Visual ficlet request! Heal our hearts that Zuppi broke!
It was drawn as the follow-up reunion after that scene where he finds her blade, but in this fluffy-ish version, instead of being gravely injured, she’s just temporarily knocked out or taking a post-battle nap when frantic Callum finds her. But however you interpret the drawing is cool 🤗
Ahhhh, numpty this is SUCH gorgeous artwork!!! I'm so happy to write a little something based on it!! have some soft and thoroughly cheesy knocked out rayla/frantic callum <3
He’s shaking when she wakes.
It’s not new: he’s held her like this before—for dear life, his grip practically bruising, everything in him trembling with panic—and for good reason, too…but it’s never been this bad, she thinks, feeling his heart pound against her cheek.
Not even at the Pinnacle.
Rayla blinks bleary eyes open, trying to make sense of the gray sky dappled with flickers of magic above them, the field under her fingertips that that same spell had flung her far away to, the familiar smell of his scarf in her nose, the words Callum’s chanting in her ear like a prayer…
It’s not just that he’s shaking, she realizes after a few uneven breaths.
It’s that he’s shaking her.
It’s her name he’s saying, and it’s getting louder.
It’d been just a whisper when she’d first stirred, but he’s shouting now, desperate to rouse her. He’s propped her upright, hands seizing her shoulders…and her jumbled head is wide-awake, at least, even if the rest of her is catching up.
“Please, Rayla.” he begs, exhausted, tears falling fast against her scalp.
It takes effort—she’d gone down hard—but, feebly, Rayla reaches and closes her fist in the scarf at his neck, wanting to pull herself up, wanting to hold him as close as he’s holding her, wanting to catch his lips, even, with hers...but all her tugging is for naught. The scarf slips off his neck and into her lap, and he’s oblivious, sobbing against her forehead.
His voice cracks as he draws her close against his chest, shaking subsiding to rock her back and forth instead. “I can’t—I can’t lose you again. Please, Rayla—you have to stay with me.”
Weakly, her throat ragged, breath still knocked from her chest, she manages:
Her name is a choked sob this time—a question, like he doesn’t dare to believe it—and then it’s a gasp once he holds her away, his mouth hanging agape as her open eyes meet his. He beams, trembling still, but she barely even gets to see him smile like that—all teary-eyed and tender and so heartachingly soft that it takes her breath away all over again—before he’s burying kisses in her hair, his lips humming and warm on her scalp.
“Are you okay?” he asks, frantic kisses becoming frantic hands, gripping hurriedly up and down each limb. “Are you hurt?”
“I think—” she blinks at him, waiting to wince, but the only thing that pains her is squinting up at the brightening sky. It’s just her head, it seems, and the sting of the cut on her face that Callum’s fingertips have found. “Hit my head, maybe? But I think—I think I’m okay.”
“You’re bleeding.” Callum’s thumb traces the gash on her cheek, frown deepening when he finds the blood fresh and flowing, and then he searches his collar—for the scarf, she thinks—blinking and confused when he comes up empty-handed.
“Needed this,” she breathes with a muted snicker, offering him the scarf strewn across her lap, “for the luck.”
“I thought—” His fingers shake still, as he lifts the edge of his scarf to dab at the wound, and more tears slip out too, even just at the subtle way the red darkens with blood. “—I thought I lost you. I…I just got you back, and I thought—”
She presses her fingertip to his lips, and he lets her cut him off, his lips puckering against her in response, eyes shut and breath warm.
“It’s okay, Callum,” Rayla says, her hand slipping across his cheek, catching a few stray tears, and he lets the scarf fall from his hand to copy her, cradling her face in his palm still. “You haven’t lost me. I’m okay, and—” Gently, she guides his lips to hers. “—and I’m here.”
“I love you, Rayla,” he responds, like it's the first time—which it is, in such a long while. His voice is soft, and his lips find her forehead, and he cradles her against his chest once more.
The shaking starts to still, and sunlight streams down around the clearing clouds.
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