Begging for any x reader crumbs for the Ersatz gang 🙏 maybe nurse!reader?
Especially Carrie and Ascetic pretty please 👉👈
Something about Carrie's comments on first seeing Mophead has me thinking he's a bit bitter deep down
A/N: *throws loaf of bread content* FEAST MY CHILD!!! Sorry this took so long I was trying to come up with scenarios for all the characters individually. (I also couldn't come up with a scenario for Warwick so I just replaced them with the Ascetic)
Nurses Favorite
Mophead, Munroe, Carrie, The Ascetic x Nurse!Reader
(Images credit goes @/clownsaint except the Ascetic being from @/marshalllir)
tags: injuries from war, insomnia, nightmares, resetting bones, poisonous gas, CPR, indirect kissing because I can, jealous!Carrie if you squint, mentions of eating disorder & being underweight for the Ascetic, no beta read we die in the trenches and get resurrected!!!
Mophead
It started with just a few headaches, than gradually grew to night terrors and insomnia. All common cases for the wide variety of soldiers, but most took to fixing the problems themselves with exercise, training, anything to tire themselves out.
Mophead wasn't as successful when it came to those methods.
Now almost every other night like clockwork, you'd run inventory and tending to anything in need of tidying, a knock would be heard against the wood. And the familiar white haired soldier would slink inside shy as a mouse, asking for any sleeping remedy you could provide to make them sleep.
"Please just anything will help, it's been a full day now, I can't sleep, none of the other nurses will help." They'd begged in the beginning, their eyes so dull and tired but their head wouldn't comply to rest.
At first you gave into their demands for sleeping pills, of course their body soon started to withstand it and they were back at the infirmary door.
"I can't give you more, it's not healthy, you know there are other methods to help people fall asleep right?"
"W-well yes but what- or well..how do you get the supplies? Doubt they'll just give you the materials to help one soldier."
They watched you fetch a small container of dried herbs, fetching a small cup to fill with hot water.
"True, but I can just take them and there is always improvising. It is my job to make sure you stay in peak condition," You smirk handing them the drink.
"It's chamomile and lavender, helps the nerves and aids sleep."
It aided them somewhat, you giving them a bed to rest in while you did the rest of your chores around the infirmary, coming back to see them curled up somewhat asleep.
This began an odd routine, on night where flashes of what he saw in the machine weighed heavy on their thoughts, they'd come to you, conducting experiments to later compare which ones helped them sleep the most.
Being read a book despite how childish the method sounded, it had to be boring or else they'd become to transfixed on the story to fall asleep.
Tea was a close second if they needed to wind down before attempting to sleep.
Weighted blankets made from multiple layers of cloth worked the best.
All conducted in a spare notebook you two shared, thinking of other ways along with what worked now.
Mophead just failed to mention they had found the best way to relax was your voice, not just reading to them but saying anything was a lullaby to their senses.
Soon enough, the mere mention of the infirmary had them yawning and seeing you outside their visits in the night, they'd wave or nod in acknowledgment with a softeness in their usually anxio expression.
Of course you'd realized this pavlova effect by the third week, an ironic due to the common occurrence being around someone people trust makes them more vulnerable and susceptible to rest.
Neither of you mentioned it, just continuing the occasional visits, curled up on a cot while you write down records, talking about your day to them.
Eventually you'd definitely need to get the confidence to offer physical touch as another method.
Munroe
This was the last time you would try and save his sorry ass from his own carelessness, or at least that's what you kept repeating as you unbuttoned his uniform hastily.
Another case of forgetting his Lotus mask, you could only groan at the sight of him once again limp and lifeless before doing the same thing you did everytime since meeting him.
Most of the other nurses had given up on trying to manually revive his damaged lungs, but the idea of throwing him in the machine just to fix them seemed wasteful in your opinion.
Brushing away his matted hair to feel for a pulse, the stillness of his body laid on the cot didn't phase you anymore as you moved to loom over him.
Or maybe your stubbornness proceeded you, hands pressing over the side of his chest to begin administrating the practiced pace of chest pumps counting in your head, looking for any signs of life in his calm expression.
"C'mon, come back you fucking prick."
Hissing under your breath at the compressions not helping, cupping his face gently you bit back any hesitation despite having done this countless times.
Pinch his nose closed, tilt his head upright to open airways, give two breaths, repeat chest compressions til patient wakes up or doesn't respond after 20 minutes.
It just felt strange, knowing what his lips felt like from trying to save him so often, chapped and dry whenever you began, slowly growing softer with each breath you gave.
It was unprofessional by all means but once again...the machine would be worse on him than the countless bruises you'd pressed into his chest.
"I said come back, I haven't failed you yet have I?" You panted between compressions, sweat building on your skin looking down at him.
Still unresponsive.
Perhaps you were still scared for him, the only standing force between his life and the machine. Your CPR had been successful in the past, but it was getting harder, trying to revive him manually began to take longer.
His lungs would be replaced soon enough...you could only hope it'd be soon and from battle instead of his negligence.
Lips slotted over his once agaon, fingers tilting his head to push it down his throat into his lungs, half in desperation and your stressed mind forgetting how long you'd been at this.
Your thoughts were interrupted by Munroe's eyes snapping open in panic, coughing violently before you pressed his Lotus mask to his face to help filter out anything still inside.
"Deep breaths Munroe, like we practiced, in and out." Your strained voice demanded between labored breathing, glancing to the clock to check the time.
15 minutes.
His lungs needed to be replaced soon, you couldn't keep this up.
Munroe's hand found your arm as he tried to sit up, mask slowly slipping while looking to you.
It was hard to see through the dusty goggles, but he could see your ragged state, sweat staining the front of your apron as the familiar sense of shame followed.
The moment was over in a second as he was pushed down in retaliation to his effort, you tried to unwind your tense nerves, he was alive, you did your job.
"Hyack-! How...how long was I out?"
The only problem was trying to keep him that way.
"Fifteen minutes, your lungs are getting worse due to exposure," You forced out, hands fumbled for a stethoscope, Munroe's gaze stuck to you, taking in all the strife that sat on your shoulders the subtle shake in your hands.
"You'll need a transplant eventually, you'll be better off with someone else's. Deep breathe in for me."
He didn't try to sit up again while the cool metal of the stethoscope touched his warm but bruised chest earning a wince.
"Lucky me..."
Munroe wheezed somewhat at the pain in his beaten lungs, from the chemicals or the beating you gave his chest it was hard to tell.
But he sighed in relief all the same once you were done checking him over, handing him a glass of water to wash down some pills while you berated him.
He'd take this over the machine any chance he could get, coming back to life to see you loom above him was a million times better than the cold metal slate.
Even in the brief sensations of life and death, he could still feel the lingering imprint of your lips over his.
"You are lucky, just stop testing it Munroe." You sighed sitting down finally allowing yourself to rest.
Munroe only hummed in response, hand gently laying over yours in assurance.
Carrie
It was hard to tell if Carrie was scowling or not with those jagged teeth, but nonetheless he wasn't fighting Warwick which was a good sign even as you could hear him growling and cursing under his breath followed by an overly loud yell of pain.
Every other nurse grumbled about what he was a pain to deal with, always snapping back
If he came back from battle alive that is, you didn't think so, but you were bias, you knew how to handle him as the familiar figures of Warwick and Carrie entered the infirmary.
The boarfaced soldier making sure Carrie didn't try to brush off a major injury.
"He's got a crick in his jaw, noticed it just after lunch." Warwick informed as you pulled on your gloves with an appreciative nod.
"Thank you for the rundown Coperal, I'll see what's wrong." With Warwick gone and Carrie taking his spot at the cot, you could already see something amiss.
The gap between his jaw sort of sagged oddly on the right side of his face, even if it was hard to tell.
You held back a crude joke about the injury stopping his yapping for once, now wasn't the time for that as you sat in front of him. Hand reaching for his face and the other holding a small light.
"I'm just gonna check that gap in your jaw, that's all so bear with me and open wide."
It was always a delicate dance when it came to navigating around his teeth, being mindful of the tusks as he held still for you. Fingers sliding against the wall of his mouth as you shined the light into his gaping maw.
Not taking his eyes off your face, swallowing thickly watching your deep focus on his teeth, followed by a tilt of your head to get a better angle leaning closer.
What did you think of him? You'd worked with countless soldiers, probably far more easy on the eyes than him with a lopsided jaw and bandaged skin.
He could snap his teeth down with the painful strain if he wanted.
Take a few fingers of your pretty fingers too if he bit through your gloves.
Saliva pooled as kept his composure, an odd noise gurgling at the back of his throat at your prodding.
Looking deep into the mangled jaws of something that could hurt you filled him with tension, wondering what your blood would taste like between his teeth, of if you'd even look him in the eye if he did.
You pulled away before his thoughts could go any further, a string of saliva hanging between the fingers of your gloves to his teeth, not that you seemed to mind leaning back in your seat.
"It's not a crick, your jaw is dislocated. I'll need to numb it before I fit it back into place-"
Moving to fetch a syringe, your stopped by his hand gripping your gloved wrist.
Somehow few pained words made it through his oddly lopsided jaw. The numbing would make it harder to stay still, harder to feel your fingers, easier to bite without even realizing.
"Ghet it over with, m'not walkin out with a numb jaw. Shit'll bother me for hours."
Your confused look would have been a great opportunity to say something crude if he could say it without another flash of pain.
"You know at some point you need to confront your weird habit to inflicting pain, it's gonna hurt like hell and a half," You warn to which he only tightens his grip, the glare of his single eye unwavering like an angered animal.
"I guess it will be faster if you insist, just don't expect a reward by the end of this."
He didn't say anything, only leaned forward like you instructed, your thumbs sliding to fit between his tusks and press down on his tongue.
Palms fitting to the underside of his jaw, he didn't dare move his gaze away you finally looked up to meet his gaze.
A tense silence settling around the two of you, a calm before the storm.
Trust was an odd feeling, especially for a situation like this, you trusted him to not bite, and he trusted you would fix him, his grip slipping from your arm to not risk scratching you in the aftermath.
"What's your favorite color?"
He blinked in confusion, what a stupi-
A sick crack echoed through his skull with a wave of warm pain, his jaw fitting back into place.
"AAOWWWW!!!" He screeched, turning his head away to cradle his fixed jaw.
You'd thankfully pulled your hands away before any of his teeth got you, letting go of a breath you didn't realize you were holding.
Immediately fetching an ice bag for him like it was second nature, and for a second you were glad he could talk again, even if he cussed about the pain.
The Ascetic
You tsked reading the scale of your current patients weight, he was an odd one but then again they all were.
He was just a special kind of strange.
The hooded man merely tilted his head in amusement, waiting for your diagnosis as if he hadn't been here before for the same problem.
"How many times do I need to tell you? Your underweight, you need to eat, you didn't. That's why you fainted, hence why your squadmates brought you to me." You explained pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn't see it but you knew he was smiling at your frustration.
You both knew he wasn't going to change his way, no matter how many times his unconscious form was dropped him on the doorsteps infirmary for you to handle.
"How knowledgeable, but I think we both know your remedy for my predicament...nurse." He hummed with false interest for your words leaning closer, the two of you currently alone.
The warm light above only highlighted the whites of his eyes teeth and nose, inky black pupils like eclipses looking down on you unblinkingly.
That familiar shiver ran up your spine before turning away to reach for something, a small cylinder container that could fit in his pocket full of pills.
"Hush now, you can deny yourself all the desires you want or whatever it is, what you can't deny yourself is nutrients & proteins,"
You said handing it to him but not letting go just yet as you glared up at him.
"And for your own sake, drink some water at least please? You won't be able to take care of all those animals if you keep falling over."
Somehow that please and mention of the company he keeps brought him to his senses.
A soft rumble of laughter spilling from his teeth like velvet as he stood, pocketing the container.
"I can follow through with that request, thank you." He nodded before getting up to leave, you stayed and watched just in case his body gave out on him, wouldn't have been the first time you had to catch him.
Thankfully he didn't, which you were grateful for before continuing onto set his file away when your eyes caught something.
A small bread roll with a small jar of jam from the mess hall perched on your desk.
A payment for your help.
You huffed with a small smile before taking your payment to bite into before anyone noticed the exchange, you could only hope he'd have the decency to come back when he ran out of pills than pass out again.
A/N: I hope I did The Ascetic some justice since we only got so little of him. Anyways hope you enjoyed and requests are still open! I'm probably gonna do them in hcs since this took me a while to make.
