Fairy Tail x Reader Stories (Temporarily Discontinued)

(40) Freed x Wife!Reader ~ Worry

"Well, it looks like (Y/n) will be joining him then."

"What do you mean?"

"(Y/n) hasn't slept, eaten, or showered since the sixth day you all have been gone. She passed out in the hall before your arrival."

Mira's face contorts into a grimace of disgust upon the removal of the man's signature red coat. Hues of violets, yellows, and blues start to blossom across the vast majority of his bruised skin, greatly contrasting against its naturally milky tone. Most of Freed's skin is not visible, coated in the sticky red liquid that should remain within the body. Whispers pleading for a speedy recovery fall from the lips of all the mages in the infirmary as Mira works quickly to suture the deep lacerations before wrapping gauze and spreading herbal ointments of all sorts on the detrimental wounds, resulting in a vast majority of Freed's body being concealed by the white bindings.

Evergreen enters soon after with (Y/n) resting in her arms, gently setting the young woman onto an empty cot next to Freed. A damp cloth rests on her forehead, placed by Bickslow's "babies" as a group effort. The enchanted totems hover over the woman they have come to recognize as a mother-figure whenever Bickslow wanders off to his own and leaves them to their own devices. (Y/n) has taken great care of the small totems, cleaning and polishing their wooden surfaces while conversing with her husband, so for them to witness her suffering from illness and worry, the dolls do their best to return the favor.

---

Time flys by, and soon, the sun begins its descent. From the corner of the infirmary, Freed stirs, groaning in pain as his eyes flutter open, meeting the somber, vigil gaze of Makarov. His eyes glance over to the window, taking note of the vibrant sunset peaking through the curtains shielding the window.

"Good evening, Master Makarov. What happened," the green-haired mage rasps, a harsh fit of coughing cutting off any further conversation on his end.

"You're in the infirmary, Freed. Laxus brought you in this afternoon. He and the rest of the Thunder Legion have already been treated. I was informed that you saved your team from an ambush, throwing yourself into battle to defend them against the enemy."

"I only did what anyone else would've done in such a situation. Protecting loved ones is the utmost priority of any good man or woman with proper values."

"Your actions proved to be of great courage, and I thank you on behalf of your team for that, but unfortunately, there were repercussions," Makarov states with downcast eyes.

Fear washes over the younger mage. He hastily attempts to sit up from the cot, only to cause himself more pain than before and nearly tear his stitches. The guild master gently pushes Freed onto his back and slowly nods his head over to a neighboring cot, prompting a horrified gasp; teal irises threatening to spill tears silently ask for an explanation.

"(Y/n) stayed up by the doors the entire time since you're delayed absence. Nothing and no one could convince her to leave her post to eat or sleep. She did not even care about her hygiene, Freed. You worried her too greatly for any of her needs to matter, but do not be too concerned now, your wife is strong. She will heal quickly."

"Good." Freed sighs in relief, though he is not completely at ease. He allows himself to sink into the infirmary cot and drifts off into deep thought as the guild master silently exits. "You should take more care of yourself, (Y/n)," the mage whispers in the silent room, "I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you..."

"You'd suffer terribly, that's what," comes a hoarse reply, followed by a pained groan. "There's a slim chance you'd be able to survive without me. I've witnessed you're cooking skills, Freed Justine. If cooking utensils could be alive, ours would've been poisoned to death."

"I'm not that terrible! Have you even seen your handwriting? I will never ask you to write if we are ever in need of a rescue note. You're penmanship rivals with that of a chickens!"

"Chickens can't even write, dummy!"

"My point precisely."

"Hey!"

Mira giggles quietly from the entrance to the infirmary. To her right, Freedus, who she dragged with her when she saw Makarov leave with a smile on his face, creates an accurate, realistic painting of the scene taking place. On the large canvas, Freedus illustrates the couple as they fight over petty topics not even five minutes after gaining consciousness, (Y/n)'s caring, feisty spirit combating with Freed's composed, honorable personality melding blending together to paint a perfect picture of two ordinary mages creating a playful mood out during a melancholic situation.

"Well, at least they aren't worried about each other anymore..."