mancrushmonday

Healing Hands Part 1

Cable x reader fic here! Should be about three parts, one each #metalarmmonday lol

Enjoy! 


It had been a long shift…like 18 hours long. The kind of shift where someone had thrown up on you at least six hours ago, and the bus had smelled like urine, and you were pretty sure the rain had frizzed your hair into a wild mane, and all you really wanted was a hot shower and sleep.

Well…at least you got the first one.

Fresh out of the shower and half asleep as you stumbled towards your bed, the pounding on your front door made you stop and wonder if homicide by exhaustion was a legal defense.

Groaning softly, you secured the robe around you tighter and paused at the door to grab your baseball bat, tucking it behind one leg as you cracked open the door.

“Doc!” a cheery, red latex covered face greeted you.

Groaning louder you shook your head vehemently, “No Wade, I’m not stitching up whatever dumbass you’ve roped into helping you this time,” you refuted, trying to close the door against his foot.

“Haha, ouchies doc! You’re gonna break my foot!” Ward declared loudly—too fucking loudly for 3am in this neighborhood and in this building.

Originally posted by tedlogan

“Goddamnit, shut up and get in here,” you hissed, unlatching the door and throwing it open. Ward gave a quick salute and then grabbed the—metal arm?!—of someone and dragged him into your apartment.

The other person was an older man, maybe in his 50’s, with silvery black hair and a buzzed undercut, but the most interesting feature was surely the metal arm and bits of metal on his shoulder peeking out from his blood soaked grey t-shirt.

“What happened?” you demanded as Ward carried the unconscious man back to the small bathroom that was just off your bedroom.

“Bad guys with lots of guns. Alien tech apparently, and no one from SHIELD thought they should share the news with us that these fuckers are running around trying to kill mutant kids,” Wade told you, voice pleasant, minus the acerbic note that greatly sounded like he was looking to hunt someone down and turn them into sushi with his swords.

“Right, give me a second,” you muttered, hurrying to your closet to pull out a clean pair of scrubs and hastily pulled them on, ignoring the fact that Wade was cat calling you as you did.

The first few times this had happened with whoever Wade pulled into his bullshit you had been totally unprepared, and confused as to how he had found you.

Then he had lifted his mask and told you his real name and the realization came that he had been on your rounds in the oncology ward.

So here you were, a year later, stealing medical supplies to stitch up whomever Wade dragged into your life, praying that you’d never get caught. 

Falling to your knees beside the tub, you ignored the fact that Wade had taken a perch on your sink and was drawing on your mirror in lipstick.

A quick glance told you it was your least favorite color, so no loss there.

Turning your attention to the man in the tub, you quickly went to work, cutting off his shirt to assess the damage. “Hooooly fuck,” you whispered, wide eyed.

Half of the man’s body was metal from the waist up. But that…that wasn’t possible, was it?

Originally posted by body-slidebytwo

The real issue here was the bullet hole in the man’s right shoulder and another along his abdomen. Both were bleeding profusely, steadily.

Looking up at Wade you smacked his leg, “Help me undress him, I don’t want to get more blood on his clothes than I have to,” you ordered.

“Oh goodie, can we see if his cock is metal? I bet it is,” Wade murmured eagerly and you snorted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You are…” you huffed as you wrestled with the man’s torso, lifting him so you could get at the torn pieces of his shirt, “the thirstiest man I have ever met,” you gasped, settling the man’s shoulders back against the tub wall.

“Aww thank you,” Wade purred, taking the blood stained pants and boots along with him as he hopped onto your counter again.

Smirking, you quickly pulled out a clean wash cloth and turned on the hot water, soaking it before you wrung it out over the wounds.

Metal flashed and pinched—the man was awake and growling profanities at you, your wrist firmly in his grip.

“What the fuck?! Who the fuck are you?!” 

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Healing Hands Part 3

At first you didn’t know why you had awoken, you only knew that your instincts were screaming that something was wrong. Adrenaline throbbed through your body with each beat of your heart and as you sat up slowly in bed, you heard the soft, but distinct sound of footsteps on your wood flooring. 

In a beat you were rolling over to open the gun safe beside your bed, not needing to check to know the Beretta was loaded. Gently, you slid from bed, feet barely a whisper against the floor as you crept towards the door to try and hear better. 

Whoever it was in your apartment, they were stealthy, you had to give them that. You could barely hear their steps, and it was only the creak of the floorboard outside your door that gave away their position. 

“I think you should know before you come any further, I’m armed and I won’t hesitate to shoot,” you called, loud enough for whoever was on the other side of the door to hear. 

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