader in Jackson who looks after everyone and helps Ellie out after a patrol one day!

your wish is my command <3

1.3k words | gn!reader

You're walking on the slippery ice on the road of Jackson, you hear the sounds of children giggling through the streets, everything here just feels like home.

Even with the worries of whats going on outside, the little community you've all built together makes it at least a little bit better. Being able to help the people of your community, the children. Makes it all better, day by day.

In the morning, the elders go outside for their chit-chats and their coffee, watching the kids run outside. Playing football, drawing with chalk, finally being able to let kids be kids again.

The evenings are spent doing your jobs and your tasks, gathering supplies like wood, water refills, & food, the chefs are in the kitchen cooking up what they can make of what they have.

You, on the other hand, spend your evenings in the medical supply tent. Putting cartoon bandaids on kids' knees after they fall, stitching up some people who have fallen on the ice. And what you do best, take care of your self-proclaimed "hunters" after they've been out on patrol.

And the night time is spent with dim lights, cleaning up, & getting children ready for bed.

Your medical tent is usually up 24/7, just in case an emergency happens past usual work hours. If there has been a lot of cases in one day, usually the nice older lady that runs the bakery will get you a sweet treat as a reward.

You're just cleaning up the tent per usual in the afternoon, mopping the floor and sanitizing what tools you have. There had been Ellie's turn to go on patrol today, Ellie and Jessie together. They'd left a couple of hours ago, nothing seemingly out of order. Usually they'd stay out until it got dark, or in Joel's words "Testing God's patience."

You hear the sound of hooves, galloping, humans running to open the gates & lots of loud talking. It dies down after a while, you decide that it wasn't anything urgent. Assuming that if it was, you'd probably be called over for some look-overs for serious injuries.

You hear someone enter your tent, you look up from where you're sterilizing some needles. It's Jesse. He's alone. You'd just assumed Ellie came hand-in-hand with Jesse, realizing now that it wasn't the case.

"Anything happen, Jesse? Anything I need to get my emergency kit out for?" Jesse looks around, like he's familiarizing his surroundings, "Nah. To me? No. Ellie could use some help, though. Hopefully nothing too serious. She got some infected hangin' off of Shimmer,"

You stand up, gathering some items off of your desk and putting them in an over the shoulder bag, "She's fine though, right? No injuries, just some bruising I'm assuming?"

"If you're talking about the horse, Shimmer's fine. If you're talking about the human, Ellie's not lookin' too hot. Luckily the infected got off by the time we neared the gates. Think she hit her head pretty hard, though."

You walk over to the opening of the tent, where Jesse's standing in the makeshift "doorway", "I'll have a look at 'er. Make sure you get the horses in the stables, okay?"

Jesse backs up, walking out of the tent, "Sure, mom. Good thing there wasn't any major weather. The infected were hiding under the already fallen snow. No way to figure out whether there'd be infected under there or not. I'd say we made it out pretty good for how many of those monsters were out there,"

You're walking towards the gate now, some people are gathered there & discussing patrol curfew, horses & partners. You spot Joel by Ellie's side though, seemingly she looked fine a tad bit, bruised, with some minor cuts, you spotted no extreme injuries or anything major.

Jesse's walked over to the stables now, you approach Ellie with your bag over your shoulder, "How're you holding up, Ells? You aren't looking so hot,"

She whips her head around at the sound of your voice, from where she's standing talking to Joel. "I'm fine," of course. The default, tiring, awkward response. I'm fine.

"Really, I could take you to the tent and just get you checked over. Make sure you don't have any deeper-than-skin injuries that'll affect you later,"

She seems to nod and sigh in defeat, the all stubborn girl she is, and she walks with you by your side back to the medical tent.

"Jesse told me about the infected. Seemed pretty intense out there, huh? Glad Shimmer's alright and you aren't missing any limbs,"

She holds eye contact as you speak, looking away at the end of your sentence and widening her eyes, "Yet. Never know how many of those guys are out there, y'know? It's hard to tell in the winter time. S'like they run on freezing weather or something,"

You lift up the entrance of the tent for her as she leans down to get under it, "You're reckless, you know that? You should be more careful. Like Joel says, you only live once, at least make it worth the while," she winces as she bends down, and she tries to cover it up. You notice.

You sit her down at a chair with a pillow on the seat, "You're not very good at pretending, do you know that?"

The smug grin on her face tells you enough.

You dampen a washcloth in the sink, bringing it over to her and wiping at the dried blood stains on her face. Most of it disappears without trace. That's good, that means it's mostly coming from one place. Not many wounds.

She has an indent in her upper lip. You take note of it.

You ask her to take off her jacket, leaving her in just her band t-shirt and her jeans. You check her arms for any wounds, and once you reckon you've found every injury, you get out your needle and thread.

You figure the cut in her upper lip would heal on its own, recommending her some cleaning solution to keep on her bedside table.

You sew the cut in her arm together, from what looks like could broken glass or a hard slam against the ground.

You put a band-aid over the stitching, and you're now instructing her on how to keep the cut on her upper lip clean. She's completely out of focus with what you're saying.

You keep rustling in your stash, finding the cleaning solution and q-tips at last, demonstrating how to take care of it.

Her eyes are only focused on you. She watches you like you hung the moon and the stars up in the sky.

You come back to your senses after ranting about cleaning wounds & how to do it at home, and you realize that she's closer to your face than what you remembered. You could almost feel her cold-minty breath on your face if you focused hard enough. Her pupils are dilated.

It's been quiet for a while. Neither of you notice or bring it up. It's a comfortable quiet. A shared silence.

You feel her lip graze yours. You want to stop her. You want to tell her off for this so bad, you'd say, "Ellie, you have a fresh cut on your lip. This isn't a good idea," but still. You can't bring yourself to say it. Not when her closeness feels this good. This right.

She asks permission. After sitting in silence for the past couple of minutes, she asks permission, "Can I?" you freeze. You don't know what to say.

Her eyes are on you. You feel her heart rhythm. Her breathing. You nod your head to the best of your abilities when your head feels this clouded from her attention.

She leans in close, and the gap between your lips closes. You feel her lips on yours for long, a sweet, heart-warming kiss. You can practically feel her smirk against your face before you pull away.

"Might have to be reckless more often if this is what I get out of it,"

#simonsomeriley #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #gender neutral reader #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams hurt/comfort #ellie williams x female reader #doctor!reader #nurse!reader

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acidburnsthings · 5 days

Text

BUSSINES ONLY // DR3\\part one

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x doctor!reader

Summary: Over a break in Croatia, Daniel falls in love with the ... culture...

faceclaim: Maria Rutkis; various pinterest girls

Notes: ok i got my first request and i was so excited, and the fact that someone requested the reader be CROATIAN, makes me want to cry anywayy enjoy <3 also it will have a few parts cause i can

doctor_y/n

liked by collegue1, collegue2 and 224,784 others

doctor_y/n they weren't expecting it to be my turn to play music

collegue1 we didn't understand anything, so the dance moves were improvised

doctor_y/n i thought you had an epi... collegue1 mean...

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doctor_y/n

liked by collegue1, user1 and 230,446 others

doctor_y/n holding a lecture and doing a night shift? yeah, never again

user1 ughhh, if only you were my doctor, id always be sick

doctor_y/n please don't... user1 OMG YOU ANSWERED

collegue1 im not taking your night shift

doctor_y/n why tho

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danielricciardo

liked by landonorris, georgerusslle63 and 699,513 others

danielricciardo working away towards the summer, can't wait for the break

user2 ughhh, can't wait for the vacay pics!!!!

user3 omg, could you be going to italy for break??!!

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doctor_y/n

liked by user4, user5, klapa_lanterna and 347, 809 others

doctor_y/n ˝Neka su mu tisne kale kroz njeg´ ´tila bi proc´ kroz njeg´ na Rivu doc´ za vidit´ moj Split˝ - Mala Floramy

user4 wait you're not american??!!

doctor_y/n haha, no i mentioned it in one of my videos when first started documenting my life

klapa_lanterna the big boss returns!

doctor_y/n oh yes! and ready for another win this year klapa_lanterna dubrovnik will glow in our light!!

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danielricciardo

liked by georgerusslle63, user6 and 446,670 others

danielricciardo finally on break, Dubrovnik here I come!!

user6 CROATIA MENTIONED RAAHHH!!

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#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #doctor!reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #social media #social media au

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babyjackdaniels · 5 months

Text

#fox writes imagines #greys anatomy #greys #addison montgomery #addison montgomery x reader #greys anatomy imagine #doctor!reader #surgeon!reader #greys imagine #Addison Montgomery imagine #Addison Montgomery x reader imagine

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gurugirl · 1 year

Text

The Doctor & the Psychopath | A check-in*

Summary: You get a visit from someone you were not ever expecting to see again.

A/n: This is a check in to The Doctor & the Psychopath. If you want to understand this check-in you'll need to read the first one shot. BUT, you can read this as a standalone if you don't want to read the darker original one shot (this check-in isn't really that dark - but it's connected to the original so by default it is...). As always, read all warnings. And I'm sorry to all you who asked for this ages ago. I've neglected my lovers of the dark but here you are, a little something just for you. 2.7k words

Warning: Smut, violent cop interaction with mention of a gun, psychopath!harry x doctor!reader

Walking into your apartment feels so good after your long day. You’ve been having many long days since your incident with Harry Styles.

Somehow you got lucky when his brother-in-law never mentioned your indiscretion and you put in a request to send a new psychiatrist to take over. And that was that.

It had been the biggest mistake of your career. It could still come back to bite you somehow. You knew it would be quite hard to explain what had happened that day. You could say you’d been coerced and manipulated but then how do you explain everything else that went with it? His brother-in-law heard you moaning Harry’s name as you came around his cock, and all that led up to it… you knew better. You were still partially at fault and if you ever lost your license for what you’d done with a subject it would be warranted.

Pouring yourself a glass of red wine and linking your Bluetooth speaker to your playlist on your phone the stress begins to wash away.

You move your hips back and forth to the music as you walk into your living room. Setting your glass down on the coffee table you unzip the back of your skirt and shimmy out of it so that you're left in your panties and silk blouse. You put your arms overhead and stretch before going to flip on the light. You pad your way across the living room and the moment the light illuminates the room, you see something from your peripheral. Someone is in your home.

You turn slowly toward the offending intruder and your eyes widen and your heart races when you make eye contact with him. He's gotten into your home somehow. You've kept up with the case. He's still on house arrest at his sister's so you know he can't be here. He's breaking the rules.

"Harry. What are you doing here?" Your mouth goes dry. This man is dangerous and he's far stronger than you are.

Harry chuckles as he swings his leg to the ground so both of his feet are flat on the floor as he stays seated in your armchair, "Just coming to see you. I missed you and you haven't answered any of my calls since you ran out on me. Broke my heart." Harry spoke in nonchalance. Of course, you hadn't broken his heart. Harry was much too cold and unbothered to like someone enough to get his heart involved. He only loved himself.

"You shouldn't be here." You speak plainly. You are worried he's going to hurt you. You look down to his left foot and notice he's still wearing his house arrest bracelet.

Harry drops his gaze to where you're looking and he kicks his leg up before settling it back down again, "Oh yeah. They're probably trying to locate me now. I've been sentenced you know. It's official. I'm going to prison for being a cop abuser. Not because of any of the women, just because of the cop. If I hadn't touched Officer whatever-his-name-is then, I'd probably be off scot-free. Don't you think, Doctor?"

You shake your head and try to calm yourself. Harry had called you night and day for two weeks after you left and had another psychiatrist take over for you. The first time you answered was because you were curious about who was calling. If it was his brother-in-law or his sister and they were giving you a heads up that they were telling people about your indiscretions.

But when you heard Harry’s voice come through the receiver and the tone he used was casual, you hung up immediately.

“If you still have that on, that means they’re going to find you. Here,” you pointed toward the floor.

Harry pushed himself up and made three long strides toward you. You backed up and looked upward at him until you were bumped up against a cabinet. Harry put his hands on the wood frame of the cabinet near your head and caged you in with his body.

“S’okay. I just wanted to say goodbye to you. Was hoping you could give me a proper sendoff,” his smirk was quite frankly maddening. But he was hot. You swallowed down your thoughts and shook your head.

“How did you find out where I live?”

Harry dipped his face next to yours and bumped his nose to your temple, “Easy. You basically told me. And then I have your phone number so a google search with your number and your name gives me an address,” his proximity was once again making your head spin. He had something that was difficult to pinpoint but it was something that turned you on. You had clearly lost your mind.

“But how did you get in here?”

Harry moved one of his hands to the side of your neck, his knuckles brushing over your skin, “Also easy. Joe downstairs let me in. Told him I was your brother and I wanted to surprise you on your birthday. He was easy to convince so he got the spare key and let me right in.”

You scoffed. Goddamn Joe. He was the nicest doorman slash security guy but that was a problem when he was letting dangerous criminals into your apartment, “You shouldn’t be here, Harry.”

Harry’s soft knuckle on your neck turned into a palm wrapped around your neck, “There you go, calling me Harry. You know what that does to me. I let it slide the first time you said my name because I imagined you were in shock when you saw me here. But to say it again, when I’m this close to you? You want me. Don’t you?”

You closed your eyes. You tried not to imagine how nice he felt when he took you on his bed at his sister's house. You dreamt of his cock after and you hated yourself for it. It was dirty and it was wrong but it was all you could think of lately when you got off.

“That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one,” Harry squeezed the sides of your neck and moved his face so his lips were covering yours. Your body reacted before your brain had a chance and you were slipping your hands into his hair as he licked into your mouth. Harry rutted his hips into yours and it caused the cabinet to rattle behind your back.

Harry suddenly stood up straight and moved his hand from the front of your neck to the back and then pushed you toward your bedroom. You complied. What else were you going to do?

“Get on the bed,” Harry ordered and you climbed up to your bed and sat on your bottom, waiting for his next move.

Harry took his pants off and then moved over your body, pushing you down to the mattress by your neck. He had his palm over your throat when he crushed your mouth with his. You were pushed up, further onto the bed, with Harry hovering.

When he backed away from the kiss he put his fingers into the slots of your shirt buttons and began to undo them, but he was struggling to get the first one done so you brought your hands up to help him. You didn’t know why. This was wrong.

With your shirt open and your bra-covered breasts exposed, Harry pulled the cups down from your boobs and pulled your tits out. He ran his tongue over the flesh and kept looking up at you but you could do nothing but moan and close your eyes. When he began to bite you a little you jerked your head up and pushed at him but he only went in harder, making you yelp, “H… Harry!”

Harry stopped his nibbling and lifted his mouth from your nipple and shook his head, “You do want this cock. Jesus, baby. It’s coming,” he smiled down at you as he dragged a hand down your body and into your panties, pushing his fingers into your crease. He started to slowly circle your clit and then he put his mouth back on your breasts, one by one. With his other hand, he held your left leg down and groaned when he finally felt you wetting his hand.

He brought his lips down until he was at your hips and then pulled the material of your panties away from your crotch. He dipped down and kissed the top of your mound and you gasped but spread your legs to give him room. You really were losing it. Harry groped your tits as his mouth softly kissed your pussy, but then he began to lick into you and, his lips came into contact with your clit.

“Oh god…” you moaned and bucked upward into his mouth. Harry laughed but didn’t stop what he was doing to your pussy.

He pushed himself up a little and moved his hands down to hold both of your thighs down as he looked at your center, “Didn’t get the chance to taste you last time. Want more? Or are you ready for my cock now, doctor? I don’t know that we have a lot of time left, me and you.”

You turned your head and looked at the clock and squeezed your eyes closed again. Fuck this was not how you imagined tonight going down. You pulled at his arm and opened your eyes, “Fuck me, Harry.”

You wanted to feel it one last time. Harry’s big cock dipping into you. You knew he was going to go in raw again and you panted when you saw him pull out his dick from his briefs. Long and hard and just as pretty as you remembered. Harry was pretty in general, though. Harry adjusted your legs and he put himself in between your thighs, dragging his cock through your pussy lips just before he rocked forward and pushed himself in through your vaginal muscle, opening you up for him. You groaned and watched Harry’s mouth drop open.

“Better than I remember. Fuck… that’s good isn’t it?” He spoke as he began to hasten his thrusts. Little by little reaching deeper inside. Harry’s cock was long enough that it took a minute for him to get fully sheathed in you, but when it happened, when he was slipping into the hilt, you keened and moaned Harry’s name into the room. That deep ache was brutal inside of your body but Harry wasn’t going to be going gently with your pussy, you knew that. You didn’t want it gentle anyway. Not with Harry at least. Gentle could come with another man, maybe someone who was nice and who could be a good boyfriend. But Harry was not nice and he’d never be your boyfriend or your lover. Just a crazy man with a big cock who wanted to fuck you until you were drooling and coming. That’s all he wanted and that’s all you wanted.

Harry’s body was a work of art. His muscles moved and worked himself into you, his thick muscled thighs flexing and pushing him deeper and deeper into you. Harry’s hips were smacking into yours with brute force. Pat-pat-pat the sound almost in time with the music playing from your blue tooth. Harry’s breathy gasps were nice to hear. It made him seem more human. Harry was just a human deriving pleasure from your body and his noises were evidence of how good he was feeling.

You panted softly and winced each time Harry rutted his cock as far up into you as it would go. It hurt. It was poking into your cervix and you could tell you were going to be sore for a couple of days after this. Which had you smiling for some reason.

Harry readjusted your body again until he had your knees pressed into your chest and he began pressing himself down hard into you.

“Ahh! Harry! Ohhh…” you yelped. You could feel him pushing and pulling into your walls as he pounded away. You closed your eyes and let your mouth hang open wide. It hurt but it felt just like what you needed. A good hard fucking with a big long cock. Probably something you’d never experience ever again. Most guys were too scared to go so hard, and certainly, most of them weren’t as hung as Harry.

“Jesus fuck that feels good…” Harry groaned as he rocked into you.

You couldn’t form words to speak. You had your mouth dropped open and could only breathe with each heavy thrust of his prick.

Suddenly your cell phone began to ring. You turned your head and Harry’s hand came down over your neck as he yanked your face back toward him, “Pay attention to me… and my cock… that can wait,” Harry panted his words.

Soon your phone stopped ringing and Harry only went in harder and deeper until you were shrieking and trembling under him as your orgasm started to take over.

“S’right… fucking come, doctor. Yess…” Harry threw his head back when his hips got out of rhythm as he started to come inside of you.

When you heard pounding at your door just as you were moaning Harry’s name with your pussy clenching over his thick cock, Harry groaned as he spurted into you, stilling his hips. More pounding at your door as you both heaved in your breaths and came down from your orgasms.

“Harry… I have to get that. I don’t want them breaking it down,” you spoke to him as he laid heavy over your chest.

Harry pushed himself off of you and pulled out of your pussy. He held your thighs apart as he dipped down and put his tongue flat along your pussy from your entrance upward and then he let go of you and put his trousers on, a closed-mouth smirk on his face. You were quick to jump from your bed and throw on your robe. You felt Harry’s come dripping down your thigh as you quickly made your way to your door. Harry slid his shirt on just as you opened up. Your cheeks were red and your mascara was running down your face. Your hair was messed and you were still breathing heavily. Harry looked similar. He was breathing hard, sweat beaded up along his brow, and his hair was messed up from how you’d run your hands through it over and over again.

“On the ground!” Two police officers burst into your apartment and aimed a gun at Harry. He put his hands up and silently dropped to his knees and then laid on his stomach as they surrounded him and cuffed his hands behind his back. He turned his head and looked at you, that smirk still on his face as they lifted him to his feet. A third cop approached you and pulled you aside, “Are you okay?”

You nodded and smoothed your robe down. You knew you looked disheveled. They probably imagined he attacked you.

One of the cops asked Harry something but Harry just stood up straight and kept his mouth closed.

“I asked you a question,” the cop said as he stepped in closer to intimidate Harry. Harry smirked, his mouth kept closed and he jerked his head, motioning for the cop to step in even closer. The moment the cop was an inch from him, Harry leaned in and pressed his mouth to the cop’s. You watched Harry open his mouth and stick his tongue out and the cop jumped back and then punched Harry in the face.

The cop spit onto your floor and then looked at Harry, who now had a bloody nose, “What the fuck was that you piece of shit?!”

Harry laughed and licked his lips before he spoke slowly and clearly, “That was my come. Tastes pretty good doesn’t it?”

The cop gagged and bent forward before looking back at Harry and lunging toward him but the other police officer grabbed the offended cop and held him back, “He’s lying to you! He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Stop!”

The two cops escorted Harry out of your apartment but not before Harry turned back to you and winked, “I’ll see you around, doctor.”

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Tags: @victoria-styles @michellekstyles @ssaama @sombrioinvernoemveneza @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @dancinsunflowerkiwi @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @evelynlarue @chaptersleftunwritten @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @theroosterswife24

#harry styles smut #psycho!harry #psychopath!harry #doctor!reader #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #firstpost #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

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gemini-sensei · 1 month

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Surgeon!Eli Moskowitz thoughts 🧑‍⚕️

He works as a pediatric surgeon specializing in plastics, like clefts and reconstruction. He works hard to make those situations for kids not so scary and always wears a smile so kids don't associate scars with scary situations or bad feelings like insecurity.

He also lets kids call him Dr. Eli.

Kids adore him and parents love him. He's great with everyone and gives everyone the best care and attention. No one gets special treatment but he does have a soft spot for the kids that come in with clefts.

He gets recommended so much he doesn't know what to do with all the families that come to see him. He often has to recommend other surgeons because his workload is a lot. He also travels sometimes for special cases where his expertise is needed. It's a lot but he loves the work.

He's doing a great job but then a new pediatrics doctor transfers to the hospital he works at. Things become a little complicated after that... at least in his personal life.

Reader is a phenomenal doctor and he's rather admiring of her work with kids. She was head of the peds department at her old job but gave it up for some reason that she won't disclose. That's okay, that's no one's business, so long as it doesn't interfere with her work, which it doesn't.

She and Eli see a lot of each other. They pass each other in the halls, give second opinions on cases, and eventually have lunch together. He likes her a little more than he thinks he should. But he can't help it. She's amazing.

It doesn't take long for them to start flirting with each other. Sometimes when they're just standing around, he puts his arm around her and feels up her pudge waist (away from childrens eyes ofc) and makes her giggle. All while keeping the childrens ward as happy and bright as possible.

And then she asks him to cover her patients for a few days while she's away. He doesn't ask questions and lets her be. There's no reason for him to snoop through her business. And then she's back and things are as if it didn't happen to begin with. She seems fine, so he doesn't ask.

Then they end a shift together and he drives her to her apartment. She invites him inside and they hook up, like they didn't see that coming. But it's in the morning that he learns what she's been hiding.

A brick comes through her window early in the morning, waking them up and she screams not knowing what's happened. Eli being Eli takes a protective stance and searches the house in nothing but his boxers. He finds the brick but nothing else and he thinks its just some pranksters or something, but she tells him no.

She admits that she's been going through divorce proceedings and just signed the papers those few days she was away. That was weeks ago but she tells Eli that her ex-husband is a bit obsessive. Even though he's the one who cheated and caused them to divorce. He's mostly upset she left and moved across the country to get away from their old life together. She makes it clear they were separated before she ever started talking to Eli romantically, but he isn't worried about that.

"I'm only worried about your safety," he tells her as they look at the brick and broken glass on the floor of her living room. "I don't have to tell you this, but if that would have hit you, it would have seriously hurt you."

She nods. "I know..."

They call the cops and make a report, but there isn't a lot that they can do now since it's so early and no one is around. She understands and they spend the day talking to cops, cleaning up glass, and covering up the window. They hardly have a relaxing day before they have to go in to work the next.

Despite what happened, Reader acts happy and smiley around her young patients. However, Eli can see she's not okay. And that behavior goes on for weeks as she has trouble sleeping in her apartment. He wants to do something about it, but what can he do?

He ends up staying at her apartment a lot more. They're unofficial but he doesn't care. He wants to be there in case her ex-husband or anyone else tries anything again. They don't. It seems to have been a one time thing, but he doesn't care. She tosses and turns in her sleep every night she's there and it gets to the point that she isn't getting any good sleep whatsoever. Not good for a doctor.

She's downing a double shot expresso one morning, rambling on about how she can't move because of the lease and she wouldn't even know where to go. Eli is with her, listening to her, being her person to lean on, when he suggests that she move in with him. She stops in her tracks and looks at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, I pretty much spend every night with you already," he laughs.

She hugs him tight and kisses him, calling him, "My knight in shining doctor's coat."

He gets her out of her lease agreement and she doesn't even ask her apartment manager for her any money back. She just wants to get out of there. He even paid for the window to get fixed and that was enough for the apartment manager. They were on their way out and it was great.

They never really talk about what they are. They are just what they are. If co-workers or parents of patients perceive them as being together, they don't stop them. They don't mind it but they won't talk about it. Both are worried talking about it will ruin it. So neither of them talks about it. It isn't something that they have to talk about... until their chief asks them whether they're going to make it official for the hospital's records. Then they have to confront what they are and whether it's something worth putting a label on.

Spoiler alert: it totally is.

#surgeon!eli #doctor!reader #eli hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz x chubby reader #eli moskowitz smut #eli moskowitz #hawk moskowitz x reader #hawk moskowitz smut #hawk moskowitz x chubby reader #hawk moskowitz #cobra kai #cobra kai headcanons #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #cobra kai x plus size reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #gemini sensei

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farfromstrange · 3 months

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER SEVEN: Downward Spiral

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After agreeing to go on a date with Matt, you start realizing the weight of your decision, and your thoughts begin spiraling. In a moment of need, you turn to the only close friend you have in Hell's Kitchen, hoping she can pull you away from the edge of the very steep cliff your trauma is trying to throw you into.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST (the caps feel appropriate here), mentions of domestic violence, suicidal thoughts, allusions to a suicide attempt, allusions to sexual assault, mentions of being taken advantage of by a superior, (I guess you could say) mentions of hypersexuality, self-loathing, PTSD, some foreshadowing, mental breakdown, alcohol, Season 1 related plot (spoilers)

Word Count: 6.4k

A/n: Surprise! I'm posting early because I'm going to see my family this weekend, and after I had an epiphany at two in the morning and spent 3 days writing this, I got it done, and I'm actually quite proud of this (or maybe it's the caffeine). Anyway, heed the warnings because the topics of conversation in this are pretty dark. That's why I highlighted the angst. And if you haven't watched past episode 1 of Season 1, this might spoil some things for you. (Also, I have no idea how this turned into a beast with a word count over 6k. Sorry in advance.)

Read Chapter 7: Downward Spiral here on AO3

You don’t know what came over you.

You typed in Matt’s number in a moment of weakness, and once you heard his voice through the line, you gave up on being careful. You gave up on denying yourself what you’re so desperately craving, and you abandoned all rational thought.

For him.

You promised not to get attached to someone ever again—let alone a man. You started a new life in Hell’s Kitchen to find your way back to normalcy. You took all the necessary precautions, and even though you look back at the shreds of your old life every day, you are never going back.

Two years. That is the longest you have managed to stay in one place ever since you left California. But you still haven’t found your way back into the real world.

You have been guarding yourself, afraid of having your heart broken, afraid of losing this chance at a new life, and afraid of the man who ruined you.

Every time you close your eyes, you see his face. You hear his voice in the back of your mind. He’s everywhere, even when you don’t want him to be.

It’s easier to put a wall between yourself and everyone else. A wall no one can break through, not even yourself. You trapped your soul for the sole purpose of keeping yourself alive after you made the hardest decision of your life. When you ran, you believed your life was over, but you have always been too much of a coward to end your misery. God knows you’ve tried, but even a trained doctor can’t fully understand death, and some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.

Drunken one-night stands can’t possibly compare to a meaningful emotional connection, but they satisfy the need for physical intimacy. At least for a little while. It killed you; slowly, almost pathetically, but sleeping with strangers in dirty motel rooms did a better job than you ever could.

For the longest time, you used sex as a coping mechanism. You let strange men use you because that is the only way you know how to be with someone else. You let them hurt you to feel something, anything because pain is better than feeling nothing at all. But when you finally got settled in Hell’s Kitchen, thanks to Claire, you stopped.

You locked up your heart and threw away the key. You started to shield your body the same way you have shielded your soul. You retreated into a shell of restlessness and constant fear of every little sliver of hope you feel being taken away from you.

You have nowhere else to run, which is why keeping a low profile is so important to you, but after two years, don’t you deserve to finally live?

We don’t exist to just survive; we exist to live the life we were given. You are Olivia Clarke now, not the broken girl you left behind, but every time you think about it, his voice returns and backs you into a corner that you can’t escape from.

Every time you see the scars on your body, all you want to do is rip the skin off your bones and feed it to the dogs.

The men you slept with while you were running from your past saw you as a mere object, and you are used to being seen that way, but it was isolating nonetheless. They didn’t care about your scars, they only cared about what you could give them. They treated you like he did without lifting a finger.

Even though you don’t do that anymore, it still weighs heavy on your wounded soul.

Matt treats you like a person. He can’t physically see, but he still sees you. He sees you in a way no one has ever seen you before. And he is gentle, and patient, and—

You scream into your pillow. Your nose still hurts, but it is nothing compared to how fast your heart is beating.

To you, Matt is perfect. You know that no one can be perfect, and you should be careful, but he makes you feel things you have long denied yourself. He makes you feel wanted. Desired. Like you can be yourself around him and still be worthy of his attention. Like you matter. And he has a certain way of being around you that makes you feel protected, almost.

You don’t need protection. You have made it this far without a bodyguard by your side. You know how to fight your own battles better than most, but you can’t deny that you wouldn’t mind being saved by him.

You wouldn’t mind those hands he always wraps around his cane to wrap around you instead. He can’t see your scars, but he can feel them, and as terrifying as that thought sounds, it also excites you.

You’re treading dangerous territory, but God, he won’t leave you alone, not even when you’re trying to sleep. He could offer you a sense of normal that you have long missed. He could teach you how to be a person again. And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself be cared for by him.

You roll back onto your back when you need to breathe, one of your hairs getting stuck to your lip. You let out an annoyed huff. There won’t be much sleeping tonight, you’re sure. Not when you keep thinking about tomorrow.

“You’re not fifteen anymore,” you mutter to yourself. “What is wrong with you? God!”

It’s almost too surreal to believe that this magnetic force of a man managed to retrieve some of your long-lost hope, and he only had to call you beautiful once for you to be completely smitten.

When he allowed you to take care of his injuries on the first day you met, you didn’t think a person could be this guarded yet so vulnerable at the same time. He’s breaking under an invisible weight that must have been on his shoulders for years, maybe even decades. You’re painfully aware of other people’s feelings, and it wasn’t hard to tell that Matt carries a lot of unresolved pain with him. Always. He reminds you so much of yourself, it’s like staring into a mirror. Two broken halves of a whole.

Your thoughts won’t stand still, no matter how hard you try. You’re stuck inside an invisible hourglass. Not even heaven knows what will happen once time runs out. You don’t understand why you’re overthinking this while, at the same time, knowing exactly why. And you hate it.

There is a part of you that you can never get back. A little girl who grew up too fast. A girl who didn’t know any better. A broken teenager who wanted nothing more than to escape and live a better life than her parents could ever give her, and when she did manage to escape one hell, she found herself in a new quarter of purgatory built just for you.

You used to think that maybe you just bring the worst out in people, but after seeing the worst of humanity outside of your broken relationships, too, you’re not so sure about that anymore.

The fact that you don’t understand why you can’t stop your usually so intelligent brain from spinning out of control makes you want to claw at the walls of your apartment that threaten to cave in on you.

Part of you wants nothing more than to run and never look back, but you can’t run forever. This time, you wouldn’t be running from the Devil; you would be running from a fear of your own feelings. Human feelings. Feelings that have a high likelihood of recurring, and then you will have to run again.

You can’t run from reality forever. It’s a different reality now, but it’s a better reality. That is a rational thought, but being rational currently has no place in your mind, so you’re spiraling, and all because a nice guy asked you out for coffee.

You find yourself in a cab a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sweatpants, and an oversized shirt, with an untouched bottle of wine in your bag. Your worn-down sneakers are not the appropriate footwear for today’s weather, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick another pair.

You’re aware that it’s late and maybe you should have texted, but you’re already here, and Claire told you that you could always come to her, even if it happens to be the middle of the night. If the rule still stands after she suddenly decided to stay at your co-worker’s place without a proper explanation, you’re not quite sure though.

You knock. At first, no response. You knock again. The floorboards creak on the other side of the door.

“Claire, it’s Liv,” you call out.

You can hear the exact moment the person inside the apartment starts to panic. The floorboards creak again, more frequent this time, and it sounds almost as if Claire is turning the room upside down. You raise your eyebrows.

Before you can knock again, the lock finally clicks, and she opens the door. She’s more of a mess than you are, and that is put lightly.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Claire greets you. “What are you doing here?”

You blink a few times. “Hello to you too?”

She sighs. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night.”

“I can see that,” you answer. “Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She looks you up and down. “What happened to your nose?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Can I, uh, come in?”

She hesitates before stepping aside to let you in. “Sure.”

You take a quick look around the apartment. Nothing seems out of place. A bowl of cat food stands in the corner by the kitchen. The window in the living room is open, but it seems intentional.

The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air. You’re not sure if your nose is betraying you as you breathe in, but the smell is familiar. Bandages, disinfectant, and salve. You don’t want to question it, but you can’t help it.

“Did you hurt yourself?” you ask.

Claire blows her nose behind you. If you didn’t know better, you would think she was actually sick. She shakes her head upon hearing your question, but there is a faint blush on her cheeks.

“What makes you think that?” she retorts.

“Oh, no particular reason. It just smells very… hospital-y. That’s why I asked.”

“I, uh, I had to put a bandage on my leg earlier ‘cause this stupid cat decided to scratch me after peeing everywhere.” She sniffs. “Had to clean the wound, that thing—“ she nods toward the cat sitting in the cat tree, “and then the apartment. Maybe that’s why.”

You follow her gaze toward the little furball resting on his cat tree. You approach him, but Claire seems less pleased at the prospect.

“Be careful. He’s pissed.”

“At you,” you correct her. “Also, you’re having an allergic reaction, and—if he really, honest-to-God scratched you—very probably an infection. Why are you even staying here?”

Your voice rises in pitch when you reach the sleeping cat. “Hello, you.” You stroke his fur. He only opens one eye to sniff you, but once he recognizes you, he starts purring. For a moment, you forget the reason why you even came here.

Claire exhales loudly. She scratches her neck, her skin threatening to break out into hives. “It’s a long story,” she says.

You glare at her over your shoulder, your hand still stroking up and down the cat’s back as he settles back into a deep sleep. “I’m worried about you."

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

“You called out of work and told Shelly you were sick.” You straighten up and turn back to face her. “You’re not sick, Claire.”

She sniffs as if to prove her point.

“Your immune system is overreacting by producing Immunoglobulin E. The antibodies are traveling to the cells responsible for releasing chemicals into your body, causing you to get a stuffy nose and break out into hives. You’re not sick. You’re allergic to cats and sharing an apartment with one. There’s a big difference,” you state. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you have to admit that, from where I’m standing, your behavior looks a little suspicious.”

“I’m going through some shit, alright?” she says. “And it’s a lot easier to deal with them here than back at my place. That’s why I called in sick.”

You don’t know what to make of her answer. It’s vague. You don’t like vague answers because they often indicate a bigger problem. It is one thing for you to deal with your demons on your own and refuse to talk about it with your best friend; it’s another thing entirely to keep a dangerous truth from the person you’re closest with, one that could potentially lead to worse consequences. If Claire were a naturally secretive person, maybe you would understand, but she isn’t like that. She isn’t you.

She’s the only person who knows your entire story. She saved your life. You can’t imagine her keeping secrets from you that might end up hurting her.

You dare to ask, “Are you in danger?”

She shakes her head a little too fast. “I’m fine, Liv. Really.”

“I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s…personal.”

“Personal? Oh, my. Are you sleeping with Luke again?”

Claire stammers. The look on her face suggests that she didn’t expect you to jump to that conclusion. “What? How did you even–”

“Are you?” you repeat your question.

The last time she slept with Luke Cage, she lied to you about it. She knew you would worry. It’s only natural for you to come to that conclusion now. Except that Luke is in prison, serving his sentence, and it doesn’t make sense.

“How would I sleep with an incarcerated man?” Claire deadpans.

“I’m sure you have your ways,” you say.

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“That’s… true, but it’s coming from a place of love.”

She responds with a sigh. “I don’t wanna fight.”

You join in. You exhale, slowly lowering yourself down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Just tell me you’re okay, please.”

She offers you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” she says.

“Thank you.”

You choose to believe her. For the time being, at least.

The silence tugs at your brain cells. You obsessed over Claire’s situation because you didn’t want to face your own, but now that your thoughts have regained the freedom to roam and cause irreversible destruction, you start spiraling again.

You reach into your bag.

“You brought wine,” Claire points out.

“Yep,” you say. The bottle weighs heavily in your hand.

“You need a glass?”

You unscrew the top. “No.”

She doesn’t listen. Claire makes her way into the kitchen, reaching for the wine glasses in the cupboard. “Does this have anything to do with why your nose is all blue and swollen?”

You shake your head at her question. “That was a patient I tried to sedate. No, I, uh… I have a date,” your voice falls flat.

The wine glasses move back into the cupboard. Claire turns around, her eyebrows moving up to her hairline. “Come again?”

“I have a date.”

Saying it out loud makes it real. Something so surreal cannot be real, but it is. You have a date with Matt Murdock. Your heart begins racing again, and you feel the same desperate urge to scream into the nearest pillow again.

You take a sip of wine straight from the bottle. You have a date with a nice man who, for the first time in two years, made you see some resemblance of light at the end of this endless tunnel of despair, and the thought alone is terrifying. Because how are you supposed to live after just existing for the longest time? After you dedicated your life to the act of survival?

Claire steps out of the kitchen and in front of you. “Liv, that’s… that’s amazing!” she says. She sounds like a proud mother. Maybe she is.

You want to shake your head, but you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than put the bottle back against your lips and take another sip. The alcohol burns down your esophagus into your stomach, spreading a warm feeling through your fragile body, and into your broken soul.

“Or not,” she corrects herself upon seeing the expression you’re carrying. Your eyes are empty. “I’m confused,” She pauses, “Are we not happy about the fact that you’ve finally got a date after two years of being miserable?”

If she puts it like that, you feel even more miserable. Another sip of wine finds its way down your throat.

“Okay, maybe you should put the bottle down. I’m sorry if I said something wrong–”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You put the bottle down.

Claire sits down next to you, but you get up before she can take your hand and look at you with that caring look she always gives you when she’s worried. You’re not even mad that she played your concerns down when you expressed them and now she is expressing concerns about you; you’re mad at yourself.

She watches you. “You have a date. That’s a good thing. It means you allowed yourself to finally say yes to someone interested in you, right?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You’re pacing over the creaky floorboards. “The last time I went on a date with someone was after my intern year.”

Her gaze softens. “You told me that,” she murmurs.

“He took me to a restaurant,” you tell her. Your lip quivers as you speak, and your nails dig into your palms until they draw blood. You can barely feel it. His face is right in front of you. “It was a nice restaurant. He paid for me, even offered me his jacket while we were walking home. It was the best date I ever had. And then he kissed me on the doorstep before wishing me a good night.”

“I know. You told me all of that before. But you couldn’t have known that he would turn out to be who he turned out to be. He was your boss. He had no right—”

“That is precisely the problem, Claire!” your voice breaks. “The guy I met, he’s… his name is Matthew. He’s… he is so nice to me. He cares. He treats me like a human being. He… he’s respectful. He called me beautiful. I don’t even know how he knows that. He just… he was so nice to me, and I feel so comfortable around him. I haven’t felt this comfortable around a man in so long. I… I wanted to go out with him. I flirted with him, for fuck’s sake! And when I’m with him, I finally feel wanted again.”

“But you know who else was nice to me when I first met him?” you say. “Who was respectful? Who said I was the only real thing in this world, the only important thing in his life, and that he loved me? You know who made me feel safe and wanted, and who said he cared about me? John said that I was the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I fell for it because he was nice to me. He–”

“But that guy isn’t John,” Claire cuts you off. She raises her voice only slightly—only enough to make you stop and stare at her, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re miserable. You’re a mess. It is truly embarrassing. But she doesn’t look at you any differently.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap back.

“Liv–”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I’m 32, and I can’t sleep without a nightlight most nights because I wake up in a cold sweat. I can’t drop a glass without going into shock. I can’t look in the mirror without feeling his hands on me. Without feeling disgusting and worthless, and…” You can feel the shiver traveling up your spine from the thought alone. “I can’t exist without feeling like he should have killed me when he got the chance.”

“Liv, I know you’re upset, but please, don’t say that,” Claire says, her voice gentle yet assertive.

“Why? It’s true. I wish he would’ve killed me. He took four years of my life that I can never get back. At least if he’d killed me I wouldn’t have to suffer now.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you saying things like that.”

“You don’t get it,” you say. “Every time I look in the mirror, I want to vomit because I see what he made of me. I can’t even meet a nice guy and allow myself to like him without seeing his face and hearing his stupid voice in my ear, telling me—telling me that no one will ever love me, that he tainted me, and that I will never be free of him because I can’t exist without him.” You break into a sob.

“And he was right, you know,” you cry. “I ran from him. I made the hardest decision of my life after years of living in his shadow, and I almost died. Because of him, I can’t trust a kind and respectful man who treats me like a person to actually be kind, and I recoil at the thought of someone being gentle with me. Something is seriously broken inside of me, Claire. Very, very broken.”

Claire opens her mouth, but all she can do is bear your tirade. She knows that if she speaks now, you will find another reason to shut her down. This is your pain talking. It’s a powerful avalanche set out to cause destruction on a global scale.

“With Matt, I—” you exhale. “I was myself around him for the first time since I ran away, and he didn’t shy away. I had hope, Claire. I felt like I could finally step into normal life again after settling down here, and I thought I’d have a chance,” you say. “But I just have to close my eyes, and John is right there to ruin everything for me. He is always right there, and I can’t fucking escape him. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t be happy about this date because I’m fucking terrified. I can’t go through this again. I—I can’t give myself to someone again because there is hardly anything left of me. He took everything, including my ability to love another man ever again, and that thought is fucking with my head.”

You fall silent. The tears continue running down your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands. Your knees are so weak. You don’t have it in you to hold yourself up any longer. You drop to the carpet, crying into your hands, but you don’t sob. You stay silent because your pain is so great, you don’t know whether to scream or shut down, so you scream internally and shut down from the world around you because you can’t face it. You can’t face Claire.

The couch creaks. Her feet brush against the carpet. “He abused you,” her voice borders above a whisper.

She kneels beside you, her hand reaching out—but not touching you. She knows what lines to cross and which to better leave untouched.

“What he did to you wasn’t your fault. He’s a cruel man with cruel intentions.” When you don’t shy away from her proximity, she finally places her hand on your shoulder. “You did the impossible. You survived. You’re here now because you chose to save yourself, and that is so admirable,” she says. “It’s been two years. You’re safe here, you’re not alone anymore, and I know it hurts and it is terrifying, but it’s a good sign that you want to feel more of what this guy made you feel.”

“But I can’t,” you choke out.

“I know, and I wish I could help you, but I’m not a professional. The truth is, John may have made you feel like there is nothing left of you, but you’re not Olivia Clarke. You’re still you. You’re still…” Claire takes a deep breath before she utters your name. Your real name. The one you were given when you were born.

The mention of your name makes you shiver. “She’s gone,” you say. “He killed her, but he left her body alive.”

“She’s not gone, she’s just buried very fucking deep. I mean, you said it yourself. You could be yourself around this other guy, and he took you for who you are. That isn’t Olivia, that’s you. And it’s such a good sign that you want to go out with him. That you like him. John hurt you, but he didn’t break you beyond repair. Please, you have to remember that.”

Your tears slowly subside. Her words finally manage to reach your rebelling mind through your ears. Even though everything feels like it has been wrapped in cotton, she manages to get through to you like no one else. It was a subconscious decision to come to her, but perhaps your soul knew something that you didn’t, and you can’t say that opening up didn’t help.

The mess slowly subsides. Left behind is nothing but hot air, and the words Claire decided to share with you.

You look up to meet her eyes. She smiles down at you. “I just… I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whisper.

“That’s why I think you should go on that date,” she tells you.

“Yeah, but who wants to sign up for a mess like me?”

“Seems like he does. And if he’s a good guy, he’ll like you regardless of your mess.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

She shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t pretend it never happened. And you can’t give John the satisfaction of putting your life on hold because of him. That’s just giving him what he wants.”

“I don’t want to give him what he wants,” you’re quick to answer.

Claire hands you a tissue, and you take it gratefully, wiping your runny nose and the salty tears stuck to your dry skin.

Her words stir something within you; even though you don’t want her to be right, she is. Matt may not deserve a mess like you, but if he’s truly a good guy, it can’t hurt to see if it would work between you. And when your past comes out eventually, there is a chance that he won’t abandon you. A slight chance, but a chance nonetheless. That’s a positive outlook you still have to learn how to adapt.

“C’mon.” Claire helps you off the floor and onto the couch.

You reach for the bottle of wine instantly, but she takes it away from you. She screws the top back on and places it aside, far out of your desperate reach.

“This is not the answer,” she says, “talking is.”

“Can’t we talk and have wine?” you counter.

“Not when you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

You sniff, wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks with the tissue.

“We need to take care of you, and alcohol won’t fix your problems.”

Once again, she isn’t wrong. You let out a defeated sigh before dropping your head in her lap.

A long time ago, you used to be an affectionate person. The fear of being hurt again, of someone raising their hand against you, took that away from you. With Claire though, it’s different. You know she won’t hurt you. She’s not that kind of person, and you can say that with complete certainty.

Claire Temple is not a violent human being, except for when the people she loves are in danger, but only then.

She gently brushes the hair out of your face and crumbles it into a messy bun at the back of your head. She wipes at your nose and the last of your tears before they can dry out your skin more than it already is. The past couple of days have taken an emotional and physical toll on you.

You wince slightly when you notice how sore your nose is. It isn’t broken, but you still got hit. You’re not quite healed yet. A shiver rolls down your spine.

Shaking her head, Claire gently removes her hand. “You always get yourself in trouble when I’m not around,” she mutters.

You scoff softly. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“A sign for you to be more careful, yeah,” she says.

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” You try to joke, but your voice falls flat with the weight of your exhaustion.

Claire offers you a chuckle, but it’s more of a pity laugh than anything else.

You sigh. You know that you’re not an example when it comes to the significance of making the right decisions. Not at all.

“Did I ever thank you for saving my life?” you ask her then, breaking the silence between you in two.

She leans back against the cushions. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough then.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, if you hadn’t come into Metro General with your hand in a man’s chest cavity, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to help you. You chose to stay.”

“Well, I had my hand on his vena cava, so, letting go would have been unfortunate for the poor guy.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you hadn’t disobeyed protocol, risking your job by putting your trust in me, I wouldn’t have had a reason to stay.”

Claire looks down at you, and you meet her eyes. “That sounded a lot like a love confession,” she nudges you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “You wish.”

“Hey, I’d understand it if you were in love with me. I’m hot.”

She never fails to make you laugh, even when you feel like a truck has rolled you over and broken every bone in your body. That is one of the many qualities you value about her. She’s a good person with a good heart, and she is the kind of person you could trust with your life and she would always make sure that you come out on the other side unharmed, mentally and physically.

If she hadn’t taken you under her wing, you’re not sure where you would be, but it surely wouldn’t be where you are now.

When your laughter quiets down, you nod. “I can’t argue with that. You are hot. If you weren’t my friend,” you say, “I’d ask you out.”

“And if I were into women, I’d say yes,” she says.

“I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of dates though–” She stops when you sigh a little too loudly. Claire shoots you a stern glare before she continues, “Promise me you won’t cancel.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. She wants you to mean it. You won’t lie; canceling your plans with Matt did cross your mind, but after Claire worked her magic on you, you can see a little clearer. The fog that kept your mind clouded has started to lift slowly but steadily. You’re no longer spiraling as fast as you have before.

If you could wash your hands and wash him off of you, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem as it is, but you’ve tried. You have tried washing all memory of him off of your body, out of your mind, but he’s a resilient son of a bitch. John will always try to drive a wedge between you and a normal, happy life, the question is just if you will allow him to do so without even being near you, or if you will finally allow yourself to crawl out of the dark hole he tossed you into.

You can’t do it alone, and asking for help is terrifying. You have spent the past two years trying to push through. Unfortunately, your healthy coping mechanisms won’t work forever.

You sigh again, a little quieter. “I won’t cancel,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, yet still so very certain. As certain as you can be, anyway.

“Thank you.” Claire reaches for the wine bottle next to the couch. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Hm,” you can only murmur.

“What?”

“What are you doing with the bottle?” you ask.

“Drinking,” she says.

“Now I feel betrayed.”

“You should celebrate the fact that you found a Matt, or whatever his name is, and not another Mike.”

You promptly sit up. “Hold up. Pause. Rewind. Mike, like your ex?”

Claire takes a sip of the bottle. A storm rages behind her hazel eyes. You have never seen her that conflicted before.

“Is he the personal reason why you’re subjecting yourself to a constant allergic reaction by staying here?” you ask.

The pieces slowly start falling into place. She nods. “Not Mike Mike, but yeah. It’s always the Mike’s.”

Your jaw drops. “I feel like you skipped some chapters there. You met a guy and you didn’t tell me? What–”

“He met me,” she corrects you. “I didn’t tell you because we’re not a thing. Let’s just say there’s a reason his name is Mike. That’s why I’m here.”

Claire takes another sip. You watch her closely, trying to catch her in a lie, but it seems like she’s telling the truth—or a version of the actual truth, but that still makes it true. She’s giving you as much as she can after you cried your eyes out to her.

You clear your throat, lowering your voice. “But you’re not in danger?” you ask to clarify.

She shakes her head. “I just have shitty taste in men, even if it's platonic, apparently. It’s like… I’m trying to exist, and then I find a stray cat in a dumpster, but the stray cat has been stabbed and needs medical attention.”

“But you’re allergic to cats and you’re not a vet?” you try to make sense of her analogy.

When she lets out a sigh and nods, you figure you came as close as possible. It still doesn’t make sense to you, but when does anything? At least when it comes to romance and people’s love lives.

You decide to push a little more, “Did you actually find an injured guy in a dumpster?”

She shakes her head. The reaction comes a little fast, but you don’t question it. “No, that–that was just an analogy,” Claire says.

“And Mike is the stray cat in that analogy? But not your Mike, another Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, you’re frying my brain cells.”

“The single one you still have, or did you buy new ones?”

You try not to laugh, trying to look like you are genuinely offended, but your lips still curl up into a smile. “Shut up,” you mutter. You reach for the bottle, against better judgment, and take a sip.

Claire shakes her head. “What I’m trying to tell you is that, if he’s a good guy, you can’t let him slip away. You can’t let a good thing slip away and possibly end up with a–a Mike kinda guy for the rest of your life.”

“I know.” You look down at your hands, your broken fingernails, and sore knuckles from the constant scrubbing. “I just wish I could understand what he’s doing to me without questioning my entire existence.”

“Some people are just that enigmatic,” and she sounds as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about.

You wonder about Mike. Not her ex-boyfriend but the one she mentioned. He sounds like he has no sense of self-preservation, and he may not even be a good influence. He reminds you of yourself, and that’s creepy—you don’t even know him.

And then there is Matt, who is also so eerily similar to you, but in different ways. It’s more of an emotional connection. His heart is in the right place. And unlike the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he doesn’t have a savior complex.

Why did he even come to your mind? His existence should not be playing into the equation. You brush the picture of his chiseled chest in that tight shirt away, or the way he looked even more dangerous with that smirk below the the mask.

You hand the wine bottle back to Claire. If you don’t cut yourself off now, you will melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

Your focus should be on Matt and Matt alone. You have to try. Claire was right. You can’t sacrifice your happiness because you’re scared—you can’t give the man who dedicated his life to breaking you and your confidence down the satisfaction of cowering in fear every time a man shows an interest in you. A good man. A man who could make you happier than he ever had.

You won’t run this time. You will face the situation head-on. You owe that much to the little girl who dreamed of a life beyond the hell she grew up in, the same girl who was obsessed with finding her soulmate and still believed in true love. Above everyone, you owe it to yourself. No one else matters quite as much as you do.

And for the sake of seeing what could be instead of wondering what could have been, you have to try.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #reader insert #charlie cox #doctor!reader #do no harm

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feeblescholarmyass · 11 months

Text

"I learned from the best"

in which the ever so dependant forest watcher finally over exerts himself and gets sick, forcing him to accept being cared for by you

tags: mutual pining, sick fic, mentions of backstory in the Akademiya, reader is a doctor, sick!Tighnari x doctor GN!Reader, two idiots in love, teeth rotting fluff, switches between your POV and his (you/your or they/them pronouns), kind of long, ends on a cliffhanger

a/n: once again, largely written in the middle of the night, so please excuse any formatting or grammar errors

You had been working on your most recent (unofficial) project when Collei stormed into your home. She threw open the door with a huff and scrambled over to you, looking terrified.

"Y-Y/n! Something is wrong with Master Tighnari! He won't get out of bed, and he looks paler than normal! Please come check up on him!" She grabbed your shoulders, startling you out of your train of thought.

"Collei? Huh? What do you-" you paused, thinking for a second. You had been living in Gandharva Ville for the past three years after graduating from the Akademiya, seeking some refuge from the relentless focus on scholarship in Sumeru City. You may be a doctor, but that doesn't mean you strive to be the best doctor out there. You found very little reason to stay within that place, especially with the shameful lack of privacy.

In those three years, you had rarely ever seen your senior take a break. Of course, he's finally overworked himself. It's probably nothing.

You sighed and let Collei lead you to Tighnari's home, where a suffocating silence greeted you, instead of the normal soft hustle you knew to follow Tighnari wherever he went.

"I'm fine, Collei, really, please don't bring Y/n in. They have plenty of work for themself, I don't need to bother them too." Tighnari grumbled from the floor, where he sat crumpled like a wet paper towel.

"It's too late for that," you sighed. Tighnari shot you a half-assed glare. You sat next to him and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. Almost instantly, you pulled your hand away. His skin was practically radiating with heat. "Dear Archons! Tighnari, how long have you been sick?!"

"I'm fine, Y/n. Just help me up and you can be on your way." He turned away, wavering a little as he struggled to push himself up.

"How bad is it, Y/n? Will Master Tighnari be okay?" Collei looked frightened. You glanced at her, then back to Tighnari.

"I am a doctor, it's nothing I can't handle. He just has a little fever. He'll be fine after some rest and care. There's not much more you can do. Thank you for getting me, darling." You smiled at her and motioned for her to leave. Collei nodded at you and hurried away.

"Let go of me…" Tighnari pouted, trying to push you away. He was so weak that you hardly felt the pressure of his hands against your stomach. "I'm fine."

"Liar," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him. You lifted him up with little struggle, shouldering his weight as you half led half pushed him to his bed.

Tighnari grumbled something you couldn't hear under his breath as you tucked him into his bed and sat beside him. His dazed and embarrassed expression would be cute if he wasn't fighting to escape the chains of his captor- his own bed.

"Calm down, you stubborn fox. What is it you're so desperate to get done? It can't possibly be more important than your own recovery." You shook your head at him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him where he was.

Tighnari let out a long, loud sigh of defeat. "I'm not a child, so stop talking to me like one. And I'm not sick, so there's no recovery necessary."

Just seconds after his declaration of health, he sneezed and stared at you, face turning bright red.

"Not sick are you? You're a bad liar, Master Tighnari. I'm going to go make you something to eat. Do try and rest a little," you said softly.

He turned away from you, refusing to meet your gaze. You stood and gave him a pointed look, almost daring him to try and get up, then left his room to grab the necessary ingredients and medications to care for him after your return.

Tighnari watched you leave, fighting the urge to call your name. He frowned, slipping deeper under his covers. You were right, and he knew it. If he kept this up, he would be completely out of commission for even longer than if he just let himself rest now.

Now that I think about it, I am a little tired, he thought. Maybe I'll rest my eyes for just a while. It can't hurt, can it?

He closed his eyes- just for a second!- and then all was silent.

You hummed a small tune as you carted around your bag of supplies. It had been difficult for you to limit yourself to what you could carry; you always liked to be prepared.

You had decided only on the soup ingredients, medicine, and a few items to help check on the Forest Ranger once he had rested and eaten.

You couldn't help but notice how wonderful the weather was, and that it sure was a pity that Tighnari was sick, otherwise you might have been able to convince him to come on a little picnic or something with you. Not that much of a pity, though, because caring for him was almost as enjoyable, and you took any spare time with him that you could get.

It had been this way since your Akademiya days when you had studied under him. You had been younger and much more of a nervous wreck than you are now. It had made hiding that silly crush of yours hard. You really had been crushed when he had graduated and moved away. He never visited you after that. Only after you graduated a few years later had you gathered up the courage to see him again.

It was only supposed to be a little post graduation vacation, but you ended up falling in love with the quiet of Gandharva Ville in comparison to the constant overwhelming movement of the city, and the fact that your senior lived nearby was only a tiny factor in your decision to stay.

Ever since, you had taken up residence in the name of psychological study and ecological experimentation, but really you played a role closer to a village nurse.

Just as your thoughts began to wander back to how Tighnari had been as a student, you felt a brush of cold wind against your back and decided to hurry back to Tighnari's house. As nice as the weather was, it seemed that Gandha Hill was due for a storm.

You hurried back and opened the door as quietly as you could, then shut it softly behind you. Even if Tighnari wasn't asleep, you didn't want to disturb him by being too loud for his extra sharp hearing.

You set all your supplies near the kitchen and made your way to Tighnari's room to check on him.

You opened the door and peeked inside. You were greeted with the sight of Tighnari snuggled underneath his covers, with only the tips of his ears visible to you.

I guess the chill must be getting to him, you thought. Good thing I'm making soup.

You shut his door and got to work on making the mushroom soup that, if your memory served you correctly, was one of Tighnari's favorites.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. The aroma of creamy, cooked mushrooms wafted through the air and made his stomach growl. He groaned and rolled over, still too asleep to take note of how hungry he was.

The second thing he noticed was your voice. You were softly humming a tune he had memorized the sound of from the time he spent tutoring you. Even though years had passed, he still found himself muttering the words of the childish lullaby to himself when he felt overwhelmed.

The final step necessary for him to really realize he was awake was the sudden uncomfortable heat. He huffed and rolled weakly onto his back and glanced around his room. He had somehow tucked himself under every blanket at his disposal and was now dreadfully sweaty.

His stomach growled again and he forced himself to sit up, pleased to find that the nausea he had been experiencing previously had died down to only a slight discomfort instead of an immediate threat.

The sounds of cooking disappeared and were replaced by footsteps. Yours, and by the sound of it you were heading to his room. He startled at the thought, remembering how pathetic he must have looked in his sleep.

He pulled his blanket back up over his shoulders in spite of the heat to hide the red flush spreading down his neck as he wondered if you had watched him while he slept.

"Oh, you're awake," you muttered after opening his door. You carried over a tray of soup, water, and a couple pills for him and placed it in his bedside. "Did I wake you?"

"Not at all," he stammered, glancing at the cute apron you had adorned while he had been asleep. He knew you were far from domestic or parental, but Archons be damned if you didn't look like a vision with that cute little ribbon tied around your waist and your hair pushed back.

"Good, I wouldn't want to disturb your rest. I made mushroom soup, if you're feeling up for eating." You sat next to him, removing your hair from its prison and allowing it to fall back into its normal place.

"Thank you," he muttered. "I am hungry, actually. My nausea seems to have subsided, and now I just feel more weak than anything. A little feverish, too."

"Ah, then I'm glad I brought the medicine. You should take that, too." You reached over and pressed a cold palm to his forehead, pushing his bangs aside. He felt a little childish being treated like this. "Ah, your temperature has definitely gone down. At this rate you should be fully recovered later tomorrow or the day after."

"Y/n," he whispered, reaching up and taking hold of your hand. You startled, making a face he remembered well from his time at the Akademiya with you. Your eyes were wide, and you looked a little flushed. If he didn't feel so awful he might have taken the chance to tease you.

"T-Tighnari..? Do you need something?" You asked, seeming a little uncomfortable, or even flustered if he dared to say it.

"Thank you, really. I never noticed you had grown so much. I still remember you as a nervous little student that needed my help studying for biology classes." He smiled a little, pride swelling in his chest. His little junior was excelling at caring for him, rather than the other way around, like it had always been in the past.

"Psh, of course I have," you laughed, "I did learn from the best, after all."

Don't look at me like that, he thought, just barely managing to contain himself. I never could resist that look.

"Well, I really should go clean up. You should eat and then keep resting, and I'll check on you again later."

Don't go, he wanted to say. Your hand slid away from his and you gave him a little wave before leaving him alone.

"Fuck," he muttered, feeling his face go hot and embarrassment wash over him. "Why did I do that! Stupid, stupid!"

He glanced at the soup you had left him and decided that it was in his best interest to do as you asked.

A few hours later, you came to check on him, as promised. You opened the door, finding him asleep, just as you had expected.

You sat next to him, observing the color that was slowly returning to his cheeks. He had kicked off some blankets, leaving a singular leg tucked under the blankets. He was shivering.

You pulled the blanket back up over his shoulders, taking care not to move too abruptly.

"Y/n…" you heard him mutter sleepily. You glanced at him, expecting to see his pretty eyes fluttering open, instead finding them still tightly shut. He was sleep talking.

You chuckled under your breath and leaned closer, only hesitating a moment before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well, Tighnari. I'll see you in the morning."

You left another dose of medicine and some water at his bedside just in case.

They kissed me, he thought. They kissed me, they kissed me, they kissed me, they kissed me.

He had wanted to grab your hand, make you stay and maybe do it again. He had wanted to throw his arms around you and pull you into a hold you wouldn't be able to escape. He had wanted to tell you how he felt.

He chose not too. Not only had you left too fast, but he was still slightly delirious and reeling from the feeling of your lips against his skin.

A part of him wanted to march out of his room after you and force you to explain yourself, while the other half wanted to hide away and never mention this again.

His only solace was thinking of the coming morning, where surely, this big game of romantic cat and mouse you had been playing for years would finally come to an end.

a/n: time for the next wip to be tackled

comments and/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 🩷

#genshin impact #fanfic #tighnari #tighnari x reader #reader #sick fic #🪻ash writes #doctor!reader #sick!tighnari #cliffhanger #genshin fanfic

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