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mika-writes-fanfics · 1 year

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Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, aftermath of hideout raid

Author's Note: Okay a lot happens this chapter but bear with me, I’m speedrunning to the smut because I promised within 3 chapters and I’m trying to fucking deliver. I originally wanted to have reader also be teleported away with Bakugo since it would be closer to the canon, as AFO tp’d bakugo since Shiggy thought he was important. I went with this instead because the other idea did not translate well in writing. Waaaayy too much action for a fic, I’ll take a plot hole instead, thank you very much. You guys pick if you drink tea or coffee (if you drink neither I'm sorry lol). Anyways, rambling aside, I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 8.1K

Link to AO3

Chapter Eight: Pizza Delivery!

Dabi can tell you’re much more distant now, no doubt because of what Compress said, or rather, what the league had done. You try to hide your feelings behind a mask of neutrality, but Dabi is perceptive. He’s good at reading people, especially you. You’ve spent so much time around him and you’ve occupied so much space in his head that it’s become second nature for him to memorize your face. Besides the fact that he’s noticed your face is no longer as carefree, it’s easy to see how much differently you’re acting towards him. You heal his hands over without any comments and your touch doesn’t linger on him a moment longer than necessary. You’ve completely withdrawn from him, it seems.

“Let him out of the marble in a minute, we need time to prepare,” Shigaraki orders. “Kurogiri, get the stuff.”

Kurogiri nods and bows, leaving the room to fetch the required restraints. You watch in slight horror as he returns with a chair, hand restraints, and a full-body harness equipped with locks. They must really think this kid is a danger to them to go to those lengths. You weren’t even restrained like that when Shigaraki abducted you, but to be fair, your kidnapping was more spur of the moment and less planned out than this. If snatching this kid was the whole purpose of the mission, the LOV has been gearing up for at least a week. You remember hearing Magne say this plan will humiliate UA, and you know Shigaraki’s main goal is dismantling hero society. You’re not entirely sure how the two are connected, but there’s one thing you’re sure of: Shigaraki will use any methods necessary to achieve that goal.

You’re glad you finished healing Dabi when you did. Touching him after seeing the methods they intend to use on a child would confuse you more than you already are. You want to ask him just what the hell was he thinking, why did he even agree to this, and what methods would he stoop down to in order to achieve his own goals. You want to know, no, you need to know, as if understanding would make the hurt go away and would repair your now tainted view of him. This situation makes you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desensitized to their crimes you’ve become. Seeing the league’s humanity and domesticity has done a number on your mind. What part do you play in this? Are you helping them commit these atrocities? Or are you really just looking out for yourself? The questions and racing thoughts burn through your emotional energy. You feel so damn drained.

As confusing and depressing as your situation is right now, you have to ask yourself: What can you do right now? You don’t have the power to run away, to change their minds, to condemn their behavior, to break the kid out of captivity. But what you can do is heal the kid if he’s hurt, share with him what you’ve learned, and provide him with anything that could possibly be useful. If this kid has a fighting quirk, he has the best chance of getting out. If he manages to pull it off then maybe, just maybe, he could tell someone where you are. People aren’t looking for you because it looked like you either disappeared into thin air or ran off entirely without telling anyone. If the authorities know where to look and who you’re with, it’s possible you can get out sooner. The moral dilemmas will come after you’ve made it out, but not a moment sooner. Carrying on is all you can do besides give the kid all the tools to escape.

While you’re in your own head rationalizing everything, Dabi takes notice of you. He sees the gears turning in your head and the expressions of sadness that accompany them. It wrenches his chest, a bit, to see you so despondent and to experience you acting so distant. He’s grown used to the banter you share. Your laughs, smiles, and mischievous expressions have become simple pleasures he looks forward to after a long day of tainting his hands and staining his soul. All good things must come to an end, he’s especially cognizant of that fact of life. Still, it stings to know the good slice of his life that is you will be ripped away from him so soon. He convinces himself it’s for the best. Growing closer to you is a distraction from his life’s purpose. Losing you is part of the price tag that comes with buying into revenge.

The two of you are stirred out of your thoughts upon Kurogiri setting everything up under Shigaraki’s orders. The chair is placed on the opposite side of the room, far away from everyone else. With all the restraints weaved through the chair legs and backrest, it won’t be easy for this kid to just break free of the bindings. Shigaraki gives the go-ahead, allowing Compress to release his quirk. The kid emerges from the marble and lays out on the floor, unconscious. Seeing the kid completely unresponsive makes you sick. Intrusive thoughts make you picture this poor kid getting knocked out before his abduction, which only worsens your spiraling mind.

“Well that’s definitely Bakugo Katsuki,” Shigaraki comments. “Why’s he knocked out though? I told you all to not harm the target.”

“Looks like he fell asleep in that marble,” Compress reasons. “He was unharmed when he went in, but he’s been compressed for an hour or two. I suspect he was bored in there.” You find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon hearing this information.

“I guess this is to our benefit. He’ll be easier to restrain this way,” Shigaraki settles. “Kurogiri, you do it. If he wakes up, you know what to do.” Kurogiri follows his orders and gently places Bakugo in the chair, clasping all the restraints around him. It’s kind of amazing how he’s able to sleep through it all.

‘This kid is one hell of a heavy sleeper,’ you think.

“Since he’s still asleep, we’ll go over what happens next,” Shigaraki announces.

“Should we really do this in earshot of him? If he wakes up, he’ll hear everything,” Dabi criticizes.

“Well we can’t just leave him alone,” Shigaraki refutes.

“Look at him, do you really think he’ll be able to get out of that?” Dabi points out. Shigaraki seems to consider the idea, though he doesn’t budge quite yet. “It’s your call, but I think this is stupid either way.”

“Fine! We’ll talk about it in the kitchen,” Shigaraki throws his hands up and relents. The rest of the league files out of the room. You’re about to follow before Shigaraki singles you out. “And you,” he points at you. “Go to your room.”

“Me? What did I do?” You ask, incredulously. Somehow this feels like a punishment.

“I’m not risking you breaking out the kid and ruining my plans while we’re busy,” he justifies. “You’re going upstairs.”

“Okay mom, how long am I grounded for then?”

“Until I say so. Go fuck off to your room, now,” he warns, crimson eyes glaring at you in annoyance. His tone and choice of words let you know he’s in no mood for your antics or sarcasm today. Shigaraki seems tense. This plan of his is evidently high stakes, but so is yours. You take the warning and head up the stairs, pretending to go into your room. Your feet stop just short of the top of the stairs, carefully peering around the corner and listening out.

Shigaraki pulls them all to another room to start discussing the plan, detailing the reason why he asked for Bakugo’s kidnapping. You’re ever thankful that the league tends to be loud as it makes your intentions much easier to pull off. You slip past the door and carefully tiptoe to the kid. Your luck must finally be turning, as you see the kid slowly start to regain consciousness. He blinks a few times, carmine eyes adjusting to the light. You see a flash of panic on his face upon seeing the new environment and feeling the restraints constricting his body.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Did they hurt you?” You whisper, expressing your condolences. He seems to be a fiery kid, as his face twists in a sneer.

“Get the fuck away from me, wench,” the blonde kid bites. You back up and raise your arms, despite the fact he’s completely tied to a chair. You’re starting to see the intimidation factor that seems to surround this kid.

“Woah there, I’m like you, kid. I don’t want to be here either, they kidnapped me too,” you negotiate carefully.

“So what, you just decided to fight for them after they kidnapped you? That’s pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he insults. Your eyebrow twitches. You’re trying to help him, does this kid really need to rub salt in the wound?

“One, I didn’t ask you. Two, I can’t fight, I’m here because of my healing quirk. And three, I’m trying to help you,” you lecture.

“Oh,” he says, in a rather small voice. It’s clear the kid is at least a little ashamed of his outburst.

“Yeah, jump to conclusions much?” You sass. You try to reign in your exasperation and approach the situation gently. “Now, one more time, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, they barely even scratched me. Though that one stapled guy had a death grip on my neck,” he complains. Your heart drops at the revelation.

“Sounds like Dabi,” you inform, trying to cover up your saddened tone. You push your emotions to the side and focus on helping the kid. A quick visual pass over his neck doesn’t reveal any injuries, thankfully. “I don’t see any bruises, so it looks like you’re okay.”

“How long have you been here?” He asks. You can almost detect the faintest bit of sympathy in his voice.

“You know, now that you mention it… I’ve kinda lost track,” you say somberly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. Do you know if your friends or teachers see it happen? If they know why you’re gone and who took you, they’re probably already looking for you as we speak.”

“Oh they saw everything alright,” he snorts. You’re surprised at that, you would have figured with all the sneaky quirks up their sleeve that the LOV would have done this stealthily. Though, remembering how Magne remarked that this plan was supposed to humiliate UA, which you’ve come to realize is a school, makes you see that stealth was never the point.

“I have a feeling the heroes will at least try to rescue you, but if you have a strong quirk, you might be able to make your own way,” you explain. “But listen to me, do not brute force an escape. Take the opportunity if it presents itself, but don’t put yourself in danger. If you get out and I don’t, keep going. You can just tell the heroes where I am.”

“Like I’d leave a civilian with them. I wouldn’t be a hero-in-training if I just left you here. We’ll break out of here and pummel those bastards, I promise!” he says with conviction. His spitfire personality grows on you a bit in that moment. Even though he was a little rude to you at first, you still want to help him any way you can. You fill him in on what you’ve learned about the league, mostly giving him information about all their quirks and potential weaknesses. The league’s chatter in the other room seems to slowly die down. With the remaining time you have, you warn him not to attack and that subtly is safer, to which he seems incredibly appalled by.

“I’m not much of a faker,” he says with pride. “I make my own opening, my way.”

“We’ll talk about why that’s such a terrible idea later, I gotta go back before they notice,” You hurriedly advise. “You gotta pretend you didn’t see me, alright? I wasn’t supposed to be down here with you.” He gives you an understanding nod and you take the chance to scurry away. You’re actually thankful you’ve been at the league’s base for so long, as you’ve recognized which floorboards creak the most and which path is the quietest. You slip away and head to your room, unnoticed. It’s incredibly lucky that you haven’t been caught scheming. Your ears strain to pick up on everyone’s footfalls until the sounds become more clear, before eventually stopping entirely. It seems they’re done with the debriefing process and are back in the bar.

“Y/n! Shigaraki said you’re not grounded anymore!” Toga calls out. You don’t hesitate to take the opportunity and you head downstairs, joining the others. Everyone seems to be staring at Bakugo in either anticipation or caution. They seem to avoid getting near his space, as evident by the distance between Bakugo and the others. The atmosphere is incredibly tense, no doubt due to the seething expression on Bakugo’s face. An uneasy silence settles in the room. Even the more talkative members of the LOV refrain from talking. Shigaraki is the one to speak first, breaking the silence and establishing his control over the situation.

“Dabi, take off his restraints,” Shigaraki commands.

“You know he’s just going to try to fight us, right?” Dabi asks, doubtful of his leader’s plan.

“It’s fine, if we’re scouting him, we need to treat him like equals,” Shigaraki dismisses. Shigaraki’s words fail to convince him.

Dabi looks at the kid, sizing him up. He must not like what he sees as he offloads the responsibility onto Twice. “Twice, you do it.”

“Why me?!” Twice exclaims. Even he doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea.

“Just do it,” Dabi insists, exasperated by Twice’s hesitance.

“No way,” Twice denies with exaggerated gestures, before dropping the resistance entirely. Twice ends up walking over to Bakugo and unlocking all the restraints. You try to shoot him a look as a reminder about what the two of you secretly discussed: don’t be stupid and do something obvious. The warning is lost on the kid as he ignores your intense gaze and lunges for Shigaraki. An explosion hits the leader in the face, clouding him in a bit of smoke. The kid quickly backs away from Shigaraki’s space, taking advantage of the initial shock.

You stare at Bakugo, dumbfounded, with an expression that can only communicate, ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’

You feel yourself sweating out of stress. Shigaraki seems completely stunned, but despite his initial lack of reaction, you find yourself growing anxious upon realizing that his hand mask is on the floor. You’ve never seen him take it off. He’s gotta be especially protective over that thing. Bakugo seems to be eyeing the situation, eyes darting back and forth between everyone, clearly cooking up a plan to escape. It’s then you realized you forgot to tell him all the doors are locked. You feel a dawning horror invade your emotions. This is going terribly and you can’t help but feel it’s all your fault.

To your surprise, Shigaraki doesn’t respond with malice. Rather, he commands for everyone to leave the kid unharmed. He specifically instructs Compress and Kurogiri to put him back to sleep. The mercy the LOV leader is showing is incredibly unlike him, but welcome nonetheless. Shigaraki’s orders make you release the breath you were holding and relax. Still, you don’t tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding, staying alert in case you can help the kid out in some way. Compress carefully begins to approach Bakugo. The kid sizes up the situation and seems to brace himself for the chance he could dodge Compress.

A knock on the door makes everyone halt in their places, momentarily pausing the confrontation. “Pizza delivery!” A voice says from behind the door. The league members look at each other in skepticism.

“Did one of you idiots order a fucking pizza, I swear to god-“ Shigaraki questions, cut off by a loud crash that sounds off to the right of them. You turn to look, seeing the wall blown in by people donned in capes and bodysuits. The sight makes you want to cry in relief. It’s the heroes, the two of you are saved. You even see All Might amongst the heroes, the man who’s known internationally for being the unbeatable symbol of peace. You just hope that All Might remains unstoppable in the face of the League of Villains. The heroes don’t hesitate a second longer, as everyone springs into action. Tree branches reach for all the villains, ensnaring everyone, including you. It's then you realize how your situation must look from the outside. The heroes think you’re a villain.

Fuck.

How do you convince them you’re not a threat when there’s not even time for you to speak?

A flash of blue fire erupts from Dabi’s head. If the heroes don’t neutralize his quirk, he’ll definitely burn the branches restraining you all until nothing remains but ash. You were hopeful you’d get out of here, but you’re feeling doubtful now. The situation is incredibly hectic and ever-changing. A flash of yellow zooms past you, moving far too fast for your eyes to fully comprehend. When you turn your head, you catch sight of an old man in a yellow cape kicking Dabi on the back of the head. Dabi’s eyes seem to roll back and he slumps forward into the branches. The scene makes you absolutely dumbstruck. Dabi is knocked out cold.

With Dabi ‘dispatched’, his flames are no longer an issue. The only blaring issue that remains to you is figuring out how to convince the heroes you aren’t a criminal. You’re not really given an opportunity, as All Might’s booms over yours. The sheer volume of his voice commands the room, there’s no way you can speak over him. All Might is completely focused on Bakugo, fussing over him like a concerned parent. They have a quick, heart-to-heart conversation, something about how terrifying it must have been for Bakugo to handle this on his own. Even in such a sincere moment, Bakugo’s personality shines through, as he vehemently denies ever feeling scared at all. The heroes are gloating as Shigaraki seethes at the scene, twitching from rage. You swear your eyes catch sight of something in the air, some red string that keeps catching the light. You’re straining to see what it is when the thread thickens. A face emerges from the thread, startling you. You’d jump on the spot if you weren’t completely immobilized.

“Oh? Who’s this? It appears our intel failed to find out a new villain joined their ranks,” the face muses. You open your mouth to counter his accusation, but you’re beaten to the point.

“Edgeshot, she’s not a villain!” Bakugo yells. “She’s just a civilian.”

“Not only did you abduct my pupil, but a civilian too?” All Might condemns, before confidently continuing. “It’s over. The childish pranks end now.”

All Might’s words must have enraged Shigaraki and pulled him out of his stunned stupor. Shigaraki shouts orders at Kurogiri to open up a warp gate, but the heroes have thought ahead. Kurogiri is pierced through the abdomen by who you understand is the hero Edgeshot, and promptly slumps over, Kurogiri’s body seemingly completely limp. You’re aghast in horror until the hero reappears from the thread and claims to have merely put him to sleep. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, with constant ups and downs, getting scared and worried just to feel slightly more at ease before the cycle happens again.

All Might seems to ask Shigaraki a question, something that seems important to the heroes, but you don’t pay it any mind. You can’t seem to focus on their conversation. Something just seems off. It appears there’s something in certain spots of the air that distorts, rippling in a way that’s reminiscent of water. You know it’s not the thread hero again, as he’s already materialized. These distortions are much different anyways. It’s almost like a dark spot is appearing, floating in space. Your suspicions are confirmed as black ooze seems to drip down out of thin air. The viscous mixture seems to grow in size as it pours down until you see pale limbs reaching out. Strange, humanoid beings come out of the sludge. Several of them have their brains exposed and completely uncovered by a skull. You feel sick just at the sight of something so unnatural and grotesque. What the hell are these things?

Whatever summoned these creatures takes advantage of the chaos. Black sludge erupts from the mouths of all LOV members. It encases the villains in a shroud of darkness and their bodies disappear into the inky depths, without a trace and leaving behind empty space where they were once restrained by branches. Bakugo seems to have been transported out of the room as well. His disappearance causes All Might to frantically yell upon failing to grab him. You’re shocked to see the hero look so caught off guard and genuinely emotional. He’s always been known to smile even in the face of danger. The fact he’s so openly shouting in distress is more than alarming.

You’re even more taken aback when you see the creatures begin to lunge for the heroes, forcing All Might and the rest to fight back. It’s clear to you that whatever the hell these monsters are, they’re far from friendly and they are numerous. The creatures seem to be even outside of the bar, as evident by the shrills of terror. It sounds terrible out there, you can hear screams, bullets, and the sound of fighting.

As you watch the scene unfold, your eyes accidentally make eye contact with a monster. One seems to turn in your direction and hone in on you. Your wide eyes stare in horror at the creature as it rushes towards you. It leaps and lunges at you. You flinch and screw your eyes shut, unable to do anything else besides steel yourself for the inevitable. The wooden hero creates a wall of branches between you and the monster, blocking off its attack.

“There’s too many! Kamui, get her out of here!” You overhear Edgeshot shout. Kamui, who you’ve come to realize is the tree hero, follows Edgeshot’s orders. The branches pull you from the room and out from the gaping hole in the wall, away from the chaos and combat. You’re lifted onto a nearby roof, still tightly bound by Kamui’s quirk. He stands near the edge of the building, seemingly scanning the surroundings, probably looking for a safer place to deliver you. You look over the streets as well, seeing destruction everywhere you look. It’s clear there’s no escape from the turmoil just yet. You catch his heroic posture faltering, with his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. No words are shared between the two of you as you both wait for the conflict to die down, unable to tear your eyes away from the morbid scene.

Eventually, enough bullets are spent and enough blood has been shed, as the strange creatures are put down. Kamui makes the descent down from the roof with you in tow. You’re delivered in front of a flaming hero, with a permanent scowl on his face, conversing with a police officer. Their attention immediately snaps to you. The large, flaming man looks at you with disinterest, but the officer seems perplexed by you.

“And who is this supposed to be?” The hero grills Kamui.

“Don’t know, we saw her in the base with the League of Villains,” he answers. “Kid believes she’s a civilian.”

“Civilian, huh? That’s rich,” the flame hero scoffs. The hero turns his attention to the police officer and gives him an order. “Put the quirk cuffs on her, we’ll process her like any other villain until we have actual evidence saying otherwise.”

The police officer looks skeptical and doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, his eyes narrow at you and he looks at you with vague recognition. The hero takes notice of his hesitance and asks, clearly annoyed, “What’s the hold-up?”

“Endeavor, with all due respect, I don’t believe she is a villain,” the policeman objects.

“Don’t tell me even you are falling for this ruse,” the hero sneers. “She was surely a part of some plan to trick the student. She probably lied to him and posed as another victim in order to gain his trust.”

“I worked a case a while back. A University student went missing without a trace. She matches the description,” he informs. The hero, who you assume is named Endeavor, remains unconvinced. The officer sighs, and compromises, “Look, we could ask her some questions, and if her answers match, then she’s actually a civilian and telling the truth.” Endeavor seems to think it over, relenting upon seeing the officer’s determined expression.

“Fine, ask your stupid questions, but she’s going to Tartarus if her answers don’t check out. Mark my words,” Endeavor warns. The officer gives a curt nod and turns to you.

“What’s your first name?” He opens.

“Y/n,” you answer.

“And your quirk?”

“Healing skin.”

“Seems like her,” the officer gloats. Endeavor remains skeptical, as is evident with his narrowed eyes and mouth pressed in a scowl.

Endeavor counters the officer’s claim, “Couldn’t she be pretending to be your missing university student? If it was all over the news-”

“It wasn’t,” the officer interrupts. “So many people go missing in this district that one more hardly makes the news. It’s her, there’s not a doubt in my mind.”

“What were you doing with the League of Villains?” Endeavor interrogates. He seems incredibly suspicious of you. You suppose you can’t really blame him. Edgeshot assumed you were in cahoots with the league back at the hideout. From an outsider’s perspective, you really did look suspect. Still, you have an opportunity to clear your name. The most you can do is tell your story and hope they believe you.

“Shigaraki knocked me out when I ran into him one night. When I woke up, I realized I had been kidnapped,” you explain. “He liked my quirk and thought I’d be useful. If I didn’t heal the league like he asked, he said he’d disintegrate me.”

Endeavor lets out an exhausted sigh, before rubbing his temples with one hand. “Take her to HPSC headquarters. The commission is gonna want to hear about this,” he orders the officer.

Kamui takes this as a sign to unhand you. He finally releases you from his quirk’s hold, much to your relief. The officer speaks into the radio on his suit, updating the situation and requesting a squad car, before leading you away. He escorts you away from the aftermath of the raid, guiding you through the scattered piles of debris, until you arrive at the police car, parked on an intact street with another officer waiting expectantly outside. The additional police officer opens the door to the backseat for you and you climb in, after which she shuts it behind you. Sounds of sirens and yelling are muffled in the car, giving you a momentary respite from all the commotion and the ability to finally process what happened.

You sit in the back of the squad car, contemplating everything that has happened while staring out the window. Just a few hours ago, you were healing the league and even laughing with them. After you realized they kidnapped a kid and then the heroes broke down the wall, everything seemed to just crash down at once. Somehow, you developed a sort of camaraderie with the lot, despite not subscribing to their goals and actively wishing to be away from them. You adapted to it. Life with the league became your new normal. But what will your normal be now? You doubt your life can just rewind back to the way it was before you were kidnapped, not since you escaped the clutches of the league. Speaking of, would they come back for you? Would they punish you for escaping? Would you ever see him again? These are questions you never thought to ask all the times you were fantasizing about fleeing. Now that you’re here, the questions are unavoidable and unfortunately, without answers.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don't care to listen to the officers radioing their superiors. You only process that they started the car when you see the scenery whizzing by. The drive to headquarters is simultaneously overwhelming yet quiet. The officers haven’t spoken a word to you since loading you into the car, leaving you to drown in your own head.

You thought you’d be happy to see the outside again, but now that you’re here, it’s incredibly overstimulating. The lights are too bright, the buildings are too big, and the radio relaying updates is far too loud. Your hands ball up in your lap, knuckles turning white from your anxious clenching. You worry your time in captivity has ruined you, and the thought only serves to heighten your anxiety.

The car eventually rolls up to a large building and parks on the curb. One of the officers opens your car door after getting out herself, and you step out and onto the sidewalk. They both lead you into the building, where they freely walk into the lobby, filled with heroes coming and going. The receptionist doesn’t bother to stop the officers, instead giving them a look of recognition and an understanding nod. You all shuffle into an elevator and rise to the top floor. The ascent is silent until the elevator dings and the metal doors slide open. You all step out of the elevator and into a sort of waiting area, where a man with crimson red wings greets the officers. They exchange polite greetings all the while you stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the situation. The pupils in the hero’s yellow eyes seem to narrow to slits when they dart to you, sizing you up with interest.

“So this must be the little dove found at the hideout,” the feathered hero muses, as he looks at you.

“You’d be correct,” the officer confirms. “We’re supposed to escort Miss y/n to the Safety Commission President. Would you know where she is around now?”

“Don’t worry about it, I can take over from here. You two must have a mountain of paperwork after the Kamino raid, ” Hawks offers. They seem to be grateful for this, as you’re handed off to the bird-like hero. The police officers say their thanks before heading back down through the elevators, leaving you alone with yet another new person.

“The name’s Hawks. Nice to meet you, y/n,” he introduces, rather informally.

“Y-yeah, likewise,” you stutter, feeling a bit nervous in the company of a new stranger. “Um, Hawks?”

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Why am I here?”

“You’ve piqued the interest of some very important people,” he explains. You must look worried as he quickly adds, “They just want to know about what happened to you and what you know, that sort of thing.”

“I see…” you reply, voice trailing off.

You’re led through the halls and into a sort of conference room. Five strangers in formal business wear sit behind a slightly curved desk, arranged in a sort of panel. Hawks ushers you to the center of the room, leaving you to stand in front of them as he posts himself near the door. You’re not sure what is going on. Your palms start sweating from nervousness. It feels like you’re in a courtroom, on trial. One of the five people sitting behind the long table presses a button on what you assume is some sort of audio recording device. The questions feel endless, just one after another, all asking about the LOV. Over time, they seem less suspicious of you and your story, especially after explaining Shigaraki’s initial threats. The meeting, or rather, the interrogation ends with a question about Shigaraki and Dabi.

“Do you know their real names? We have reason to suspect their current identifiers are just monikers. Nothing is known of their real identities. Anything you know could be useful,” one of them explains. You shake your head.

“They never revealed their true names and I never cared to ask,” you inform. There’s a look of disappointment on her face before she shuts the recorder off.

“I see. That’s a shame,” she responds. “As a precautionary measure, we’ve arranged for you to be housed in a safe location, where you will stay until the League of Villains is captured. It’s unlikely they will try to find you given the severe blow the raid inflicted on them, but please, bear with us until then. We appreciate your cooperation.”

The door clicks open and you take that as your cue to leave, eagerly walking out with Hawks trailing behind you. You’re relieved for the process to finally be over. That damn interrogation was anxiety-inducing to say the least. Your apparent discomfort must be noticeable to Hawks, no doubt from your loud sighs, as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Hawks asks. There’s this small hint of genuine concern in his voice, something you picked up on. From the interactions you’ve had with him, he always seems to have this sort of carefree and upbeat personality.

“I will be,” you offer. You rub at your eyes, feeling the effects of your hectic day wearing down your energy. “Some sleep would help. I’ll probably feel a bit better in the morning.”

“I hear ya,” he responds. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here so you can rest, follow me.” He notions to the elevators with a nod of his head in that direction, and proceeds to walk over. Hawks calls for the elevator and you follow him in when the doors open. He tucks his large wings closer to his body, so that they don’t take up as much space. You weren’t able to see he pushed the up button, so when the elevator rises to the roof access, revealing the night sky, you’re more than a little confused.

“I thought you were taking me out of here?” You ask.

“I am,” he responds, almost matter-of-factly.

“But why are we on the roof?”

“Why walk when you could fly?”

“Oh hell no,” you refuse.

“I’m fast, it’ll be over before you know it,” he bargains. “It’s more secure this way anyways. You can’t be followed as easily.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just… don’t drop me,” you relent, understanding his point.

“I wouldn’t be a very good hero if I let you fall,” he laughs. “You’ll be fine, hold on tight.”

He scoops you into his arms and you tightly cling to the fabric of his shirt. His wings flap, sending powerful gusts of wind, until you’re both lifted off the ground. The roof grows farther and farther away from you as he ascends into the sky. True to his words, he’s incredibly fast, as the skyscrapers seem to whizz by, almost blurring together. The experience is equal parts nerve-wracking, exhilarating, and freeing. It had been so long since you’d last seen the night sky, and now it feels like you’re seeing it much closer than ever before. Had you not been in the arms of a reliable hero, you’d be more scared-shitless and less naturally wary of this experience.

He eventually lands on the roof of what looks to be an apartment high-rise. Your legs feel wobbly from the adrenaline when he finally sets you down. You’re thankful he gives you a few moments to recollect yourself, before showing you down a flight of stairs and into a hall of apartment doors. He opens the unlocked door to your provided room and ushers you in.

“You should be safe here,” he assures. “Most of your neighbors are heroes. You’re in good hands, but just in case, I’ll be checking in every so often.”

“Thank you, Hawks,” you say, relief clear in your voice. You offer him a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it,” he accepts. “Lock the doors and get some rest, you’ve more than earned it after what you went through.” You do as you’re told when he leaves your new apartment, turning the locks and deadbolt. Silence settles upon your new home as you’re left completely alone for the first time all night. The realization feels so foreign to you, as you remember how even at the LOV base, you were never truly left alone. There was always at least someone around you, some pair of eyes and ears attuned to you, preventing your escape. Despite how odd it feels, you press on and find your way to the bedroom. You immediately crawl into bed and fall asleep, still in your clothes, lacking the energy to even think about changing out of them. It’s when the bright light of the morning shines through your windows, waking you up, that you realize all your things were back at the LOV base.

In the light of the day and now refreshed from sleep, you take the time to explore your new flat. The apartment is neither extremely big or claustrophobically small, instead sitting at a nice medium between the two extremes. It seems mostly fitted with all the necessities. When you look in the closet, you even find there’s already a small selection of neutral clothes, ranging in size. You reason they must keep this place preemptively stocked for cases such as yourself.

You go about your morning, trying to ignore how odd it feels to be on your own for once. Going through the motions of showering, changing into comfortable clothes, and making breakfast seems to distract you from the feelings. When you’re out of things to add to your routine, you decide to turn on the news to understand what happened last night. The reporter goes over the major events of the hideout raid, most of which are things you already knew, though, both you and the public alike are left in the dark as to what those strange monsters were. Your knee bounces nervously upon just seeing those things again. The reporter then updates the public on what happened to Bakugo. You feel immense relief upon seeing the news reporter happily report that the UA student has been returned unharmed.

Your doorbell rings, tearing your attention away from the segment. Suspicious, you slowly walk to the door, peering through the peephole. Through the fish-eyed glass, you’re able to see a familiar shock of blonde hair and red wings waiting patiently at your step. You let out a relieved sigh and unlock the door to allow Hawks into your home.

“Heyo,” he greets. “How’s the new place treating you?”

“It’s nice, definitely beats staying at the hideout,” you answer. “Say, speaking of, will I be able to get anything back from there?”

“Yeah, about that, I have some bad news,” he starts. Hawks informs you that damage done to the LOV’s base meant that almost all of your belongings were destroyed. Not much was salvageable in the aftermath. Speaking of the aftermath, he warns you that the heroes have been unable to apprehend the league yet. Their current whereabouts are completely unknown. Despite this, Hawks assures you that it was unlikely the LOV should seek you out again, given the rationality that there are other healers out there and they were dealt a huge loss. You suppose it made sense, but you can’t shake the concern.

“So what does this all mean for me?” You ask.

“Well, until they’re found, you’ll have to stay here,” he explains.

“I guess that’s not so bad,” you accept. “This place is much closer to (campus/work) so my walk won’t be as bad.” He grimaces at your comment, clearly knowing something you don’t.

“No, you literally have to stay here. Unless it’s an emergency, you can’t leave. I’ll be dropping by to check in on you every few days though, so you won’t be completely alone, at least,” he clarifies. Your face drops at the information.

“Oh! Before I forget,” he adds, seemingly remembering something. He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket, one that looks extremely familiar. “I also managed to grab your phone from the evidence locker. The police took it from the scene of your disappearance. You can call your family or friends, let them know you’re alive. I’m sure they’ve been worried about you.” You accept your phone from his hand. Although your phone is dead, you’re sure there’ll be a million calls on your lock screen once it’s turned on.

“Yeah, I’m sure they have,” you agree, a bit solemnly.

“Just… don’t tell them where you are. It’d defeat the whole purpose of hiding you from the league, you know?” You nod, accepting those terms. It’s ironic, you think, how you were supposedly freed, yet you were not granted freedom. You were still locked away, prevented from leaving. Yes, you understood the rationale behind it, but that didn’t mean it erased the fact the situation felt eerily familiar.

Hawks would do regular check-ins. First a couple times a day, then once a day, until slowing down to every two days. When he had the time, he’d stay a little longer to talk and the two of you would hang out in your living room. You got to know the now number two hero fairly well from all those moments. The two of you mostly made small talk, though there were some moments in which you two seemed to genuinely laugh at some stupid joke or share the same opinions on a controversial topic. Sometimes, he’d ask about what your life in the league was like. You were (mostly) honest with him about it, telling him stories about your interactions with everyone. It was a bit fun to see his eyes widen in shock when you recounted some of the things you said to Shigaraki. He seemed a bit aghast to know you made such snarky comments and survived to tell the tale. But, you always were careful to conveniently leave out the details about Dabi. You weren’t sure what he, and the HPSC, would do if they heard you nearly made out with a wanted villain. Some things were better left unsaid.

When you weren’t accompanied by Hawks in your home, you’d spend your time distracting yourself rather than unpacking what happened. Without a therapist, you’d get nowhere. You��d rather bide your time rather than spiral into blaming yourself or justifying the league. You fear it has already begun with your cynicism towards the HPSC, which is why you desperately wish to talk to someone you can trust. Not only that, but your dreams were often about Dabi. Despite what he had done, you seem to still hold a fondness for him. You still desired him. These dreams confused you to no end, but you were never able to rationalize them. It was frustrating, to be locked away, supposedly in safety, but not even granted the ability to talk to a professional about what happened to you. The HPSC claimed due to the high-profile nature of this case, you’d have to wait until the LOV was in custody before you could begin your visits. They seemed to defend their actions by claiming a therapist leaking your case would draw attention to their investigation and endanger you by confirming where you are. Not only that, but they said the risk of Twice’s clones or Toga infiltrating your appointments was too high to justify.

Over time, the weeks of isolation slowly turned into a few months, the passage of time aided by endless distractions. You were starting to get in the swing of things. Being alone no longer felt as foreign, it was becoming natural again. Unfortunately, your whole routine was about to be disrupted. Unbeknownst to you, miles away in Deika City, Shigaraki begins plotting something. A plan to shake up the confidence of the hero commission, starting with you.

“The heroes took something from me. I need to teach them a lesson in stealing what is mine,” Shigaraki states to his lieutenants in the PLF army. “It’s time to return our healer.” And with his command, the plans are set in motion.

Hours later and back to your place, you hear a knock on your door. Figuring it must be Hawks, you shout from your kitchen, “Hold on, I’m coming!” You make your way to the foyer, not bothering to look through the peephole and open the door. Instead of meeting with Hawks, there’s another hero at your doorstep.

“You’re not who I was expecting,” you say, a bit suspiciously. “Normally someone else checks in on me, has this changed?”

“Oh, just for today. I’m just filling in. You know how busy us heroes are!” He answers.

“R-right, I suppose the hero lifestyle can get hectic,” You mumble. You still can’t shake your suspicion.

“H-hey, do you mind showing me your quirk? It’s part of the protocol, you know, to make sure there’s no imposters,” you lie.

“Oh, my bad! I must have missed that part of the report,” the hero apologizes. He buys your lie, which seems a bit suspect, but he shows you his quirk nonetheless. “Slidin’ Go, signature slide!” He slides on the floor, without resistance. Pretty useless quirk, in your opinion, but given how he can still use it, he’s not Toga. You doubt Twice could have obtained all the measurements of a hero that’s not declared missing, so there’s no concern in your mind it’s a clone. Relief washes over you and you wonder why you were so jumpy in the first place.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

Everything is okay.

“You mind letting me in? Just need to do a check around, make sure you’re actually alone and all,” he requests. You suppose that’s what Hawks has been doing when he hangs over. It makes sense, but it stings to know the social contact you had was all due to a protocol.

“Oh, right, sorry. Come on in,” you agree. You open the door and allow him to enter inside. He looks around your apartment, walking from the entryway down the hall until he stops at your living room. Your (tea kettle/coffee maker) sounds off from your kitchen. The suddenness startles you momentarily. You shut the door behind you and pad past him down the hall. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making (tea/coffee). Just one moment,” you excuse, awkwardly.

“No worries, take your time. I’ll be in the living room while you do that!” He cheerily dismisses. You offer him a polite nod before trotting off to your kitchen, pouring your drink into a mug and carrying it with you.

When you return to the living room, you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Concerning, but not enough to make you panic. What does make you start sweating is seeing puddles of a gray, clay-like substance on the carpet. Your stomach instantly drops, and your mug slips out of your hands, further sullying the carpet. You remember that conversation between Toga and Muscular, how Toga’s quirk leaves behind pale silt.

FUCK.

Since when could Toga use other quirks?!

You’re about to bolt for the door to attempt to run away when you feel arms gripping your waist. You look down and see no other than Toga.

‘Holy shit, she’s gotten so much stronger,’ you think, the realization stirring up a panic in you. You try to wriggle out of her grasp, but she just doesn’t budge. She quickly snakes one arm to the collar of her shirt and speaks into it.

“Mission accomplished!” She announces, to whom, you’re not quite sure. You’re not left with time to think about it, as you feel an odd sensation rise up your throat. Black sludge pours out of your mouth, enveloping you entirely in darkness. The sensation is nothing short of gross and uncomfortable. You’re thankful it doesn’t last for long, but when your lungs finally clear of the substance, you realize you’ve been transported somewhere completely unfamiliar to you.

“Looks like Toga managed to pull it off after all,” you hear a familiar, smoky voice drawl. The recognition is instant. Your body freezes and your eyes trail over to the source. You lock eyes with none other than Dabi. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, y/n?”

Your mouth feels dry, but you speak anyway. “It has.”

122 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 3 months

Text

Such a Perfect Place To Start

Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3911

Notes: When I started writing this I didn't think it was going to lead to that. Hope you like it!

part of the healer!reader universe

When you were called to the House of Wind so urgently by the High Lady herself you were expecting a more pressing matter, a life or death situation like you're used to, not exactly a library full of books. You don't know how long you've been sitting in this chair but you couldn't feel your butt anymore, no matter how many different positions you tried to sit in. You were used to doing some research while studying new healing techniques or herbs but these millenia old books on magical symbols were a little different.

There had been some attacks across the Night Court, including in the mountains surrounding Velaris, with some pretty disturbing details. After being killed, the victims' eyes had been removed and a symbol had been carved into their chests. All the symbols were different and, at this time, their meaning was still unknown. Unfortunately, none of the victims had survived either so there weren't any witnesses and, even after Azriel's thorough investigations, there was no evidence left behind by the culprits. It was as if no one had even been there.

You had heard some rumors about this before getting called in. Gossip spread around fast in Velaris and, even with the Inner Circle's efforts to keep panic to a minimum, people had found out about some of the details. The area around Velaris is relatively safe so to have multiple killings in a short time and in such gruesome ways was causing a bit of a fearful atmosphere to fall upon the city of dreamers. The increase in security wasn't easily missed either.

After being summoned to the River House, Feyre and Rhysand had briefed you on everything they knew and asked you for your help, seeing as they could only trust a few select people. Since there were no other clues left behind besides the symbols, the High Lord decided that, for now, everyone should focus on finding their meaning, so he sent his most trusted people to his private library to look through every book that might help.

You had obviously felt incredibly honored and happy that they trusted you this much. You've been getting closer to the inner circle after your talk with Azriel a few months ago, and sometimes still feared your friendships were a bit one sided.

As honored as you felt that they trusted you, though, you had spent days searching through old books just to come up empty. It was more tiring than a week at a war healing tent. Not to mention having to do so by Amren's side. You had no personal problems with the newly turned high fae but she still scared you profusely. Your power gave you a sense of people's aura and hers had always felt unsettling at best, even after getting turned.

At least, you weren't alone with her, everyone in the Inner Circle and some of the Valkyries had shown up at the library to help at some point. There was no way of knowing who could be behind these attacks and, from what you gathered, these fae had been moving across the court too easily, meaning they could be from the night court or even Velaris, so you couldn't involve the priestesses in the library.

The sky was already completely dark outside, making way for the millions of stars to shine in the sky. The atmosphere was a little too quiet for this time of night, usually there would still be fae walking around the city, in and out of bars and theaters. Amren had already left. The ancient one had tucked a book under her arm and walked out without much of a goodbye, leaving you with Feyre and Azriel in the library.

“I think it's time to stop for the day,” your High Lady's voice cut through the silence suddenly, “Rhys just finished at the office too.” Sometimes you envied how convenient the daematis abilities were. As her eyes glaze over and a smirk threatens to play at her lips, you know her mate is giving her a good reason to go home.

“I'll stay a bit longer,” you hold your finger over the passage you were reading, these old books had tiny fonts and you'd already lost yourself in enough of them to know better now, “I have to go to the clinic tomorrow so I wanted to at least finish this book.” There were only about half a dozen pages left of it so, even if your body was screaming at you to go to bed, you wanted to get this done first.

“Alright,” the High Lady adds her last book to the pile and looks at you one more time, “Don't stay too long. We need you to be focused at the clinic.” Her eyes shift to the shadowsinger and narrow slightly, her tone a little sterner, “You too, Az. Get some sleep.”

The spymaster nods dutifully at his friend's warning and she seems content enough with the response or in enough hurry to meet her mate, as she gives you both one last smile and turns to the door, saying one last goodbye over her shoulder.

Azriel stayed with you, even though his book had just started and there was no way he would finish it tonight. You were torn between thinking it was because he didn't trust you in the House by yourself, as the ever protective spymaster, and just writing it off as his willingness to help his court even at the risk of his own health and comfort, you don't even wanna think how many sleepless nights the spymaster has spent working lately.

You shake off your thoughts and keep reading the boring book. The sooner you finish the sooner you can go to sleep. Even your healing abilities can't do much to fight the headache you were feeling after spending the whole day reading symbols and their uses in dark magic, some of the rituals described were also making your stomach queasy.

Just as you're about to finish the last page, you hear a soft groan coming from Azriel and can't help but look up at him. His head was thrown back, showing off the column of his neck. His eyes were closed tight like he was fighting the same headache as you. With his wings stretched as far as they could go, it looked like they were taking up most of the private library, not that it was a small room by any means.

The spymaster looked exhausted. He's been spending his days meeting up with his spies and informants all around Prythian, trying to find any information on the attackers and investigating any strange movement in the court. At night, he comes home and joins you in the library to help with research, sometimes even staying up later than everyone else. You know he will do the same thing tomorrow and the day after, until you find any relevant clues and catch the killers.

Azriel takes these things more personally than maybe even the High Lord and Lady. His job as spymaster is finding any threats to the court after all, preferably before they happen. You know he must feel like he's failing his court and you wish you could show him that he's doing more than enough, that it's not his fault. Under the tough exterior and immense power, Azriel has an extremely kind soul, you've felt it. He'd make the impossible happen if it meant he could protect his court, his family, even if it cost him his own life.

“You should go to sleep,” you can't help but worry for him, “You were out all day before you came here. You must be really tired.”

You wonder how long it's been since he's had a good night of sleep. Even before this situation, it was no secret that the shadowsinger was a bit of an insomniac. You had given him a few sleeping tonics before in hopes of helping him have at least a few moments of peace.

“I'll wait for you,” he tells you, meeting your eyes. You can see the fatigue swirling around in his unguarded gaze, it seems you had been right to assume he hasn't been sleeping. “You're almost done.”

You look back down at your book and wonder how he's been keeping track of what you've been doing while reading his own book. Still, if finishing this means Azriel can go to sleep, you'll do it as fast as you can. Reading through the last page intently to make sure nothing escapes you.

Just as you're about to finish you make a silent request to the House, and two steaming cups of tea appear in front of each of you. Passionflower tea to lessen his stress and help with sleep, you've given it to him before and he told you it helped so you hope it does the trick once again.

Since you're focused on the book, you miss the way his eyes finally stray from your form to look down at the tea now sitting in front of him. You also miss the smile on his face when he reaches for it and the way his shadows let him know you were the one who asked for it, gushing about how you took care of their master.

“Do you still not trust me, Spymaster?” You close the book and put it into the ever growing pile. Stretching a bit before taking your tea into your hands and blowing on it gently.

“I trust you with my life, sweetheart.” The seriousness in his statement makes you pause with the cup halfway to your lips for a moment. You didn't need the Morrigan's gift to know he was telling the truth. The nickname takes a little longer to register but as soon as it does color rushes to your cheeks.

“Then why wait for me?” You hadn't actually thought he didn't trust you in the library but you still weren't sure why he had stayed behind after Feyre left.

“Wanted to keep you company until you finished,” he shrugged. His voice is a little gravely with sleep which is a big problem for the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach. “We've been spending a lot of time together but we've barely talked.”

He wants to talk to you. You can't help the smile or the giddy feeling washing over you. He's tired but he chose to stay up a little longer to do something as trivial as talking to you.

“What did you want to talk about then?” The way he's picking at the painted decorations in his teacup makes you think he might be feeling a little nervous but you're not sure why.

“Anything you want,” he answered a little too fast. Maybe it's the low lights in the room but you swear there's some color dusting his cheeks.

“It's hard to pick a topic like that,” you say before biting your lip slightly. For some reason you suddenly feel a little pressure to come up with a good topic, not wanting to disappoint or bore him. “Lately, all I can think about is this,” you run your finger over one of the books' spines, “It's hard to focus on anything else after spending hours in here.”

“If you feel like this is too much you can tell me. I'll talk to Rhys and he'll send you back to the clinic,” he frowns. His shadows reach a little towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. You didn't mean to worry him.

“That's not what I meant,” you start, “I want to help. I've just never dealt with anything like this. I've been to war but this… killing innocent fae in such a disturbing way is different.”

“I understand,” he nods, “If you need anything you can tell me. Even if you just want to talk.”

“Alright.” Azriel has a way of talking that leaves you not knowing how to respond sometimes. He's so sincere in what he says that you almost feel like any response would fall short. “You too. If you need help with anything I'm always here for you.”

He gives you a single nod before hiding what looked like a bashful smile behind his tea. You finish your teas like this, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the night.

You can't hold back a yawn when you set your teacup down. As much as you'd love to stay up talking to Azriel all night, your body is about ready to crash on you.

“We should go to sleep,” he says as he stands up, making the teacups disappear. “You have to be at the clinic early.”

“You're right,” you agree with a sigh, standing up to follow him to the door. You've only been going to the clinic twice a week ever since Feyre asked for your help with this case so you know you'll have a long day ahead of you. “Will you fly me down tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he tells you as he opens the door for you, “What kind of male would I be if I let our favorite healer walk down the thousands of steps by herself?”

“Favorite? I'll tell Madja you said that,” you point your finger at him playfully.

“Second favorite then,” he takes it back with a wink, making you laugh. The smile lingers on your face all the way to the guest room you're staying in and it only deepens when you realize he walked you all the way to your door.

You turn and look up at him expectantly. It looks like he wants to tell you something with the way he's searching your face and his shadows pool at both of your feet. If you didn't know any better you'd think they wanted to crawl up your legs. You've found that they can give some of Azriel's emotions away sometimes, when he doesn't have a grip on them at least.

Your body doesn't react when he bends down slowly, pausing for a brief moment before kissing your cheek softly, murmuring a good night against your skin. It doesn't react after either, when he pulls back to watch your reaction. In fact, it's not until he walks over to his door and lets out a small chuckle, that you finally move and almost crash into the room, fumbling with the doorknob and slamming the door behind you.

As you lean your back against the door, you put your hand over your chest and stare wide eyed at the window across the room. You almost thought you were imagining things. He can probably hear your heart beating all the way in his room across the hall, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone in Velaris could hear with how loud it's beating. You let yourself slide against the door until you're crouching.

You hadn't expected him to kiss you. You know Azriel isn't one for a lot of physical touch. You've only gotten a hug out of him once, during the war after an attack on the healer's tent. He had thought you were dead then, after watching so many die he'd just been glad to see someone he knows still breathing. Actually, you might have been the one to hug him first. You had never been so close to death and were scared out of your mind. It was your first war after all.

You and Azriel had been getting closer over the months, closer than you were with the rest of Inner Circle. Even before your talk that night, he's always been friendly to you, but the shadowsinger was kind to all the healers - to everyone that wasn't his enemy really - so you never thought much of it. But this felt different. Tonight felt different.

You hadn't fully admitted it to yourself yet but the more time you spent with the shadowsinger the more your crush evolved. What had once been a silly crush based on appearance and his kind nature had quickly turned into palpable feelings. You liked him. A lot.

However, acknowledging this could destroy the friendship you had built with him for the past few months, maybe with the rest of his family as well. That's what you thought before at least. You assumed Azriel would never have feelings for you. The idea seemed so preposterous it never even crossed your mind, but now you're not so sure.

Maybe it seemed like you were exaggerating to think this after a little kiss, on the cheek no less, but this kiss made you think back on the last months you've spent with Azriel. He's been insisting on flying you up and down the stairs every time he's around, usually this task would be left to Cassian, who loved showing off his wings to you.

He's been going to the clinic more often too, stocking up on anything he can think of when he's never done that in the century you've been working in Velaris. Azriel was always one to not think much of his own health, it bothered you to no end. He also came to you with every injury. Usually when a member of the Inner Circle was hurt, Madja was the one who was called. You'd only accompany her if she needed assistance or go in her place if she wasn't able to go herself. Of course over the years they'd come to use you more and more, which is why you didn't even think of it, but looking back now… You don't know what to think anymore.

Getting up with a sigh, you make your way to your closet to change. Your thoughts consume you while you get ready for bed but your tiring day catches up to you as soon as your head hits the pillow. However, this doesn't spare you from dreaming of a certain shadowsinger.

You take longer to wake up than usual, making you hurry through your morning routine. Your body isn't used to the schedule you've been putting it through lately, and it's starting to show. But because of this, it isn't until you go to open the door to the guest room that you remember Azriel is going to fly you down to the clinic. And the incident that had you spiraling before going to sleep.

Deciding walking down the steps by yourself isn't a viable option, you go to find him and pray to the Mother things aren't too awkward between you. It had just been a little kiss on the cheek and your lack of reaction could totally be blamed on the long day, your brain was just having trouble catching up, that's all. It had been a completely normal exchange between friends, not that you're blushing just thinking about it or anything. You could just pretend it didn't happen.

As you make your way to the front door, the shadows dancing around in the hallway catch your eye instantly. You've seen them do this before, when Azriel doesn't need them and they don't want to brave the light, they just linger around the room in curious little wisps. You can't help the smile as they gravitate slowly towards you.

Right after they notice you, their master appears through the door. One of them must have warned him of your arrival, they're so cute sometimes you forget they're spies. Of course they'd tell on you.

“Good morning,” he greets. Azriel may be a shadowsinger but he looks breathtaking in the morning light. His skin glows beautifully and his eyes look a little lighter, it makes him look younger. Gods, how can he be so beautiful?

He looks a little relieved to see you. Maybe he thought you'd escape by yourself or ask someone else to fly you to the clinic to avoid him. It makes you feel a little bad that you had him worried but it's his own fault for playing with your heart like that.

“Good morning,” you smile, walking up to him. “Are you ready?”

“I was just waiting for you,” he says as he extends a hand for you to take. This has the nerves already lingering inside your body make themselves more noticeable. You almost forgot flying you down means he'll have to carry you. It had taken a while for you to get used to not only the flying but also the way he had to hold you - funny how you never had this problem with Cassian.

You take his hand and try not to move too much or gasp as he picks you up off the floor like you weigh nothing. He immediately starts walking to the edge of the stairs, holding you close to his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he breathes into your ear, extending his wings and getting ready to take flight. You do as he says and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, praying he can't feel your heart beat inside your chest.

You'll never get over how stunning Velaris looks from above or how the wind passes around you as you soar through the clouds. It's a real shame that you weren't born with wings. You understand why Illyrians are so protective of them, after knowing what this feels like, it's hard to imagine never being able to do it again.

“You know I won't drop you.” You look away from the landscape and meet his gaze. He can probably feel how tense you are but you can't tell him it has nothing to do with the height or any fear of him letting you fall.

“I know,” you assure. “What would you do without your favorite healer?” He lets out a small laugh in response and your body finally relaxes.

The flight doesn't take long, and, before you know it, he's landing right outside your clinic. He helps you get down and even holds onto you a little longer, giving you a once over to make sure you're steady on your feet.

An idea passes through your mind and you bite your lip, wondering if you'd truly lost it. You take a quick look around before you lose your nerve. It was still early enough that the streets were almost deserted, no one should see you.

Turning back to the shadowsinger, you hesitate again when you notice him watching you, probably wondering what you were up to. If you read the situation wrong this could make things very awkward for the two of you.

Deciding not to let your anxiety reign your life, you grab his shoulder gently so you can pull him a little closer to your height. Standing on your tiptoes to clear the rest of your height difference. You hold onto his cheek and place a soft kiss on the other side of his face, murmuring a “thank you”.

You step back again and look up at him, still slightly bent from where you pulled him to you and looking at your face with wide eyes. You're not sure if you've ever seen the feared spymaster so caught off guard before. There was a small smile playing at his lips though, so you assume you hadn't completely misread the situation. You can't help but form a grin of your own and turn around to go inside the clinic, leaving him behind just as he did to you last night. Your heart soaring higher than you had just been.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #divider by saradika #healer!reader

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dorabledewdroop · 15 days

Text

Chapter 9

Warnings: Fraphic mention of scars, blood, radiation poisoning, very little angst, suggestive text.

Not proof read so be warned.

A/N: im so fucking sorry it’s taken me this long to post this chapter. I have had absolutely 0 motivation to write and my assignment stress certainly isn’t helping. This chapter isn’t filled with action or smut but I still think it’s important for more characterisation. Be warned it’s not the best thing I’ve written. I deleted it and rewrote it at least 7 times.

Without further ado. Enjoy.

Series Masterlist

X—X—X—X—X

Chapter 9

Natasha knew she needed to be calm. She knew she needed to be prepared to use the lullaby incase Bruce hulked out.

But seeing your blood on the wall and you crumpled on the floor was enough to make her hulk out.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nat yelled, rushing to your side.

The shock of what Nat said was enough for Bruce to start getting himself under control.

It struck him that he’d just laid hands on a teammate. But seeing you on top of Natasha just didn’t sit right with him.

Especially since he recently found out that Natasha was dating Wanda.

“That home-wrecker was trying to force herself on you. I was just trying to protect you” Bruce snapped, desperately trying to control his transformation but feeling it cloud his judgment.

The universe seemed to enjoy fucking Nat over because at that moment Steve, Tony, and Sam barged into the room on. They seemed to have heard what happened and merely looked confused.

Natasha got up and poked Bruce in the chest.

“Dont. Call. Her. That.” She fumed.

“Bruce I think you should go to your room. Now.” Steve said as he noticed the green hue in Bruce’s veins starts to increase slowly.

Bruce glared at you one last time and rushed to his room.

The moment Bruce left, Wanda entered holding a spatula as a weapon.

“What’s going on?” Wanda demanded.

Her hand dropped when she saw the small splatter of blood on the wall above you. You were forcing one eye closed through what was clearly a headache.

Wanda knelt beside you and cupped your cheek, letting out a small smile when you sighed at the contact.

“Nat, was Y/n forcing you to kiss her?”

Wanda’s head snapped up at the question, frowning in confusion.

“No. She wasn’t” Nat said gritting her teeth.

“But she was trying to kiss you?” Sam asked.

Natasha rolled her eyes and knelt next to you and planted a kiss your lips and then Wanda’s. Wanda smirked as she leaned forward and softly pecked your lips.

Both of the women’s eyes were on you who just looked dazed with a slight hint of a smile.

“Hot.” Sam commented.

Nat let out a disgusted ‘ugh’ and was about to comment but it seemed that Wanda had beaten her to it.

There was a sound of glass shattering as Sam was thrown out the glass door and into the pool.

Steve rushed outside just to see Sam getting out of the pool and walked back in, heading to his room. Everyone heard him grumble about how no one can take a joke anymore these days.

The moment he was gone, Steve began to lecture Wanda about hurting teammates and how it was an overreaction.

Unable to handle the drama, Tony cleared his throat.

“I have some news” he announced.

Everyone turned to look at him expectantly.

“Party tonight in celebration of y/n’s first successful mission”

Your eyes widened.

“You don’t have to do that-“

Tony was having none of that .“Nonsense. We’re having the party. Wear something nice.”

He walked out of the room, followed by Steve who went to prepare for training.

After a minute of you, Wanda, and Nat looking at each other in confusion, the three of you sighed and finally went to the kitchen where Wanda had made breakfast. Your mouth watered at the sight of the tower of pancakes in front of you.

Unable to hold yourself back anymore, you sat down and took some into your plate. Immediately drowning your pancakes in syrup and scarfing them down as fast as you can.

Nat and Wanda followed your lead, eyes filled with amusement.

You finally showed signs of slowing down after your 4th serving.

“Someone has an appetite” Nat teased.

You merely smiled at her, a little syrup dripped from the corner of your mouth.

Wanda immediately leaned forward and swiped the syrup from the corner your mouth with her thumb rubbing your lower lip in the process, immediately bringing it to her mouth.

When Wanda hummed at the taste, Nat grabbed her wrist and brought Wanda’s thumb to her mouth.

You gulped hard when you saw her cheeks hollow out. Eyes looking at you seductively.

The two merely smirked at your gaping face.

Nat noticed a thought cross your mind as you looked away for a moment, your energy seemed to have dropped noticeably. You shook your head and looked at them curiously.

“So.. does this mean.. um.. that the three of us are ‘together’ together? Like… publicly?” You asked hesitantly

Wanda smiled and nodded.

Nat couldn’t help but tease you. “I mean.. maybe? Depends on how nicely you as- OW”

Nat winced as Wanda kicked her foot.

You merely chuckled at the gesture. The three of you finished your breakfast with light conversation.

Nat stood up to stretch, exposing her midriff slightly. Both yours and Wanda’s eyes immediately went to her abs.

Damn. You were hungry again... this time though, not for food…

Nat merely smirked, well aware of the effect she had on the both of you.

“Wanda and I have training in an hour so we’re going to go prepare for that. Would you like to join us Detka?”

You snapped your open mouth shut and looked at her, processing what she said.

Eventually you shook your head. “I think I’m going to try sleeping. Healing so many people makes me really tired for a day or two”

Nat nodded and the two of them left.

You made your way to your room and within 10 minutes, passed out.

X—X

“Do you think y/n is okay?” Wanda asked as she ducked a punch the widow threw her way.

Nat sighed. “I’m not sure.. I wish I knew what was bothering her”

Pretty soon Nat had Wanda pinned to the ground and kissed her nose.

Wanda’s cute nose scrunch encouraged Nat to begin kissing all over her face.

Ms Hill is requesting Ms Y/l/n’s presence in the conference room. Came FRIDAY’s voice

The two of them froze, Wanda heard Nat’s jaw click shut.

Wanda confused simply asked FRIDAY why it didn’t tell you directly.

Ms. Y/l/n has disabled any and all announcements in her room.

Wanda and Nat took their time walking to your room with the intention of letting you rest as much as possible.

Upon entering your room they both smiled at your sleeping body sprawled over the bed.

There was a fresh earthy smell that gave the indication that you had watered your plants before you went to sleep.

They stood over your sleeping form, adorable little snores escaping you.

Nat gently laid her hand on your shoulder. “Wake up draga. You have a mission to go to”

Your eyes open partially at the sound of her voice, you let out a disgruntled ‘Nat?’.

You took her hand in yours and Natasha yelped as you pulled her in, smothering her with cuddles.

While Natasha certainly wasn’t expecting it, she was more surprised that this was the second time you got the upper hand and that you managed to flip her onto the bed.

She definitely wasn’t complaining, being in your arms felt so comfortable that she couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh and nuzzle further into you.

Meanwhile, Wanda found the situation entirely amusing. Not wanting to be left behind, she jumped into bed with the two you and huddled further into Natasha, throwing her legs over yours.

You let out a content hum and went back to sleep.

Wanda let you stay like that for another five minutes before kissing your forehead. “You have a mission, detka. You need to wake up now.”

You merely grumbled. “Five ‘more mins”

Wanda merely chuckled and straddled you, giving you the same treatment Natasha gave her when the ex-assassin had pinned her down.

Try as you may, you were unable to hold back your smile. Yet were determined not to open your eyes.

Wanda did not appreciate that at all. “If you don’t wake up right now, you’re not going to be touching Nat or I for a week.”

Nat’s eyes shot open and looked at Wanda incredulously

“What the fuck? Why am I a part of this??”

Wanda ignored Natasha’s thoughts and looked at you.

Huffing you got up abruptly, Wanda squeaked as she was thrown back on the bed.

You glared at Wanda who snorted at the look of your disheveled bed hair.

Muttering to yourself about how nobody plays nice anymore you went into the bathroom for a shower.

The two remaining women merely looked at each other and burst out laughing at your antics.

X—X

Seven minutes later the three of you entered the meeting room.

Maria Hill sat at the head of the table waiting, smirking when you entered. “Took you long enough. I see you have two new bodyguards.”

You just held their hands in return.

Maria raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Congratulations. Anyway, we have an assignment for you. It’s urgent in nature so you will need to leave the moment the briefing is over”

You nodded, a little hesitant that you haven’t completely recovered from yesterday’s mission but didn’t want to let anyone down.”

Natasha wasn’t entirely convinced. “Who’s going with her?”

“Since Vision is on another mission, and Thor is off world she’s the only other person whose skill set is applicable”

You were about to as her to continue when something struck you. “Wait, what do you mean Thor is off world? We met him last night?”

Maria merely nodded. “As of this morning Thor met Doctor Strange and was informed about chaos in other worlds and sent there. ”

You gulped down the guilt of turning him down last night. If only you’d just agreed to help him.

Wanda, having heard your thoughts, squeezed your hand. “You can’t think like that draga, you weren’t feeling well enough to help him.”

You smiled in gratitude and focused on Maria. “What’s the mission?”

“A secret government facility was testing new forms of energy with the use of radiation. They created a special material which increases its radioactivity the more it’s exposed to its environment. Due to an accident the material’s container was compromised and it was opened. You’ll need to evacuate the survivors and put the material in the new container.”

You’d never healed someone else from radiation poisoning before but you knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

You grabbed the new container that was sitting on the table and turned around to see say bye to your girlfriends.

My girlfriends. The thought made your heart flutter.

Within moments, you were in a van heading to the site.

X—X

In order to occupy their time, Natasha and Wanda worked on writing their reports for yesterday’s mission. Once that was done, they decided to have an early lunch while watching some old James Bond films.

Neither said much as both were thinking about you. Despite knowing you for a few months, they had become far too attached to your presence.

Wanda felt.. empty. She had gotten so used to feeling your presence and now the lack of it felt.. wrong. It had only been a couple of hours since your departure but she desperately needed you to be okay and back with them.

Natasha was missing you far too much for her comfort. Being forced to forego all emotional bonds, the presence, or lack there of, of her partner filled her with feelings she wasn’t accustomed to handling.

Within minutes, the two found themselves in your bed. They decided to continue watching their movie in your room.

Once the movie had ended Wanda’s closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, your scent on the pillows soothing her. Soon, Natasha followed.

X—X

The slight creak of the door opening woke Natasha from her nap, she sat up as she saw you slowly shuffle towards the bathroom.

“Y/n?”

When you didn’t answer she frowned, her eyes widened when she saw your hand when you went to open the door of the bathroom. It was red and raw, as if you had been severely sunburned.

Nat slowly got up and made her way to the bathroom, but before she could reach it you had locked the door.

Wanda sat up on the bed, frowning and rubbing her eyes. “Malyshka? What’s going on? Is that y/n”

Thud

Wanda was immediately by the bathroom door, knocking repeatedly. “Y/n are you okay? What’s going on?”

When she heard you groan she didn’t hesitate to use her magic to open the door. You were face down, one hand in the shower, the rest of the body shaking on the floor.

Nat immediately knelt next to you and turned you to face them and felt her heart drop.

Wanda couldn’t help but let out a shriek at the sight, your face was almost entirely red and raw. They almost looked like burns and rashes.

They figured you had them everywhere in your body, what they didn’t know was why you weren’t healing like you usually do.

Nat noticed you trying to speak but only incoherent gasps came out.

Having read your mind, Wanda knew what you needed. With Nat’s help she got you under the shower and turned it to the coldest setting possible.

Neither left your side despite how cold the water felt.

It took ten more minutes before they saw a noticeable difference, the raw burns had lost a lot of their colour.

Wanda let out a sigh of relief as she realised your body was healing itself, albeit slower than usual.

Eventually you started shivering.

Deciding it was time to stop, Natasha shut the water and helped you up.

You looked much better, the rashes were starting to fade away.

You attempted to walk but swayed dangerously. Your girlfriends were immediately by your side.

“We need to get you out of these clothes devochka. Can you please let us help you?” Nat said gently.

You turned to her, pain radiating off you in waves.

“Too.. many… scars.” You muttered softly, too in pain to form full sentences.

Wanda gently kissed your wet cheek. “You will never be ugly to us, draga. Your scars are a part of you. And let me tell you something. You. Are. Stunning.”

It took you a minute, but you nodded. Giving your consent as you went to remove your sweatshirt but were stopped by your girlfriends.

They slowly removed your sweatshirt and your sweatpants, followed by your sports bra, panties, and socks.

Wanda choked back a sob as she saw burned skin from your right shoulder down to the left side of your hip. It took up nearly 40% of your back. Your entire right tricep was burned and your feet were littered with deep scars.

Natasha walked over to your front, slowly looking down at your body. The front merely had cuts and gashes, except for a long white scar the went from underneath your right breast to your navel.

Natasha’s heart sank as she saw the broken expression on your face. You truly believed yourself to be anything but beautiful.. So Nat did the first thing that came to her mind, she removed all her clothes.

Wanda caught on to her intentions and stood beside Natasha and stripped too.

Your eyes widened and you looked up at the ceiling, knowing damn well that if you even glanced at them you would definitely have trouble looking them in the eye.

The two held back their amusement and enveloped you in a big hug. The sheer acceptance the two showed you was enough for you to break down.

You didn’t even notice that you were wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts, or that they had somehow manoeuvred you so that you were lying down in bed between the two of them.

Their gentle praises and whispers of affection helped you relax and slowly drift into the best sleep you’ve had in years.

They watched you go to sleep, nuzzling into Wanda’s neck while you essentially draped Natasha’s arm and leg over your body.

It didn’t take long for them to follow you back into the realm of dreams.

X—X

A gentle knock on your door woke Natasha up from her rest. Turns out during your nap. You managed to turn around and completely entangle your limbs with Natasha’s so that half of you was practically on top of her.

Despite being the world’s best assassin, she knew there was no way she could untangle her limbs from yours without you waking up.

Seeing as Wanda was not as entangled as Natasha was, she called for Wanda in her mind.

After a few seconds of screaming Wanda’s name in her mind, Wanda grumbled and shushed Nat by pressing her finger against Natasha’s lips. “You’re too loud”

“There’s someone at the door, devochka. Can you please see who it is?” Nat asked

Sighing in annoyance, Wanda gently moved out of your grasp and trudged to the door.

She opened the door to see Tony stand there in a fancy suit, a woman wearing semi-formal attire stood a little further away.

Tony looked at Wanda in surprise and smirked. “Guess I should get used to the three of you being in each other’s room.”

Wanda merely looked at him unimpressed. “Can I help you with something?”

Tony cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I realised that y/n doesn’t really have anything to wear for the party tonight. I just need her measurements and preferences, and within half an hour my stylist will deliver something mind bogglingly stunning. I mean, it is her debut after all.”

Wanda frowned. “Tony, I don’t think y/n will be able-“

“I can do it.”

Wanda’s head snapped back to you. With Natasha’s help you were making your way to the door.

Tony’s eyes widened as he saw the scars on your feet but quickly looked up at your face. That didn’t help either. “What happened to you?”

You just smiled weakly. “Radiation poisoning is a bitch. But it doesn’t matter. I’m coming to the party.”

Tony left after the stylist took your measurements and asked you a couple questions.

She tried to inquire about your preferences but you simply said you didn’t care as long as it covered most of your body.

Other than Wanda and Natasha, you just weren’t comfortable showing your scars to anyone.

Once they left, you sat back down on the bed. Exhaustion evident on your face.

“Draga, are you sure you want to attend the party?” Natasha asked gently.

You nodded. “The visible injuries are almost completely gone and in another half an hour I should be completely fine”

Wanda moved to sit behind you, hugging your back and rested her chin on your shoulder.

You definitely didn’t feel breasts press against you. Nope. Not happening.

Your eyes flitted to Natasha who was just smirking. Honestly, you were 80% sure the assassin could read minds.

To make matters worse, she straddled your lap and rest her chin against your other shoulder.

Why the ever-loving fuck wasn’t anyone in this room wearing a bra?? And more importantly, why was it affecting you so much?

The more you thought about it the more you realised your arousal was pretty much a given since you were in a relationship with the two hottest people in the universe.

“The universe? Really?” You heard Wanda whisper in your ear teasingly.

The contact made your breath hitch.

“You’re too kind, milaya” Nat husked in your other ear.

Oh these two were going to get it for sure.

You froze when you felt Wanda lightly trail a finger down the burn on your arm.

“Does it hurt?” She asked gently.

You shook your head. “It’s just a little more sensitive than the rest of my skin”

Nat’s head perked up at that, she shifted to your other shoulder.

She tugged on your shirt, asking if you’d be comfortable removing it. You surprised yourself when you agreed immediately, up until today you hadn’t let anybody see you naked willingly. Always choosing to wear a hoodie or a sweatshirt when you spent the night with someone.

A kiss on your scarred shoulder brought you out of your thoughts, you jumped at the sensation.

“Wait” you said, slightly panicked.

The two stopped their gentle assault of kisses on your body and looked at you with such kindness and adoration that you were pretty sure you would have turned into a puddle if physically possible.

“Do- Don’t you find it… weird?” You asked hesitantly, unable to look either of them in the eye.

Nat frowned and took her finger to your chin, tilting it so you’d look at her. “Baby, there’s nothing weird about you. Your scars are proof that you did something most would not have been able to survive. You were a hero long before you got your powers.”

Your eyes fluttered when you felt Wanda cup your cheek. Unbeknownst to you she had moved to sit beside you.

You turned your head to look at her only to find her looking at you with teary eyes. “You are perfect, and I wouldn’t have you any other way. Please let me show you how much I cherish and love adore you.”

“Let us show you, draga” Nat interjected. “Let us make you feel good… Please?”

There was absolutely no way you were going to pass on the opportunity to let these goddesses please you. You simply nodded your head, not trusting your voice at the moment.

The two smiled in such a manner that you were pretty sure you’d need a towel for a certain situation down there.

Wanda leaned close to you, eyes solely fixated on your lips. You didn’t hesitate to meet them. Heart fluttering at the taste of her and feel of her soft lips.

You let out a gasp as you felt Nat place feather-light kisses on your back. You expected to freeze and ask them to stop but you couldn’t help it when your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing becoming shallow.

Nobody having ever done this to you seemed to make you extra sensitive.

When Wanda leaned her head down and bit your scarred shoulder gently you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. Fingers gripping tightly against the witches arms.

“Just let go, darling” Nat whispered in your ear. “Just enjoy the sensations”

You felt shivers travel up and down your spine as you nodded without realising.

Wanda started to nibble and suck down your neck and further down your collarbone while Natasha continued to play featherlight kisses down your back, focusing on your scar. It felt reassuring and oh so good.

You couldn’t help yourself as small whimpers and soft moans left you.

Before things could escalate, there was a soft knock on the door.

You froze, your heart immediately pounding. Wanda knowing what you needed handed you your t-shirt.

You gave her a peck and walked to the door.

Upon opening it, you found Tony’s stylist standing there, holding a black cover that clearly had your outfit.

She left shortly after handing it to you, completely ignoring the gratitude you tried to extending.

Turning around you found your girlfriends entangled in each other, kissing passionately as Wanda let out free moans due to Natasha taking control of the kiss.

Within 20 minutes you had worn your outfit and and put on some light makeup that you thought suited your outfit.

You were checking the outfit in the mirror when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You turned around to find your girlfriends’s hungry looks on you.

They shot up and slowly made their way towards you as though you were their prey.

You shudder when the two started licking and sucking on opposite sides of your neck.

Unable to help yourself, you let out a moan when the two sucked at the sensitive spots on your neck. Hard.

When they stepped back, Wanda let out a groan while she continued to stare at your neck.

Before you could question her motive she latched on to your neck and sucked even harder. Biting when you let out a moan.

Stepping back the two looked at you and then looked at each other in frustration.

“Can either of you tell me what the fuck is going on?” You said as you tried to get your breathing under control.

Wanda huffed and looked away, a slight blush made its way to her cheek.

“We wanted to mark you with hickeys to let everyone know you’re take. But the FUCKING hickeys won’t stay and heal within seconds.” Nat huffed, equally annoyed by the phenomena.

Wanda’s eyes light up as an idea formed in her head. She turned to your vanity and picked up two lipsticks which only they knew matched their outfits.

She glanced at Nat and told her the plan mentally.

Smirking Nat took her lipstick and applied a heavy coat on her lips.

Once they both did that, they leaned towards you and placed a kiss on either side of your neck.

Chuckling you looked in the mirror and felt a sense of belonging as the two distinct lipstick marks that your girlfriends had made.

You chuckled to yourself.

For the first time in your life, you were looking forward to attending a party. Even if it was to show other who you belonged to.

This is going to be fun.

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp @nothanksbye07 @jono723 @luadyjcmd @alexawynters @falloutboy-lover

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #the white healer #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff smut #marvel #mcu #wanda x reader #Natasha romanoff smut #wandanat smut #wandanat x y/n #wandanat

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

Text

Healer's Flight

Description: Your would-be assassin picked the wrong beach to ambush you on.

Reader is an immortal mutant with healing powers.

It’s a beautiful beach, one with pristine sands, and cool breezes, the scent of sea salt on the air, and clear waters reflecting the stars that dotted the night sky. You loved this beach, held its location safe within your chest, nestled beside your heart.

Loved, past tense, because now you were afraid, feet digging into the sand as you ran, heart pounding against your chest like a war drum. You veered towards the water, one foot landing in the surf, your heart taking flight, but then he caught you, yanking you back by your hair.

“I said, stop fucking running.” He growled, his grip on your hair tight, pulling at your scalp, as his arms wrapped around you.

“Let me go, you Nazi bitch.” You fought against him, trying to break free of his hold, but it was useless. This wasn’t a normal low-level assassin, this was an enhanced.

His grip tightened on you, squeezing like a vice grip, and you felt your lungs began to stutter, unable to draw in oxygen.

Tears began to roll down your face, dripping onto his bare arm.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.” He cooed mockingly.

“You’re a monster.” You choked out, nails clawing at his skin.

“Me? I’m not the mutant freak. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.”

You weren’t a threat to humans, you were a healer, all you did was lie low and try to help those who needed it. That’s all you had been doing for five hundred years.

“K’uk’ulkan.” You whimpered out, as your vision began to fade, hoping the gods would take mercy on you, and allow you a final vision of him before you died.

“Kool-la-what? Are you casting a spell on me, witch?” The assassin snarled, releasing his grip ever so slightly.

Your hand was free, and you gripped his arm, focusing on the spot where your skin connected.

He swore and dropped you, holding his arm close to his chest. There in the shape of your hand was decaying flesh, black and rotted.

You struggled to your knees, desperately sucking in air as your lungs seized. “Yes, I am.”

You weren’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

The assassin lunged at you, and you threw your body to the side, landing in the surf, hands glowing a bright gold.

You pushed the hair out of your face, tense and waiting for his next move, when you heard something whiz by you, then a solid thud. You looked up to see the assassin lying on his back, a spear imbedded in his chest.

Large warm hands pulled you to your feet. “In yakunaj, are you hurt?”

K’uk’ulkan’s low voice was a balm to your panicked mind, and your fingers found purchase in the bejeweled collar he wore, as you collapsed against him.

He scooped you up and brought you further onto the beach, settling on the sand with you in his lap. His hands smoothed back your wet hair, his eyes searching your face.

“I—my throat.” You coughed out, motioning to the mottled bruising that you were sure was already starting to appear.

He gently tilted your head up and hummed in displeasure. “He dared to put his hands upon you? I will throw his body to the sharks; I swear to you in reina.”

“They will fade, do not fret, my love.” You soothed, leaning into his touch.

K’uk’ulkan’s presence made you feel safe, as if no harm could befall you while he remained at your side.

“You are done with the surface world, they do not deserve you, and this has proved it.” He said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the corpse behind you.

“But there are people that need me.” You protested weakly, lightly running your fingers across your throat, speeding up your already enhanced healing ability.

He cupped your face, his warm brown eyes like amber flecked with gold, filled with sorrow. “They do not need you more than I do in yakunaj. I do not know what I would do if you were taken from me.”

You melted under his gaze, the fight draining from your body, leaving only exhaustion in its place. “But who am I if not a healer?”

“You will still be a healer, my people injure themselves often, they are like children, stumbling over every loose stone in their path.” He gave you a weary smile along with his promise.

You smiled back at him, carding your fingers through his thick hair. “That is not true, your people are fearsome warriors.”

K’uk’ulkan rested his forehead against yours. “What can I do to make you come home, and to stay? What must I give you to have my queen by my side?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you basked in his warmth. It had been four hundred years of this, back and forth, stay or go, rule, or heal. You loved K’uk’ulkan more than anyone, anything, but you’d never been able to pry yourself from the grip of the surface world.

“You cannot buy my heart, you already have it.” You said, taking one of his hands and pressing it to your heart.

“But I do not. It sits in the hands of the surface dwellers, who crush it into a fine powder day after day, while I am helpless to watch.” His fingers curled, finding purchase in the fabric of your shirt, a desperate, pleading grasp.

“K’uk’ulkan…” You breathed, heartbreaking at the anguish in his voice.

“Y/N, you must return with me, if only so that I do not die of worry.” He pulled away and motioned to the corpse. “Look at what has happened, what if I had not been here—in yakunaj, you could have died.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were terrified, closer to death than you’d been in a long time. Maybe he was right, you could go with him, take care of his people, then return to the surface in a century or two and check on them.

“I will do it.” You said, closing your eyes, so he couldn’t see the tears of guilt welling up in them. How could you do this? Abandon all those who needed your help?

His thumbs wiped away the stray tears, and he brushed his lips across your forehead. “You will be happy there in reina, have faith in me.”

You looked up at him, bottom lip trembling. “I do, but…”

He shook his head. “No, but, do not let your mind run rampant as it tends to do. You owe the surface world nothing.” His voice was steady, as he leaned down and captured your lips, the warmth of him soothing your worries, and making your head pleasantly fuzzy.

You looped your arms around his neck, head tilting to the side, to deepen the kiss. He tasted of coconut and sea salt, his skilled tongue stroking yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

He kept you pressed against him as he stood, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked into the surf, intent on keeping you safe forever.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @starlady66

#namor x y/n #namor x reader #namor x you #mcu namor #tenoch huerta namor #namor imagine #namor fanfiction #meg's writing #I started this and wasn't loving it but I think it ended up alright #k’uk’ulkan #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan x you #mutant!reader #healer!reader

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thepaperpanda · 1 year

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A Carefree Rascal || Jake Sully x fem!Omaticaya reader

Summary: Jake Sully is the Olo’eyktan of the Omaticaya clan but his carefree attitude often results in injuries. As the healer of the clan, you are not impressed with his reckless behaviour despite having feelings for him

Warnings: none

Word count: 4436

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

Jake had been living with the Omaticaya clan for several years now, serving as their Olo'eyktan and leading them through countless challenges. He had come to love the people and the way of life here on Pandora, and he felt a deep sense of pride knowing that he was a part of this tribe.

On this particular day, he had gone out on a hunting expedition, determined to bring back a kill that would feed the village for days. He had tracked a huge herd of talioang for hours, unfortunately before he could have stroked, Jake came face-to-face with the ferocious palulukan. In the intense struggle that followed, the creature had inflicted several deep wounds on Jake's body with its sharp claws and fangs, leaving him bloodied and battered.

Despite his injuries, Jake managed to make his way back to the village, where he was greeted with cheers and relief from the members of his clan. They immediately sprang into action, tending to his wounds with the skill and expertise that had been passed down through generations.

As he lay there, Jake felt a sense of gratitude and awe wash over him. This was his home now, and these were his people. He had come to understand their ways and their values, and he had learned to respect and cherish them all.

As the healer of the clan, you swiftly received news of an almost fully successful hunt. While some might argue that it was completely successful since everyone would have food, it was difficult to call it a success when it had resulted in injuries.

After gathering the necessary supplies, you hastened to assist whoever required your aid. Upon arriving at the location, you had to shoo away others to be able to work effectively. It came as no surprise to you when you discovered that the injured party was none other than Jake himself. "You seem to enjoy getting hurt, don't you?" You remarked.

Jake rose to his feet, wincing slightly from the pain in his wounds. He turned to you and gestured for you to follow him to his tent, a serious expression on his face. You fell into step beside him, feeling your heart race with anticipation and concern for his well-being.

As you entered the tent, Jake motioned for you to take a seat on a nearby stool. He then proceeded to recount the story of his latest hunting excursion, during which he had been attacked by a fierce palulukan. He described how the creature had ambushed him from behind, raking its sharp claws across his back and leaving him with several deep wounds. "It was a fierce battle, but I managed to take it down. Unfortunately, it managed to get in a few good hits before I did. Its claws are razor-sharp, and I couldn't dodge them all. It's nothing too serious," he added, though the pain etched on his face suggested otherwise. "I've had worse."

It was clear that Jake was a skilled hunter, but even the best could fall victim to the dangers of the forest.

As he finished recounting the details of the attack, Jake turned to face you and asked if you would be willing to help treat his wounds.

You sat with your arms crossed, listening to an unnecessary story that you had never asked for. As you heard him out, your tail began to move restlessly, reflecting your growing impatience. "Considering how senseless your question was, I might as well leave you to deal with it alone," you retorted, tapping your fingers against your arm in frustration. Letting out a deep sigh, you stood up and approached the injured person to inspect their wounds more closely.

Jake sat on his cot, his back facing you, revealing the deep wounds left by the palulukan. You could see that the scratches were still fresh and bleeding, and it was clear that the hunt had been a difficult and dangerous one.

The palulukan, a fierce and formidable predator, had put up a fierce fight, and its razor-sharp claws had left a trail of deep, jagged wounds across Jake's back. The cuts were long and deep, some of them still bleeding and oozing pus, and it was clear that they would need careful attention if Jake was to make a full recovery.

You touched the wound gently, thinking carefully about your next steps. Fortunately, this wasn't your first time dealing with such a situation; in fact, it had happened more often than not. "Stupid," you muttered under your breath, flicking Jake's ear lightly. "So skilled, yet so stupid and reckless," shaking your head, you began your work by cleaning the wounds first. “A carefree rascal. Nì’eveng!”

Jake winced as you gently touched his wounds, his body still sore from the recent attack. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, and you knew that he was in a great deal of pain. But despite the discomfort, Jake remained stoic and silent, determined to tough it out. "Look, I'm not stupid," Jake said, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder. "I know that even the best hunters can't always see an attack coming from behind." He winced as you applied pressure to one of his wounds, but he continued speaking. "That palulukan was faster than I expected, and I paid the price for it." He let out a deep breath and clenched his jaw as you worked on another wound. "But I'll be back on my feet in no time. I'm not going to let a little thing like this keep me down for too long."

You looked straight into his eyes and hissed at him, turning his head away from you to make it easier to focus. "If you're going to be back on your feet in no time, then why am I even here? I have more important things to do," you snapped.

Your skilled fingers worked swiftly on the wounds, ensuring that he wouldn't bleed out and would make a full recovery. Your anger towards him wasn't due to hate, but rather worry. He had a tendency to get injured more frequently than others, and for some reason, you cared about him deeply, which made you anxious.

Jake expressed his frustration at having let his guard down, as he prided himself on being a vigilant and cautious hunter. You could see the pain etched on his face as he spoke, both from his physical wounds and the wound to his pride as a warrior.

As you continued to tend to his wounds, he softened his tone and thanked you for your care and attention. "I knew Mo'at made the right choice in accepting you as a healer," Jake said, looking at you again with gratitude in his eyes. "Your skill and care have helped me tremendously, and I am thankful to have you among the people."

Frowning, you flicked his ear once again, this time much harder in an attempt to shut him up, and turned his head away from you once more. "You sure like to talk, Sully. Maybe you got so hurt because you tried to talk the palulukan to death?" You quipped.

After finishing the cleaning and ensuring it was done correctly, you carefully began to apply ointment on the wounds.

Jake felt a sharp pain as you tended to his wounds, and he had to fight back a hiss. He tried to stay quiet, not wanting to show any signs of weakness or discomfort. He knew that the Omaticaya valued strength and resilience, and he didn't want to appear weak in front of you. He took a deep breath and focused on keeping his composure as you continued to work on his wounds. Despite the pain, Jake couldn't help but feel a growing sense of attraction towards you. He had been drawn to you ever since he first met you, and he couldn't deny the chemistry between the two of you, at least it was what he hoped for. But he knew that his duty as Olo'eyktan came first, and he had to stay focused on leading the Omaticaya clan. "Ha-ha, how funny you are, Y/N."

"Who said I was joking?" you asked with a smile as you pressed on one of the wounds, knowing it would elicit a reaction from him.

Of course, you were fully aware of how to do this without causing him any additional pain, but just to give him a little shock.

Jake grunted with pain as you pressed down too hard on one of his wounds. He tried to stay quiet, but a hiss escaped his lips. He gave you a brief glance, showing his fangs as well. "Nìktungzup!"

You didn't hold back from baring your teeth in return, but you soon gave him a mocking grin. "What? Did I hurt our big and mighty Sully? I thought you were tougher," you taunted.

"Behave, Y/N," Jake hissed in a stern voice, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'm tough when I need to be."

You hissed back and laughed softly, mocking him slightly. "I'll behave. It's just that I have a fussy hunter on my hands."

Jake rolled his eyes, not bothering himself with commenting on your words.

With a smile, you continued your work. After properly cleaning and applying ointment to his injuries, you proceeded to wrap them to ensure they were secure.

After his wounds were treated, Jake's expression relaxed and he breathed a sigh of relief. As the Olo'eyktan, he knew the importance of having skilled members in the tribe, and he expressed his gratitude for your presence. "Thank you for your help," Jake said with a smile, as you finished treating his wounds. "I think some of the other hunters might need your assistance as well. It was a fierce battle out there." He standed up from his cot, wincing slightly at the pain spreading all over his body but still looking determined.

After patting his shoulder, you added, "You should rest for a few days. It won't make you look weak if you lie down."

Then you left the room to attend to others.

The next day, not having heard from him, you decided to check on Sully. Knowing him, he probably wouldn't heed any of your words, and the last thing you wanted was for him to bleed out.

You made your way to his tent, humming softly.

Jake stood at the edge of the High Camp, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and turned to see a group of young trackers returning to base. "What happened out there?" Jake demanded, his voice stern.

One of the young trackers stepped forward and began to explain, but Jake cut him off. "I don't want to hear excuses. You were supposed to be back hours ago. If you can't keep up with the pace, you have no business being out here."

The young trackers hung their heads, looking ashamed. Jake walked over to them, his expression softening. "Listen, I know it's tough out here. But we have a responsibility to the clan. We have to keep them safe, no matter what, and RDA is acting up again."

He looked each of them in the eye, his gaze firm but kind. "You need to rest and heal your wounds. But tomorrow, you get back out there and do better. Our people are counting on us."

His ears perked up and he turned his head around to see you walking towards them. "Y/N, oel ngati kameie."

You nodded, looking right at him. "Stubborn as always, I said to stay down for a bit and you didn't follow. But it seems you're doing well despite your wounds." Crossing your arms over your chest, you tapped your feet against the ground, not out of anger, but out of a mix of amusement and mild frustration.

As you finished speaking, one of the young trackers smirked and muttered something under his breath.

Jake's keen hearing picked up on it, and he turned to face the tracker with a scowl. "Is something funny?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The young boy's smirk disappeared, replaced with a look of fear. "No, sir," he stammered.

Jake gave a nod. "You're dismissed."

After approaching you, he let out a deep grunt. "Listen, I know I should be resting, but I can't afford to stay in bed right now," Jake explained to you. "As the Olo'eyktan, I have a responsibility to keep the clan safe. I can't do that from my cot. There are threats out there that we need to stay vigilant against. Omaticaya have a strong connection to Eywa, but that doesn't mean we can let our guard down. The RDA is still out there, and they're always looking for a way to exploit our weaknesses."

You gave a little smile and waved to the others before returning to pestering Jake once more. "Trust me, I'm well aware of all that," you said, shrugging. "My point is, I took the time to patch you up, and I don't want you to mess it up by not being able to sit down for two days."

He growled at your words. "Aren't you a little too dramatic?"

"You know me, always the drama queen," you said with a smirk as you followed Jake to his tent. "But in all seriousness, I just want to make sure you're healing properly. Let me take a look at those bandages." You stepped inside and began to inspect his wounds, making sure everything was as it should be.

Jake let out another grunt of annoyance. "I'm fine, you don't need to check upon me," he told you.

"I'm afraid I do have to check on you. I need to ensure your injuries are healing properly."

Jake took the garb off his shoulders, revealing his muscular arms and chest. He let out a deep breath and stretched his arms, feeling the cool air against his skin. He looked over at you and smiled, the tension from earlier melting away. He folded the garb carefully and set it aside before sitting down on his cot.

You couldn't help but appreciate his physique for a moment, but you kept your expression neutral so as not to give him any satisfaction. "Thank you," you nodded, approaching him. "So, how do you feel? Any pain other than your injuries?"

He fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then he turned to you with a serious expression. "Does emotional pain count?"

"It depends," you replied, sitting down and beginning to carefully unwrap the bandages to examine his wounds. "Care to tell me more about it?"

He looked at you intently, as if trying to convey the weight of his responsibility. "I know I could be tough to deal with sometimes," he said. "But I took my responsibilities as Olo'eyktan very seriously. The safety of my people was always on my mind, and sometimes that meant I had to make hard decisions. I hope you understood that."

You gave him a gentle tug on his ear and said, "First of all, those are also my people. I live among them and I help them however I can. Second, I understand that, but the truth is that a dead Olo'eyktan is good for nothing, so you need to remember this as well."

Jake smirked more to himself than to you. "There's a great truth in your words."

"You seem to forget that I have a healer's duty to keep you alive," you said with a playful smirk, checking his wound. Your fingers deftly probed the edges of the injury to ensure it was healing properly. You were relieved to find that everything seemed to be in order. Although you tried to hide it, your tail gave away your happiness at his recovery. "Looks like you're going to make it. For now, at least."

Jake noticed your tail wagging back and forth. He couldn't help but feel amused by the sight. "Looks like someone's excited," he commented with a chuckle.

You lightly tapped his shoulder. "I'm not excited, just relieved that you'll be okay. It's a normal reaction. I still think you're foolish and impulsive, just a reckless child."

Jake got up from his cot, stretching his muscles as he stood. Jake walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You could feel his warmth and the solidness of his body against yours. He nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "How long will we pretend, hmm?"

You huffed in annoyance and nuzzled him, wrapping your arms around him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Sully," you replied with a playful grin, your expression lightening.

Without saying a word, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, the kiss gentle and tender.

You pulled away from him, a growl escaping your lips. "Oh, I hate you so much, Jake," you muttered before leaning in to kiss him properly this time.

For a moment, everything else faded away and it was just the two of you, lost in the sensation of the kiss. Jake felt as though he could stay like this forever, wrapped in your arms and lost in the kiss. He murmured softly in your mouth, enjoying the sweetness of your lips.

Once again, you pulled away from him and observed his face with a mocking grin. "Well, well, well. Our mighty Olo'eyktan falling for a healer. How the mighty have fallen," you teased.

Jake took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his expression serious. "I need to tell you something," he said. "I know I can be a bit difficult to read sometimes, but I want you to know that I care about you deeply."

He took your hand in his and squeezed it tightly. "I know we've been through a lot together, and I just want you to know that I'm here for you, always. I want to be more than just your friend, if you'll have me."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're easy to read. I saw everything you did and heard everything you said. I just decided not to let you win me over so easily."

"I didn't know you felt the same way," Jake said, his frown deepening. He seemed surprised by your confession, and you could see the emotions playing across his face. "But I'm glad you told me," he continued, a small smile breaking through. "I've had feelings for you for a long time, but I wasn't sure if you felt the same way." He pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. "I don't want to hide my feelings for you anymore," he whispered in your ear. "I want everyone to know that you're mine and that I'm yours."

You let out a soft chuckle before gently holding Jake's cheeks and turning his face to look at you. "Just so you know, I care about you deeply," you said with a small smile. "But that doesn't change the fact that, to me, you are reckless."

Jake scoffed, his expression turning sceptical. "You can't be serious," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Chuckling, you nodded and gave him a playful tap on the nose. "I know you're serious, but that doesn't change the fact that I like you a lot too."

As soon as Jake spotted Mo'at approaching, he moved away in a slight move.

As she entered the tent, Jake stepped aside, giving her space. He had great respect for the Tsahìk and always made sure to defer to her wisdom.

Mo'at looked around the tent, her sharp eyes taking in everything. Jake waited quietly, his posture relaxed but respectful. When she finally turned her gaze to him, he met her stare without flinching, his expression open and honest. "I somehow knew I would find you here, Y/N," said Mo'at, fixing her yellowish eyes on your face.

You turned to her and gave a soft smile. "Is everything okay? I just had to make sure that our stubborn Olo'eyktan lives to see another day."

Mo'at gave you a significant glance as she reminded you that others required your assistance.

You apologised to Jake and gave him a quick look before telling him quietly that you would be back later. After that, you left to attend to your duties, not wanting to neglect them any further and bringing Mo'at's anger on your soul.

The evening came quickly, taking his busy schedule.

He made his way back to his tent, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as he stepped inside. The air was cool and quiet, a welcome respite from the chaos of the day. Jake quickly shed his gear and settled onto his cot, stretching out his tired muscles.

As he lay there, he could hear the distant sounds of the Na'vi speaking as the eclipse was approaching. He closed his eyes, imagining the sight that would soon unfold: the sun disappearing behind Polyphemus, the sky darkening, the world falling silent.

You decided to surprise him by sneaking into his tent. Standing at the entrance, you rested your hand on your hips and looked straight at him. "Oh, look at that. My most stubborn hunter is finally lying down. I think I need to thank Eywa for this miracle."

"So, what brings you here?" Jake asked, raising his eyebrow slowly. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. I'm always happy to see you, but it's hard for me to believe you came just to check upon my wounds for you've done it earlier."

You raised an eyebrow and let out a short scoff. "I came to check up on you, but if my presence is bothersome, then I'll leave."

When you finished, he gave you a warm smile. "Oh, come on, where is your sense of humour?"

You playfully hissed and let out a deep sigh. "I'm just tired, Jake. Sorry."

He cocked his eyebrow, listening to you. "A lot of work, huh?"

"Yes, not only injured but sick as well, especially kids," you nodded, rubbing your eyes. "Am I bothering you? After all, I promised to be back."

"You're not a bother," he said, his voice calm and warm. "I'm always happy to spend time with you. I enjoy your company," he added, his eyes meeting yours. "So please, never hesitate to come see me."

You nodded once more and took a comfortable seat next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing fine," Jake said with a small smile. "It's been tough, but I'm getting through it. How about you?"

You gently examined his injury and let out a relieved sigh. "I'm glad to hear that, but don't push yourself too hard. Rest is important for healing."

Jake got up from his cot and letting out a contented sigh, he walked over to the small table in the corner of his tent. There was a bowl of fruit sitting there, and he picked up one and took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully, savouring the sweetness, looking at you, pointing at the bowl. "Would you like some?"

"Well, I was starting to think you'd never offer. I was afraid I'd have to die here before you'd bring it up. Yes, please. I would love one."

He walked to you, his hand outstretched with the fruit resting in his palm. "Here," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's one of the best fruits on Pandora, but I'm sure you know that."

“Irayo.” You took a bite of the fruit and your eyes widened in surprise. The sweetness exploded in your mouth, and you felt a burst of energy flow through your body. You couldn't help but let out a small moan of pleasure. You quickly finished the fruit, savouring every last bit, and couldn't believe you felt refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to take on anything that came your way.

Jake smirked at you as he stood by the entrance to his tent, watching the hustle and bustle of the village. He looked relaxed and content, as if he was enjoying the simple pleasures of life on Pandora. "It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" He said, turning to you with a smile. "There's something so peaceful about watching the village like this. It's like everything else fades away and you're just left with the present moment."

"That's true," you said, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind to give him a hug. "These moments are priceless and so peaceful. I hope we can continue to enjoy them together."

Jake's body tensed for a moment, but then he relaxed into your embrace, tilting his head slightly to the side to rest it against yours. He took a deep breath, savouring the feel of your arms around him.

You teased him, squeezing his waist, "Someone tensed up here for a moment. Am I making you nervous?"

As you hugged Jake from behind, he turned to face you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. You could feel the warmth of his body and the strength of his embrace. Jake let out a contented sigh, enjoying the feeling of your touch. His hand caressed your back as he held you close, savouring the moment. "Kxawm. Or maybe not."

Your hands curiously moved up and down his belly, exploring every inch of his skin and every strong muscle beneath. "Oh, really? That's why you got so tense when I touched you?"

Jake closed his arms around you, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

With a smile on your face, you snuggled up to him, feeling pleased with your teasing attempt. "Oh, didn't you like that?"

His strong, yet gentle hands moved up and down your spine, loosening the knots that had formed there. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face. Jake continued to rub your back for a few more minutes, and you felt your muscles begin to relax under his touch. Eventually, he stopped and gave you a reassuring smile. "Better?" He asked.

You relaxed, leaning comfortably against him as you let out a soft purr. His touch was indeed making you feel better, easing the tension in your sore muscles. "It seems like you can do more than just get hurt," you told him, looking up in his eyes.

Glossary:

talioang - sturmbeest

palulukan - thanator

nì’eveng - like a child

nìktungzup - carefully

oel ngati kameie - I see you

kxawm - maybe

irayo - thanks

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thedarkcircuswritings · 5 days

Note

Elder Faerie Cookie x Healer/Wife Cookie

When Elder Faerie was slowly dying from one of episode in beat-yeast

Reader got to heal them and get full recovery but unfortunately after that event they got traumatised and now at times get nightmares of Reader not succeeding there healing spell and ended up loosing him which made them ask themselves once they wake up "what if he dies again?" and Reader will be alone again since Reader has abandonment issues and so Reader just listen to his heartbeat to confirm that his there and his not leaving them?

Elder Faerie knew his attempted sacrifice would've troubled you, but he only now saw more of the consequences. You had been so, so scared for him once this all started. You knew there was only so much your healing magic could do. You'd ask him so many times how he felt, does he hurt anywhere, is he feeling sick, did anybody hurt him? Every time, he'd reassure you that he was alright and would give you a kiss. Still, your worries troubled you deeply. You had lost so, so much in the past, and he was the only one you didn't want to lose. Please, witches above, don't make you lose him... Sometimes at night, Elder Faerie will awaken with you awake as well, simply pressing your head against his chest or your fingers touching his wrists or neck. Your healing staff would always be nearby too, just as if you were waiting for something disastrous to happen. On those nights, he would do his best to get you back to sleep, all the while trying to think how he could help you. He didn't want to see his beloved butterfly in distress... Maybe he'd need another cookie's help.

#🎭shadow writing!#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oneshot #elder faerie cookie #reader cookie #y/n cookie #elder faerie x reader #wife!reader #wife!y/n #elder faerie x wife!reader #healer!reader #healer!y/n #elder faerie x healer!reader #elder faerie x wife!healer!reader

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georgie-weasley · 3 months

Text

Deep Wounds: Chapter 1.5

Warnings: A wee bit of self loathing from Remus, mentions of scars

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: eventual Remus x fem!healer!reader

A/N: So it has been a while since I posted anything about this series so to refresh, there will be smaller chapters like this one in-between each of the longer chapters. The smaller chapters generally won't focus on the reader and mostly Remus instead. As of now I'm still tagging everyone that's on my Remus taglist but if people want I'll make a separate one just for the series

Series Masterlist Taglist

Remus laid on the couch, his arm covering his eyes. He could hear his friends whispering about him only a few feet away. They often talked about him and his condition in hushed tones like it was some sort of secret but there was no point. Remus knew what kind of monster he was; they didn’t need to pretend he didn’t. “Can you stop pretending I’m not here and speak at a higher volume so I can decipher what you’re saying?”

The whispering stopped at once. Remus peaked out from behind his arm to see the group of four moving from the doorway to surround him in the living room. Sirius lifted Remus’s legs and sat down, resting the werewolf’s feet on his lap. James and Peter sat on the floor while Lily stood behind the couch and busied herself looking at the new scars forming on Remus.

“Want to fill me in on your secrets?” Remus whispered, moving his arm so Lily could look at his face. Since she found out about his monthly issue, she had taken on a sort of motherly role. She was always checking on him and trying to feed him and do her best to help heal him but that was never her strongest magic. But it was nice to have her care so much for him even if he didn’t want to bother her.

“James was just filling us in on your trip to St. Mungos.” Sirius let the silence hang after he answered. Remus kept his eyes closed but he could feel everyone looking at him. When no one else spoke, Sirius continued. “Are you really going to let some random girl help you find a cure?”

Remus sighed and sat up with a groan, causing Lily to rush into the kitchen to grab some ice. “No, I’m not. I had no choice though since James wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“That’s going to be awkward.” Lily handed Remus the ice before she took a seat next to him on the couch. “James said she’s coming over here after her shift.”

Remus put the ice on his right shoulder, sinking into the couch. “When she gets here I’ll tell her that I changed my mind and she can leave. I don’t need her help. I have you guys and that’s all I need. There’s no reason for some random girl to give me pity and spend her time and my time making a cure that won’t work.”

“Why not?” Peter spoke up from the floor. “She wants to help so why not let her.”

“I don’t know her Wormtail. I don’t know a single thing about her besides the fact that she seems to think she can help me. She could be doing this because she has pity or because she thinks this will get her points in the medical field.” Remus felt like he was making fair points but the look on James’s face told him it wasn’t enough.

“Moons, I think we all know why you don’t want to accept help.” Remus watched James and shook his head. “I think you’re scared to be let down.”

Remus quickly stood, ignoring the way his body screamed in protest from the quick movements. He didn’t want to sit around and hear James’s ridiculous ideas. James may be one of his best friends but he didn’t know a single thing about this life that he was forced to have. He needed a walk, he needed air, he needed to get away from everyone for just a minute. It’s only been a few hours since he was out of control of his body and attacked by a hippogriff and forced to go to the hospital where a healer refused to take care of him because of what he is. Not to mention a random healer decided to wedge her way into his life to try and help him for whatever reason. He needed a nap.

Remus headed out to the small backyard and collapsed onto a plastic chair. He closed his eyes and felt like maybe he could relax for a few minutes before the door slid open and Lily walked out. Remus grew close to Lily during their last few years at Hogwarts and he was beyond thrilled that she joined the little group of misfits they had. She had a bond with Remus that none of the boys could ever come close to replicating. He loved his friends and he was closer to them than anyone else in the world but his bond with Lily was special. He thought that their relationship would be one like he could have had with a sister.

She pulled another chair over and sat next to Remus, handing him the ice pack that had fallen when he stormed off. “I suppose you’re here to convince me to go through with this.”

Lily sighed and shrugged. “Not really. I think you should give it a shot but you’re right. You don’t know her and while it seems nice that she wants to help, you don’t know why she would. James was just excited to know there was someone else that wanted to help.”

She carefully rested a hand on his arm. “We all just want you to be happy and to have a good life that you deserve. Everyone is just excited at the idea that maybe this healer could be the one to help that.” Lily glanced at a new scar on his arm. “And if she’s as good at potion making as she is at healing, then I think she really could help.”

Remus looked at his arm. He had plenty of scars all over his body but the one on his arm that you had fixed earlier that morning was harder to see than the others. In fact some of them you did such a good job that there was hardly any evidence he had been hurt there in the first place. You had done a better job than anyone else ever had so maybe that did bode well for a cure.

“Give her one month, just one chance to figure this out and if it seems to go well or you think she isn’t weird, then it can’t hurt to keep trying. It really can’t hurt to give her a shot.”

“Fine but just one month.” Lily smiled and left Remus alone with his thoughts as she went back inside. He would agree to one month of help but Lily was wrong. This could end up hurting so many people. Remus had been hurt by strangers and friends but nothing hurt more than getting his hopes up only to have reality come crashing down on him and continuing to be a monster. This could hurt a lot.

Taglist

@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @s1aaaaayyyyyyyt @steelthistle @asuperconfusedgirl @jsjcue @Andy200700 @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @daisydark @creepybloodykitty2 @avatheveela @themarauderswife7 @Mintyme101

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 1 year

Text

Necromancy? No, cardiopulmonary resuscitation!

Wednesday Addams x gn! healer! Reader

Summary: When the time comes, will reader be able to save her girlfriend?

The final battle, but make it angstier

Warnings: Blood, Fighting, Death.

Word Count: 1281

Wednesday’s sword broke into shards. Small pieces of metal landed on the ash-darkened grass, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she admitted to herself she didn’t have the upper hand. She hated feeling outpowered, but she would have called a truce if it was an option. She thought dying like that was kind of underwhelming, to be honest. (All this to say, Wednesday felt scared).

Before she could think of her next move, the pilgrim had her pushed into a wooden crate. It took a second for Wednesday to notice that the air was being forcibly sucked out of her lungs by the wizard, and the difficulty to breath was not caused by the sheer impact.

By the time Bianca stabbed the sword into Crackstone’s heart, killing him for good, Wednesday’s body laid lifeless on the ground.

You stumbled into the scene after helping Enid out with the Hyde. When you saw your girlfriend’s state, you ran even faster to get to her.

“Wednesday!” You dropped to your knees and immediately set your ear on her chest. You didn’t hear a heartbeat. You looked behind you for a moment, seeing Bianca, and Eugene in the corner, trying to get your shit together and trace a course of action. You didn’t let the shock of the moment set in, and cleared your mind. Your lover’s life depended on it.

You put your hands down in Wednesday’s chest and started performing cpr. Every second blood wasn’t pumping to her brain, her chances of survival decreased.

“Eugene! Call an ambulance!” You saw earlier that he had his phone on him. You looked him in the eye over your shoulder. “RIGHT NOW” He seemed to react to that, and started dialing 911.

You all heard when Thornhill stepped in, a gun in her hand and a threat about to come out of her mouth.

“Drop the gun” Bianca said, a siren song. The professor obliged with an astonished look “Do not move”.

Your hands didn’t falter on your girlfriend’s chest, but had the situation been different, you’d have lurched yourself at your friend for a grateful hug.

Your arms were getting exhausted, you had sweat and rebel tears dripping from your face. Wednesday wasn’t responding to the cpr, but you knew better than to stop.

It was eerily quiet. No one dared to move or make a sound.

Enid appeared from behind you, covered in blood and full of scratches. She came running to where you were on the ground, and covered her face when she understood what was happening.

Your hands were coated with blood from (what you later found out was) the arrow wound on her roommate’s shoulder, your entire body was trembling from the exertion. Enid started crying silently.

“SHE’S NOT DEAD, OKAY?!” You screamed, way too loud, at her. “She’s okay, she is going to be just fine, I swear” Your voice was trembling, but you refused to break, not until your girlfriend was safe and sound. You had to be strong for her.

Your breath was ragged and no one was saying anything, goddammit! Had they already given up on her? “I-I just have to keep t-the blood flowing through her b-body” Hiccups escaped your mouth, as you started rambling about what your mom taught you about first aid and paramedicine. “In the ambulance, t-the defibrillator.. WHY THE FUCK IS IT TAKING SO LONG?!”

All your surroundings vanished when you set your attention solely on Wednesday. You were a healer, for fuck’s sake, useless powers if you only could use them on a beating heart. If you could just get her heart to start working on its own…

Arms surrounded you from behind, taking you from your love’s side. Didn’t they see that you were trying to help her? Didn’t thew know that every second was gold, and that her brain needed the blood that you were pumping with the cpr to her-

“LET ME GO! DON’T TOUCH ME!” You were struggling against the person who was taking you from your girlfriend, from your dying girlfriend that needed you right-

“Calm down please, they are helping her” You opened your eyes to find a whole group of paramedics doing quick work of getting Wednesday’s uniform out of the way and, yes, they had a defibrillator.

You hold your breath and watch helplessly as they hit her with the electric shock. “CLEAR” Once, twice, three times until one of the medics holds two fingers against her throat and announces: “We have a pulse”.

It’s like your whole body collapses into Bianca -who was the one keeping you back, apparently- and you start sobbing uncontrollably. Out of relief, fear and fatigue.

You keep crying, whimpering, screaming, and crying again until you get to the hospital and a doctor tells you that she’s going to be alright.

You don’t notice when the police take Thornhill in handcuffs, or when Weems appears out of the blue and puts some order, or when Enid hugs you like her life depends on it and let’s out a litany of thank yous’, or when a paramedic asks you if you are injured, and lastly takes you and other kids into the ambulance and to Jericho’s hospital.

…

The sun comes up and shines through the window. The thin curtains do little in stopping the light from slipping in and warming everything it touches.

You are softly awakened by a delicate and clumsy hand stroking your hair. For a moment, you think you are in your bedroom, sleeping by your girlfriend’s side, but the smell of disinfectant, the soreness in your body, and the memories of last night flood your mind all at once, and you bolt up, suddenly very awake and alert.

When your eyes meet Wednesday’s half lidded ones, you start crying again. You stand up from the plastic chair and get closer to her face. You caress her cheek, get some hair out of the way. She reaches a hand up and does the same. You hold her hand and bend yourself down to touch your forehead with hers.

A beat of silence passes, both of you taking in the situation and each other’s presence. “I didn’t know you were into necromancy” she half joked with a hoarse voice. You smiled, but started sobbing harder. Your tears fell into her cheeks and her hospital gown. You ever so delicately rested your head into her good shoulder.

“You are not in black” You retort after you calm down a little bit. Wednesday let’s a half hearted grunt. “I’ll tell Enid to bring you more appropriate attire”

She scoots weakly over in the too-thin stretcher and pats the empty spot for you to lay in. You stand there, going over yesterday’s events.

“Did I break any ribs?” You ask on the verge of tears again. You can’t bear to think you might have inflicted any pain on her.

“You prevented me from having an unacceptably lame death, now come here, I’m not going to ask again”

You hesitantly and so softly lay down next to her on your side, hugging her stomach, careful of her injuries. “I love you. So much” You whisper out the words you were so scared you’d never get to say to her.

“I love you too, cara mia” She starts to run her fingers through your hair again.

And just like that, you both fall into a well deserved, although shallow sleep. You would most definitely need the rest for when police came asking for testimonies and details of the events. For now though, your hearts were content in each other's company, and that was enough.

A/N: Yes, Weems survived. No, I won't listen to canon.

I felt like the last episode could have been a little bit spicier, but I loved it anyway.

Expect more of healer!reader with unnecesary medicine facts *laughes mischivously*

Feedback is greatly appreciated, and as always thanks for reading! :D

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday #self insert #wednesday x y/n #addams family #wednesday x healer!reader #near death experience #angst with happy ending #angst #hurt comfort #hurt/comfort #cpr is so cool #like literaly necromancy #the human body is so wtf

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smalls-words · 2 years

Text

Healing Hands pt.3

Summary: Wanda sees what happens when she goes behind your back.

Warnings: fighting, backstory time, Wanda uses Agatha’s techniques. lmk if there’s anything else!

A/N: This is probably gonna be the last piece today :’(

pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv, pt. v, pt. vi

*not my gif*

You woke up in a daze, your body still fatigued but not as incredibly so as before. You shuffled through the house to be greeted by the sight of Wanda cooking eggs, your tired mind ignoring hers as you went outside.

The sun recharged your body and you decided to stay out there, stay away from the witch, even if your inner healer wanted to start again. You kept your eyes away from her as she conjured another porch chair, sitting on the other side of the door.

“How are you-”

“Don’t.” You interrupted.

Wanda turned to face you, watching how cold you looked. Your face held no emotion, but your body language did. It told her everything she needed to know, everything she already knew - you loathed her.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” She murmured, looking down at her marked hand.

“What did you do to me?”

Those same words echoed in your mind, but from last night. The fury behind them was terrifying, but you unfortunately knew that deep down, it wasn’t her fault, so your heart couldn’t blame her. “I’m sure Stephen told you.”

She froze. “What do you mean?”

You glared at her. “I feel every piece of energy in this cage, Scarlet Witch. I know you have America locked up downstairs, unconscious and in need of healing. I know you talked to Stephen because his astral form explained your fight to me in my dream. And I know what you truly seek.”

You stood, standing tall above her seated position as your anger surfaced. It was terrifying for the witch, the way your face was calm and yet your eyes flickered with angered power.

“You seek not to heal yourself. You seek to harm others to get what you want. You want your ‘boys’ from another universe? Okay, go for it. But you will hurt that Wanda Maximoff in the process. You will and have hurt America by trying to take her power. You will have hurt everyone in the process of claiming something that is not yours, was never yours, and never will be yours.”

You looked down at your hand and Wanda gasped, standing up abruptly. She grabbed your hand, throwing it into different positions to make sure she wasn’t seeing what she was seeing.

But the Darkhold was not deceiving her this time.

“And you will have hurt me, just as you’ve already done.” You muttered, pulling your blackened fingertips away from hers whilst you stormed away, slamming your bedroom door shut.

Wanda simply stood at the porch door, watching you as a tear fell down her cheeks. Why was everything going so wrong?

——————————🜃🜂🜁🜄 —————————

You lay in your bed, no more energetic than this morning. Your body was in order, but your mind had been consumed with chaos, with her. Was this a trick? Was the magic that binded you together too much for you? Would you lose your mind before your intended goal was achieved?

A knock came at the door before it opened, a sniffling sound coming from the other side. You glared at Wanda as America came into your view too, the young girl tackling you in a hug whilst Wanda left.

“You’re alright, young one. There there, easy now.” You cooed, gently rocking her from side to side.

“It hurts, Master Healer.” She whined against your sleeve, tears soaking it.

“You do not have to call me that, little one. You may call me Y/N.” You assured her.

“Now, where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere. It’s like she’d torn me apart from the inside out and just… left me there to die.” She sobbed, but your inner spirit knew.

“Lift your shirt for me, America. Just to your belly button, alright?”

With your focus on America, you didn’t notice how Wanda was listening intently on the other side, her magic manipulating the door to become a one-way mirror. She watched you slowly tend to America, keeping her calm and collected whilst you chatted.

“Master Y/N?”

“Yes, America?” You replied, holding your hand over her stomach as you moved it fluidly and consistently like a shark’s tail.

“How did you become a healer? A-And is there a process to becoming a Master Healer? Can... Can I be a healer? Like you?” She asked you meekly, nerves causing her stutter.

She was in front of THE Master Healer - why wouldn’t she be nervous?

You took a deep breath. “Stephen wouldn’t tell you the process, would he?”

She shook her head. “He said I had to hear it from you. That only you could tell me.”

You nodded at the fact. “Are you sure? It is nothing short of a gruesome story, not to mention my past.”

Wanda’s interest peaked. She would finally learn how you were different from the other sorcerers, how you became a healer. She would learn what made you you, what made you special to her.

Maybe then she wouldn’t need you anymore.

“First, you must learn the difference between healers and regular sorcerers.” You stated, watching America’s chest rise and fall steadily as a good sign.

“Regular Sorcerers are humans that have harnessed the teachings of eldritch magic and utilised them to protect the world. Healers… once we become Healers, we are no longer human.”

“How come?” America murmured.

“We go through a series of spells cast by the Sorcerer Supreme to enhance our capabilities. Think of it like a pumpkin carving on Halloween - the spells carve out my insides, take away anything that’s unnecessary, and replace them with the ability to manipulate energy.”

“So… it’s painful?” She squeaked, getting a sense of your power acquirement.

You looked at the nervous girl, conflicted between telling her the truth or omitting it. “Are you sure you wish to know?”

She gave you a silent nod. Wanda nodded behind her magic, tempted to come in and sit but she knew you would not say a thing to her.

“Okay, here it goes.” You took a deep breath before you recalled the moments prior to your healer status.

“Yes. Incredibly so. It’s like your body is being subdued in a blazing fire and a pool of Arctic water at the same time. You don’t know which way is up because all you are focused on is the pain. Your bones snap, ligaments and tendons tear, blood vessels burst. Your organs begin to fail, your lungs begin to constrict. And then, for a brief moment, your heart stops. But your brain never fails, the pain never stops.”

Wanda watched as you tore the shoulders of your shirt very easily, stripping them off. She withheld her gasp, unlike America, who’s eye widened at what covered your arms.

“Then, when it feels like the pain is too much, your body begins to stitch itself back together. Your organs regenerate, your heart begins to beat again. Blue blood, enriched in energy, is pumped through your body, healing your bones, ligaments, tendons, everything. You’re tired, sure - I slept for five days afterwards - but you’re okay. Healers are cursed with the pain of every known injury, in order to be able to treat them all.”

You placed your hand back over America’s stomach and she eyed the blackened tips. “Are you reading the Darkhold too?”

You chuckled softly. “No no, I wouldn’t touch that book of my own volition. Healers are immune to the influence of dark magic because we are mostly made of energy, something the Darkhold cannot manipulate. But… my other patient isn’t immune.”

“Wanda.” America realised.

The witch faltered in her stance, the quietest creak coming from the floor beneath her. Her head lifted to see you looking at her, a sympathetic expression she knew you wouldn’t wear if you could see her.

“Yeah.” You sighed, removing your hand from America’s stomach before adjusting her shirt.

“You’re healed, dear.” You stated as your ripped shirt repaired itself.

America embraced you in a tight hug, a warm and accepting one, that you soon returned with a looser grip. “Thank you.” She murmured.

“You’re always welcome.” You kissed her forehead before she pulled away.

“I don’t want to go back out there. Please don’t make me.”

You cupped America’s cheek as tears fell, brushing them away gently. “Let me speak with Wanda first.”

You eyed the door and Wanda stepped back silently, floating away until you closed the door behind you. You spotted her in the kitchen, making lunch, and you stood across from her.

“You are not as sly as you think you may be.” You stated numbly.

“How come you didn’t die?” She asked, chopping the onions with a reddened dome around them.

“Did I mention my past?” You answered with a question, making her chopping falter.

“What happened?”

“Why would I tell you?”

She looked up at you, guilt eating at the darkness surrounding her heart. “I’d like to get to know you better, I guess.”

“Or you’ll just use it against me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?” You replied as she tipped the onions into the hot pan.

She didn’t answer that question. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, too late for that.” You held up your hand and you saw her eyes flick wider if but for a moment, darkness consuming all of your knuckles whilst touching the edge of your palm.

You watched her fret, her eyes darting between the pans as she tried to think. Suddenly, a blast of red magic came over the kitchen and everything disappeared, her breathing heavy as she looked at you.

The blast had done nothing to you, as far as she could tell.

Emotion - the kind she hadn’t felt in a long time - simmered behind her eyes, a stinging sensation building. “What point are you trying to make? Why are you getting harsher a-and meaner whilst I get nicer and warmer? Why are you so mean to me?!”

“Because I am taking your darkness from you, Wanda!” You bellowed.

She took a step back. “What?”

You scoffed. How did she not know? Did she truly learn nothing from that stupid book? “It is what a healer does! They take the pain, they take the hurt and the light, the order within, destroys it! But you have gone too far down your path to be redeemed, so I am forcing you to make a choice!”

You came towards her as tears pricked her eyes, your hand rising to her crown. “Continue and lose the one person who thinks you’re worthy of redemption…”

You lifted it slightly. “Or understand that I only wish to help you regain control of your life.”

Her heart ached for that feeling to return. “I don’t have control. I never have.” She murmured.

You took the crown off of her head before taking her hands and their black-tipped fingers. “Then let’s work together to control it. Okay? No more hurting people, no more running from your own reality. Let it go, Wanda.”

You watched as her face contorted, lips quivering as her hand opened. Your Slingy rested in her palm, looking as beautiful as your own magic.

“Take her back. Leave and never return. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Her bottom lip quivered but she was thankful that the lump in her throat let her speak clearly.

You gave her a gentle nod and walked to your room, seeing America sitting calmly on the end of the bed before you smiled at her. With a flick of your wrist, a portal opened and you smiled at Stephen and Christine.

“Go with them.” You urged America, putting a hand out to silence Stephen whilst the young girl walked through the portal.

“Farewell, my friend.” You bowed to Stephen before closing the portal.

You walked back out of the room to see Wanda on her knees, tears streaming down her face before you knelt in front of her.

“Why didn’t you leave? Everybody leaves...” She sniffled quietly and you took her chin in your palm, watching her close her eyes before gently leaning into the touch.

“When I make promises, my dear, I intend on keeping them.” You kissed her forehead slowly, then holding her ear to your chest for her mind to focus on something other than pain.

“I need to return the Darkhold to Wong. Can you please summon it?” You murmured softly.

She nodded, moving away from the hug to summon the book. The dark spells tried to influence your mind, rope you in like it did Wanda, but a portal appeared behind it and you spotted Wong with another sorceress.

“Wong, Sara - I trust you will keep it safe.” You wrapped the book in a binding spell before handing it over through the portal.

“What are you doing?” Wong asked you gravely.

You looked down at Wanda, the woman having fallen asleep in your arms. You smiled at Wong, a peaceful smile he knew to be from your core. “I’m going to heal her shattered heart. Just like I promised.”

He hesitated before giving you a nod, closing the portal to bring silence to the small cabin. You stood with Wanda in your arms, bringing her to your bed to lie her down gently. You watched as her cloak disappeared, subconsciously replaced with a set of pyjamas, and you kissed her forehead.

“You’ll be okay.” You muttered, looking at your greying fingertips.

“Maybe tomorrow night will be a good place to start anew.”

——————————🜃🜂🜁🜄 —————————

When Wanda woke in the morning, she almost had a panic attack when she didn’t recognise her dark room. Instead, it was yours - your green sheets, your lovely bright room, your scent on the pillow.

She brushed her hand across the pillow as something tickled her nose, seeing a lock of your hair now pinched between her fingers. Her mind flashed backwards a year, to a teaching she never thought she’d practice.

Her magic swirled around the strand of hair, stretching it taut as it became tinged with her magic.

“Y/N/N?!” A voice called out, albeit muffled, and she turned around to face it.

A younger you was resting underneath a tree, staring up at the full and bright moon. A cloak of primed leather rested around you like a shell of warmth, a woollen long-sleeve and leather vest covering your torso whilst a similar combination covered your legs.

“And there’s Heracles- ooh, there’s Capricornus!” You giggled to yourself, a smile coming to Wanda’s features.

She looked around as she tried to gauge what time period it was. Fire was the main source of light in the small village down the hill, small brick houses clumped together with no discernible organisation. Chimneys rose upwards as smoke billowed from almost every single one, her eyes dropping back down to you as more noise came.

“Y/N/N, there you are! Mama is worried!”

“Stop worrying, little sister. I’m fine.”

“Are you talking to the moon again?”

Wanda sat down on a log as she watched you converse with this little girl, presumably a younger sister. She was lively, bright, energetic - almost the opposite of you. You sat and listened to her intently, nodding along and replying gently at times.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Mama’s dinner is almost ready!”

You stood with her as she dragged you down the hill, the world shifting for Wanda until she came to the outside of your small house. She was just in time to see you racing your little sister inside, letting her win and gloat as your Mama dished up your dinner.

“Enjoy, my sweet ones.” She kissed your foreheads.

As you were about to take a mouthful of the stew, a loud ruckus came from beyond the front door. Wanda stepped through the wall just as your mother opened the door, a few men at her doorstep.

“Good evening, ma’am. We’re just passing through, checking for witches. May we enter?”

She nodded and let them in, eyeing both you and your sister. You both lifted your heads, greeting them formally, before they sat down opposite you both.

“Now, I want you to focus on this little stick, okay? Focus as much as you can.” The main man looked at your sister as he placed the stick in the centre of the table.

“Okay!” She smiled.

Wanda’s mind was racing to understand what was going on.

Your sister focused intently on the stick, but nothing happened. She looked almost constipated, her entire body shaking until she released her held breath.

“Nothing happened!” She complained, but the man put a hand up to her.

“That’s good, little one. Now, how about you?”

She watched your eyes, those precious young eyes, as they fell onto the stick. A small glow of yellow came from your hands, which were hidden underneath your cloak, and the stick did nothing.

But the men caught on fire.

“Witch! Witch! Get the stake, ready the fire!” The men wailed as they burned to death within your house.

You bolted and Wanda followed behind you, your sister on your shoulders as you raced back up the mountain. She closed her eyes before reopening them, back at the top as she watched you run up.

“Come on, come on, come on.” She muttered to herself, but there was nothing she could do.

This was just a memory.

The small village had torches and firewood ready as they chased you both up to the top, your eyes wild as you spotted the frozen lake. You placed one bare foot on it, not hearing a single crack or shift, before you began to speed across it.

Wanda simply walked, the ice not affecting her.

Soon enough, the vast lake was surrounded by the villagers. Every one either had firewood, a torch, a pitchfork or a combination of the three.

“Leave the girl alone, you stupid witch!”

“BURN!”

“Dark magic! You poisonous creature!”

“No wonder we’ve had three harsh winters in a row!”

Tears were streaming down your little face, your sister clutching tightly to your waist. Several of the villagers were beginning to slide across the ice.

Cracks began to echo.

You looked down at the ice beneath you, lines of cracks spreading from the villagers to you. Their weight was going to be your downfall.

You turned to your sister and kissed her forehead, giving her the tightest hug your small body could muster. “I love you. Always.”

Wanda’s heart cracked as you kneeled down, swept her off of her feet and slid her across the ice as somebody threw a bottle that shattered at your feet. You looked up and Wanda wished it wasn’t a memory as a torch landed in the puddle of liquid.

Fire consumed your clothing before the ice beneath you gave way, the villagers cheering about ‘the witch is dead’. Wanda was able to drop beneath the ice, watching the flames dissipate whilst you began to sink to the bottom of the lake.

A knock from the bedroom door had her eyes truly open, her magic knowing you stood behind it.

“Wanda? Are you awake?” You asked gently.

Wanda looked down at the single strand of hair, then you. Then the hair, and then you again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m awake.” She replied.

“Okay. I made some eggs on toast if you’d like.”

She heard your footsteps recede and she gently placed the hair in a pocket dimension, a promise to return to it when the time was right.

She stepped out of the room and saw you humming softly to yourself, but a change had occurred. You were no longer wearing long-sleeved shirts - there was no point, given that Wanda had already seen your scars.

But the vastness of them was something she’d yet to wrap her head around.

She thought someone had given a thousand children a rock and asked them to draw a small line on your body. Some were thin, some were thick, but they were all visible. What was also visible was your muscular shape, no doubt formed from the teachings of Kamar-Taj.

“A picture will last longer, Ms Maximoff.” You muttered over your shoulder, watching as she stepped closer to eat her breakfast.

Before she took a bite, she cut off a piece and offered it to you. You shook your head, but the deafening silence and her unwavering fork made you sigh before taking the bite.

“Thank you.” You stated after swallowing.

Wanda looked at what you were focused on - your small notepad, with a seemingly endless amount of pages. You were muttering softly to yourself in a language she could only assume was Healeon since her mind did not translate it.

“When you’re finished, please come outside.” You asked, tucking your notepad into its pocket dimension.

Wanda watched you walk, her eyes drifting down to your legs to see some smaller scars, yet they were more… methodical. Whichever spiritual child thought it’d be funny to ‘tally’ you up would face Wanda’s wrath.

After finishing her breakfast, Wanda made her way outside. It was truly beautiful and she felt guilty for not letting you explore on that first day. It had put a dampener on your soul, she could see it now.

“I’m sorry for keeping you here like a pet.” She muttered as she sat down.

“You’re really quite amazing.”

You thanked her with a silent nod before you stretched out your hand. Wanda hesitated, looking at her left hand as the blue swirls lit up the closer you got to her.

“Relax, Wanda.” You took her hand gently and she felt a rush of warmth.

Was this what the Darkhold was hiding from her? It told her that you were going to poison her, bar her from finding her children.

She could already see how wrong that first statement was.

Your eyes flickered with your crystalline hue and Wanda watched the swirls on her arm glow the further they moved up. Eventually, a warmth blossomed in her chest and she felt part of the weight on her shoulders dissipate.

“Whoa.” She took her hand away from you.

“What was that?”

“Since you wouldn’t let me take away your parental pain last time, I took it just then.” You puffed, giving her a soft smile before you sank into your chair.

“Is that it for today?” She asked.

“Yup. I’ll need to recharge for the week if we want to tackle your next pain.”

*Brotherly.* She remembered, the pain trickling back over her.

She missed her brother. The pain was duller than it used to be, but the reminder a year ago felt wrong - Agatha violated her mind, manipulated her into thinking her family was whole again, only for it all to be lost.

She missed his smile, his laugh, his personality. How he would make her laugh whenever she needed it, how he would sacrifice his meal if she didn’t have one. The way he would step in front of her when they met bad people on the street, when they met Strucker and Ultron. He was her protector, even when he knew she was more powerful.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” You gently nudged her with the tip of your finger.

She eyed the grey tinge on both of your hands, suddenly becoming wary. “No… Why do you ask?”

You looked out onto the lake. “Your spirit is off. I don’t know if it’s because we removed the Darkhold from the equation, but how are you feeling otherwise?”

She didn’t know what to tell you. How was she going to explain that she’d watched you get chased by your village? How she knew about your past, one that she could only assume was the Salem Witch Trials? How she’d used a lock of hair to invade your memories?

“I don’t know.” She murmured, letting her head rest on her hand.

You nodded. “Not knowing is valid. There are just some emotions that we are incapable of explaining.”

She hummed in agreement, a few minutes passing before she heard your breathing level out. She looked over at you, peace upon your brows as you slept. The cut on your forehead had healed, leaving behind a small mark she could see with her magic. She then looked down at her hands, her memories flashing as she remembered the amount of ways she’d hurt you in such a short span of time.

She had hurt you so much. Belittled you, beaten you, poisoned you. So there was only one question she wished to ask when you woke.

Why did you insist on staying with her?

Taglist:

@padmeswife , @ripofflizzie , @romanoffswifey , @thursdayygrrrl , @steinfellds , @dajirana , @me-uglypretty , @thatonebrazilian

#smalls-words #WandaMaximoff #wandamaximoffimagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #healer!reader #healer!fem!reader

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mika-writes-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Warnings/Tags: mention of blood, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, sexual tension w Dabi, implication of non-con (not by Dabi), Muscular is a creep, Dabi gets a new fit, aftermath of UA training arc

Author's Note: TIME FOR SEXUAL TENSION. All my homies hate Muscular, FUCK him. He gave me bad vibes during the UA training arc, so I’m trashing on his character. Handing Dabi a few W's before he gets couple L's. Also I'm feeding you guys a long chapter so buckle the fuck up. Warning: Muscular is a creep and implies noncon.

Word Count: 7.8K

Link to AO3

Chapter Seven: I Really Hate This Guy

You ended up recovering just fine after eating and sleeping your dizzy spell off. By the next day, it was as if nothing had happened at all. As far as you were concerned, nothing did really happen. Your memory of the incident was fuzzy. You knew that you pushed yourself too far and fainted for a moment, but what came afterwards was a complete blur. It must not have been too much of a disaster, considering you awoke in your bed without any bruises. You reason you must have simply fallen into your bed. You just hope you didn’t cause Dabi any trouble. Little did you know that Dabi was the one who caught you, brought you snacks, and made sure you were okay before leaving you to rest.

Your morning goes by quietly as you freshen yourself up in the bathroom. There’s not a sound in the other rooms, meaning the others are either still asleep or away on missions. With your morning routine done, you exit the bathroom and enter the hallway. As you are heading to your room, you notice Toga’s door is cracked open. Curiously, you creep forward to her door and quietly swing the door wider. The hinges softly groan, causing you to hold your breath and cringe. But when you release your breath and press on, you notice that it’s empty. She must be out on a mission. You swallow thickly, feeling some anxiety rising within you. Now is the perfect time to snatch a knife. You glance over your shoulders, checking to make sure the hallway is clear. If you’re gonna go through with this, you can’t have any witnesses. When you realize the hallway is clear, you make your move. You quickly, but quietly, stride over to Toga’s desk and pick out the smallest switchblade you see. Your heartbeat patters in your ears and your hands shake as you take the knife and tuck it into your waistband. Not wanting to risk being seen and questioned, you make your leave, immediately heading straight to your room.

You relax a bit once the door is shut behind you. The hard part is over, the next step is to hide it away. You let your back rest against the door as you chew your lip and weigh your options. As far as you’re aware, no one except Dabi or Toga have ever set foot into your room. Which means, almost any place that’s out of plain sight and hard to quickly get to would be a good place. After a few more moments of contemplating, you settle on a discrete location and stow it away. You hope you’re now one step closer to freedom.

You steady your wildly beating heart by taking a few breaths, assuring yourself the stashed knife would not be found. It’s important you get your emotions under control, your shaking hands and nervous demeanor would raise suspicions, should you let them show. You’re unsure of how many minutes have passed before you finally calm yourself. What you do know, however, is that you’re fucking starving. It’s time for you to head downstairs.

You leave your room and quietly make your way to the kitchen, checking to see if the bar is empty along the way. Despite how quiet the base is today, you’re definitely not alone, as your eyes catch a glimpse of Shigaraki and Mr.Compress conversing together in the bar. Looks like your escape route is guarded again, not that you’d have any way out anyways. You expected as much, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing. Still, you have to hold onto hope that someday they will slip up, either by allowing you enough time to attempt at picking the lock, or being stupid enough to leave a key behind. You’re not sure how likely that is though, given how most of them warp in rather than using the front door anyways.

You move on from the bar and onto the kitchen. The cupboards are surprisingly well-stocked, despite Shigaraki seemingly not generating much income. Villainy doesn’t normally pay the bills very well, after all. You wonder if there’s a mysterious benefactor helping the LOV behind the scenes. Whatever the case is, you certainly don’t mind if it means you get to eat. You fix yourself a quick breakfast and eat in peace, feeling partially amazed by just how mundane your day is going so far. This has to be the most boring day you’ve experienced in captivity.

You’re premature in your thoughts as the semblance of tranquility is shattered by a commotion in the other room. Judging by the voices, it seems the others are back from their mission. When there’s a mission, there are usually injuries too. You wash your empty bowl in the sink and head to your room, figuring that they’ll be looking for you there. As you head to the stairs, you meet Dabi in the halls.

“I’m assuming you’re back from some sort of mission?” You ask him.

“Yep,” he confirms.

“Any injuries?”

“Not this time, it was just recon work.”

“Looks like your staples got snagged though,” you point out. His fingers shoot to his face, touching the area and then feeling the blood stain his fingers. “It looks like they’ll need to be replaced.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” He agrees. “Didn’t you mention once that you had some?”

“They’re in the first aid kit,” you verify.

“You mind bringing them over to my room?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You leave to fetch the necessary medical supplies, digging through what you have in your kit. Although he didn’t outright request it, you grab disinfectant, gauze, and a medical stapler. You never really paid it much mind, but through your sifting, you notice he gave you equipment that goes well beyond amateur first aid. There are even suturing tools and nylon threads. But conveniently, nothing you could use to your advantage.

‘Where does Shigaraki even get all this stuff,’ you wonder. It’s weird, you think, how Shigaraki managed to get his hands on professional medical equipment. You think back to those sets of locked doors and the hospital-like smell you saw, once before. There’s gotta be something weird behind those doors, to warrant Shigaraki’s secrecy and for him to have all these medical supplies.

Not wanting to keep Dabi waiting any longer, you shake the thoughts from your head and scoop up the necessary supplies. You head over to Dabi’s room and knock on the door. He calls for you to come in and you oblige, opening the door and shutting it behind you. You realize just how different his room looks in the light, as when you helped him to his room that night, everything was shrouded in darkness. You’re able to see just how bare his room is. There’s not many personal belongings in his room. In fact, his room isn’t much different than what yours looked like when you first arrived. Though, there is one thing he added.

You didn’t notice that one night, but there’s a mirror on his dresser, likely for this very reason. He leans over and looks into his reflection, eyes focusing on the bent staples. Unceremoniously, he yanks out the staples and then holds the area together with his free hand. You can’t help but stare at the scene, mouth agape. It’s no wonder Shigaraki wanted a healer, this man is incredibly wreckless with his personal health.

“You should really disinfect that first,” you chide.

He shrugs. “Kinda hard to do with just one hand, I’ll pass.”

You sigh and twist off the cap from the disinfectant, pouring it onto a gauze. Looks like you’ll just have to take it upon yourself to clean the wound. You sidle up to him and snake your arm in between his. Your hand replaces his and supports his cheek. He lets you take over and watches your movements through the mirror as you dab the area with the gauze.

“There, that should do it. Can you hold this again for me? I’ll get the stapler,” you request. Your hand brushes his as he holds himself together once more. You retract from his space, walking over to toss the sullied gauze into the trash before retrieving the stapler. It’s when you go to approach him again that nervousness starts to settle in your mind. Wait, how the fuck do you do this? You’ve never really done this before. Inserting staples is where your medical knowledge tapers off. He seems to notice your uncertainty, as he motions for you to hand over the staples. You oblige, feeling a bit relieved. Inserting staples is not something you’re entirely familiar with. Given the state of his body, he’s much more accustomed to it than you are. He uses the stapler and rejoins the flesh without a wince.

“Do you have any burns today?” You ask. He shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t use my quirk,” he explains. “Wouldn’t mind you taking care of this, though.” He gestures to the scar underneath his eye, the same one that just got the staples replaced.

“Yeah, sure thing,” you agree. You figured he might ask such a thing, it seemed painful.

“You’re always standing when we do this. Here, sit,” he encourages, tapping on his desk nearby. You suppose he’s right, but you wonder what warranted such thoughts. You’d hate for this to be the case, but you wonder if it has anything to do with your fainting yesterday. With no other place to sit except his bed, you acquiesce to his request and hop onto the desk. He stands in front of you and you notice it’s a bit hard to reach his face without bending forward awkwardly, on account of your thighs getting in the way. You part your thighs to make it easier, allowing him the space to come closer.

His hands are splayed on either side of your thighs, bearing some of his weight as he leans down to your level. You try to focus on the task at hand, attempting to avoid thinking too deeply on how his hips feel in between your thighs. It’s proving to be a hard task. You try to steady your breath before your hand touches his face, beginning the healing process on the skin.

His warm fingers deftly brush against the skin of your thighs. The featherlight contact pulls a slight shudder and quiet gasp out of you. He must notice this as he lets out a light-hearted, airy chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re cold already,” he teases. Your skin erupts into goosebumps, obviously felt under Dabi’s fingers. His voice takes on a more husky tone when he speaks again, “Do I have to warm you up so soon?”

You’re not sure if he means to, but his words seem flirtatious. The implication makes you even more flustered. You clear your throat before speaking, trying to cover up your obvious nervousness. “N-no, I’m fine. Just a random shiver is all.”

You internally cringe at your own stuttering. It’s obvious he’s picked up on it. Dabi hums in response, eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “If you say so.” Heat rises in your cheeks. You huff out of frustrated embarrassment. He wasn’t entirely certain before, but judging from how you don’t recoil at his touch and how flustered it makes you, he’s confident in what he heard at the door now. Magne was right. You are attracted to him, you just don’t know the feeling is mutual.

Truthfully, he’s not sure what to do with this knowledge. This is uncharted territory for him. All he’s been focused on is his grandiose plan to ruin Endeavor. Fawning over someone was pointless and distracting. Besides, after what happened to his body, he thought his appearance was too unsightly anyways. It was better for him to abandon the idea altogether, lest he gets rejected and tossed aside all over again. But after hearing you don’t think he’s repulsive, what the fuck is he supposed to do now? It’s not like he learned what to do from his father. He knows he feels attraction towards you, though. Until he figures out the rest, he’s content with sneaking touches and stealing glances. The rush you give him is just too addictive to pass up.

“Th-there, that should do it,” you shakily say. He hums in acknowledgement. Your eyes meet his, only to notice that he’s much closer to your face and looking at your lips with narrowed eyes.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, nervousness clear in your voice.

“Your lips turned blue last time, just doing my part to make sure you don’t fall on me again,” he replies.

“And are they blue now?” His hand cups your jaw and his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip. Your heart begins to quicken at the gesture.

“No,” he answers. “Looks perfect to me.” He makes eye contact with you and you can’t suppress the way your mind hangs onto those words.

He’s inches away from your face, close enough to see every detail of your face. His eyes momentarily dart to your lips, an action you don’t miss. You swallow, feeling the butterflies swarming in your stomach. It’s your turn to glance at his lips. You can’t help but wonder how his lips would feel against yours. When your gaze meets his, you feel your breath hitch upon realizing he was watching you. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are lidded. To him, yours look the same.

His heart is thumping in his chest, much like yours is. The feelings between you two are wordlessly understood, demonstrated by how you’re both locked in place, frozen within this moment in time, as the tension crescendoes at an all-time high. Your resolve crumbles as you wish for the dam to finally break. He is the forbidden fruit, and consequences be damned, you want a taste. He seems to lean in closer, his breath fanning your lips. Instinctively, yours part. His eyes flutter closed and you do the same. The moment is rudely interrupted as a voice calls from the door.

“Dabi, y/n, the two of you are needed downstairs,” Kurogiri formally informs. Your eyes immediately snap open. To say his voice startled you is an understatement. You’re thankful Dabi’s door is still shut, at least. Kurogiri is not the worst person to discover the two of you like this, but you’d much rather not be discovered at all.

Dabi lets his forehead fall against yours and begrudgingly opens his eyes, gazing at you with a soft expression you’ve never quite seen on him. He seems to hesitate before pulling away from you, battling the desire to just kiss you quickly. He locks eyes with you one more time and lets out a sigh, one that is mixed with disappointment and frustration. His fingers card through his hair, an attempt to soothe the tension he feels. He parts his lips to speak and tiredly drawls,“Alright, we’ll be right there.”

You slide off of the table and the two of you walk together downstairs, neither of you mentioning that close moment. Everyone appears to be gathered in the bar, with Shigaraki standing near the door next to an unfamiliar person. The stranger has a hulking figure, with large, rippling muscles over his entire body. He appears to have an artificial eye on the side of his face marled with a deep, large scar. The eye is unlike anything you’ve seen before, as it exposes some of the ocular muscles and does not aim to look very natural.

The rest of the LOV is waiting for an explanation as to why this stranger is in the bar, seemingly approved by Shigaraki. Dabi and you stand tucked in the back of the crowd, behind Toga and Magne. Toga glances over her shoulder, catching sight of you and Dabi. She gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. “What took you two so long?” Toga teases in a hushed whisper.

“Healing stuff, you know, the usual,” you offer in explanation. Your voice must not sound confident, as she seemingly picks up on your lie.

“Right, sure,” she giggles, knowingly. You’re thankful Shigaraki begins to speak, interrupting that interaction and saving you from more embarrassment.

“This is Muscular, he will be accompanying you all on the mission tomorrow. Get your introductions out of the way now, I don’t wanna hear you were all too busy chatting to pull off the mission,” Shigaraki commands. “Talk about your quirks or something, you need to know how to use each other to our advantage.”

“Does this include me?” You worryingly ask Dabi.

“No, this doesn’t involve you. You and Shigaraki are staying behind,” he assures. You sigh in relief.

Shigaraki leaves his place next to Muscular and takes a seat on the bar, barking at Kurogiri to make him a drink, the action silently encouraging the others to get on with their introductions. Toga takes the initiative to approach Muscular first and bounces over to him. She seems excited to meet new people, and therefore Muscular, despite the unspoken nervousness that seems to build in the room.

“Hi, I’m Toga!”

“Your quirk, what is it?” he interrogates, seemingly completely uninterested in the casual small talk Toga was attempting to initiate. She pouts at his disinterest. It’s hard to hear where you are in the bar, but you swear you hear her mutter a ‘so rude’ under her breath.

“I can become someone else if I drink their blood. The more blood I drink, the longer I can look like them,” she explains. Her voice has lost her usual enthusiasm, replaced with a cordial but curt tone.

“Does that mean you can take on other people’s quirks?”

“No, I can just look like them or sound like them.”

“What happens when your timer runs out?”

“The facade melts off and leaves behind this gross clay,” she answers, grimacing at just the thought. This gives you more information about her quirk, something that you file in the back of your mind for later. The rest of the introductions go by as you hang back in the crowd with Dabi. Even Dabi seems slightly put off by Muscular, as he’s not in a hurry to approach him. Muscular ends up walking to Dabi, the crowd parting as he does so. Looks like the feeling is mutual amongst the rest of the LOV.

“Dabi, I take it?” Muscular asks. Dabi answers a very unenthusiastic ‘yeah’ in response. To others, it sounds like his usual apathetic attitude, but somehow, you’re able to distinguish the difference. “So you’re the guy leading the mission.”

“That’s right,” he answers. Muscular hums in acknowledgment, before his eyes meet yours.

“Oh? And who is this pretty little thing? She looks too weak and sweet to be a villain, is this your pet or something?” The hulking man asks. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you or the questions he’s asking. You take a few steps back, hoping increasing the distance between the two of you would offer you some comfort. He must notice your attempt at backing away as he says,“Aw, don’t like me? That’s too bad. Not like that’s ever stopped me before though.”

He licks his teeth and you tremble on the spot. This guy is fucking creepy and dangerous. Everyone else seems to notice your discomfort and the female members mirror it. Toga and Magne shift uncomfortably and tense up. Dabi shoots the man an annoyed glare, subtly slotting himself in the space between you and Muscular.

“She doesn’t concern you,” Dabi coldly states. He diverts the conversation with an assertive tone. “Let’s go over the plan since we all know each other now, yeah? Everyone’s got their role in this mission. We can’t afford anyone screwing it up.” You take the opening as your cue to leave, and flee upstairs. On your way up, you glance at Shigaraki, trying to gauge his reaction to ensure you’re permitted to leave. He uses the hand not wrapped around his glass to wave you off, silently allowing you to bolt.

Meanwhile while you’re upstairs, Dabi is going over the plan. He’s rather short with everyone. Dabi’s body temperature is rising, his skin slightly steaming. Truthfully, he’s fucking pissed at Muscular for that little stunt he pulled. Who does he think he is? He’s unaware of the obvious: he’s pissed because Muscular threatened you specifically. It’d be a cold day in hell before he lets someone hurt you, especially like that.

Muscular continues to test Dabi’s patience, as he interrupts the discussion to ask, “So what quirk does that pretty little thing upstairs have?”

“She can heal people with her skin!” Twice gleefully answers. His tone shifts to a more whiny tone to seemingly chide himself for revealing your quirk. “Don’t tell him that!” The answer seems to satisfy Muscular, as he doesn’t interrupt the plan again, allowing Dabi to give careful instructions and cool off. After all the information is laid out, Shigaraki beckons Dabi to come over.

“Dabi, Kurogiri has just informed me that my Master intends to loan us a Nomu for this mission,” Shigaraki states.

“A Nomu? That’s one of those artificial soldiers you mentioned once before, isn’t it?” Dabi asks, with interest. Shigaraki confirms, before divulging in more details.

“They’re trained to only respond to their commander. We’re setting it up to only take orders from you,” Shigaraki starts. He begins to go into detail about the quirks it has been fitted with and all of its resistances. Dabi glances over during his conversation with Shigaraki only to find Muscular is nowhere to be seen. There’s a pit forming in his stomach at the realization.

“Give me a minute, I gotta go check something,” Dabi interrupts. Without even waiting for Shigaraki to respond, he heads off in the direction of the stairs.

“Come back here, we weren’t done,” Shigaraki complains.

“Fuck off, it’ll only take a second. It’s not like the plan is happening anytime soon.” Shigaraki huffs in response, grumbling under his breath and beginning to scratch at his own neck in palpable annoyance. Dabi heads up the stairs, searching for Muscular and you. His ears are able to pick up on a conversation, instantly focusing in on your voice.

“Oh, um, sorry. I just healed someone else,” you meekly say, your apparent fear masked under the guise of politeness.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Muscular asks with annoyance.

“If I heal too much, my hands get cold enough for frostbite to set in.”

“Oh? But isn’t your quirk healing skin?”

“What’s your point?” Your tone is much more guarded, steeling yourself for what comes next. You don’t like where this conversation is headed.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be your hands. Just take off your clothes. I’d warm you right up, baby,” he purrs. You feel nauseous at his implication as pure fear seeps into your body.

He’s making you really uncomfortable. This is one of the first times since your capture you’ve been genuinely worried for your safety. Shigaraki was intimidating when you first met him, but all it took to avoid his wrath was cooperation. But Shigaraki didn’t ever stoop this low with you, nor did anyone else. You’re surrounded by villains but this man seems like a true monster.

Your pulse races as more anxiety rises within you. The large man inches closer into your space, slowly cornering you against the wall. You frantically weigh your options. Do you risk shouting for help and hoping you’re saved? Or are you going to screw your eyes shut and cope with what comes next? You really wish you kept that knife on you. Hiding it was a safe bet, but you could really use that advantage right now.

“What are you still doing here?” You hear a familiar voice interject. Muscular turns his body to face the source, allowing you to see Dabi.

If looks could kill, Muscular would probably be dead ten times over. Dabi’s expression even rattles you to your core, despite not even being the intended recipient. There’s this oppressing aura of intimidation surrounding him, only furthered by the cold and unhinged look in his eyes. You realize this must be what his enemies see. This is why many people fear him, but not you.

“Just wanted to meet the healer you’ve been hiding from me. Is there something wrong with wanting to get to know everyone before the mission?”

“There’s no need, she won’t be going.”

“What a waste,” Muscular criticizes. He directs his next words to you, “Maybe next time.” With that, Muscular withdraws from your space and starts down the hall, glancing over his shoulder at you before he descends the stairs. Dabi’s eyes watch him as he leaves, not even risking taking his eyes off until Muscular is out of sight. Afterwards, he looks to you, noticing your very apparent scared state.

“Are you okay?” He finally asks, his voice much softer towards you. “Did he do anything?”

“Besides say some gross things? No, he didn’t get the chance to act on it,” you answer. Dabi’s brows are still furrowed out of concern for you and annoyance at Muscular.

“He doesn’t know which room is yours, so you can hide in there. I’ll let you know when he leaves,” he instructs. You nod and don’t hesitate to hide. You’re grateful for Dabi’s interruption. Imagining what would have happened to you had Dabi not intervened only serves to further rattle your nerves. You sit on your bed, tucking your knees against your chest and renaming as quiet as possible, so as to keep Muscular from figuring out where you are should he attempt to look for you. The silence in your room helps you come back down from anxiety and back to reality, though you can never fully relax, as your ears still pick up on what you think is Muscular’s voice downstairs. In an attempt to drown out his voice, you cover your ears with your pillow. It helps some, as a lot of the sounds downstairs are muffled by the cotton in your pillow. You let out some deep breaths, finally slowing your beating heart back down to a normal level.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear a knock on your door. Your steps are cautious and slow as you head to the door, carefully opening it and peering through the sliver of space to see who it is. You’re met with a wave of relief to see familiar purple scars and shining silver staples. You open the door wider, feeling safer not seeing Muscular. Dabi notices the difference in your demeanor and obvious tension leaving your body. It’s strange, he thinks, that someone could be relieved to see him. He doesn’t quite understand why the thought makes him want to grin.

“Happy to see me?” He jokes with a smirk before sauntering in. It’s almost criminal how attractive he looks with his signature smirk. “You can relax, you know, he won’t be staying around here before the mission.”

“Oh thank god. I don’t like that guy,” you admit. He chuckles at your honesty.

“I don’t either, but he is strong. We could use him, even if he’s stupid and rash. In any case, he’d make a great pawn.”

“So he’s not going to be a permanent member?”

“I doubt it, he lacks real ambition. He’s probably just itching for a fight is all. I bet he’ll fuck off after the mission once he realizes we’re not constantly starting meaningless chaos,” he denounces, smirking while shit-talking about Muscular. It brings you some comfort to know that Dabi is both on your side and shares your distaste for Muscular. His expression turns a bit more serious and he adds, “I doubt he’ll be around you again, but for what it’s worth, I won’t let him try anything. If he tries anything, scream, and I’ll be there. I don’t care if Shigaraki needs him or not, I’ll fucking burn him.”

Normally, you’d be socially obligated to admonish someone for saying they’d murder another person. But, in this case, you’re making an exception. “Thank you, Dabi,” you show gratitude. You give him a soft smile, before attempting a lighthearted joke, “I promise I’ll give him my best girl-in-a-horror-movie shriek.”

“Atta girl,” he praises and laughs. The two of you part ways for the night afterwards, leaving you to get some much needed rest after the rollercoaster that was your day. Falling asleep isn’t as difficult as you feared it would be. You drift off to sleep, knowing that Dabi has your back.

The next couple of days pass by relatively quietly, at least, for the league’s standards. They seem to be gearing up for the upcoming outing, as everyone minus Shigaraki and Kurogiri leave one night. When they arrive, you notice that they’re now fitted with new equipment. Toga carries this backpack with clear tubes on her persons, and you’re able to notice the tubes connect to a rather large syringe. Magne now has a huge rectangular metal beam, one end colored in red while the opposite is blue. It’s a magnet, you realize. Dabi even received something new, as he’s wearing new clothes. His new jacket is black with silver cuffs at the half sleeves. There’s a stitching motif around the collar and along the split tails of his coat.

You really hate how your first thought is how good he looks in it. It seems like their little mission was nothing more than a supply run, hence the lack of injuries on Dabi. Truly, you’re thankful for it, in more ways than one. With the way you’re feeling about him, you’re sure that any close encounter would result in you finishing what you started on that damn table.

The day comes and goes. Night falling without any more commotion or contact with Dabi. It’s not until the next day that this pattern changes. There’s a knock on your door. Just like the last time, you slowly open the door, checking to see who it is. With no sign of Muscular, you swing open the door, allowing Dabi to step in. You expect him to take his seat on your bed like usual, only he doesn’t, and instead stands in front of you. You’re about to part your lips to ask what he needs, but he speaks first, answering your question.

“We’re about to leave for the rendezvous point,” he informs. Neither Dabi nor the others usually let you know when they’re about to run off to do one of their missions. The fact he’s even letting you know makes you think that this one is significant, far more important or dangerous than anything they’ve done before. Thinking about what could happen makes you a bit nervous.

“Do you think there’s going to be a lot of injuries?” You ask, approaching the topic with a careful tone.

“If all goes well, it should be just the usual,” he answers. The ‘usual’ implies he’ll be the only one returning with the typical burns characteristic of his quirk.

“And if it doesn’t?” You counter. Dabi doesn’t answer you. The silence cements the direness of the situation.

Dabi looks at you with an intense longing you only saw a glimpse of that time you nearly kissed. He thinks about what would happen if he doesn’t get the chance to come back to you, what would happen if he got caught by the heroes. The thought causes an ache in his chest, but he won’t back down from the mission. He can’t. This is a stepping stone to his eventual goal. He’s sure that the LOV could bring him closer to his eventual target. He has to take the risk. And if he has to take this one, what’s another?

He steps closer to you and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The sudden gesture takes you by surprise, but you don’t stiffen out of discomfort. Rather, you seem to relax in his hold and almost lean into his touch. Still, you can’t help but acknowledge this seems out of character for him.

“What’s gotten into you? Is everything okay?” The worry is clear in your voice.

“I just… wanted to do this before I go,” he explains. His voice is quiet and unsure, something you interpret as a result of his unfamiliarity with affection. Against your better judgement, you find yourself reciprocating, wrapping your arms around him.

“Well you’re coming back, aren’t you?” you ask, your voice partially muffled by his jacket. He doesn’t respond immediately. The two of you reluctantly part but still hover in each other’s space. You look up at him, making eye contact. There’s this look in his eyes that you can’t quite place. He seems far away from you, despite being close enough to touch.

“Yeah,” he answers. Somehow, you can tell he’s not entirely confident in his answer. Your stomach twists upon noticing, and you can’t help but feel a bit saddened to think of him disappearing on you. You’re beginning to question your sanity. Is Stockholm finally setting in? How are you going to feel about him when you finally escape? Will these feelings you have for him make you never wish to leave? He exits your room with great hesitation, leaving you to stand there in silence, reflecting on your burning questions.

After a few minutes, you hear Shigaraki calling for you downstairs. You close your eyes and breathe in, steeling yourself for the incoming interaction with Shigaraki, before releasing your breath and heading downstairs. When you arrive in the bar, you find everyone has their equipment packed and are clustered in the open area of the floor. You cringe when you see Muscular in the far corner, but Shigaraki waves you over, unintentionally saving you from appearing available for conversation to Muscular. You approach Shigaraki, feeling a bit confused as to why you were requested here.

“I thought I wasn’t going?” You question, your voice raising towards the end in uncertainty. Shigaraki scoffs in annoyance.

“You’re not,” Shigaraki retorts.

“But… then why did you…?” You trail off, referencing why he called for your presence downstairs.

“I’m not dumb enough to let you wander around on your own. You’re staying down here so Kurogiri and I can babysit you,” Shigaraki patronizes. You make it a point to not let Shigaraki’s words get to you anymore, considering he talks that way to literally everyone.

“Invest in a nanny if it bothers you that much,” you grumble under your breath, before taking a seat in one of the bar booths. You rest your elbows against the table and place your chin in the palm of your hand, with an uninterested expression. With nothing else to look at, your eyes wander the crowd. Your subconscious takes the reigns and your eyes travel over to Dabi. He seems to have a determined expression on his face as he speaks with Twice. You wonder what drives him, what motivates him to do the things he does, how he continues to use his quirk despite how it hurts him. He’s never revealed much to you, or really anybody, what goal he’s working towards. It both fascinates you and terrifies you. Some part of you admires it, even, how he’s so driven that his own self destruction won’t stop him.

You must have been staring and lost in thought for too long, as his gaze snaps to you. Your surroundings fade into the background and you feel frozen in place. The moment is interrupted as Kurogiri summons a warp gate in the corner of the room, the two of you diverting your gazes to the strange purple portal. Everyone files in, one by one, and slowly becomes enveloped into the gateway, transporting them to a location completely unknown to you. Dabi is the last to file in. He glances over his shoulder to look back to you. His eyes stay locked onto yours, his bright eyes partially shrouded behind the mist, all the way up until he disappears in the violet haze. You find yourself asking a million questions about their plans. Just what does Shigaraki have in store for them? What’s so dangerous about this mission? What does the league of villains hope to accomplish?

A few hours trudge by painfully. You’ve spent this entire time counting; counting how many times Kurogiri seems to polish the same spot on the bar, how many unopened bottles of expensive liquor are collecting dust on the shelves, how many scuff marks tarnish the shine of the wooden floor… The point is, there’s only so many things in the room. You’re painfully bored and running out of novel ways to entertain yourself.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki spends his time playing on his Switch, carefully holding it with his pinkies raised up. It seems inconvenient, you think, to have to constantly be mindful of disintegrating everything you touch. You wonder just how many gaming consoles he’s gone through, how many he’s accidentally dusted with his quirk. Though, based on how heated he gets over his games, you wager that a lot of those instances may be more on purpose than on accident.

Speaking of which, it seems like he’s reached a tough part of the game, as he groans at the sight of the flashing ‘Game Over’ graphic (which is his third time seeing the words, and yes, you’ve been counting that too). The gaming console is tossed aside. Shigaraki checks his phone and repeatedly taps his finger onto the bartop. You can deduce that he’s feeling impatient and waiting on something based on his mannerisms. Your ears strain to hear how he mutters in annoyance, mumbling about how everyone sucks at giving him updates. You can only presume he’s referring to the mission. Your boredom emboldens you, as you find yourself starting a conversation with Shigaraki while his attention is not grabbed by his handheld console. There’s always been one very obscure thing you’ve wanted to ask him. Now’s your chance to have this stupid curiosity settled.

“I have a question,” you say.

“It better not be about the mission,” he deadpans.

“It’s not,” you assure. He seems to relax a bit, until you add, “My question is much worse.”

“I swear to god, if you ask about-” he starts to rant, before you cut him off.

“Do you ever wash your hand mask?” You gesture to your face, referencing the hand he always wears there. It’s obvious he’s taken off guard, even with his face being partially obscured by the covering. There’s a very tense silence. You interrupt the quietness, “So… I’ll take that as a no…”

“It’s a taxidermy,” he finally replies, no longer stunned by your unexpected question.

Well, that certainly explains why.

It’s your turn to remain silent.

“Oh,” is the most you’re able to muster. This situation makes you miss talking to Dabi, Toga, or Magne already, and it’s only been a couple hours. He notices you picking at your nails, something he sees as you trying to entertain yourself.

“Are you bored?” He asks.

“No, not at all. I love sitting here in silence. It’s riveting, really. You should try it,” you answer sarcastically. He sighs and you notice him scratching at his neck, probably agitated by your sarcasm.

“Here’s the remote, entertain yourself and stop bothering me,” he orders, holding up the remote before tossing it at you. You manage to grab it before it either hits you or falls on the ground.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you beam. He places his phone on the counter, screen down, and resumes playing on his Switch. You spend the rest of the night lounging around, enjoying the free access to the league’s tv without the other members vying for control of the channels. Against your better judgment, you flip to the news, curious as to what’s going on in the world. You feel a bit disappointed not seeing anything about your disappearance on the news. The lack of coverage makes you wonder if anyone even noticed your absence at all. You try not to let it get to you and choose to busy yourself by watching increasingly odd gameshows. It helps a bit, as the bizarre tasks the contestants are forced to participate in gives you something else to think about.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, and you’re about to doze off, until you’re startled awake. Kurogiri summons a portal, and out pours the rest of the league. You eyes quickly scan all the bodies, taking inventory of everyone. There’s Toga, Magne, Twice, Dabi, Spinner, and Compress. Muscular and a few of the other strangers are gone. What happened to them?

“The target?” Shigaraki interrogates.

“Handled by your’s truly,” Compress ensures, with a grandiose flourish. His stagelike mannerisms are showing.

“Toga, how much blood did you get?” Shigaraki adresses next. She holds up the syringe attached to a pump, the same gear you see her leave with. The amount in the vial is remarkably small, with barely any blood present.

“One person’s!” She cheerily answers. Shigaraki lets out a sigh that can only be described as a frustrated huff.

“It’ll have to do,” he settles. “Whoever’s injured should go get healed first. We’ll talk about the rest of the plan afterwards.”

Dabi saunters over to you, accompanied by Compress following behind. Compress seems to be clutching his own shoulder, making you worry that a much more serious injury underneath his jacket. Your eyes scan over Dabi, not noticing any blaring signs of other wounds, apart from the usual burns on his hands and arms. Maybe you were worrying over him for nothing after all.

“What sort of injuries am I working with?” You ask the two of them.

“Compress ate shit and got slammed to the ground. There’s gotta be some bruising. If not to his body, then his ego,” Dabi snickers. “Nothing out of the ordinary for me, though.”

“Oh come off it!” Compress groans. “I’ll have you know I took that tussle with grace.”

“In that case, I’ll start with Compress,” you decide, interjecting their bantering. You rise from your seat in the booth and motion for Compress to sit. You crack your knuckles before instructing, “You’ll need to remove your coat, I can’t heal through fabric.”

Compress sheds his mustard colored coat, revealing an orange button down shirt underneath a black buttoned vest. You can’t but wonder why this man wears so many fucking layers of clothing. The sheer amount of buttons he has to undo makes the process a little awkward, as you’re left standing there, wringing your hands. After a moment or two, his torso is now bare to you. You can see blooms of purples and blues across his chest, no doubt from the impact. Your hands touch the bruises and your quirk activates. Dabi can’t help but grit his teeth at the sight and hover by your side.

“Your hands are so cold. Will you be alright? I heard you can get frostbite like this,” he asks with a shuddering voice. Your hands move over to the last cluster of bruising on his chest, leaving behind even, porcelain skin in it’s wake.

“Don’t worry about it, Dabi will warm me up,” you dismiss. There’s a sharp silence as you realize the accidental innuendo of your word choice. To your dismay, Compress picks up on it.

“Oh will he now?” If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you’re sure you’d see his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that! He has a fire quirk, he can heat up his hands for Christ’s sake. Get your mind out of the gutter,” you defend. With no more bruises left, you cross your arms and huff. “And to think I took you for a gentleman, Compress.”

“Pardon the crude implication, but your words made it easy to assume,” he feigns an apology through strained snickers. He rebuttons his clothes and shrugs into his topcoat, smoothing over the wrinkles with his hands. Compress rises from his seat in the booth. You expect him to run off, but he stands in front of you, and asks, “Would you forgive me if I showed you a magic trick?”

“If it’s a good one, I’ll consider it,” you bargain.

With a sleight of hand, he presents to you a white azalea. “For your services,” he offers. You pluck the flower from his hand and twirl the stem between your fingers. “Harvested fresh from the Nagano forest.”

“Hm… I suppose I’ll forgive you, just this once,” you offer, bringing the flower to your lips. Your gaze turns to Dabi as you address him next, “Lemme just set this down and I’ll heal you next, Dabi.”

You turn to place the flower on the table, but the plant is stolen from your fingers, the motion expertly performed with the skill of a thief. You’re about to protest when Dabi tucks the azalea behind your ear, a gesture you weren’t anticipating, especially given how public this display of affection is. You’re too busy glancing at the crowd, searching for any signs of the others acknowledging what happened, that you fail to notice the side eye Dabi gives Compress.

“I was worried you were gonna take it from me for a minute there,” you mumble while fiddling with your hands.

“Nah, looks better on you than it would me,” he contends. He slides into the booth and presents you with his hands. “Now, you ready to do this or are you too cold?” You shake your head and clasp your hands around his, firing up your quirk.

“It’s good to see you’re not too hurt,” you mention.

“Yeah, the mission went well,” he explains.

“Really, is that so?” you respond. You’re doubtful it truly went well, considering how there’s less members than what they left with. Not wanting to outright ask about what happened, lest you learn of abhorrent details, you decide on a more subtle approach. “It’s just… I notice there’s some people missing, is all,” you carefully mention, almost in a whisper.

“Not the important ones. You trying to say you miss Muscular?” Dabi jokes.

“God no, I’m glad he’s not here,” you’re quick to respond.

“Besides, we caught a UA brat and the boss will convert him to our side. The kid will replace the others, once we let him out of the marble,” Compress boasts. There’s a sharp silence that takes over you upon hearing so and you halt all your moments. They kidnapped another person? What seems to be a child, at that?

The look of disappointment that flashes on your face is something Dabi won’t ever forget. You seem to wilt at the information, contrasting the still-fresh flower tucked in your hair. “I see,” you murmur.

They really put the kid in kidnapping, didn’t they?

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azrielbrainrot · 4 months

Text

I'll Be Here

Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue.

Word Count: 3605

Warnings: None

Notes: I had this stuck in my head and decided to just write it down. I'm not really a writer so bear with me please. Hope you enjoy!

part of the healer!reader universe

It's hard to keep an eye on how much wine you drink when the glasses get refilled magically. You've heard that this house has a consciousness of its own. Maybe it can sense your growing anxiety and keeps filling your glass in hopes of helping ease your mind a little. The more you drink the more worried you get, the thought that getting too drunk will only put you at a higher risk of embarrassing yourself having infiltrated your brain and pushed all the rational thoughts out. Big gatherings aren't exactly your cup of tea and the fact that this one was personally hosted by your High Lord didn't exactly help ease your nerves.

You've visited the House of Wind before but always as a part of your duties. Though it was because of your duties you were invited to this dinner so maybe you could add this attendance as part of your job. The High Lord and High Lady decided to invite notable people in Velaris for a night of celebrating the thriving city. After losing its High Lord for decades and the war that followed his release, Velaris went through some tough times but with the help of its people - most of them gathered in this space tonight - the city was once again prospering.

As a healer you usually see the High Lord and his Inner Circle in a state of emergency, when your abilities are needed and there's usually no time for formalities or worries. Every time you encounter them outside of those situations you never know what to make of yourself. You wouldn't say you're completely inept at social situations but you're definitely a lot better at handling them when they involve your patients and you have a job to do, something more important to focus on than choosing the right thing to say.

Your relationship with the Inner Circle is professional albeit friendly. It's hard not to feel your heart warming at the cupcakes the General insisted on buying you for helping heal his wings even after explaining that you actually only helped on his recovery process. Every time he drops by the clinic to pick up any herbs or ointments he insists on buying you one - though you suspect it's also an excuse to get one for himself - and when you see him out and about he demonstrates how healthy his wings are, having done it just before dinner when he was in charge of flying you up to the house. The painting the High Lady personally painted for you, as an acknowledgement of your efforts during the war, hangs right behind your desk in your office at the clinic and is one of your most important possessions.

This would be the kind of relationship anyone would kill to have with their employees - friendly acquaintances. But, since you were there for some of their most intimate moments and helped them through them, you never know how to act when you're not doing your job. You can't exactly call them your friends, even putting the fact that is your High Lord and High Lady aside, outside of work you only exchange some pleasantries whenever you bump into them. However there's too much knowledge for you to act completely professional after decades of nursing them and their family back to health. It feels awkward to shake their hands when they have hugged you with tears in their eyes, thanking you for saving their family.

There's also the tiny detail of the crush you've harbored on the resident shadowsinger ever since you first laid eyes on him. On top of trying to walk the line between friends and strangers with everyone else, you also have to be careful with not letting the observant Spymaster find out about the beat your heart skips when you see him. Making things awkward because of a silly crush is the last thing you need.

It's that reminder and the monumental effort you have to make not to let your eyes search for him that has you finally sneaking out of the room, deciding to find a quiet place to sober up. The House had fed you too much wine, and you still had to be flown back down at the end of the night. You'd really hate to throw up on Cassian's fancy suit. He probably wouldn't buy you cupcakes ever again.

You remember some of your surroundings after decades of being called in for emergencies, quickly finding one of the huge balconies overlooking the city. The fresh air grounds you almost immediately. You can still hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing party but the quietness of the mountain lets you get lost in thought. As much as you enjoy the liveliness of the nightlife in Velaris, you infinitely prefer the quietness and freedom only the woods or mountains at night can provide. When it's only you, the moon and the stars, and the world stops.

You don't know how long you sit there for, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance, wondering why your healing abilities work on some forms of poison but not on sobering you up. Your head only comes back to earth when you hear a familiar voice calling out your name behind you. You turn around fast enough to make you a bit dizzy, leaning back against the railing with wide eyes.

“Didn't mean to scare you,” the shadowsinger explained, “I just noticed you were gone from the room.” You spot the way he's bringing his wings closer to his body, making himself smaller, if that were even possible. Azriel made you feel a lot of things but you hadn't felt scared of him in decades, ever since the first time you met him. If you hadn't been already tipsy and distracted thinking about him you wouldn't have reacted so dramatically.

Realizing the spymaster of this court had just found you wandering around his house unattended, you rush to apologize and give him an explanation.

“I'm sorry. I needed some fresh air and remembered there was a balcony around here. I shouldn't have left the party without permission.” You make to move back, showing you were ready to go back to the party but he raises a hand and takes a step closer to you, stopping you before you can.

“You're not a stranger to this house. No need for permission,” he took another tentative step towards you before continuing, “Do you feel better now?” You relax back against the railing, your heart beating fast for a whole different reason now. It's not often you get to see Azriel out of his leathers and you barely had a chance to see him up close tonight, he looks mesmerizing.

“What?” Maybe you didn't sober up as much as you thought. Maybe being this close to Azriel was just an intoxicating experience in itself. Either way your brain was having a hard time catching up to his words and your chest was starting to feel warm.

“You said you needed some fresh air.” There's a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. Probably realizing that you weren't actually going to be sick. His shadows peak behind his shoulders, following their master as they usually do.

“Yes. It was just getting a bit stuffy in there.” Aside from the butterflies creating a hurricane in your stomach, talking to Azriel feels right. His calm demeanor lets your thoughts quiet. “I might have drank too much because of the nerves.”

The Shadowsinger moves until he's leaning against the railing next to you. His eyes wander the illuminated city slowly before meeting yours. Stretched wings hang in what you assume is a less straining position after having to be pulled tighter into his body in the crowded room. Shadows start rolling off his shoulders, now lazing around him instead of covering him. The soft wind moves his hair ever so slightly, letting a few strands curl around his forehead and giving him an almost boyish look. It's not often you see the spymaster appear relaxed. You decide it might be your favorite look on him.

“Nerves?” Your eyes search his face once again after hearing the confusion in his voice. Azriel has a permanent seat at the High Lord's table not only as the Night Court's Spymaster but also as someone Rhysand considers family. This night isn't so different from every other dinner he shares with his family, just more crowded.

“I've never been to this house outside of my duties. It's a bit nerve-wracking to be personally invited by the High Lord.” As you finish speaking one of his shadows curls around his ear. You've learned they do this when they're speaking to him. The thought of it being about you has your heart speeding up. Only the Mother knows just how much those shadows can see and hear, if they can hear your thoughts. You check your mental shields just in case. They can be as terrifying as they are beautiful.

“Rhys and Feyre couldn't have thrown a party celebrating the strength and courage the people of Velaris have shown without one of our best healers. You've helped more people than we could ever thank you for.” The warmth you felt in your chest before was now spreading up your neck at an alarming rate. You had just been doing your job but being recognized for it felt incredibly rewarding. The fact that this praise came from the shadowsinger was making you especially giddy. “Rhys invited you because you're very important to this court, to us.”

“I am?” The question comes out before your brain has a chance to catch up. You try not to cringe at the surprise in your tone. It's not that you're not aware of your capabilities, the High Lord and High Lady either call for you or for Madja, one of the most powerful and wise healers you have ever seen. But old insecurities will always show their claws, indifferent to your achievements. To think that you could be important to all these extremely powerful people seemed like the punchline to a joke.

“Of course.” His body turns to you ever so slightly. Fingers uncurl as if he wanted to reach out, comfort you. “None of us would be here in good health if it wasn't for you, maybe not at all. You've helped us more times than I can count.”

“I was just doing my job. And I can't take credit for Madja, I'm usually just assisting her.”

“Even so, you've helped us through a lot.” He sounded very sincere, there was no denying he meant every word, but you still have a hard time believing it.

“I just don't think I really fit in here,” you whispered so low that if it wasn't for his fae hearing he wouldn't have been able to make out the words. The admission felt heavy in the air, it felt good to let it out. You hadn't been this honest with anyone, perhaps even yourself, in decades, you must have drank way more wine than you initially thought.

You weren't born in Velaris, but you've lived here for a century. The problem is you've spent the better part of that century waiting on feeling like you finally belonged. You never felt at home in your own court or in your family so it might have been wishful thinking that it would happen here.

“I think like that sometimes too.” As baffled as you were to hear that coming from him, he looked even more surprised than you. It seems he hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the words couldn't be taken back now.

“That's insane,” you try to level your voice after the outburst, "You're part of this family. Why wouldn't you fit in?” You couldn't let him think like that, there was no doubt in your mind everyone here loved and cherished him like family.

Rhysand's inner circle was known for how close they were, they were seen as the High Lord's family regardless of if they were blood related or not. Azriel has always been calmer and you know he likes to keep to himself but you never thought he looked out of place for a second. It's hard to imagine Rhysand and Cassian without his brother.

His eyes were trained on the city under you. His shadows had come back to him, almost covering him completely. Azriel was quiet for a while, long enough you thought he wouldn't even give you an answer. But then you feel a shield form around you, lest someone wanders in and hears his next words.

“Sometimes things and people change while you stay stuck in the same place,” his eyes meet yours as he talks and you search his expression for the rest of the story you know he won't tell. If there's one thing you hate about the shadowsinger is his ability to mask his emotions. His face was the perfect stoic mask as always.

It's not hard to understand what he meant. In less than a decade the inner circle almost doubled and some of the dynamics had likely changed with it. His brothers have found their mates, something every fae dreams of, and he was the odd one out. Even the Morrigan and Amren had found lovers in recent years.

You had heard some rumors he had taken a liking to the middle Archeron sister after pining for the lovely Morrigan for centuries, but she had also found her mate. Not even his methods of interrogation could make you admit you were avoiding the entire inner circle during that time. The hope you had felt upon realizing he wasn't looking at Morrigan like she hung all the stars in the sky was short lived and it only made you feel pathetic. You didn't understand why it had affected you so much. This was just a silly crush after all, you had never considered actually pursuing a relationship with the shadowsinger.

“I still don't understand how Amren got a lover before you.” You had meant to clear the heavy air between you but why your brain decided to use the millennia old creature to do so was beyond you. “I mean she's just…” you continue, startled by your own words, praying to the Mother that the shield he put up stopped Amren from hearing you, “Well, she's fae now but wasn't before and is still mildly terrifying, even after the transition, and you're so-” Wide eyes meet hazel and nothing could ever prepare you for the look on his face. The amusement shone bright in his eyes and in the teasing grin he wore. Just when you thought the shadowsinger couldn't get any more beautiful.

“I'm so?” He tilts his head a little as he asks the question. His shadows start almost dancing around him, like they can't wait to hear your thoughts on their singer. You clear your throat before continuing, trying to salvage some of your dignity.

“You're the Spymaster, the only known Shadowsinger. That's incredible, anyone would be lucky to have you.” Something flashes in his eyes and your mouth starts back up at the thought that it could be disappointment at the impersonal description. Azriel is much more than his role in this court and you can't let him think that's all you see in him.

“You're also one of the kindest people I've ever met. I've seen you worry over every single person in that room, putting their needs over your own even when you're also injured. You always keep your composure for them and give them your support. I've seen you around Velaris too, you're always respectful to everyone, even when they're a bit scared of you.” Eyes drag themselves back to the shiny stars in the night so you can keep going without wanting to jump off the balcony and making an even bigger fool of yourself. “Even as far as looks go... I would bet my house that if we walked down any of these streets we wouldn't find anyone that doesn't think you're stupidly handsome.”

“Stupidly handsome?” The amusement was dripping down his voice at this point. The smile was unmistakable in his tone and you couldn't hold yourself back from watching him any longer. You feel yourself relax at the grin plastered on his face. It isn't often that the shadowsinger shows any emotion at all, and you can't help the pride in knowing you put that gorgeous smile on his face, especially after the somber turn the conversation had taken earlier. You continue despite the warmth you feel in your ears, you'd compliment him for hours if it meant he wouldn't feel sad ever again.

“I've actually heard someone use those exact words to describe you.” You've thought it to be the most accurate description of the immense beauty the shadowsinger radiates ever since you heard the barista use it. Apparently she hadn't been born in Velaris and had taken up the job only a few days prior to serving the illyrian. She had barely held the compliment down long enough for Azriel to exit the building, shooting up into the sky. A few fae present couldn't contain the laugh at the fervent appreciation of the shadowsinger, but the air of agreement shared by everyone was unmistakable.

“I'll have to let my mom know,” there was laughter in his tone, “I'm sure she will be very proud that her son is receiving such compliments.” You hadn't known his mother was still alive which makes you think it's meant to be kept secret. You almost curse at the way your heart flutters. Stupid crushes.

“I'm sure she is very proud of you regardless.” He doesn't give away any hint of what might be going through his brain and it leaves you in a slight panicked fear of overstepping or having said the wrong thing. You could swear you saw a glint of disbelief but it was gone too fast for you to be sure. The idea that the Spymaster couldn't see his own mother being proud of him was ludicrous to you.

The nod he gives you doesn't give any of his thoughts away, but his shadows keep moving slowly around the balcony, never rushing to cover him.

“Why are you single then?” You know he's changing the subject but you don't have time to consider that when you realize it's your turn to answer the questions.

“Me?” You barely register the slight nod he gives to show you he's expecting an answer. If you had shadows of your own they would have wrapped around you like a blanket until only the top of your hair was peaking out. “How do you know I am? Are you using your spies on me, Spymaster?”

“I have to be well informed of what happens in this city,” he searches your face just like you did to him, “And as the spymaster I'm more than familiar with deflection. You don't have to answer my question. Tell me if I'm overstepping”

“No. It's-” you cringe, trying to find the right words. “I just never found anyone special I guess.” Even talking about this with him has your heart swelling in your chest and you pray to the mother he can't pick up on any changes in your heartbeat. You've been avoiding this conversation with family and friends, but despite all this you know Azriel will understand and won't make fun of your feelings. It feels safe talking to him. “I get really busy sometimes so it's hard to keep up a proper relationship, even with friendships. Sometimes people need more time than what I can give them.” You try not to think of all the times you didn't measure up to other people's expectations, when they didn't see you as enough for the trouble.

“They're idiots for letting you go.” You don't know if he's being polite in not mentioning how your heart keeps speeding up or if he thinks you're drunker than you are, but you thank every deity you can think of that he doesn't say anything.

“Some things just aren't meant to be.” You hope he doesn't insist on this conversation. There isn't much else to say and you'd rather not keep talking about how many times you'd gotten dumped. You consider pointing out he never gave you a reason for being single and that he was the one actually deflecting, but you don't want to push what clearly isn't an easy topic for him to discuss either. You suspect Azriel barely opens up with anyone, so you'll just treasure the brief look into his heart he allowed you before.

The rest of your night is spent with the shadowsinger, sitting in that balcony, watching the stars and talking about anything. The next day you'll sit in bed mortified, thinking about how you were doing most of the talking while he listened, but he had seemed content enough so you couldn't have been too annoying. When the party ended you had said your goodbyes to your hosts, without the previous nerves after your conversation with the shadowsinger. Feyre had even asked you if you were alright because she also noticed you leaving in the middle of the party, though something about the glint in her eyes told you she had gotten the wrong idea. Then Azriel had flown you down the steps and winnowed you to your front door - even though you could do it yourself. Maybe you'd have to rethink calling the inner circle your friends.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #divider by saradika #healer!reader

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alcoveofconcealment · 6 months

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@hannshines I'm doing this again because even without the context of the show it's still very funny

(Captions in ALT for those who can't read my handwriting)

#Marcus Flint #Oliver Wood #also in the background panels you can see Angelina Johnson for Puddlemere #and Terrance Higgs for the Falcons #they're all stuck reserves hell besides Marcus because m o n e y #Also a possible Adrian Pucey design that I am still in tweaking hell so I just slapped a veil+pointy hat so he can also just be a rando #but he's a healer in my heart hence the lighter robes #Puddlemere!Oliver Wood #Falmouth Falcons!Marcus Flint #is this #FlintWood #Maybe or maybe they just hate eachother #Meme Redraw #Tumblr User: hannsshines #SugerQuillAndInk #CharacterClaws #My art #mine

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talesofadragon · 2 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Summary: Despite Y/N’s blood status and House, she happens to be the only witch in the entirety of the wizarding world that Draco gives the time of day. A fellow Healer, close confidant, and dare he say, best friend, she’s always managed to make his life exceedingly tolerable, particularly when he finds himself thrust into a weekly gathering or dinner that his parents have set up to find him a suitable wife. But when an accident threatens to tear the two apart, it matters not what Draco is feeling, because the fate of their friendship and their future relationship lies in the beat of Y/N’s heart.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries and blood

Pairing: Healer!Draco x Muggleborn!Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff

Word count: 4.5K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞. No different than the sickening feeling of anticipation at the sight of the revolving roulette almost coming to an end or the tingling sensation of doubt when faced with the final choice in wizard poker. The man was beyond certain that misfortune would always find a way to strike him long before he had the chance to think of victory.

Tired and exhausted from the patient he had the displeasure of overseeing, he puffed out the air wedged in his lungs, heading to the comfort of his office. Once there, Draco threw the clipboard and files he held on the desk, wasting no time to slump in his chair. He craned his neck, attempting to relieve some of the pain while his fingers swiftly moved to untie the fabric of his tie.

Just when he took a deep breath, ready to relax, he grumbled in displeasure at the sound of someone knocking on his door. Draco rubbed his tired eyes with his palms, looking up at the white lights illuminating his office. “This better be good,” he whispered to himself before calling in whoever was behind the mahogany door.

The door creaked as the person behind it pushed it open, causing Draco to make a mental note to fix the bloody sound before it drove him mental. A Healer peeped her head inside, a crooked smile governing her lips. “Hey, grumpy dwarf. What’s got you all worked up?”

Draco shook his head with an amused smirk, the tension he harbored slowly evaporating. “Y/N,” he greeted the witch, his stormy eyes following her every step once she closed the door behind her and strolled inside. “Kindly never compare me to a dwarf ever again. We both know that you tick every box when it comes to that description.”

Y/N feigned hurt, placing a hand on her heart. “Oi, you’re mean! But then again, you do make a more fitting Snow White.”

“I have no idea who that is.” Draco laughed at her remark without taking his eyes off her. He watched her gracefully sit on his desk, frivolity nestling comfortably in her big doe eyes.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I know what that is,” Y/N teased. She kicked her legs in the air, her eyes skimming over the mess of papers and files on Draco’s desk. With curiousness in her gaze, she reached out for the file closest to her. “Harry Potter? Three broken ribs, flail chest, concussion, fractured hip, and–”

“Acromioclavicular joint sprain, yes,” Draco continued.

Y/N’s brows knitted as she read over the patient file. “Must have been one bloody fight. Literally.”

Draco chuckled in response. He took the file from her hands, reaching for his quill. “It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park admitting Auror Potter here.” He dipped the quill in the onyx ink bottle, beginning to add his own notes on the papers.

Y/N eyes wandered to Draco, studying his figure. She crossed her hands over her chest, peering at him. “Is that what’s got your knickers in a twist? That he’s here, and you had to treat him?”

Draco didn’t spare Y/N a look, but from the way he had stopped writing, she figured he must’ve rolled his eyes. “No. Treating him was far easier than expected. It was having to listen to the whines of the Weaslette and Granger, among other things. That was the most irritating part of it all.”

Y/N leaned back to get a better look at Draco. She shook her head at his statement, drumming her fingers on the table. “Aren’t you a tad bit exaggerating, perhaps?”

“On the contrary. As if seeing Potter wasn’t dreadful enough, it was exceptionally irksome having to be in the presence of the other two witches.”

“Well, Hermione is his best friend,” Y/N argued, trying to reason with the blond. “And wasn’t Ginny his fiancee? Or did he not propose yet?”

“In case you’ve missed it, darling. I’m a Healer, not an editor at Witch Weekly or The Daily Prophet,” Draco cynically replied, waving his quill in the girl’s face.

Y/N huffed at his response. She took out a pile of papers, spewed lazily on his desk, and hit him with it on the head. Draco winced, shooting daggers at Y/N. “You’re a pompous arse.”

“Is there a reason for you being in my office other than to continuously insult me?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “To grace you with my presence.”

Draco blinked, attempting to hide the glint of amusement swirling in his irises. “How charming,” he told Y/N, continuing to fill Harry’s file.

Y/N kept her focus on Draco, watching as his fingers moved around, gracefully guiding the feather on top of the parchment. Mesmerized by the sight, and falling to the realization that she had been silent for too long, she loudly cleared her throat. “Why are you bothered so much? Did they say something bad? Please don’t tell me they refused to have you as Harry’s Healer because of it.”

“No,” Draco rushed to say, sensing the worry in Y/N’s tone and feeling a slight itch on his left forearm. “No, darling. They never said anything about that. It was just hard to concentrate with them breathing down my neck.”

Y/N half-laughed, her shoulders looking less rigid. She played with the papers on the desk, her eyes narrowing at the Healer in front of her. “Come on, Draco. Plenty of people have done that too when their loved ones were in our care.”

“Well, then. Perhaps people need to learn to control their emotions in times of distress.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Not everyone is an established Occlumens like yourself. I may be a Healer, but I know I’d lose my composure if someone I cared about entered the doors of St. Mungo’s all bloodied and bruised.”

Draco rolled his eyes indignantly. He didn’t have enough energy to argue with Y/N, and knowing her, she would be about ready to argue all night. For two days straight if she had a drop of coffee in her system. So, Draco decided that it would be best to change the subject.

“So.” He cleared his throat, taking his eyes off the files. “Care to tell me about how your day went? Hopefully it was better than mine.”

Y/N’s facial expressions changed, the light that was once in her eyes dimming. It was then Draco noticed the black circles beneath her eyes and the tiredness that lingered on her face.

“It… was okay, I guess. I just have a night shift today, which I’m not looking forward to.”

“Right,” Draco hummed as he remembered. “My offer still stands, you know? I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

Y/N bit on her lower lip, her gaze flickering straight to Draco’s. He watched her carefully, his own silver orbs glued to her teeth as she chewed on her lip to contain a laugh. But eventually, Y/N had failed miserably and ended up clutching her stomach, chuckling aloud.

That woman is unbelievable. Draco mentally thought, watching as tears streamed down Y/N’s cheeks from the sincerity of her laughter.

“You got roped into another dinner with a potential wife, didn’t you?”

“No,” Draco scoffed incredulously, running away from Y/N’s burning gaze. He looked at his left, which was perhaps a wrong move because he caught Y/N’s eyes in the mirror. “Yes. Now, stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Y/N feigned innocence, her lips contorting into a bashful smile.

“Like you’re trying to get into my head.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t do that. I’m not a Legilemens.”

You don’t need to be one, Draco mentally fired back, but he never dared to say it aloud. “The point is, you look like you could use a break while I could use an excuse. So, why don’t you let me handle your shift?”

“Because you’re going to have to admit to your parents that you’re above all this, Draco,” Y/N explained, seemingly more serious than she ever was before. “And if not tonight, then when?”

Draco groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not easy, and you know that.”

“Yes, fairly well, too. I may not be a pureblood, but my parents are as strict as muggles come.”

“At least yours don’t have a list of suitors as party guests,” Draco said, cringing at the thought of the many women he had met and had yet to meet as per his parents’ demands.

Y/N merely rolled her eyes as a response to his behavior. And knowing her, she was starting to get annoyed. “Need I remind you that the last time I spoke with them, they had attempted to set me up with some ostentatious muggle prick of their choosing?” Y/N spat, a flicker of pain outlining her irises. “I don’t exactly live up to the Y/L/N name with me being a witch and all.”

Draco closed his eyes as he let out a breath. How stupid of him to forget such a massive detail. He moved out of his chair and towered over Y/N, his stormy silver eyes roaming her figure. Draco’s hands cupped her cheeks, and before he knew it, he was kissing the crease that formed between her brows.

“I’m sorry, darling. It’s not you that doesn’t live up to that last name. It’s that last name that doesn’t do you justice.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched, Draco’s words tugging at her heartstrings. She blinked, looking down at her feet as she attempted to hide the pink tint that formed on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered meekly, looking up at Draco from underneath her lashes.

Draco’s hands lingered on Y/N’s rosy cheeks for a moment, losing themselves in the softness and warmth of her skin. Eventually, his hands fell back to their place.

“You sure you don’t want me to fill in for you?” Draco asked. “Even if it’s just for a bit? It looks like you could use some sleep.”

Y/N pursed her lips in thought, beginning to fiddle with the fabric of her green coat. “As enticing as this sounds, I’ll pass. I’ll just take a power nap and get back to work then.”

“Fine. If you insist.”

Draco left Y/N sitting on his desk and moved to the other side of the room. He rummaged through one of his cabinets, and judging by the fact that he spent a good minute or so searching for whatever it was he was looking for, Y/N figured he had placed an Extension Charm on it.

“What are you looking for?” she wondered aloud, curiously trying to see what it was that Draco was looking for.

A beat passed before Draco pulled out what appeared to be a white blanket from the drawer. He moved with steady steps toward his couch on the left side of the room, dropping the blanket. He quirked an eyebrow, gesturing to the couch. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled. She hopped down from the desk, making her way to the makeshift bed with a lopsided smile, her eyes fixed on silver hues that were as magnetizing as the night sky. “Forget Snow White.” She took off her shoes and nestled herself comfortably on the couch as Draco draped the blanket over her body. “You’re my own fairy godmother.”

“I have no idea what that is either,” Draco replied. His fingers twitched as he got the urge to brush the hair out of Y/N’s face. But before he got the chance to do it, she moved her hand to her face and placed the stray strands behind her ears.

Y/N closed her eyes, tugging the blanket higher. “That’s your loss.”

Draco looked away, his eyes alight with mirth–a sight that only Y/N could paint with her simple presence. He took his wand from the pocket of his coat, waving it around to turn the lights off. “Don’t sleep too much.” Draco placed a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead, admiring the way her long lashes lifted to expose her crystalline eyes. “I’ll send you a Patronus to make sure you wake up.”

“Enjoy dinner, Draco,” Y/N called, closing her eyes and surrendering to a much-needed sleep.

Draco stood by the doorframe, watching her drift to sleep. “Sweet dreams, darling.” He gently closed the door and walked down to the hospital’s apparition point, looking forward to get this pathetic dinner over and done with so that he could laugh about it the next day with Y/N.

To say that dinner was a complete catastrophe would be an understatement. It was an utter debacle. Draco’s parents didn’t settle for setting him up with a potential pureblooded wife. They went as far as attempting to sever relationships to secure him one.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy desperately tried to match him with his Hogwarts classmate and friend Daphne Greengrass. However, their perpetual attempts at laying the red carpet for Daphne and creating utopian scenarios were proven futile when Draco disclosed that his potential wife was already involved in a relationship.

And when his parents had found out that she was dating a halfblood, they tried to convince Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass to consider a betrothal between the two families to strengthen ties and remain within the bounds of the sacred twenty-eight.

When the Greengrasses refused to entertain this notion, Draco was sure that whatever his parents were planning next was going to be disastrous. He had already rejected the idea of courting his best friend Pansy Parkinson. At this rate, the next candidate was either going to be Millicent Bulstrode or his parents were going to wait for the birth of Avery’s daughter to wed her to Draco when she becomes of age.

It was seven in the evening when Draco opened the door to his office, sauntering in with a steamy cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes couldn’t help but travel to the couch, finding the blanket that Y/N was covered with neatly folded.

He smiled, an image of Y/N’s sleeping figure popping into his head. He decided to leave the blanket, knowing that she was most likely going to need a nap sometime during the day, considering she was spending hours on end at the hospital.

A knock echoed in Draco’s ears, causing him to slightly wince. Whoever was assaulting the door, he was sure wasn’t Y/N. “Yes?” he sighed, leaning back against the chair and placing his hands on the armrests. His door creaked open as another Healer walked in.

“Healer Malfoy,” his colleague, Healer Abbott, greeted. She walked further inside the office with papers in her hand.

“Abbott,” Draco nodded, eyeing the papers. “What’s that you got?”

“A couple of papers that need your signature. They’re discharge orders for Auror Potter.”

Draco’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “He was just admitted yesterday.”

Healer Abbot pursed her lips, extending the papers. “I’m well aware. Except that he says he doesn’t require our services anymore.”

That bloody wanker. “Believe me, Abbott. I want him out of this establishment far more than he does,” Draco admitted. He pushed back the papers that the Healer brought, looking for Harry’s file. “But even ‘The Chosen One’ doesn’t have the healing abilities of a bloody phoenix. I’m going to need someone to check on him, preferably Y/N if she’s here or coming in later.”

Healer Abbott shook her head. “Healer Y/L/N is not coming in today.”

“Why?” Draco asked, not recalling Y/N having told him that she’s taking the day off.

“She had a particularly long shift yesterday. From what I heard, Head Healer Malachai told her to get some rest today.”

“Fine,” Draco sighed, handing Healer Abbott Harry’s file. “He’s your responsibility until I get back. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“For the last time, Mrs. Hoffman. I’m not interested in courting your granddaughter.”

“Well, it’s a shame to hear you say that, dearie,” the old woman said. She looked up at the young Healer, her brown eyes shifting color when touched by light. “Such a handsome young man like yourself deserves a charming young witch by their side.”

“Perhaps, but not as young as your granddaughter,” Draco replied. He let his focus back on the clipboard he was holding onto, jutting down notes based on the diagnostic charm he casted on Mrs. Hoffman a few minutes ago.

“She’ll be of age in just a few months time.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow, his squill scratching against the parchment. “And when will that be exactly?”

Mrs. Hoffman’s eyebrows knitted in focus. She tapped her index finger against her chin, trying to remember the exact date of her granddaughter’s birthday. Draco waited patiently for her to answer, holding his breath as he counted down the seconds. “I have no clue.”

“Do you at least remember her name?”

Mrs. Hoffman looked confused. “Who’s name, dearie?”

Draco sighed, marking down the new information on his clipboard. While the witch didn’t seem to be making too much progress, her state was much better than Lockhart’s. Draco winced as he remembered that buffoon, thankful that he was someone else’s responsibility and not his. The last time the Head Healer assigned him Lockhart, the man tried to convince him to frame one of his autographed headshots. The man might’ve been dealing with permanent memory loss, but even a charm as strong as Obliviate never managed to wipe out his narcissism or his putrid attitude.

Draco bid his goodbyes to Mrs. Hoffman, promising to check on her again tomorrow. He closed the door behind him, strolling down the corridor to check on his other patients. As soon as he exited the Fayette Barlowe Ward, he found himself almost tackled to the ground by one of his colleagues.

“Abbott, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Draco snarled, holding Healer Abbot by the elbows.

The Healer stepped back, trying to catch her breath. “Malfoy,” she exhaled, placing one hand on her heart. “I’ve been searching the entirety of St. Mungo’s for you!”

Draco looked her up and down, his nose scrunching. “What do you want that’s so urgent?”

“We need you for an emergency surgery.”

“And why exactly is that? The last time I checked, this institution is overflooding with Healers, so why is it that you need me in particular?” Draco watched as Healer Abbot shifted uncomfortably in place. Her eyes darted from side to side, trying their best to avoid being caught by Draco’s silver hues. “Don’t tell me it’s bloody Potter again. I swear if–”

“It’s Healer Y/L/N,” the woman blurted, looking remorseful. “She’s in a critical state and needs immediate medical attention.”

The world tilted on its axis without prior warning, causing a sudden static noise to echo in Draco’s ears. The Healer paled, stricken by fear as he watched with dazed and frantic eyes the woman in front of him. “Y/N?” he whispered. Without waiting for an answer, Draco made a mad dash toward the Operations Ward, pushing and screaming at anyone who stood in the way. With a shaky breath and unsteady heartbeats, he pushed the doors of the ward open. “Where the bloody hell is Healer Y/L/N?”

“In here, Healer Malfoy,” one of the junior Healers called.

Draco threw his clipboard and quill aside, urgently moving to assess Y/N. “Preliminary diagnostic results?” he asked, his eyes skimming over her frail figure.

Y/N’s skin was ashen, even paler than his own. A trail of blood hugged the side of her forehead, oozing from a large gash that taunted Draco. Her long lashes met together, keeping her eyes away from sight. The veins on her eyelids ice blue like frozen constellations engraved on her skin. Her chest barely rose and fell, her figure appearing almost dead.

Draco hurried to press his fingers against the side of her neck, next to her Adam’s apple, checking with unsteady fingers for any sign of a pulse. He searched for a good couple of seconds, holding his own breath to make sure his thundering hope wouldn’t be deceiving him.

“Concussion, Bradycardia, Pneumonitis.”

“Fuck,” Draco breathed as he hurried to place the pulse oximeter on Y/N’s finger. His eyes hurried to check the value, his heart falling to the pit of his stomach when it showed 88%. “Hypoxemia.”

“Healer Malfoy,” Healer Bones said, her eyes switching between Y/N and Draco. “What’s the best course of action to take now?”

Draco gulped. He swayed on his feet, his hands rushing to grab the bars around Y/N’s bed. Blood rushed to his head, invading all his senses. A tumultuous surge of fear and trepidation froze him in place.

The sight of Y/N’s lips turning blue with every beep from the ECG monitor caused him to lose his mind. A hot and scorching sensation shot through his whole body, rendering him unable to do anything but internally scream.

He attempted to occlude all those thoughts of Y/N being covered by a white cloth and taken away from him, but no matter how much he tried to compartmentalize, he found himself failing miserably.

Healer Bones leaned over Y/N’s frail body, slightly obscuring her from sight. “Healer Malfoy?” she asked, loud and clear. Concern was evident in her eyes along with a look of distress.

Suddenly, Y/N’s voice rang in Draco’s ears. ‘I may be a Healer, but I know I’d lose my composure if someone I cared about entered the doors of St. Mungo’s all bloodied and bruised.’

His fear almost caused him to rush out the doors of the Operations Ward and request for another Healer to come and heal Y/N before it was too bloody late. But a part of him couldn’t let her out of his sight. When the ECG monitor beeped continuously, indicating that Y/N’s already scarce heartbeat was coming to a stop, something snapped in Draco.

“Bones, administer muggle CPR to Y/N at once. Elliot, clear her airways, Abbott, do something about that concussion, and leave the rest to me.” Draco took out his wand, pointing it at Y/N’s chest, watching with a sweaty forehead the ECG monitor while everyone began to tackle their assigned tasks. “You’re not dying on me, darling. Or else you’ll be giving me a reason to commit the crime I was once too bloody petrified to go through.”

Y/N’s eyelids felt heavy, as if something was weighing them down. Her chest constricted, pain surging through her veins all the way to her heart when she breathed too hard. The darkness behind her eyelids was too much to bear. The possibility of never opening her eyes again caused her to fight for the light she wished to feel.

Her fingers twitched, involuntarily at first. But as soon as she felt someone’s soft fingers curled around hers, she fought the feeling of numbness that immobilized her. With great effort, she moved her fingers once more. She could feel the chill that sparked through her body, recognizing the familiar metal of a ring against her skin. “Draco,” she whispered, the hand that held hers intertwining their fingers together.

“Y/N, darling.” A voice said, sounding hoarse. “Open your eyes for me.”

She followed after the voice like a lovesick teenage girl following after her crush. Y/N clung to the softness of that voice, its mellifluous sound carrying itself in her ears. She suddenly found herself opening her eyes to the world, infinite possibilities unveiling before her as though she was just reborn.

Clearing her throat, she craned her neck to the side, finding her favorite pair of silver eyes already staring at her. “Hey, dragon.” Y/N smiled, losing herself in the feeling of ecstasy that governed her senses when a laugh escaped his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You are unbelievable, witch. You almost die, and that’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you wake up?” Draco asked, absentmindedly tracing stars on Y/N’s skin.

“I missed you. Is that better?”

“Much better,” Draco grinned, gazing at the witch who inhabited his mind. He moved his hand to touch her cheek, letting his fingers trail across her slightly heated skin. Y/N closed her eyes, humming in contentment at the magic that coursed through her blood due to Draco’s touch. “I love you.”

Y/N eyes shot open, afraid that she was diving too deep into the feeling to find the shore. But when she laid her alert eyes on Draco, she found him smiling at her with nothing but sheer adoration in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied swiftly, keeping a tight hold on her hand. His heartbeats thundered in his chest as love rippled in his very core. “I love you. Not as a friend, not as a sister. As the one person that made my world crash and burn when they wheeled her into the bloody Operations Ward.”

“Draco, where’s all that coming from?” Y/N said, her other hand reaching to cradle her bandaged head, attempting to fight the dizziness that threatened to rip her away from this moment.

Draco looked her in the eye, feeling his knees weaken at the sight of the universe that unveiled before his own silver orbs. “When I heard that you were caught in that bloody attack, and when I saw you lifeless on that bed, Y/N, I almost died.”

“You… you what?”

“I almost died,” he admitted. “Out of fear, despair, anger. Out of every dark emotion out there. Because… because you’re the reason I’m so alive, Y/N. You are, and always have been, the one person that makes me forgo of every bit of control I foolishly assume I hold when in your presence.”

“Draco,” Y/N breathed, a single tear falling from the edge of her lashes. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes. I’ve never meant anything more than this.”

Y/N smiled, her tears welling up with more tears. She reached for Draco’s face, cradling his cheeks. “I love you too, Draco Malfoy. With every beat of my heart.”

Draco captured Y/N’s lips in his, melting against the sweetness of her blazing touch. He smiled, capturing her bottom lip and nibbling slightly on it, feeling the whole world fall into place. Maybe fate wasn’t such a pain in the ass; maybe it was even appealing. Because Y/N’s kisses made him believe in fate–in a world where everything was right, and all the stars were aligned just for them.

-----------------------

taglist: @marajillana

I absolutely loved this request and was so excited to work on it!

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #healer!draco #healer!draco x y/n #draco x muggleborn!reader

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