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jedi-luca · 2 days ago

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Head Over Feet: Chapter Nine: I Can Love You Better

Summary: You didn’t know Dina before she came back to Jackson. She’s guarded, jaded, and carrying the weight of too many goodbyes. Now you can’t stop thinking about her. It’s a slow burn, and you’re patient… but will she ever let down her walls? Or will someone else reach your heart first?

Pairings: Dina x GN!Reader slowburn

warnings: spoilers if you haven’t played the game or seen the show. Slowburn 🔥❤️‍🔥

Previous Chapter

You don’t remember much.

But Lili does.

You were covered in blood. Breathing hard. An arrow wound. Bullet holes. Your jaw bruised, knuckles broken from hitting someone too many times. You only collapsed when she said your name and reached for your hand.

In Jackson, the gates burst open as Lili rode in with your limp body slumped against her, head bowed, boots dragging. She shouted for help, voice ragged, barely holding you up.

People started running. Calling for Maria. For medics.

Charlie was in the greenhouse, just down the hill, helping Cam with the planters when she heard the shouting. The urgency in the voices.

“Did something happen?” she asked, blinking up at Cam.

Cam stood suddenly, eyes scanning the path toward the clinic. Her face went pale. “Stay here,” she said.

“Why?”

Cam didn’t answer. Just dropped her tools and jogged off.

Charlie stood frozen, the quiet creeping in. Then the whispering started kids on the path, adults talking low and fast.

She caught one sentence:

“It’s Y/N… they’re in bad shape.”

She took off running, and when she made it to the infirmary Cam caught her before she could reach the door.

“No!” She screamed.

“It’ll be okay I promise.” Cam whispered.

“I have to be there!” Charlie cried.

“The doctor and nurses are doing their job. We have to stay out of the way for now, but I promise you Y/N will be okay.” Cam sniffles.

“You can’t promise that!” She whined.

“I know you’re right, I can’t promise that, but you know Y/N they’re a fighter. They wouldn’t leave you.”

Charlie nodded sobbing in Cam’s arms.

Meanwhile in the Infirmary.

Lili didn’t let go of your hand not even when she helped the medics lift you, stumbling into the infirmary with you still in her arms. Someone tried to stop her.

“I’m staying,” she snapped.

“Only immediate family.”

“I’m not leaving them.”

Dina arrived a breath later.

When she saw you pale, shaking, blood-soaked she stopped moving entirely.

Then she stormed forward, voice shaking.

“Get out of the way.”

“Dina-”

“I’m not leaving them.”

“Ma’am, we need space,” someone says.

The doctor pushes through, blood already on her gloves. “Step aside. Both of you.”

“No—” Lili starts. “I’m not leaving—”

“You can’t help if you’re in the way,” the doctor snaps. “We need room. Now.”

Hands pull at her shoulders. At Dina’s too.

“I’m right here,” Lili says, trying to grip your hand tighter.

But the nurse is stronger. “We’ll call you back in the second we can.”

Dina doesn’t argue. Doesn’t speak. But her jaw tightens, her fists balling at her sides as they guide her away from the table.

The last thing Lili sees before she’s pushed toward the curtain is your chest still. Pale. Blood seeping through fresh gauze. Then the curtain closes.

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Inside, the room spins into ordered chaos.

“Pressure’s dropping.”

“They’re losing too much blood!”

“Clamp that artery- no, above it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Come on, don’t do this.”

Your pulse slips lower. Then lower.

Then the sound that left everyone breathless.

You flatline.

Time seems to have stopped and suddenly you’re somewhere else.

A field. Wind moving soft through the grass. The sky sunny with big puffy clouds scattered around. It was a memory you can’t quite name.

Your family is here.

Your mom. Dad. Brother. Sister-in-law. All the ones you lost. Faces gentle. Silent. Smiling like they’ve been waiting for you.

You take a step toward them.

But behind you, something pulls.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Charlie’s voice. Clear. Real.

Then another choked. Lili.

And Dina, whispering your name like it’s a vow.

“It’s not your time yet.” Your brother says softly.

You turn away from the light.

You choose them.

Back in the chaotic room.

Your chest rises.

A strangled gasp. The machine shrieks back to life.

The doctor swears under her breath, “There you are, Jesus… get that line in now!”

Outside the curtain, Lili drops to her knees with a sob.

Dina sinks against the wall pressing both palms to her face.

You’re still unconscious. But you came back.

And neither of them loses you.

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The room is quieter now.

Monitors beep in steady rhythm. The bleeding’s stopped. Your color’s returning, just barely. You’re breathing on your own.

But you haven’t woken.

Lili sits on one side of the bed, her head resting in her hand, the other lightly curled around your fingers. Her thumb strokes your knuckles, slow and steady, like a promise.

Dina sits opposite her, elbows on her knees, her hand wrapped around yours too gently, but firmly. She hasn’t let go since the doctor gave the update: “They’re stable. For now.”

The silence between the two women isn’t cold. It’s thick. Quiet with fear. Fatigue. Grief. And something deeper, something unspoken but shared.

It’s been hours.

Then they hear footsteps. Light. Fast. Scared.

The door creaks open, then swings wide.

“Y/N?”

Charlie.

She rushes in, wide-eyed and breathless. Her gaze locks on the bed, and on you, still as stone, pale, wires trailing from your arms.

She stops short.

Then she stumbles forward, voice cracking. “Why are they still asleep?”

Neither Lili nor Dina has time to answer before Charlie breaks down.

“I thought they were gonna die,” she sobs, dropping to her knees at the edge of the bed. “They said it was bad but they didn’t say this!”

Lili moves first, slipping her hand from yours to gather Charlie into her arms. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. Come here.”

Charlie clings to her, shaking, tears soaking into Lili’s shirt.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Dina rises slowly, her own hand still holding yours. She let’s go and crouches beside them, wrapping her arm around Charlie’s back, then resting her hand gently on Lili’s shoulder.

“You won’t have to,” Dina says, her voice steady but hoarse. “They’re still fighting.”

Charlie nods into Lili’s chest, gasping little hiccuping breaths.

The three of them stay like that for a while curled at your bedside, fear giving way to quiet comfort. When Charlie dozed off Dina eventually slides her onto the bed beside you, her fingers threading once more into yours. Lili takes her seat back, taking your other hand.

And there you lie, still unconscious, but not alone.

Two hands holding yours. One small girl is safe and warm beside you. Three people who aren’t leaving.

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In the Morning

You were still asleep, but stable.

The town buzzed with whispers.

“They took down four raiders?”

“Alone?”

“They didn’t even flinch.”

“Covered in blood and still fighting!”

Maria called you a miracle.

Cam called you a lunatic.

Charlie just called you their Y/N/N, and kissed your cheek like you were made of glass.

In the afternoon after Cam failed trying to take Charlie back home. The little girl turned towards Lili asking her the question Dina wanted to know.

“What happened?”

Dina looks towards the blonde.

“They fought for me,” Lili whispered. “They didn’t stop, not even when they were bleeding. You should’ve seen them, Charlie.”

“Did they…did they win?”

“They did.”

Dina sighed saying: “Y/N is the bravest idiot I’ve ever met.”

Charlie let out a watery laugh. Wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“They’re our idiot.”

Dina smiled, soft and broken. “Yeah. They are.”

That night, you didn’t wake.

Not even when the nurses cleaned your wounds again. Not even when Charlie curled up back up beside you and whispered stories into your neck.

Later that night Dina finally spoke to you.

“You’re so stupid,” she whispered. “So fucking brave. You didn’t even think. Just threw yourself in the way. That’s who you are, huh?”

She swallowed hard.

“I’ve been so goddamn angry at you. For moving on. For being good. For not waiting.”

Her voice trembled as she cried.

“But you’re mine. And you’ve always been mine. Even when I couldn’t say it.” She leaned in closer. “You saved her. Of course you did. Because that’s who you are.”

Then, softer: “You’re the fucking hero of this town. And I’m the idiot who let you go.”

Lili didn’t pretend not to hear.

She turned her face away, her eyes shining.

The next morning the room is still.

The only movement is the soft rise and fall of your chest beneath the thin blanket. Monitors hum their steady rhythm. It’s been long enough now that no one knows what to expect.

Charlie lies curled in a chair with her knees tucked to her chest, blanket drawn to her chin. She’s not crying anymore just staring at you. Silent. Waiting.

Lili sits close on one side, body coiled with exhaustion. Her hand rests beside yours on the edge of the bed. She hasn’t touched you since the last time you shifted. She’s afraid to wake false hope.

Dina is on the other side. Her hand has never left yours.

She’s holding it loosely, like something she knows doesn’t belong to her anymore.

Then you stir.

A faint twitch at the corner of your mouth. Your fingers curl ever so slightly in Dina’s palm.

Charlie sits up. “Did they just…?”

You inhale sharply, a ragged breath that barely fills your lungs. Then:

“…Charlie…”

Soft as breath. Worn like a prayer.

Charlie’s lip trembles.

“They said my name,” she whispers. “They said it.”

She leans forward. Lili instinctively reaches out to guide her closer without letting her get too close.

“She’s here Y/N.” Lili answers.

And then—

Another breath. Rougher. Your mouth opens again.

“…Dina…”

Dina freezes.

Lili does too. But only for a second.

Dina blinks, like she misheard. Then slowly leans in. “I’m here,” she says. Her voice cracks. “I’m right here.”

Your face relaxes. Your hand curls tighter around hers.

Lili looks down at her lap. Not bitter. Just… quiet. Struck.

She gently pulls her hand away from the edge of the bed.

Charlie looks up, confused. “Did… that mean something?”

Lili tries to smile. “It means they’re still with us.”

Dina doesn’t let go of your hand. Not now. Not yet. Her thumb rubs gentle, slow circles over your knuckles.

Charlie shifts beside Lili, her head against Lili’s side. “They’ll wake up soon, right?”

Lili nods, but doesn’t speak.

The monitor beeps. The room breathes.

And somewhere beneath the surface of painkillers and blood loss and dreams, you whisper the names of the ones who’ve claimed the deepest parts of you.

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The room is hushed.

Charlie sleeps tucked against Lili’s side, soft breaths brushing her arm. Her fingers still curled in the fabric of Lili’s hoodie. The blanket has slipped off one shoulder, and Lili gently tucks it back up without thinking.

Across the bed, Dina sits still leaning forward, elbows on her knees, one hand loosely wrapped around yours.

You haven’t moved since whispering their names.

But their presence is louder than ever.

It’s Lili who speaks first, voice low, hoarse from crying and too many hours awake.

“I’m not walking away from them.”

Dina looks up.

“I mean it,” she says again, steadier now. “I know this is messy. I know you’ve known them longer. But I’m not backing off just because you still love them.”

A pause.

Then Dina lower, more guarded. “I never stopped.”

Lili nods once. “Okay. But you kept pushing and pulling them over and over again.”

That lands between them. Sharp. Not cruel, just honest.

Dina takes it. Sits with it. Then, finally: “I know. And I regret that every damn day.”

They both glance down at Y/N—motionless but breathing, face bruised and still somehow soft in the pale light.

Lili’s voice shakes when she speaks again.

“They didn’t even look scared when it happened. When they were bleeding out. They were more worried about me.” Her throat tightens. “They kept fighting. For me.”

Dina’s jaw tenses. Her fingers tighten slightly around Y/N’s.

“They’ve always done that,” she says. “For everyone but themselves.”

Lili nods. “So now someone needs to fight for them.”

Dina meets her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Lili lifts her chin. “Neither am I.”

There’s no malice. No shouting. Just two women holding ground. Both knowing what they feel. Both staring at the same person in the bed and refusing to leave quietly.

Dina exhales, voice low. “So what, we wait until they pick one of us?”

Lili shakes her head. “I don’t think this is about winning. I think it’s about staying.”

Charlie stirs against her side. Lili places a steadying hand on her back, soothing her before she can fully wake.

Dina watches the motion—tender, instinctive, maternal.

“I care about her,” Dina says quietly. “Charlie.”

Lili nods. “I know.”

Another beat.

“I care about you too,” Dina adds. “More than I want to.”

Lili doesn’t respond. But her throat works as she swallows. The weight of it is too much and not enough.

They sit in the quiet for a long time. Watching the rise and fall of your chest. Listening to the monitor beep like a ticking clock.

Neither of them moves.

Because love, real love doesn’t always make sense.

Sometimes, it just means you stay.

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It starts with pain.

A dull, pulling ache deep in your shoulder. A pressure in your ribs. Your skin feels hot and tight, like it doesn’t quite belong to you.

Then light.

Even with your eyes closed, it presses through—faint and pale behind your eyelids.

You don’t know where you are. Not yet. But the bed is too soft to be the field, and the air smells clean, sharp with alcohol and cloth. Not blood.

A hum. Mechanical. Beeping.

Monitors.

Your fingers twitch.

You feel it before you register it: a hand in yours. Warm. Familiar. You try to squeeze, but your body won’t listen fully.

“Y/N?”

That voice.

Dina.

You try again. This time your fingers curl slightly under hers.

She gasps. “Lili, did you see that?”

There’s a shift beside you. A rustle of blankets. Another hand brushes lightly at your temple.

“Y/N, baby?” Lili’s voice. Soft. Afraid. “Can you hear us?”

You try to answer, but your mouth is dry. Your throat burns.

Still, you manage something just a sound. A faint groan, sharp at the edges.

Charlie stirs somewhere nearby. Her voice cracks with sleep and worry. “Are they waking up?”

You blink.

The light is too bright. Everything’s out of focus. But shapes start to take form. A window. The ceiling. And two blurry silhouettes leaning over you.

Dina.

Lili.

Both of them close. Holding on.

You blink again. Your lips part. You mean to say something, but only a rasp comes out.

Lili grabs a cup of water from the bedside. “Here,” she whispers, tilting the straw toward you. Her fingers are steady, but barely. “Just a sip.”

You drink. It hurts. But it helps.

When you finally speak, your voice is rough, small. “What…?”

Dina leans in, eyes wet. “You’re okay. You made it.”

You look at her, then Lili, then down at your hand—still wrapped in Dina’s, Lili’s other hand resting lightly over your arm.

Charlie appears beside the bed, climbing up carefully, her eyes wide and red.

“You scared me,” she says softly.

You want to apologize, but your voice isn’t ready for that yet. So you lift your hand—barely—and she grabs it like it’s life itself.

You close your eyes again. Not to sleep, but to breathe.

They stayed.

All of them.

You don’t know what day it is. You don’t know what comes next.

But they’re here.

And so are you.

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It takes another day before the doctor clears you to leave. You’re not moving fast, and your shoulder screams every time you shift the wrong way—but you’re alive, and that’s enough.

They come in together that morning: Lili with your backpack slung over her shoulder, Dina balancing JJ on one hip and a folded blanket in her free hand, and Charlie clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest.

“Ready?” Lili asks, soft and warm, already knowing you’re not. Not really. But also knowing you’ll say yes anyway.

JJ kicks his legs and mumbles something unintelligible into Dina’s shoulder. He’s got that just-woke-up face, hair sticking up and cheeks flushed pink.

Charlie insists on carrying your water bottle and the rabbit. “It’s for luck,” she says solemnly, offering it like a talisman.

You try to argue when Dina moves to help you up, but the second your feet hit the floor, the room tips, and your knees buckle.

She catches you before you fall. “Y/N,” she says sharply. “Don’t.”

“I’ve got it,” you mumble, embarrassed.

“You don’t.” Lili’s already on your other side, slipping beneath your good arm. “Let us take care of you, please.”

It’s humbling—being half-carried out of the infirmary like that. JJ rides on Dina’s hip, watching you with wide eyes. He keeps patting her shoulder and whispering, “Up?” like he doesn’t understand why you’re the one being helped this time.

The walk to your house feels long. The sun is bright. A breeze moves through the town, and someone calls out hello, but you don’t register who. Everything feels far away.

Inside, the house smells like fresh linen and something warm on the stove.

Someone probably Lili has cleaned. The couch is made up with extra blankets. The coffee table’s been cleared. There’s a vase on the windowsill with a few wildflowers stuck inside.

“You’re staying down here,” Dina says as she lowers JJ to the floor and steers you gently to the couch. “No stairs.”

“I can go to my bed-”

“Nope.” She nudges your knees until you sit. “You’re on couch lockdown.”

Charlie plops the rabbit down beside you and adjusts your pillow like she’s in charge. “And I’m bringing snacks later.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Lili calls from the kitchen.

Charlie shrugs. “Too late.”

JJ toddles over, thumb in his mouth, dragging a small wooden car. He eyes you cautiously.

“Hi, buddy,” you rasp.

He leans into Dina’s leg but peeks up at you, curious. “Boo-boo,” he says seriously, pointing at your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you manage, smiling. “I got a boo-boo.”

He considers this for a long moment, then carefully places the toy car on your knee like an offering. You want to cry.

Dina crouches in front of you, eyes on your bandages. “Let me check this. Just to make sure nothing shifted.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me decide that.”

You glance over her shoulder. Lili is stirring something on the stove. Her sleeves are rolled up, her hair tucked behind her ears. She looks at home here.

JJ clambers awkwardly onto the couch and situates himself near your legs. He keeps looking at you, then at his mom, like he’s waiting for confirmation this is all okay.

Charlie climbs up beside you too, close but careful. “Do you feel like watching a movie? Or do you wanna nap?”

You don’t answer right away. You’re too busy watching them move around you—the way Lili hums under her breath, the way Dina presses the back of her hand to your forehead like it’s second nature, the way Charlie leans into your side with the easy weight of someone who knows you’re not going anywhere.

You try to get up after lunch to rinse your cup, but Lili’s on you immediately. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I can carry my own-”

“You can, but you won’t,” she says, lifting it from your hand. “Sit down before Dina sees you.”

Too late.

“She already saw,” Dina calls from the laundry nook. “Y/N, I swear-”

“I’m going!” you grumble, lowering yourself back to the couch.

JJ peeks up at you and mimics your tone with a playful, “I’m gooooin’,” then dissolves into giggles.

Charlie gasps. “JJ, you can’t sass!”

“Wonder where he learned that,” Lili says, smirking as she passes Dina.

Later, after JJ’s gone down for a nap in the guest room, Charlie lays curled at your side, reading aloud from one of her books. You don’t follow the story much, but her voice soothes something in you.

Dina brings over fresh gauze and kneels beside you again. She checks your shoulder slowly, carefully, her touch gentle but clinical.

“You should’ve seen yourself,” she murmurs, not looking at you. “You were out. Pale. Barely breathing.”

“I’m here now.”

Her jaw tightens. She doesn’t answer that.

When Charlie finally dozes off, Lili drapes a blanket over her and presses a quiet kiss to the crown of your head.

You close your eyes—not to sleep, but to breathe.

They stayed.

Even Dina, even now.

You don’t know what comes next. But for now, you let yourself be taken care of.

And for now… that’s enough.

A/N: don’t forget to like reblog and comment what you think!

#dina woodward #dina tlou #dina x reader #dina woodward x reader #Dina woodward x gn!reader #isabela merced #lili reinhart