#healer reader

Summary: After Rider Survival Course floods the infirmary with injured cadets, the Marked Ones are left on your floor with orders to ignore them. You refuse, stitching Xaden Riorson and his wing back together while exhaustion slowly catches up with you. As fever dreams drag him through memories he can’t escape, your voice becomes the only thing grounding him in reality. When he finally wakes, he realizes you never left—even when everyone else did.

MASTERLIST

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PART TWELVE

XADEN

The next afternoon, the gym is packed. There are four more sparring rings than usual and two times the cadets.

The healers are observing drills.

I could say that I hardly noticed her; but that would be a lie. She is a bright blue beacon in a sea of black riding leathers. She’s perched on a stool on the opposite end of the mat, sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she takes notes in the book on her lap.

“Riorson and Talbot!” Professor Emetterio reads from his clipboard. “On the mat!”

I’m stepping onto the cool plastic when a brown braid shifts in the corner of my eye and sunlight catches the hair.

Emetterio is talking, but about what, I could not tell you. All I can hear is the soft laughter that floats across the gym.

My chest feels tight and my jaw clenches on its own.

She has stopped writing, instead of visibly listening to the Rider who is standing next to her as he speaks. I recognize him vaguely as one of the cadets who had sent her rushing out of the dining hall.

His lips tilt up in the corners, and he tilts his head to her ear to say something.

When she laughs this time, it’s softer.  It sounds closer to a shift than a laugh.

It isn’t the laugh that she uses at mealtimes with Garrick.

It’s forced. Fake.

Focus, Sgaeyl grumbles in my head.

I have to drag my eyes off the spectacle to the cadet in front of me, just in time to shift my weight back slightly to avoid a bow staff coming toward my ribs.

“Eyes up, Riorson!” Garrick calls from my left.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.  As we circle around the ring, my gaze flicks back to Y/N.  The cadet is leaning into her space and he’s still speaking low next to her ear; but her eyes are fixed on the mat.

The wooden pole flies up to connect with my face, but I dodge once again. I try to relax my shoulders, bringing my hands up in front of my face.

She’s smiles again.

Shadow Wielder.

Too late.

I don’t even see the staff swing; I just feel its impact when pain explodes across my skull.  I’m still watching her when my vision blurs and stars float int front of me. I have to push back the instinct to raise my hand to the blow. I could feel blood already beginning to drip from my hairline.

“Fuck.” Garrick breathes. 

I shoot him a glare. The rider in front of me smirks, raising his weapon once again. Blood drips down the side of my face, my brain is already throbbing in my skull.

Warm liquid escapes from my hairline, sliding down my neck and disappearing into the collar of my top. I don’t even bother wiping the blood clean.

I shake my head, trying to bring my attention back. The other cadet, Talbot, is bouncing between his feet.

We circle again.

I dodge a few well-placed blows to my torso and land a few on him. There is a thin sheet of sweat that makes my shirt stick to my chest; it rises and falls with my heavy breathing. I’m about to aim a hit to Talbot’s face.

Then Y/N laughs again and my attention flickers once again.

I feel Sgaeyl huff through the bond right before the staff cracks across my ribs.  White hot pain spreads across my ribcage.  Although I’d been mended weeks ago, the ache of shattered ribs had lingered, and I can’t stop the grunt of pain that slips out.

It takes everything I have to not double over to protect my midsection.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

“Ready to tap out, Riorson?” My opponent taunts.

I roll my shoulders, straightening up and leveling a glare at him.  I pretend that I don’t see a flash of blue in the corner of my eye.

That I don’t notice the way she has stopped laughing.

That her notebook is now closed in her lap, and despite that the cadet next to her continues to talk; she is no longer leaned to listen.

Green eyes are wide as she watches the match; if I didn’t know any better, I would think that she’s worried. 

I don’t entertain my opponent’s banter, and I throw my own right hook. My fist connects with the top of his cheek bone. 

We continue to exchange blows. He dodges an elbow and I sidestep his staff.  I start to think that I’ve gotten my focus back.

That is until I catch a glimpse of Y/N standing up in her chair. The cadet next to her has a hand hovering at her waist and she’s shaking her head no. He doesn’t seem to care because he reaches out to grasp the exposed skin of her wrist and pulls her to him.

I see red.

Then, I see white.

The blunt end of the bo staff slams into fragile cartilage and the sound of my nose breaking rings in my ears.

My knees buckle and suddenly I’m staring at the ceiling. I’m still blinking dots out of my vision when the end of the weapon is shoved under my chin.

“Alright,” Professor Emetterio sighs. “That’s enough.”

I close my eyes for a moment trying to stop the spinning of the room. When I open them, Garrick is above me with a hand reached out to help me up,

“You know, you’re allowed to talk to her,” Garrick sorts. “You don’t have get your ass kicked to get her attention.”

Emetterio pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and sighing. He waves a hand in my direction,

“Get off my mat before you bleed all over it, Riorson.”

Garrick grasps my elbow, pulling me up right and then to my feet. I sway for a moment, more disoriented than I would like to admit. I can already feel as the skin stretched across the bridge of my nose begins to swell. Blood runs over my lips and down my neck.

My ribs ache as I gingerly make my way to an empty stool a few feet away.

“C’mon, Xaden.” Garrick nudges me. “Let’s get you looked at.”

I grunt, wiping blood from my face and making a point to spit the red liquid that pooled in the back of my throat to the floor below me, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, let’s go.”

He all but drags me to the opposite side of the mat where the healers are gathered. 

Professor Krell levels a stare at me as we stop in front of him. The expression on his face swirls with annoyance and disgust. His eyes look me up and down before he points to a folding exam table a few feet away.

“Y/L/N!” He calls.

Y/N materializes next to Garrick, eyes shining with concern. Her eyes flicker between me and the professor. But he doesn’t spare us a second look. He just turns slightly to the cadet taking notes next to him,

“Cadet Y/L/N can take care of him.” He says nonchalantly. “She’s made it clear she’s willing to dirty herself with the Marked Cadets.”

The cadets around us snicker and I can feel Garrick’s posture go rigid.

Y/N doesn’t laugh. She places a soft hand on Garrick’s arm and leads us to the exam table.

Then, I’m sat on top of the plastic folding table with my gaze fixed on the floor beneath my feet. A few droplets of blood make their way from my nose to the stone below me, and I briefly wonder who had to clean that up.

Y/N had stepped away to collect supplies, and she was now making her way back. She stops in front of me, dropping the gauze on the table next to me and crossing her arms.

Part of me thinks she might just leave the bandages here and make me take care of it myself.

I probably deserve that.

I know she won’t though.

For a few moments, she doesn’t speak. She just looks at me.

She’s not angry, but it’s not a soft look either. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she takes me in.

She sighs, “You look like shit.”

My nose throbs more when I lift my gaze to meet her eyes.

“Thank you.”

She takes a step forward so that she’s standing between my knees and reaches out a gentle hand to lift my chin, “You’re still bleeding.”

The corners of my lips twitch, threatening to curl up into a smile, “I am aware.”

She shifts the light grip on my chin to turn my head. The other hand comes up, moving hair to get a better look at the slowly weeping wound. Y/N sighs, reaching to my left to pick up a roll of gauze.

I’m painfully aware of how close she is to me. The gym is loud around us, cadets continuing to spar, but the air between us feels quiet.

She hums softly, dabbing carefully at the cut near my hairline. She exhales,

“You shouldn’t have let him hit you so many times,” she huffs.

I breathe out a laugh, “Let him?”

She drops the dirty gauze to the other side of the exam table, her lips pressed together to stifle a smile. I watch quietly as she continues to work, gently covering the wound with some type of healing balm.

“Well, at least you don’t need sutures.” She muses.

Then, she’s looking at the bridge of my nose wearily. I’m sure it’s bent grossly out of shape; she’s going to need to set it. She seems to think the same thing. Her thumbs press gently along both sides of the bridge of my nose.

White hot pain spreads across my face.

“Wait— “

She doesn’t.

She applies pressure, and a sharp crack echoes through my skull. My vision blanks out for a moment, and I can’t form a thought.

“Fuck!”

More blood pours from my nose, and she pushes a piece of gauze up under it so that it doesn’t stain my chin.

“Hold this.” Y/N watches as I blink black dots from my vision. “Your eyes are watering.”

“I got hit in the face with a staff.” I shot back.

She hums as she reaches for clean gauze, wiping blood from under my nose.

Then, she’s moving away from my broken nose and down to my sore ribs. She hesitates, her hands hovering near tender skin. She drags her bottom lip between her teeth as she presses gently along my ribs.

There’s a sharp twinge of pain, like someone shoved a hot knife between them. I suck in a sharp breath, but I’m able to stop myself from wincing.

“There it is,” she says, dropping her hands and reaching over to get another tin.

“That’s old.” I mutter. “They were worse before.”

“I know, I remember what they looked like when it happened.” Her eyes glaze over for a moment as she says it as if it were an unpleasant memory. 

The balm in this one is dark yellow, and it smells like herbs.  She doesn’t ask before slipping cold fingers under the hem of my shirt, gently rubbing the cool mixture against the heat of sore ribs.

“They’re still tender.”

I have to unclench my jaw to reply, “Occupational hazard.”

Her hand had been making small circles over my side, but now they’re still and she leans back to look at me for a long moment.

“You know, you didn’t have to get beat up just to prove a point.” She says softly.

I stare at her blankly for a moment, “I wasn’t proving a point.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raise and she makes a face, “Really? Then what was that?”

I meet her gaze but don’t speak. The honest answer is worse than the one she came up with.

She isn’t going to drop it though,

“You were staring.” She says, green eyes study my face, lingering on the bridge of my nose for an extra moment. I shift my weight, and the movement sends a pang of pain through my torso.

She notices and her eyes soften. She doesn’t meet my gaze when she speaks, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Sgaeyl snorts in my head, do not let the poor girl feel guilty for your inability to control your jealousy.

“I wasn’t worried.”

Y/N looks like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t argue.

There is a long pause; silence fills the space between us. Her eyes don’t hold any heat as she studies me.

Finally, Y/N sighs and takes a half step forward. She’s so close that the blue fabric of her uniform brushes against the black leather on my thighs.

“You waited.”

I look at her confused, “What?”

“In the hallway that day.” She sighs. “You waited until they were actually going to hurt me to step in.”

My stomach tightens and there is an apology at the tip of my tongue; but she continues without waiting for an answer.

“You trusted me to handle it.” She pauses, dropping her eyes down to face the floor. “I didn’t handle it.”

It’s a quiet admission. Shame heats her cheeks until they’re flushed pink.

“I’m good at avoiding things,” she continues. “Thinking three steps ahead so I don’t end up in situations like that in the first place.  Then, when it happens… I just… freeze.”

I blink at her.

She doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead, letting out a small, empty laugh,

“You had to step in and save me like some sort of damsel. And… and I was embarrassed. Not angry.” Y/N sucks in a deep breath, then lets it out through her nose. “Then you started following me around everywhere and it felt like… like I was a burden. A responsibility you felt like you had to take care of because I helped you in the infirmary.”

I open my mouth to speak but shut it quickly when I see that she’s not done yet.

“And then, in the courtyard that day, I realized that I’ve never actually shown you that I can handle myself… So, I can’t really blame you for thinking I couldn’t.”

I blink again.

For a long beat, I just stare at her.

I’m trying to digest everything she just said.

Honesty. Vulnerability.

My jaw clenched, and my chest ached.

She is apologizing to me?

“You’re not a burden.” The statement comes out sharp. Short and definite. Y/N looks up at me, startled by tone.

But I need her to know that my words aren’t sympathy. That what I’m about to say isn’t just to appease her.

Despite the ache that flares in my ribs, I shift forward.

“I wasn’t trying to protect you because I thought you were incapable,” I say quietly.

She frowns at me, but she lets me keep going.

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the thought of watching you get hurt again."

Silence stretches between us. The noise of the gym becomes muffled as green irises search mine.

I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to decide if I’m being genuine. A few more quiet moments pass between us before I clear my throat, the awkwardness threatening to swallow me.

I look away first.

“Don’t make it a thing,” I breathe, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck.

Despite herself, the corners of her lips twitch up into an amused smile, “You’re the one who said it.”

I grunt, looking anywhere but her face.

Remarkable, Sgaeyl huffs. You are both equally determined to avoid the obvious.

Before I can respond to Sgaeyl or Y/N, a shadow falls over us. 

Y/N feels it too.

“Well,” a voice says, cold amusement in its tone. “guess I should’ve gotten my ass handed to me too.”

Her shoulders straighten and I can swear she unconsciously shifts closer to me.

The moment is gone as quickly as it came.

I look past her. The cadet, the one who had been chatting her up next to the sparing mat, stands behind her. He’s leaning on a support beam near the exam table, arms crossed across his chest as he takes us in.

His eyes flick from her to me and then to where she stands between my legs.

Finally, he brings his gaze back up to y/n. His brows furrow and he scoffs. Y/n pushes a strand of hair behind her ear,

“If you need assistance, then sit, Caden.” She says softly.

Caden makes no attempt to move to the bench.

“But, when I asked if you wanted to have a meal together last week you happened to be too busy.”

Y/N’s cheeks flush pink, “I am busy.”

“So, you’ll make time to help—no to stoop to touching him—” He jerks his chin to the relic on my arm. “But, you’re too good to carve out a few moments with me?”

She opens her mouth to reply just as he pushes off the beam to take a step toward us. Y/N’s mouth snaps shut, and he copies his movement, taking her own step back until her back is so close to my chest that I can smell her shampoo.

“But I guess that makes sense if you’re Riorson’s new pet.”

That’s enough of that.

Despite the ache that swallows my chest when I move, I slide of the side of the table. I pause for a moment, meeting her gaze.

Asking for permission.

“Watch out for your ribs.” She mutters.

Permission granted.

“Careful.” I warn. Any softness that I had held during our previous conversation has disappeared.

Caden smirks at me, giving me a long up and down before his smirk turns into a sneer, “Why would I do that?”

“Because I just lost my first match in two years. I wouldn’t bet on me losing another.”

The color in his face drains for a moment, before he can hide it.

“I just got hit in the head.” I level a glare at the cadet in front of me.

First of all, I love how you write and I'm really happy you're back. Maybe it doesn't help much, but you're really one of my favorite writers. 🫂🫂🫂

I was thinking of something like Prince!Bucky x Healer!Reader. It's like he's been in love with the reader for a long time but had never dared to do anything because:

1. Reader isn't royalty.

2. People think she's a witch.

Even so, he used to visit her frequently, and they became something like "friends". But he eventually grew tired of doing nothing and confessed his feelings to her.

I just love Bucky yearning 💔 (Also, if you want to add some smuth or make any kind of change, that's fine too. I love your stories.)

this was such an amazing concept!!!

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He first came to you with blood on his sleeve.

Not the dramatic kind—no battlefield theatrics, no dying gasp. Just a clean cut along his forearm, already clotted by the time he knocked on the crooked wooden door at the edge of the forest. You opened it barefoot, hair loose, candlelight spilling out behind you, and Prince James Buchanan Barnes forgot how to breathe.

You always did that to him.

But his mother knows him better than that and sends a healer to him to assess him and care for him.

You are that healer.

Loki is not used to gentleness anymore, and your gentle nature is something that both confounds him and inspires protectiveness from him.

Summary: An ex-hero turned villain was given an option to be a hero again. Not to be a tool for others, but being somewhat an equal. And you took it, to help others, it was what you train for. And this team of mischiefs is a good place to be.

Authors notes: here we go, imma try my best to update this, but no promises. Anyway, i love dispatch and sonar :p (I still dunno if I should make this poly z-team or sonar x reader) also might be ooc, i'm still trying to get their vibes

Ao3 link

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The buzzing of the flickering light was bothering you, stuck in handcuffs that blocked your power. The room had that one sided glass, and you know there's someone behind that glass, staring at you. But you don’t know who nor what will happen you but destiny loves fucking with you. Like everything else in life, stuck within the hero/villian system, either used as someone's bitch or fighting for survival.

All because of your power, healing others with the price of your energy. Always making you tired before lunch since the lime-light heroes are always so reckless. Groaning, you let your head fall onto the table, a loud thunk echoed in the room, just waiting upon your trial. 

Soon, a guy just walked, you suspected some hero or police man to walk in, not some… desk worker. He sitting across from you, staring at the file you suspect to be yours. Leaning back into your chair, you notice his bruises. Did he get into some fight?

“Reader? Right? Or do you prefer your villain alias?” He said, eyes trailing up to look at you. Not a sight of manipulation or disdain in his eyes, just like he's doing some interview. Wait, his shirt. Of course, SDN. He works there, this is an interrogation. 

“Just call me Reader, I’m sure I’ll be thrown into prison for my shit.” You rolled your eyes. 

“For assault, battery, and robbery. Those are, at least, on paper. And that doesn’t seem too bad, as to why you did it.” He hummed before his eyes traveled back to the file about you. “So, I’m sure you heard the rumors about the Phoenix project for SDN?”

“The fucking villian to hero thing, where the villians be good two shoes?”

He huffed, “Sure, that's what Z-team is. But Blonde Blazer would like to have you join. Especially after learning about you, your crimes, and history.” He placed the file down, looking back to your gaze. “Stealing medical equipment to help people, fighting people when they hurt others, that sounds like vigilantism, not villainy. But assaulting a hero while still working for them?”

“He deserved it.” You spat, remembering him, the reason why you turned your life this way. Only using you for your powers, you know how to fight, but only to be cooped up at hero base and just look pretty and heal. Bullshit.

“I’m sure he does, I remember him. Fucker almost ruined things for me.” He knows him, and hates him. Wow, weird luck, huh? “Anyway, paperwork just needs your signature and we can talk about how to do this. Signing this will have you join the Z-team as you will be a former hero, then a former turned villain, then making you now a reformed hero.”

“I’m not staying at the SDN building, I want to go to the field and fight. Not some pretty nurse.” Looking at the paperwork that's in front of you, the contact you know you will be signing your dignity to for who knows how long. 

“You won’t. I know your skills, so let me help you harness it. You will be joining with other members, helping them when needed. Not just healing them.” 

A promise in a way. And he kept to his words.

You were allowed to come in a few days, they gave you everything you needed, though, you had to move to be closer to your new ‘job’. And you were rebanded to your old hero name. Who knew life would change drastically after getting caught? 

The first day, you walked in, given an earphone piece, and you were ready for your shift. Robert, the one who was the guy from that interrogation room, just told you to be on stand-by. That you will meet your new coworkers(or is it teammates?) on the field. Surely that would go great. So, while you wait, you just start walking around, SDN is different than you thought it would be. 

“Alright, we have someone new this shift.” You heard Robert speak through the earpiece, never took him as a type to be a dispatcher. “Blonde Blazer and I thought they would work great on our team, so welcome them with how we do things.”

“You got the ex-hero healer? Damn, you really got done with us getting hurt, huh, Robbie?” A female voice.

“More you fuckers fucking up. Reader here will be on the field too, so if they are out, and you want to be healed, wait for them to come back. They are here to help with the work load, and help with the amount of dispatches we had.” Robert spoke back, you leaned back to look in the dispatcher's room, he was petting a dog that was on his lap.

“A healer fighting, that's new.” A male voice response back. “Thought all healers would stay back and don’t their hands dirty.”

“Well, I do.” You spoke up, already getting these types of comments? New record if you try to keep track.

“Ey, how about a spar when shifts are done, healer?” A female voice that somehow echoes through the comms. 

“Bet. You’ll be eating dirt.” You spoke with a smile, you were caught by Robert before he got a call, sending one of your new co-workers out.

“Let’s keep the comms clear. Flambae, get ready.”

It took a while but you were sent out with someone called Sonar, and walking out of the building you see a bat? Half bat man? Hybrid? He seems to be looking around. Probably looking for you. 

“Sonar?” You crossed your arms as you looked him up and down, a suit as a hero suit? 

“That's me, you the healer?” He looks at you, also checking you out. You nod and he continues, “Let’s go, this job is gonna be easy, think you can keep up?” He started walking away, leaving you to follow him. It was quiet on the way there, other than him mentioning he went to Harvard several times. 

Mission wise.

It was something. 

Sonar and you had to meet up with this drug ring. You let the bat guy speak, leaving you to just listen. It was going smoothly until one decided to punch Sonar, turning it into a quick nasty fight. Leaving you with a few bruises and him getting cut from one of them who brought a knife.

“Geez, you think these fuckers will back down from the alpha after seeing my smartness.” Which made you raise an eyebrow at him as you looked at his wound. He was sitting on the curb, hiding some of the shit he got from the dealers. You didn’t care as long as it didn’t report back to you.

“Alpha.” A chuckle slipped out of your mouth. Taking a breath as you rolled your eyes, covering his wound with your hand. Letting the wound heal with you feeling your energy drain a bit, making you want to get some caffeine on the way back. “Sure, whatever you call yourself, bat boy.” 

“Bat boy? I’m a man.” He stood up, fixing his red tie. “And thanks for the healing. Felt warm and comforting.”

“I do get that a lot. Some said that it feels like a warm blanket was wrapped around them.” You said, taking a moment to get up, just standing there for a moment.

“Surpising me that you fight. Thought you just spoke a big game.” He shrugs.

“Why would I? I fell from grace because people treated me like a bitch to be used for their abilities and look pretty. Hated it, punched someone and got called a villain right after.” Brushing off of the dirt and dust off your outfit, you look up to his white eyes.

“Huh,” he nodded absentmindedly. 

“On the way back, let's hit a store with something, I’ll need the caffeine."

“You paying for me too?” He looks at you with a smile.

A moment of a staring contest before you sigh, “Sure, nothing expensive.” 

Him cheering then following you, the mission was a success. Leaving Robert happy with it, but interrupting you in the middle of the side adventure of caffeine. 

After arriving back, Sonar left you at the base, leaving for the bathroom. And you were alone again, left at base to just wonder until you were given another job. Though you did meet your other members from the Z-team. Invisagal got hurt, landing her into the medic bay. She sat on one of the beds, picking on her wounds already. Healing her wasn’t so bad. 

“So you are a healer, huh?” She seemed a bit shocked, her wound was gone, no scar either. 

“Yup.” You coldly respond as you sit on a different medical bed. 

“You must have a crappy backstory to become a villain.” She smirked, sitting on the medic med, leaning forward to you. “Like an ex-hero? And a healer? That's big stuff.” 

Sighing, you wanted a nap, this question. A healer doing something they shouldn’t. Be on the field and fight people. “I rather not have this conversation. If you want the spark notes version, I hated the people I worked with, punched a demanding fucker, then ran from the consequences.” 

“Bet they deserve it. Felt good after? It does feel better punching a hero.” 

You snorted a bit, “It did. It was so worth all the anger I had.” 

Your earbud clicked on as Robert came through, “Reader and Coop, there's a fight, split them up, and Reader?”

“Heal them? Got it.” Then the buzzing of the earpiece turns off. 

“Seems like you got to go, thanks for the healing.” She gives a two-finger salute then vanishes, making sense of her name. Though the door did open with no one there. But you gotta get started on that assignment. 

It took a moment, but the person, you think is Coop, using her knives and she looked like a dancer. You, at least, think one started a fight with her after the other guy got knocked out. The other guy doesn’t seem too bad, just a few bruises, so not really worth the energy. Though the guy she was fighting, will be needing healing. You groan as you watch, guess you are on watch duty. 

Soon, she walked over to you, hearing her footsteps get closer, you look up from the dude who is passed out. “He’s out, trying not to kill him, but injured.” 

“I can handle that, you hurt?” She dropped the unconscious body down on the sidewalk, leaving you to heal him. Feeling yourself drained, you really hope she isn’t and you can take a nap during lunch after this. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” there was a brief moment before she spoke again. “Thanks for the check up.”

A small ‘mhm’ leaves you as you finish up and stand up too quickly, before you could fall, you feel a hand on your arm, pulling you. Coop looked a bit cautious, “You alright?”

“I’m good, peachy, and all those other confirmation terms. Just need a moment.” Slowly, she lets you go. 

It took a while, but the cops came and took them. Coop stayed with you to SDN, you didn’t know why, but you’ll take it. 

Leaving you finally alone, it was lunch time. Coop leaves to wherever she goes for lunch. Walking into the med-bay you see a familiar bat boy, he seemed a bit banged up. 

“Should I know?” You asked, ignoring the evercalling tiredness and decided to look into his injuries. 

Sonar’s eyes looked up from the ground, seeing you, he seemed to lighten up. “Nah. I won after all.”

“Wow, is your pants on fire, ‘cause thats a fucking lie, Bat bitch.” Behind you, someone else joins the med-bay, she looks to be fine, but that's what you can at least see.

“Really? I remember the guy in cuffs at the end.” 

“Yeah, with my help, you just took the hits.” She stopped and looked at you, her eyes trailing up and down. “You the healer?” A simple nod. “Thought you would look different, but whatever, we can work with this.” She leaned closer and walked around you. “Prism’s the name, baby. Welcome to the Z-team.”

“Uhm, Reader. Thanks for the welcome.” Looking back at Sonar, it seems like you would need a nap, the constant healing from helping others would make you pass out soon. “I can heal about half-ish? I’m tired as is, so I’ll try to heal as much as I can, but might take the rest of the day off so I can rest.”

Prism hums a bit, “How that work?”

“My power?” 

Sonar nods, “Well, ‘course. If Bobert was here, he'd want to know so you won’t be stranded alone and passed out. Dudes good at dispatching.”

“Healing takes my energy. The more I heal, the more I get tired. And I’ve gotten rusty, haven’t healed like this, back to back, after I became a villain. And Robert knows. I think?” You shrugged.

A hum leaves Sonar, “Well, that's not good. Boberto will need to know, last time someone didn’t tell him about something, wellll..” He drifted the word off as Prism laughed.

“It was so worth it, but I’ll let him know that you won’t be on shift.” Then Prism left, leaving you and Sonar. 

“Do I want to know?” You asked, honestly, it sounds interesting and a bit dangerous.

A snort leaves the other, “Nah, it was cringe. But you don’t have to heal, Mal can help me.”

“Mal?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Malevola, she’s on our team, you’ll meet her soon.” He groaned as he got up. 

“Yeah, no, sit back down. I can still heal, I’ll just take a nap. Just return the favor by waking me up after the shift.” You grabbed his shoulder, letting your energy slip through as he sat back down. “Rest up before lunch is over. Anyway, good shift.” 

Finally, almost drained, you let his shoulder go, all of his wounds are now scratches and minor bruises. You flopped back into the medic bed, yawning. 

“Thanks. Again. Didn’t have to do that.” He said, you didn’t hear any movement, your breathing and maybe his. 

“Thank me by waking me up after the shift.” You lay into the bed correctly, maybe you can convince the higher ups with a bed to call your own for a bit.

“What about a drink?” 

“That sounds nice.” 

(Pt 2 here)

In your homeland, the nation of war, healers are highly valued, highly sought after. This, however, does not grant them autonomy. Traded, won, and bought. That has been your life thus far. Now though, you’ve fallen into the possession of a man you know will never lose a battle.

cw: societal-typical captivity, Yandere-esc behavior, background death, non consensual touching/kissing, sharing a bed (romantic, but not sexual), consensual relationship, brief use of the word ‘master’ until Capitano shuts that down, time skip.

2.8k words

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The sun was relentless, on the battlefield. Glaring down from the horizon, it was blindingly bright. It’s heat was so palpable it warped the rocky terrain around you. Your face, back, legs, all were drenched in sweat. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst part was the smell of the fallen bandits cooking under it.

You choked back a sob as another waft of the scent passed you. Rotting, seared. The battle was over, but didn’t dare to move from the spot behind a jagged rock you’d taken. Quietly, you cursed to yourself, “stupid, fucking—stupid. Gods, archons, fucking, idiotic—”

Idiotic team leader, idiotic fucking team. The scouts were supposed to make sure backup wasn’t within range, the talkers were supposed to intimidate them into to fork over their supplies, and the front liners were supposed to not fucking die should a altercation begin.

Apparently none of them did their job, because the moment swords were drawn, one of them sent a signal to a larger group of Fatui a ways back—the moment their backup arrived marked the start of the bloodshed.

They cut through your group with far too much ease. Trained. You didn’t dare peek out from your hiding place, but you listened to the ‘shirk, shirk, shirk’ as each bandit was double-tapped.

You bit your bottom lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, as footstepped creeped closer.

As a healer, you’d never been afraid of defeat. Even ones that had the entirety of the group you were with dead. But those defeats came at the hands of other Natlan people. Those were people who would spare the healer, finding better uses for you than death. The Fatui? No such promise. Surely they had their own, and in turn, you held no use.

Yandere Stalker + Healer Reader Drabble

Summary: As the title says.

Warning: Violence and Injury, spit mentions, and themes of masochism.

A Yan complete trashing themselves just to annoy you so much with having to repair them that you just grab them by the hair and spit on the infected area. They weakly thank you and are straight out the door to do it all over again.

Licking or kissing the wound and watching the freak try not to lose their self control. Take it a step further and being the cause of it by biting them.

Giving Yan a drink you were nursing or a piece of candy you had in your mouth which they obviously treat like an indirect kiss and a sign that you feel the same way when you just rather not have them pleading out on your floor.