Brat Summer

I absolutely love how you write for the bg3 companions!!

Can we get romanced companions reacting to seeing Tav being approached by an abusive ex, who grabs them violently when Tav tries to walk away from the confrontation? They are grabbed violently by the hair, neck, wrist, etc? Thank you!!

omg yessssssssss tw everyone this will contain themes of abuse and domestic violence so if you are uncomfortable with that please click off and I will see you in the next one xox

Karlach:

The tavern was warm and lively, filled with the buzz of laughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of an old bard strumming away in the corner. You sat close to Karlach at a small, dimly lit table, her broad grin as radiant as ever. Her laughter boomed over some silly tale you'd told, her joy contagious as the two of you sipped from your mugs. The night was going perfectly—until they showed up.

You didn’t see your ex at first, but you heard their voice, a cold and unwelcome shard of your past cutting through the tavern’s warmth. “Well, well. Look who it is.”

Your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you saw them, standing just a few feet away with that same cruel smirk you’d hoped to never see again. They looked the same, too—bitter, angry, and clearly still holding a grudge. Karlach’s laughter faded as she noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Her eyes flicked between you and the person now looming over your table.

“Not here,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with warning. “Don’t make a scene. Just leave.”

They laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that turned heads. “Oh, I’m making a scene?” they sneered, stepping closer. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like nothing happened?”

You tried to stand, but before you could, their hand shot out and grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin.

“You’re not going anywhere,” they hissed.

The motion was so sudden that the tavern seemed to freeze for a moment. The mug in Karlach’s hand thudded onto the table, her expression darkening in an instant.

“Get your hands off them,” she said, her voice a low, warning growl.

Your ex sneered at her, but before they could say anything more, Karlach shot up from her seat. She shoved them back with one powerful hand, forcing them to release you. The force sent them stumbling, their eyes widening in shock.

“You okay?” Karlach asked, her warm brown eyes filled with concern as she turned to you. Her hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered slightly. “Let’s just—”

Before you could finish, your ex stormed back, their face twisted in rage. They lunged toward you, but they didn’t get far. Karlach’s fist met their face in a flash of fiery determination, the impact so loud it echoed through the now-silent tavern. Your ex crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious before they even hit the ground.

Karlach flexed her fingers, looking down at them with disdain.

“Idiot,” she muttered, then turned back to you. “C’mon, love. Let’s get out of here.”

You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your coat. As the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Karlach slipped an arm around your shoulders, her presence grounding you.

“Sorry about that,” you murmured after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think they’d—”

“Stop,” Karlach said gently, her voice firm but kind. “You don’t owe me an apology for their bullshit. What’s their deal, anyway?”

You hesitated but eventually sighed. “We were together a long time ago. It… wasn’t a good relationship. They were controlling, mean. It took everything I had to leave.”

Karlach’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of rage in her eyes as she looked straight ahead.

“Should’ve killed the arsehole,” she muttered under her breath.

You chuckled softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “You don’t have to solve everything with violence, you know.”

She looked down at you, her expression softening.

“Not everything,” she said with a small grin. “But that? They had it coming.” Her arm tightened around you. “No one gets to treat you like that. Not while I’m here.”

A warm wave of gratitude washed over you as you leaned into her, the safety of her presence more comforting than words could express. “Thank you, Karlach.”

“Always, love,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. As the two of you walked home, you felt lighter, knowing you were no longer alone in facing the ghosts of your past.

Minthara:

The streets of Baldur's Gate were alive with the din of activity: merchants haggling in the marketplace, children darting between the crowd, and the occasional bard strumming a jaunty tune. You walked alongside Minthara, her presence commanding, as always. Her arm curled around your waist with a possessiveness that was both protective and tender. Her silvery hair caught the evening light, and her voice, low and firm, reached your ear.

“We are being followed,” she murmured, her lips brushing your temple. “Someone’s gaze lingers far too long on you.”

Your heart sank, a sinking pit of familiarity clawing at your gut. You subtly glanced over your shoulder under the guise of adjusting your scarf, and that’s when you saw them: your abusive ex. Their figure lingered in the shadows, weaving through the crowd like a snake, their eyes fixed on you with that same unsettling intensity you had tried so hard to forget.

“Dammit,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. The weight of the moment sank in, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

Minthara’s amber eyes narrowed as she studied your expression.

“Who is that?” she asked, her voice icy and sharp.

You hesitated, considering whether to brush it off, but you knew better than to lie to Minthara. “Do you remember the scar just above my hip?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.

Her grip on your waist tightened as she nodded, her gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet intense.

“They gave it to me,” you admitted, keeping your voice steady. “It happened the day I tried to leave them. We fought, and—” You stopped, the memories creeping too close. “They’ve always had a hard time letting go.”

Minthara’s body went rigid. Her hand, still wrapped around your waist, stilled entirely, her nails pressing into the fabric of your tunic. Her jaw clenched, and before you could stop her, she uncoiled with terrifying precision and sprinted toward your ex.

“Minthara, wait!” you shouted, but it was useless. She was already closing the distance.

Your ex barely had time to react before Minthara tackled them to the ground with the force of a lioness taking down her prey. The crowd scattered, gasps and shouts echoing in the marketplace as she delivered blow after calculated blow. Each strike was vicious but efficient, aimed with the precision of someone trained to dismantle an opponent piece by piece. Her movements were smooth, brutal, and terrifyingly beautiful in their ruthlessness.

“Touch them again,” Minthara snarled, her voice low and venomous as she pressed her forearm against your ex’s throat, “and I will ensure that death would beg for you before I allow it.”

She delivered one final punch, leaving your ex groaning and crumpled in the dirt, their face bloodied and swollen. Satisfied, she stood, brushing her hands off as if she had merely swatted a fly. She strode back toward you, the calm precision of her movements making the crowd part before her like waves.

When she reached you, she lifted her chin, a faint, dangerous smile curling her lips.

“The injuries I’ve given them will take decades to heal,” she promised, her voice still simmering with fury. “And perhaps a century to scar.”

You stared at her, part of you unsure whether to admonish or thank her. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Minthara, you didn’t have to—”

“They hurt you,” she cut in, her voice softening only slightly as her gaze bored into yours. “That is reason enough.”

She reached out, brushing her thumb against your cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You are mine to protect. That wretch deserved every ounce of pain I inflicted.”

Despite the ferocity of her words, the warmth in her touch reminded you why you trusted her so deeply. With a soft sigh, you nodded, leaning into her hand.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, the weight of her actions settling in. Her smile widened, pride glinting in her eyes.

“Of course, my heart. No one who dares harm you will ever go unpunished.” She took your hand and began walking again, her steps measured and sure. As the chaos in the marketplace faded behind you, you couldn’t help but feel safer than you ever had before.

Lae'zel:

The bustling market was alive with noise: merchants shouting out their wares, children weaving between the stalls, and the occasional clang of metal as blacksmiths displayed their crafts. You and Lae’zel moved through the chaos, her sharp eyes scanning for supplies while you trailed beside her, taking in the sights. It was a moment of relative peace amidst your usual adventures.

And then, like a thunderclap on a clear day, you saw them. Your ex.

Before you could react, they were in front of you, their face lighting up with a joy that felt out of place—wrong, even. “There you are!” they exclaimed, pulling you into a hug so suddenly that you didn’t have time to resist. Their arms wrapped around you tightly, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as panic set in. It wasn’t the embrace of an old friend—it was a claim, a reminder of the control they once held over you.

“I’ve missed you,” they said with a grin, pulling back to look at you. “We have to catch up sometime.”

They left without waiting for your reply, disappearing into the crowd as if they hadn’t just turned your world upside down. You stood there, motionless, your heart pounding and your thoughts racing.

Lae’zel, who had been perusing a nearby stand, turned to you. Her amber eyes immediately narrowed, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to something far more dangerous.

“What is this?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to fight a dragon with a pitchfork. Who were they?”

You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat felt dry, and the words were stuck, lodged somewhere between fear and shame. Finally, you managed to stammer out, “That… That was my ex.”

Lae’zel’s eyes sharpened, her gaze cutting through you like a blade.

“And this is your reaction to a past lover? You are no stranger to affection, but you looked as though the mere touch of them turned your blood to acid.” Her voice lowered, her tone becoming more dangerous. “What did they do to you?”

You tried to explain, but the words faltered. Your lips moved, but the memories caught up with you, dragging you back into a place you didn’t want to revisit. You didn’t need to say it, though—Lae’zel saw the truth in your silence.

She cursed violently in Gith, the harsh, guttural sounds slicing through the air. Her hand tightened around her weapon, and her whole body tensed like a predator ready to strike.

“They hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a growl. “I will take their head and present it to you as a trophy.”

She turned, already scanning the crowd for their retreating form, but you reached out, grabbing her arm.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… wait a moment.”

Lae’zel hesitated, her muscles twitching with the need for action, but she stayed. Her eyes never left you as you closed yours and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within. She stayed close, her presence grounding you as you forced yourself to let go of the fear and focus on the present.

After a few moments, you opened your eyes and gave her a weak smile.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I just needed a moment.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Because I will not let this stand.”

You nodded, a small gesture, but it was all she needed. With a fierce grin, she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd, her focus like a blade honed to perfection.

It didn’t take long for her to find them. You followed at a safe distance, your heart racing but unable to stop her now. She caught up to them near a fruit stall, grabbing them by the shoulder and spinning them around. They barely had time to react before Lae’zel shoved them against a wooden post, her face inches from theirs.

“You dare to touch what is mine?” she snarled, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “You have left scars on them that I cannot abide. For that, I will use your head as my footrest.”

The ex stammered, their confidence evaporating under her ferocity. Before they could say anything more, Lae’zel delivered a sharp blow to their stomach, doubling them over. She stepped back, letting them fall to their knees, then stood over them like a conqueror surveying her victory.

Satisfied that her message was clear, she turned and walked back to you, her expression fierce but triumphant.

“It is done,” she said simply. “They will not trouble you again.”

You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you despite the chaos. “Thank you,” you said, reaching out to take her hand.

Her grip was firm, reassuring. “No one hurts you and walks away unscathed,” she said. “Not while I draw breath.”

With that, she led you away, her protective presence a shield against the world.

Shadowheart:

The party was vibrant, full of chatter, music, and laughter. The hum of lively conversation filled the grand hall as you and Shadowheart wove through the crowd, wine glasses in hand. You hadn’t been entirely thrilled about attending, but Shadowheart’s soft insistence and the promise of shared moments made it worthwhile.

That was until you saw them—your ex.

They were standing near the center of a small group, regaling their audience with some elaborate tale, their gestures animated and their voice dripping with charm. Your stomach turned when they noticed you, their expression lighting up with the kind of false familiarity that set your nerves on edge. They sidled over, slipping seamlessly into your space, and before you could react, they had drawn you into their circle.

Shadowheart, ever watchful, stayed close, her sharp eyes flicking between you and your ex.

“We can leave,” she murmured under her breath, her voice calm but concerned. “Say the word.”

You shook your head, managing a strained smile.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, though your grip on your glass tightened slightly. You didn’t want to ruin the evening for her.

As the conversation swirled, your ex began telling a story—one about you. They spoke as if the two of you were still an item, peppering their tale with biting remarks and veiled insults.

“Oh, you should’ve seen them back then,” they sneered, “always so scatterbrained. Couldn’t even get through a simple task without my help.”

The group laughed awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension. Your face burned with a mix of anger and humiliation, but before you could find your voice, Shadowheart stepped forward, her demeanor cool and composed, but her eyes as sharp as daggers.

She interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through the conversation like a blade.

“That reminds me of a story from my past,” she said, her tone conversational yet chilling. The group turned to her, captivated by the quiet authority in her voice. “There was a time when I dealt with an exceptionally arrogant prisoner. They fancied themselves clever—always talking back, thinking they were in control. So I decided to teach them a lesson.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine as if the next part were merely an afterthought. “I ripped out their tongue and fed it to them.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The group stared at her, their eyes wide, as the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Your ex, who had been so confident mere moments ago, visibly paled, their mouth opening and closing as if searching for a retort.

Shadowheart tilted her head slightly, a faint, dangerous smile playing on her lips. “It’s remarkable how much quieter some people can be after a simple… correction.”

Your ex stammered something unintelligible before hastily excusing themselves, practically fleeing from the room. The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, bubbling sound of relief and delight. You turned to Shadowheart, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

“Thank you,” you said, grinning. “The look on their face… I’ll treasure that forever.”

Shadowheart leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender yet possessive kiss.

“I love you,” she said softly, her words a vow as much as a declaration.

Then she pulled back slightly, her eyes glinting with something dark and resolute.

“Hold my wine,” she said, pressing her glass into your hand. “There’s something—or rather, someone—I need to deal with.”

Before you could protest, she was gone, her dark hair flowing like a shadow cutting through the crowd. You watched her go, a mixture of admiration and mild terror filling you. Whatever she had in mind, you knew one thing for certain: no one would dare cross her—or you—ever again.

Jaheira:

The warm hum of Jaheira's household had always been a comfort to you. The chatter of the children, the occasional laughter, and the scent of a home-cooked meal mingled with the faint floral aroma of the plants she meticulously tended. You were setting the table, ready to sit down for the evening meal with Jaheira and her family, when an insistent knock sounded at the door.

The sound froze you in place. It wasn’t the friendly, casual knock of a neighbor or friend. No, it was sharp and demanding, like someone who felt entitled to be heard. Dread pooled in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t that person anymore. You were stronger now, surrounded by people who cared for you.

Still, when you opened the door and saw your ex standing there, their familiar sneer twisting their features, that old fear reared its head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, keeping your voice firm. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

Your ex scoffed, taking a step closer. “I’ll decide where I should be,” they spat. “We have unfinished business.”

Your heart raced, but you held your ground. “Leave,” you repeated, gripping the doorframe tightly. “Now.”

Their response was to shove you—hard. The force sent you stumbling back, and you hit the ground with a painful thud, the breath knocked out of you. Your ex marched inside, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.

“Get out!” you shouted, your voice shaking more than you’d like.

The commotion brought Jaheira’s children rushing into the room. Jhessem and Tate were at your side in an instant, their small hands helping you sit up as they looked at you with wide, worried eyes. Fig, ever the fiery little warrior, grabbed her wooden sword and brandished it at your ex, her small frame trembling but determined.

“You leave them alone!” she yelled, her voice high-pitched but fierce.

Your ex laughed, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. But the laughter died when Jord and Rion stepped forward, their presence filling the room with an almost tangible force.

Jord, tall and broad-shouldered, the half-orc planted himself between the children and your ex.

“You’ve got two seconds to get out of this house,” he said, his voice low and rumbling with warning.

Rion, her sharp features twisted into a glare that could cut stone, pointed a finger at your ex.

“You do not belong here,” she said, her tone icy. “Leave before I make you.”

Despite the bravery of Jaheira’s children, you quickly pushed yourself to your feet, positioning yourself between them and your ex.

“This isn’t their fight,” you said firmly, your voice stronger now as you faced your abuser. “Leave them out of this. Leave us alone.”

Your ex sneered, taking a step toward you, but before they could say another word, the sound of measured, deliberate footsteps echoed from the staircase. Everyone turned as Jaheira descended, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

She took in the scene at a glance—the children bristling with protective anger, you standing tense and pale, and your ex, whose presence tainted the very air. Her expression darkened like a storm cloud.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your ex, ever the fool, sneered. “Just having a little chat.”

Jaheira’s gaze flicked to you. “Are they threatening you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Before you could answer, your ex made the mistake of laughing. “This is none of your business, old woman.”

Jaheira didn’t respond with words. Instead, she raised a hand, her fingers curling in a subtle motion. Thorned vines erupted from the floor, twisting and writhing like living snakes. They wrapped around your ex with terrifying speed, pinning their arms to their sides and tightening until they yelped in pain.

“Get them out of here,” Jaheira commanded, her voice like steel.

The vines obeyed, dragging your ex toward the door. They thrashed and cursed, but the thorns only dug in deeper. With a final, satisfying motion, the vines flung them out into the street. The door slammed shut behind them, and the vines retracted as if they had never been.

Jaheira turned to you, her eyes softening. You immediately started to apologize, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “Jaheira, I’m so sorry—I never thought they’d come here. I never wanted to put you or your children in danger—”

“Stop being ridiculous,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. She stepped closer, her hands cupping your face as she looked you over. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” she said, her hands dropping to your shoulders. “You’ve been through enough tonight. Rest now.”

“I’ll make some tea,” Jord said, already heading toward the kitchen with calm efficiency.

Fig tugged at your sleeve, her wooden sword still clutched in her hand. “We’ll always help you,” she said, her voice small but fierce.

You managed a smile, ruffling her hair. “Thank you, Fig.”

Jaheira wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the sitting area.

“You’re safe here,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “No one—no one—will ever hurt you again.”

As you sank into the cushions, the tension slowly leaving your body, you felt the warmth of Jaheira’s family around you. They had rallied to protect you without hesitation, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe.

Gale:

The cozy, labyrinthine aisles of Sorcerous Sundries stretched out around you, their shelves laden with ancient tomes and scrolls that hummed with latent magic. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air, grounding and soothing. You and Gale had been immersed in your own quiet exploration, each lost in the treasure trove of knowledge. Every so often, you’d exchange a snippet of discovery—a passage here, a glyph there—but for the most part, it was a shared silence, warm and comfortable.

As your fingers trailed over the spine of a particularly aged tome, its title caught your eye: The Heart of Aetherial Bonds. Intrigued, you flipped it open and found a passage that immediately reminded you of Gale. The words were poetic, a reflection on the ties between love and magic, the way one could amplify the other. A small smile tugged at your lips. He would love this.

“Gale,” you called softly, tucking the book under your arm as you began to weave through the aisles, searching for him.

Your steps were light as you rounded a corner, spotting a familiar silhouette a few shelves away.

“There you are,” you began, but as the figure turned, the words died in your throat.

It wasn’t Gale.

Your blood ran cold as you recognized them—your ex. The person who had haunted your past, whose shadow you had thought you’d escaped. Their eyes lit up with a twisted glee, and before you could move, they stepped forward and grabbed your arm in an iron grip.

“I can’t believe it,” they said, their voice dripping with possessive satisfaction. “I’ve been searching for you, and here you are.”

“Let go of me,” you said firmly, trying to pull away. Their grip only tightened, the familiar pain radiating up your arm.

“You’re coming home,” they hissed, their tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart pounded as you pushed against their hold, your voice shaking. “You’re hurting me—let go.”

But just as before, they didn’t listen. Their other hand reached to grip your shoulder, and for a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm you.

Then, the air shifted. A crackling sound filled the room, sharp and electric, like the air before a storm. A chill ran down your spine as the oppressive grip on your arm faltered. Both you and your ex turned toward the source of the energy.

Gale stood at the end of the aisle, his form illuminated by a pulsing, arcane light. His expression was unlike anything you had seen before—fierce, unyielding, his eyes glowing with a raw, dangerous power. Magic swirled around him, forming tendrils of energy that snapped and sparked against the air.

“Release them,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl.

Your ex hesitated, their bravado wavering as the sheer intensity of Gale’s presence bore down on them.

“This isn’t your business, mage” they spat, but their voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, but it is,” Gale said, his hands lifting as the magic in the air intensified. “You’ve made it so.”

Before another word could be uttered, a blinding flash of energy erupted from Gale’s outstretched palms. The searing light enveloped your ex, their scream cut short as their form disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing behind but a faint, acrid scent and a smudge of dust on the floor. The magic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the air still and silent.

Gale was at your side in an instant, his hands gently cradling your face as he looked you over.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice soft now, filled with worry.

You shook your head, tears welling up as the adrenaline drained from your body.

“I—I’m okay,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the weight of what had just happened settled over you. The tension in your body melted as you buried your face in his chest, the faint scent of his robes and the comforting hum of his magic grounding you. Your shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped, the fear and relief spilling out all at once.

“It’s over,” Gale murmured, his hand gently stroking your back. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, the sound of his heartbeat steady and calming against your ear. After a while, your tears slowed, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was a mixture of concern and quiet anger, his protective instincts still on high alert.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere.

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Astarion:

The lively hum of the tavern wrapped around you like a familiar cloak, its warmth and noise a welcome respite from the chaos of adventuring. You sat at a corner table with Astarion, his sharp wit and flair for drama turning a mundane evening into something delightfully entertaining. Together, you exchanged hushed gossip about the other patrons—their fashion choices, their whispered secrets—and laughed at his outrageous commentary.

“Oh, look at him,” Astarion murmured, tilting his head toward a burly man near the bar, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’d wager he’s had one too many pies—and just one too many wives, judging by that tan line on his ring finger.”

You snorted into your drink, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, you adore me,” he said with a playful smirk. He lifted your glass with a flourish. “Speaking of adoration, I’ll be a dear and fetch you a refill. Don’t miss me too much.”

You grinned, watching as Astarion sashayed toward the bar, his charm radiating even in the simplest of tasks. Leaning back, you took a moment to enjoy the bustling atmosphere, but your peace shattered as a shadow fell over your table.

Your stomach churned as you turned to see your ex standing there, their presence as unwelcome as a dagger in the back. Without waiting for an invitation, they slid into Astarion’s vacated seat, their grin sending a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” they said, leaning closer. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You stiffened, your pulse quickening. “Leave,” you said coldly, standing abruptly. “This isn’t the place, and I have nothing to say to you.”

But as you turned to leave, their hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back with a cruel force. A sharp yelp escaped your lips as pain flared along your scalp.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” they snarled, their grip tightening. You tried to swing at them, but panic muddled your movements, and they easily avoided your weak attempts to break free. The room seemed to close in, the once-lively chatter of the tavern fading into a distant hum as fear took hold.

And then, just as suddenly, the pressure on your scalp vanished. You staggered forward, catching yourself on the edge of the table, and turned to see your ex frozen in place. A knife glinted at their throat, a thin line of blood already welling against the blade’s edge. Behind them stood Astarion, his expression icy and predatory.

“I’ve been dying for a fresh kill tonight,” Astarion purred, his voice dangerously low. “And it seems you’ve volunteered. How considerate.”

Your ex’s bravado crumbled as they began to stammer, their hands raised in shaky surrender. Astarion’s grip on the knife didn’t waver, his sharp eyes flicking to you.

“Darling,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “this one’s causing you trouble, isn’t he?”

You met his gaze, your scalp still throbbing but your heart swelling with gratitude. Nodding slowly, you gave him permission with a single, deliberate motion of your head.

Astarion’s smile widened, and he dragged your ex out of the tavern with an almost casual ease, ignoring their sputtered protests. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the danger in his stride. You stayed behind, nursing your scalp and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. The minutes felt like hours, but eventually, Astarion returned, brushing off his hands as though he’d simply taken out the trash.

“All taken care of,” he said, his tone light as he reached for you, cupping your face gently. “Let me see—did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I—I could have handled it.”

Astarion raised an elegant eyebrow, his hand trailing down to rest on your shoulder.

“Oh, please, my love,” he said with mock exasperation. “You’re many things, but you’re not a liar. Let me have this one.”

You sighed, relenting. “Thank you, Astarion.”

He smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re welcome, darling. But seriously, are you okay? That brute—”

You interrupted him with a nod, placing a hand over his. “I am now. Because I’m with you.”

His expression softened, the predatory edge replaced by something tender.

“Always,” he murmured, his voice a promise. With a protective arm around your waist, he led you out of the tavern, away from the echoes of the past and into the safe haven of his presence.

Wyll:

The ballroom of the Ulder Ravengard's estate was a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Noblemen and women in resplendent attire swayed to the music of a skilled orchestra, their laughter mingling with the hum of conversation. You and Wyll had been thoroughly enjoying yourselves, weaving through the room, gossiping about fashion choices and laughing at poorly-hidden flirtations among the elite.

Wyll, as always, moved with an effortless charm that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He introduced you to old friends, clinking glasses with ease, his laugh rich and genuine. His warmth was contagious, and you found yourself at ease in a social world that might have otherwise intimidated you. But when Wyll excused himself to chat with a group of friends near the wine table, you waved him off with a smile, happy to people-watch for a while.

A light tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. A hand reached out, beckoning you to the dance floor. You assumed it was a friend or an acquaintance and allowed yourself to be led. But as you turned, your stomach plummeted. Your blood ran cold.

It was them.

Your abusive ex stood before you, their grin as sharp and cruel as you remembered. It was a grin that promised pain masked under a veneer of charm. You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but their grip only tightened, their fingers digging into your wrist.

“Don’t look so surprised,” they said smoothly, their voice low and venomous. “You didn’t think you could escape me forever, did you?”

“This isn’t the time or place,” you hissed, keeping your voice quiet to avoid drawing attention. “Let me go.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” they replied, their grip tightening further as they began to lead you into a slow, swaying dance. Their tone was soft, deceptively sweet, but their eyes glinted with malice. “You owe me this much, at least. Don’t make a scene. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your fancy boyfriend or his oh-so-important father, would you?”

Your heart raced as they leaned in closer, their breath hot against your ear.

“You think you’ve moved on, don’t you? That you can just walk away from what we had? You’re mine, and you always will be.” You tried to twist out of their grip, panic rising in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you spat, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

Their smile only widened. “Oh I don’t think so,” they said, their voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to regret leaving me.”

You braced yourself, half-expecting them to lash out. Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for a blow that never came. Instead, a loud, sickening crack echoed through the ballroom, followed by gasps from nearby guests.

Opening your eyes, you saw your ex sprawled on the polished floor, clutching their face. Blood gushed from their nose, staining their pristine clothing. Standing over them, his posture rigid with fury, was Wyll. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a simmering rage that made the air around him feel electric.

“Touch them again,” Wyll growled, his voice low and deadly, “and a broken nose will be the least of your worries.”

Your ex scrambled backward on the floor, their bravado shattered as they stared up at Wyll in terror. Before they could say anything, a pair of Flaming Fist guards appeared, having been alerted by the commotion. Wyll waved them over, his eyes never leaving your ex.

“Take them,” Wyll ordered, his voice firm. “They’re disturbing the peace.”

The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed your ex by the arms and hauled them to their feet, ignoring their sputtering protests and threats. As they dragged your ex away, Wyll finally turned to you, his expression softening in an instant.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked gently, stepping closer to cup your face in his hands. His warm brown eyes scanned you for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Wyll, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize. This isn’t on you.”

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, brought tears to your eyes. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he whispered soothing words into your ear. The rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of his presence.

When you finally pulled back, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, your breath evening out as the panic subsided. “Thank you, Wyll.”

He kissed your forehead tenderly before taking your hand in his.

“Come, my love,” he said, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “Let’s get you a fresh drink. We’ve both earned it tonight.”

And with that, he led you away from the gawking crowd, his protective arm wrapped securely around you, a silent promise that no harm would come to you as long as he was by your side.

Halsin:

The forest was tranquil, the golden light of the afternoon filtering through the dense canopy of leaves. You moved between patches of wildflowers, humming a tune as you gathered handfuls of blooms for the orphans back at the grove. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and moss, and for a time, you felt entirely at peace.

Your basket was nearly full when a faint rustling behind you caught your attention. You paused, glancing over your shoulder, but the forest appeared empty. Shrugging it off as a rabbit or some other harmless creature, you bent down to pluck a cluster of bright yellow flowers. You didn’t notice the shaggy, wiry wolf stalking closer, its pale eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

Suddenly, the wolf sprang from the underbrush, a blur of fur and teeth. You gasped as it collided with you, the force of the pounce knocking you to the ground. Its heavy paws pinned you to the forest floor, the breath driven from your lungs as you struggled beneath its weight.

Before you could scream, the wolf began to shift. Fur melted into skin, limbs elongated, and in moments, you were staring into the face of your abusive ex. The recognition hit you like a blow to the chest, your blood running cold.

“You,” you breathed, horrified, and immediately began to struggle.

They leaned closer, their wild eyes gleaming with an unnerving fervor.

“Did you miss me, darling?” they crooned, their voice dripping with mock affection. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t let you go, not like that.”

“Get off me!” you snapped, shoving at their chest with all your strength. Your heart pounded as you tried to call for help, but their hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.

“Shh,” they whispered, their grin twisting into something darker. “Don’t make this difficult. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Panic surged through you, and you did the only thing you could think of—you bit down hard on the palm of their hand. They hissed in pain but didn’t flinch away, instead smirking as if they found your resistance amusing.

“Still feisty,” they murmured, their tone infuriatingly condescending. “I’ve always loved that about—”

Their words were cut off by a deafening roar, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the forest. A massive brown bear charged out of the trees, barreling into your ex with bone-crushing force. The impact sent them flying, their body slamming into the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.

The bear was relentless. Your ex shifted back into their wolf form, snarling as they tried to defend themselves, but they were no match for the sheer ferocity of Halsin. His claws tore through fur and flesh with savage precision, his roar echoing through the woods as he drove your ex deeper into retreat. When the wolf finally lay broken and bloodied, it whimpered and slunk away, disappearing into the underbrush.

Halsin remained in bear form for a moment longer, his massive chest heaving as he watched the wolf flee. Only when he was certain the threat was gone did he shift back, his towering frame immediately rushing to your side.

“You’re hurt,” he said urgently, dropping to his knees and cradling your face in his large hands. His amber eyes scanned you for injuries, his expression a mixture of worry and fury. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, your voice trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. “I’m just… shaken up.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His embrace was almost crushing, but you didn’t mind—you needed the grounding warmth of his presence as much as he needed the reassurance that you were safe. You buried your face against his chest, clinging to him as your body trembled.

“I should have been here sooner,” Halsin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. “I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”

You rested your head against his chest, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe your frayed nerves. “You were here when I needed you,” you reassured him. “That’s all that matters.”

Halsin pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. He didn’t let go, and you didn’t ask him to. In that moment, being in his arms was the safest place in the world.

[If you or anyone that you know of has experienced behaviors like this please do not hesitate to contact your local authority]

oof that was a bit of a heavy one but i hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎—𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ✧

pair: sevika x housewife!reader

warnings: toxic household, dark themes, manipulation. unsettling domesticity, psychological manipulation, emotional abuse (past and present), trauma responses, grooming themes.

you married sevika in the dead of winter. not for love.. not at first. you married her because the house you came from was… cold, sad, no one dried your tears whenever you balled yourself up, whenever you cowered from faint screams through thick walls, slammed doors, hands that reached for you only to correct or command. it was the kind of place that taught you how to make yourself small, quiet, agreeable. survival was silence. and you were very good at surviving.

you met sevika in the park. always the same bench. always the same time. december made everything quiet, like it was holding its breath. she sat beside you like she belonged there, like she’d been placed there just for you. her presence felt like a secret only you were allowed to know. she never asked what you were running from. only ever offered a place to rest.

she never pried. just let you talk when you could. let you sit when you couldn’t. her coat always smelled like tobacco and… her. her gloves were so soft on your knuckles when she made you wear them.

you didn’t even realize how long you’d been sitting on that bench. the cold had settled into your joints.. fingers stiff, knees aching, jaw locked from holding in too much. you hadn’t taken a coat. hadn’t planned to stay. you left in the middle of screaming. shoes half on. ears ringing. chest still tight from the last thing your father said.

you didn’t cry. not yet. not until later, maybe. right now you were too numb for it. like your whole body had been rung out.

you noticed her before she sat. tall frame, heavy boots, the sound of a lighter clicking once in her coat pocket. she didn’t say anything at first. just sat beside you like she’d been meaning to. like this bench was hers too.

a minute passed. then another.

“you okay?” she asked eventually, voice low, careful.

you shook your head.

she didn’t say a word for another few minutes.

“they yelled at you,” she said, more like an observation than a question.

you turned toward her, brows furrowed. “how’d you know?”

“heard it,” she said. “you’re not that far from the street.”

you looked away. embarrassed. humiliated, even. you weren’t sure why you didn’t get up and leave. maybe because you’d never had someone sit through silence like that. not without expecting anything back.

“you don’t have to tell me,” she added. “just don’t freeze alone.”

you nodded. then sniffled. “i don’t wanna be with them anymore.”

her gaze lingered. steady. understanding.

then, “you can sit here as long as you need. or… if you need somewhere warmer, i live just a few blocks down.”

you hesitated. not because you didn’t want to. but because the offer was too kind. too simple. and you weren’t used to simple.

“…you don’t even know me.”

her mouth tugged at the corner. “no. but i know what it’s like to walk out of a house and feel lighter after.”

you didn’t answer right away. but you didn’t say no. you just kept sitting. and she stayed, too.

the proposal didn’t come with flowers. it wasn’t planned. it happened between kisses, in her bed, underneath her. her weight was motionless over you, her voice low against your cheek. “marry me.” and you said yes, without thinking. like you were slipping into something warm after years of being cold. like you didn’t care what it cost.

you packed one bag. left the rest behind without looking back. she took you to turkey. where she was raised. you didn’t mind it. the weather was unbearable—but it was still kinder than what you left behind.

but the changes in your life distracted you from everything new.

you went from being forced to dress modestly.. layers on layers, necklines high, sleeves tugged past your wrists, to being dressed in the sheerest, softest nightgowns you’d ever touched. ones you didn’t choose. ones she brought home folded in tissue paper. sometimes, she slipped them over your head herself, fingers slow and deliberate, watching the fabric settle like fog on your skin.

you went from hiding candy in the corners of your room to keep it from being eaten, to eating your favorite sugary treats until you were sick of them. she kept the cupboards stocked.. pastries, chocolate, imported confections with names you couldn’t pronounce. “you can have anything you want,” she’d say, brushing crumbs from your lips. but you stopped craving them eventually. they didn’t taste the same when you weren’t sneaking them.

you went from closing doors, casements, and curtains to hide from everything messy you hated and scorned, to opening windows and letting the strings of sunlight seep through.

you used to listen through your bedroom door, heart in your throat, waiting to hear if the yelling was coming your way. now, there’s no yelling. just silence. thick and still. sometimes worse. sometimes, when you say something wrong, when your tone shifts too sharp or your words land wrong.. sevika doesn’t raise her voice. she just looks at you. long enough to make your breath catch. long enough that you start talking fast, apologizing, promising you didn’t mean it like that.

but she always forgives you. always.

you never had your own room growing up. now you have a whole apartment. but you still catch yourself moving quietly, flinching at dropped objects, keeping your voice soft. sevika never tells you not to, she just smiles. warm. knowing.

you’re safe here. you’re so safe.

until you actually… observed.

when on a random sunday night, you were hanging her clothes, she was in the kitchen, stirring something slow and careful on the stove. the house was calm. peaceful.

her wallet was in the way. you moved it aside. then paused.

it wasn’t like you were snooping. it’s just a tiny, harmless investigation.

you found money— a couple of hundreds.. ponytail holders, mints.

“it’s a wallet not a bag, my goodness..” you laughed softly to yourself.

and then you saw it.

a picture of you. not posed. not something you ever gave her. it’s grainy, taken through a window. you’re not smiling in it. you look… afraid.

knock it off… knock it off and don’t ask questions.

you kept telling yourself that so frequently, to the point that it became a daily rule.

a prayer.

but the uneasiness didn’t go away. it lingered. crawled. grew teeth. you felt like drowning even on land, in her arms.

you started noticing things. things you always saw, but never looked at.

when you tried to leave the room during an argument, she didn’t stop you. but the door never opened right away. not locked. not jammed. just… stuck. like the air thickens. like the walls don’t want you to go.

she hums when she’s angry. never yells. never curses. just hums some low, tuneless thing under her breath while staring off. the first time she did it, you felt your stomach drop. the second time, you apologized before she even stepped closer.

she doesn’t say “i love you” often. when she does, it’s always after something that hurts. a fight. a nightmare. a confession. and she says it soft, like it should make everything better. like it should be enough.

there was a chair in your bedroom corner that she never sits in while you’re awake. but every morning, it’s slightly moved. angled. warm, like someone had been there for hours. one night, you pretend to sleep, and feel her watching from it, perfectly silent, perfectly still.

she bought you a perfume you’ve never worn before and insists you start. it’s rich, heavy, unfamiliar. you ask why, and she just says, “it suits you better.” one night, you find an old sweater of hers in the laundry… drenched in that same scent. weeks before you ever wore it.

it didn’t take too long until you began to have nightmares—each one worse than the last.

and one day, the rule changed.

it wasn’t knock it off. it wasn’t stay quiet.. it became ‘talk to her about it. it’s not gonna be that bad.’

so you did.

she actually made the whole thing a lot easier for you. the fight didn’t start with shouting. just a glance. the wrong kind. her eyes on you too long after you smiled at the woman who sold you bread.

“do you know her?” it was quiet. too quiet.

you looked up from the table, startled. “the baker?”

she nodded. slow. watching you. always watching. “yeah. do you know her?”

“not really. just… i see her a lot. she’s nice.”

sevika stared. said nothing.

then crossed the room and stood behind you. her hands settled on your shoulders. thumbs pressing in slow, circling movements that should’ve felt good.

should’ve.

“she smiled at you like she knew you,” she said against your ear.

you shifted. “she’s just friendly.”

“i don’t like that.” her voice was calm. low. like she was telling you to turn the stove off. like it didn’t matter.

but her grip on your shoulders tightened. you didn’t answer. tried not to breathe too loud. her nose brushed your neck.

“you smell like her place.”

she was smelling you now. dragging her mouth along your throat like she was checking for lies.

“i stopped to buy bread,” you said. “that’s it.”

she made a sound. thoughtful. then nuzzled into your shoulder. “you don’t need to talk to people. not unless i’m with you.”

you blinked. the room felt colder somehow, even with her body against yours. even with her hand sliding down your side like it belonged there.

“i wasn’t flirting,”

“you don’t have to flirt,” she replied, lips brushing your skin. “you don’t even know what you do.”

that silenced you.

her arms wrapped around your waist. held you there. still. tight.

“i’m the only one who sees you right,” she whispered. “i made this life for you. you don’t need anyone else.”

you pulled away. only a little. just enough to fucking breathe.

her hands followed you. stayed on your hips, then your wrists. fingers curling around your skin like she was measuring how far you’d go before breaking.

“sevika…”

she tilted her head. waited.

you looked at her, really looked at her, and you finally said it-

“i feel like i can’t breathe around you anymore…”

the air shifted. something tense, quiet, immediate.

she didn’t move. just stared.

“then you open a window.”

you just… froze. like your mind couldn’t catch up.

like she hadn’t said something awful. like she’d told you the weather, or reminded you to lock the door. you blinked, once.. then again, and then the tears came, slow and soundless. tears you didn’t even feel at first. just the burn of them. just the weight in your chest that wouldn’t move.

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

not a word. not a sob. you stared at the floor like it might understand you better than she ever could.

your voice, when it finally returned, cracked like glass.

“how can you say that to me…” you looked back up at her.

sevika stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like she was approaching something frightened in the wild. her hand rose. you flinched. she didn’t hit you.

just touched your cheek. wiped a tear with her thumb. “because it’s true,” she murmured. “you forget how good you have it.”

your breath hitched. her palm was warm. the rest of you wasn’t.

you tried to turn your face, but she held you there. not hard.. just steady. like she wanted to feel the tremble in your jaw.

“you used to be so grateful,” she whispered. “i remember. i’d bring you food and you’d cry. you used to cling to me like i was all you had.”

“you were all i had,” you whispered back.

her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “i still am.”

your stomach turned.

you tried to pull away again, and this time she let you. but her hands stayed close, hovering like she was afraid you might vanish if she didn’t keep touching you.

“you’re scared,” she said softly, stepping forward again. “but you shouldn’t be. i haven’t hurt you.”

her hands landed on your hips. slid up your sides. slow. reverent.

“i take care of you. i protect you. you wouldn’t last out there.”

“stop,” you choked out, backing into the table.

she followed you. her fingers traced your collarbone.

“you’re just overwhelmed,” she continued, like you hadn’t spoken. “you always get like this when it’s late. it’s nothing new.”

“it- it feels new,” you half-hiccuped, half-sobbed.

she tilted her head. studied you. then leaned down and kissed the tear-track at your cheekbone.

“you always say that,” she said. “then you sleep. and then you forget.”

her breath was warm against your face.

“and if you don’t forget…” her lips brushed your temple. “then i remind you.”

you didn’t move. you couldn’t.

“i love you,” she whispered into your skin. you didn’t say it back. didn’t say another word.

but the house felt smaller.

and none of the windows would open.

‘cause i hate to wait so long

★vi x f!reader

part one

wc: 4.9k

cw: hurt/comfort

notes: tried my best to make the transition to the end smooth, and i liked how it turned out, kinda get vi on an astronomical level on this fic lol 🫢

It had been a great weekend. The two of you traveled to see your parents, and as always, your mom loved Vi. Sometimes, you swore she liked Vi even more than she liked you. Every time you called to say you were visiting, she asked what dessert Vi wanted and happily made it just for her.

Being back in your hometown meant running into old friends—and with old friends came old flings.

But even though you and Vi had to stand through a thirty-minute conversation with your high school ex in the middle of a bakery, you thought everything was fine. Vi hadn’t seemed particularly bothered at the time, so when you got back home and she started acting off, you assumed it was something else. Probably work.

She had been sharing a studio with some new guy who got on her nerves, and you had heard her complain about indecisive clients more times than you could count.

You weren’t worried.

Not at first.

But then, the little things started piling up.

She left your messages on read for days. She made excuses to avoid staying the night. She canceled plans at the last minute.

And now, standing in her studio, watching her avoid your gaze, you knew.

“Vi,” you started carefully, hands shoved into your pockets, “is there something you want to talk about?”

She shrugged, still not looking at you. “I don’t know. You’re the one who came over unannounced.”

Her tone was flat, detached, and it sent an uneasy feeling crawling up your spine.

“I came over because you’ve been acting weird,” you said, voice steady, but your heart was anything but. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, but still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff.”

But you knew her. And this wasn’t just work stuff.

So you took a step closer, crossing your arms. “Vi.”

Vi finally looked at you then, and something flickered in her expression—something tired, something unsure.

“What?” she asked, her tone sharp, irritated.

You ignored it. You weren’t sure what was happening, and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a fight if it didn’t have to.

“Just tell me the truth,” you said, voice careful but firm. “Please.”

She exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“I…” She looked away, shaking her head. Then, quieter, “Do you miss her?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your ex,” she said, voice clipped. “You know, the one we ran into last weekend.”

You frowned, utterly confused. “Miss her? Vi, what the hell are you talking about?”

Vi let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. “She just seemed so... put together,” she muttered. “Talking about her medical degree, how she wanted to travel the world. And I don’t know, I just thought—” She cut herself off, shoulders tensing. “I just thought maybe you should be with someone like her.”

Your head jerked back like she had slapped you.

“Are you serious right now?” You scoffed, a disbelieving laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Vi, you hate when people put words in your mouth, and now you’re doing the same damn thing to me?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m just saying it makes sense! She has her shit together, she knows exactly what she wants in life, she doesn’t—” She stopped, jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscles twitch.

“She doesn’t what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Say it.”

Vi hesitated, then finally snapped, “She doesn’t come with all the baggage I do, okay?”

You stared at her, stunned.

“This again?” Your voice was rising now, frustration boiling over. “Vi, do you ever get tired of pushing me away before I can even think about leaving?”

“I’m not pushing you away!”

“The hell you aren’t!” You threw your hands in the air. “Every single time we get close, really close, you find some reason to run. And now? Now you’re making up some bullshit excuse about my ex to convince yourself that I’d be better off without you?”

Vi’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t deny it.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Unbelievable. You know what, fine. If that’s what you really want, if you actually think I’d be happier with someone else, just say it. Say you don’t want me.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms, your jaw tight with frustration. “Go on. Say it, Vi.”

Her eyes burned as she snapped back, her voice rising. “You know you would!” She let out a harsh breath. “It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact! I’m not good for you! You just said it yourself—I keep finding reasons to push you away. Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t hear the shit my own mind tells me every single day?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe we should just end this now. Before either of us gets hurt.”

That did it.

Your anger flared, white-hot, because how dare she?

Like you weren’t already hurting.

Like you weren’t already attached.

Like your mom didn’t greet her with a smile and a homemade chocolate cake every time you visited.

“You always say that,” you spat, voice shaking. “Like it’s some kind of mercy. Like you’re doing me a favor. Before we get hurt? Vi, I’m already hurt!”

She flinched, but you didn’t stop.

“I have never once doubted my feelings for you. Not for a second. But you? You doubt everything. You push me away and then act like it’s inevitable. Like you’re just sparing me from some big, tragic heartbreak when the only person breaking my heart right now is you.”

Her breathing was ragged, hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she didn’t interrupt.

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You know what? Fine. If you think this is the right thing to do, if you really believe I’d be better off without you, then I won’t fight you on it anymore.”

You turned, yanking open the studio door. But before you stepped out, you hesitated—just long enough to deliver one last blow.

“Hope you’re finally free from me.”

And then you walked out, slamming the door behind you.

There were a lot of things in life you weren’t sure about.

Like whether the degree you earned was what you actually wanted to do for the rest of your life. Or what you were going to have for dinner. Or if you’d ever figure out how to fold a fitted sheet properly.

But you were sure about Violet.

You were sure she was the love of your life.

You were sure that one day, you would marry her. That you’d grow old together. That maybe—maybe—you’d even have kids, even though that was one of the things you weren’t sure about.

Even with everything life threw your way, you were sure about her.

But sometimes, love isn’t enough.

No matter how much you give, no matter how patient you are, no matter how many times you try to show them—I’m here. I’m not leaving. Please, just let me love you!—it doesn’t always work.

Because love is a two-way street, and if one person keeps building walls instead of bridges, eventually, you run out of ways to reach them.

You had tried. God, had you tried.

You stayed through every storm, through every fight, through every moment she tried to push you away. You picked up the pieces when she shattered, even when it meant cutting yourself on the shards.

But there’s only so much a person can take.

There are only so many times you can be pushed away before you finally stay away.

And as much as you hated proving her right, after the hundredth time she told you to leave—you did.

And it was the worst pain of your life. Worse than that time you tried to ride your pink bicycle down a hill and broke both of your arms. Worse than any heartbreak you’d ever imagined.

Because she was supposed to be your forever.

──────────────────────

Vi would be lying if she said that after your awful encounter at the coffee shop, she didn’t wait for you to call her—maybe to yell at her some more, to say all the things she knew she deserved to hear.

Because even if that was the only thing she could get from you, she would take it.

Anything was better than the silence.

But you didn’t call. You didn’t text.

And she understood why. She wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t try, you couldn’t keep trying for her.

She just didn’t know how.

Vi had spent her whole life in survival mode—fighting, running, enduring. She knew how to throw a punch, how to take a hit, how to push people away before they could hurt her first.

But feelings? Talking? Healing?

She didn’t know what any of that looked like.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She screwed things up a little bit more.

Yes, resorting to drinking wasn’t healthy. No, it wouldn’t solve her problems. But it would make them go away for a while, and right now, that was all she needed.

That’s how she found herself in the nearest nightclub she could find, a whiskey glass in her hand, watching as colorful lights flashed around her. The bass pounded through her chest, drowning out the thoughts she didn’t want to deal with.

“Rough night?”

Vi barely turned her head as some random red head slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She was pretty, in that effortless kind of way, with a confident smirk that told Vi exactly what she was after.

“You could say that” Vi muttered before downing the rest of her drink.

The girl leaned in, her fingers ghosting over Vi’s bicep. “Well… maybe I can make it better.”

Once upon a time, Vi might have taken her up on that offer. A distraction, a warm body, something to make her forget for just a little while.

But the only touch she craved—the only lips she wanted—weren’t here.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not tonight.”

The girl pouted, but she didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”

As she walked away, Vi signaled the bartender for another drink. Because if she couldn’t have you, she could at least have the illusion of feeling something.

──────────────────────

You were woken up by the sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. Groaning, you reached for it without much thought, still half-asleep.

“Hello?”

At first, all you could hear on the other end was breathing—slow, uneven.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

A beat of silence. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Can you open your door, please?”

Vi.

You sat up instantly, now fully awake. “Vi? What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning.”

“I just—” A loud thud echoed through the phone, followed by a muffled, “Fuck.”

Your brows furrowed. “Vi, what the hell was that? Where are you?”

“I just need to talk to you” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Please. You can yell at me all you want, I just… I just want to hear your voice.”

You ran a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “Are you drunk right now? Seriously?”

Silence. Then, barely above a whisper—

“Yeah.”

You closed your eyes, gripping the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was to let her back in after everything, after the pushing and pulling, after the damage she’d done. But a bigger part of you—the part that still ached for her, that never stopped worrying—was already swinging its legs out of bed and heading for the door.

You cracked it open, and there she was.

Vi stood in your doorway, hood up, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket like she was trying to make herself smaller. Even in the dim glow of the hallway light, you could see the exhaustion in her face—red-rimmed eyes, the way her shoulders sagged like she was holding the weight of the world.

“You look like shit” you muttered.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Feels like it too.”

You should’ve slammed the door in her face. You should’ve told her to go home, sleep it off, leave you alone.

Instead, you stepped aside.

“Come in.”

And she did, wobbling slightly as she walked in.

She looked so out of place in your living room. The red jacket she always wore stood out against the neutral tones of your space—like a warning sign, like a memory that never quite faded.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched at the sight of her. “What do you want, Vi?” You didn’t even try to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “Why are you here?”

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally meeting your eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“I don’t know” she admitted, voice rough, unsteady. “I was supposed to go home. I was going home, and then I just… got here.”

You let out a sigh. “That’s not an answer.”

Vi winced, shifting on her feet like she was struggling to find the right words. But words were never her strong suit, were they? She had always been better with actions—though most of them were reckless and self-destructive.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair.

After everything she’d said, after everything she’d done—after making you leave—she still expected you to be here, to pick up the pieces when she was falling apart.

"You don't get to do this, Vi” you whispered, barely trusting your voice. "You don’t get to throw me away and then show up at my door like I’m supposed to fix you."

Her breath hitched. "I know. I know, and I’m—" She hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat. "I fucked up, okay? I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.

"But I want to…"

You could count on one hand how many times you'd seen Vi cry. And most of those times had been involuntary—after waking up from a nightmare, lost in the haze of half-conscious panic, when her body betrayed her before her mind could shut it down.

But now, she was standing in your living room, crying. Her shoulders shook, and she wiped furiously at her eyes, like she was trying to erase the evidence of her own weakness.

"I've said it before, but it's true this time. I promise." Her voice cracked—raw, desperate. "And you can yell at me all you want. You can throw every awful thing I said back in my face, because I would rather have you angry at me than this." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Being apart hurts. The silence is killing me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to steady yourself. This isn’t fair.

"You think I wanted to leave?" you asked, voice quiet but firm. "You think I wanted to spend nights wondering if you were okay, if you were sleeping, if you were eating? Do you know how many times I almost called you?"

Vi's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"I loved you, Vi. And I spent so much time trying to prove to you that I wasn't going anywhere. But no matter how much I tried, you never let me in."

"I was scared" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know" you said. "I know. And I still tried. But you made me believe that I was never going to be enough for you."

Vi took a step closer. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" you asked, shaking your head. "You were scared I would leave, but you were the one who kept pushing me away. Over and over again."

Vi exhaled shakily, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"I want to be better," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "I don’t want to keep running. I don’t want to keep ruining things." She looked at you, her expression open—vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you'd ever seen before. "And I don’t know if I deserve another chance, but if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks I do…"

She hesitated.

"Then I’ll spend every day proving to you that I can be better."

Your heart felt like it was being crushed. You loved—love—Vi. You always have, and you probably always will. But feeling so insecure, so scared all the time that you would wake up one day and she would just decide this was over, made you think twice.

"I… I love you. I really do." Your voice wavered as you let out a humorless laugh. "You were the only thing I was ever certain about in my life. You were my forever."

Vi took a step closer, her breath hitching. "I still am…"

"How can I be sure?" Your voice cracked, anger and exhaustion mixing into one. "How can I know that you won’t wake up one day and decide that I’m too good for you? That you don’t deserve me? Or some other crazy shit your brain makes you believe—and just leave? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?"

Vi flinched, guilt flashing across her face.

As much as you tried not to be angry—because she was drunk, because she was vulnerable—you were only human.

"I know you're scared" you said, your voice tight. "I know you think you aren’t worthy of my love. But have you ever stopped to think about how I feel?"

She stayed silent.

"When you look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just like everyone else? That I’ll leave? That I’ll hurt you?" You shook your head, your nails digging into your palms. "Do you think so little of me?"

Vi's lips parted, but no words came out. All she could do was stare at you, her blue eyes filled with regret, sorrow, and something deeper—something she wasn’t sure how to voice.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you saw it hit her. The weight of what she had done. The hurt she had caused. The damage she had left in her wake.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her own emotions. Quiet tears still flowed down her face, unchecked. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad, but I promise I’ll be better. I promise I’ll do anything and everything in my power to never make you feel like that again.”

You let out a deep breath, the anger you felt still simmering in your gut.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Your voice was tired, drained. “When you’re sober and I’m not angry anymore?”

Vi nodded, quickly, almost desperately. And the look in her eyes made you doubt everything all over again. It was like she had this power over you—one puppy dog-eyed look and you were gone.

But you couldn’t let that sway you. Not again.

“You can sleep on the couch” you said, turning away before she could break you down any further. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

Vi stood there for a moment, watching you disappear down the hall. She wanted to convince you that she meant it this time. That she wasn’t going to run, wasn’t going to push you away again.

But after everything she had done, after all the times she had broken your heart—what right did she have to ask you to believe her?

So she didn’t. She just sat down on the couch, burying her face in her hands, listening to the sound of you rustling through the closet.

Hoping—praying—that when morning came, you’d still listen to her.

──────────────────────

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night tossing and turning in your bed, too aware of the woman in your living room, too aware of the decisions you had to make. The weight of it all pressed down on you, the endless cycle of pushing and pulling, of loving and hurting. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes, then the hours, as your mind ran in circles.

You tried to convince yourself that it was simple. That love should be enough. If you loved each other, you should just betogether—happy, whole, like life was a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be opened.

But life wasn’t a fairytale, and love wasn’t always the answer.

That was never the question in your relationship. You knew Vi loved you. And she knew you loved her. But love alone couldn’t erase the damage, the doubts, the nights spent wondering if she would hurt you again. Love couldn’t fix the way she closed off the moment things got hard, or how you were always left picking up the pieces.

You turned onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Sleep wasn’t coming—not when your mind was a storm of thoughts crashing into each other.

Lying there, restless, wasn’t helping. So you got up, dragging your feet to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of coffee would bring you the clarity you needed, even if it meant breaking your self-imposed caffeine ban.

You had just poured yourself a mug when a voice made you jump.

“I thought you were trying to quit coffee.”

Vi stood at the kitchen entrance, her hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. In the dim morning light, she looked softer—almost like the Violet you used to know, before everything fell apart.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around your mug for warmth, “I couldn’t sleep, so I kind of need this right now.”

You took a sip without thinking, the heat grounding you for a moment—until your eyes landed on the words printed on the ceramic.

World’s Best Girlfriend.

Your stomach twisted. She had gotten it for you on your birthday, grinning as she handed it over, laughing about how “cheesy” it was. At the time, it had been a joke. Now, it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you had lost.

Vi’s gaze flickered to the mug in your hands, and for a second, you thought you saw something break behind her eyes.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to act normal, pretending it didn’t sting as much as it did. You gestured toward the cabinet. “You know where the mugs are if you want some.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Yeah… okay.”

She moved across the kitchen, opening the cabinet with an ease that shouldn’t have felt so natural anymore. As if she had never left. As if she still belonged here.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, but neither of you knew how to break it.

So you just stood there, eyes locked, memories playing like an old film reel in your mind.

You remembered the time Vi tried to bake you a cake for Valentine’s Day, how the middle was still raw, and you both ended up eating the edges with spoons, laughing the whole time. You remembered that one New Year’s Eve when you sat on the kitchen floor, eating instant noodles and drinking cheap champagne because the party you were supposed to go to had been a bust. You remembered the lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the way she used to sneak up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist as you made coffee.

But you also remembered the fights. The slammed doors. The cabinets shut with a little too much force. The nights spent crying, feeling like the love you had wasn’t enough to keep her.

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “Do you remember that time you got a little too invested in sourdough and kept trying to make a starter? And you read somewhere that keeping it in a warm place helped, so you left it in the oven?” She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “But then you forgot about it and preheated the oven for something else, and the house smelled like burned bread for a week?”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, unbidden. “God, yes.” You groaned, shaking your head. “And then you made it worse by trying to air it out with a box fan, but all it did was spread the smell into every room?”

Vi chuckled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “In my defense, I thought it was a solid plan.”

You snorted, taking another sip of coffee. “It was a terrible plan.”

The moment lingered, stretching between you like a fragile thread. For a second, it almost felt like things were normal, like the past few months hadn’t happened.

But they had.

“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audible, like you were afraid of the words themselves—afraid she would hear them, afraid she wouldn’t. “I missed you every single second.”

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching at her sides, like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

You set your mug down with a quiet clink, steadying yourself. You were done crying. You had spent too many nights crying over this already.

“And I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons of this relationship. I just…” You swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m so scared, Violet.”

Your voice cracked on her name, and Vi flinched like you had physically struck her.

“I know,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours. “I am too.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re both too scared. Scared to lose each other, scared to stay, scared that loving each other won’t be enough.”

Vi took a hesitant step forward. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away just because I think it’s easier than letting you stay. I just—” she exhaled, shaking her head, “I just need to know if there’s even a chance. Even the smallest chance that you’ll give me one more shot.”

You stared at her, at the woman you had loved for so long, the one who had broken your heart and was now standing before you, asking for another piece of it.

And the worst part?

You wanted to give it to her.

So you nodded, hesitantly, barely daring to breathe. “I don’t want to regret this, Vi. I’m exhausted from this push and pull. But I love you too much to let you go.”

Vi’s lips parted slightly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face—small, hesitant, but real.

“Maybe it’s a little selfish. Maybe I’m insane” you admitted, exhaling shakily. “But yes, I’ll give you one more chance.”

Vi let out a breath she had been holding, something like relief flashing across her face. “I won’t waste it,” she swore, stepping closer, cautious but hopeful. “I swear on—” she let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head, “on every bad decision I’ve ever made, I won’t waste it.”

You arched a brow. “That’s a lot of bad decisions, Vi.”

She laughed, and the sound was so familiar, so her, that your chest ached. It was the same laugh that used to fill your apartment, the same one that made you fall in love with her in the first place.

“Yeah, well… I guess I have a lot to make up for.”

You studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt, any crack in the resolve she was promising you. But all you found was sincerity—raw and unfiltered, painted across her expression in a way that made it impossible to doubt her.

So, once more, you let yourself believe her.

And when she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around you, you let yourself melt into her.

Like you always did, like you always would.

Her grip on you was firm but not desperate. Not like she was afraid you would slip away—more like she was certain she wouldn’t let go this time. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, her face tucked against your shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she breathed.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a single moment of peace.

“But I’m still mad at you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by her body against yours.

Vi let out a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’d be mad at me too.”

She didn’t try to defend herself, didn’t try to justify the things she had done. She just held you, letting the weight of everything settle between you.

And somehow, despite all the pain, all the uncertainty—she knew, deep in her bones, that everything was going to be okay.

──────────────────────

she is sooooooo cute (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

please 🥺🥺

HELLOO! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

My name is Rai, I am 18 years old, my pronouns are she/her, I am pansexual and demisexual and I love quiet activities like reading, sketching, paper crafts, mehandi art, cooking, and stuff. I am an introvert, and my MBTI is INFP

♡

I enjoy watching horror and thriller movies. My favourites are Lights Out, Train to Busan, Tumbbad, and the Conjuring series. I love animated shows like Arcnae (utterly obsessed) and The Blue Eye Samurai

♡

I love reading and yapping about the recent book I've read. I mostly read fiction but dabble in socio-political and history books ^⁠_⁠^ I enjoy sweet and spicy food, especially noodles, idk I just have a special love for them. I love watching anime, especially slice of life or something with a huge emotional impact, my favourite being Bananafish

✿

Would love to meet people here and get to know them ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Racists , homophobics, transphobics, misogynists,etc Please don't interact get help instead :⁠-⁠) respectfully so

i love healer x protecor trope! So your touchstarved!vi x medic!reader was awesome! How about something like healer protecting vi and vi healing the healer?

I looove when characters roles have to be reversed.

Protector!Vi who prides herself on keeping you safe. She's always watching you when you go out and picking fights with the men who make you uncomfortable. This of course leads to a lot of split knuckles and bruised cheeks. Healer!Reader who always takes care of her and cleans her up afterwards. You always wrap her knuckles and the ice pack to her face.

But one specific night you're out at the bar with her and your friends. Mel is off with Jayce, Jinx is in a corner with Ekko, and you and Vi are alone. That is, until some overconfident man decides it's his sole purpose in life to disrupt your peace. He comes over, running his mouth about how awesome he is and how he'll be the best you've ever had. Vi tries to tell him you're taken. In her defense, she didn't immediately jump up and resort to violence.

But then he's getting angry and he calls you a whore, says you're ugly anyways. You fully expect Vi to punch him, but she doesn't. Because you do. The moment happens so fast that you can't even process it before Ekko and Jayce are dragging him out and Vi is pulling you to the bathroom.

She's wetting a paper towel and gently wiping your knuckles. A smile rests on her face. It makes you smile in return.

"Usually I'm the one cleaning you up." You remark.

She chuckles, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

"For what it's worth, I'm very proud of you for sticking up for yourself." She tells you.

"Thank you..." You look up at her for a moment as she throws away the paper towel. "Can we go home now?"

She nods, holding your hand. "Yeah baby, we can go home."

⋆·˚ ༘ *Horror story's comfort⋆·˚ ༘ *

You need to learn to rely on them... they have a solution for that OR arcane women scaring you with horror stories so they could see you clinging to them [absolutely fluff].

Ambessa

It's late. A storm rages outside the heavily fortified windows of medarda's estate, rattling the thick glass.You're laying beside her on a chaise lounge, your body stiff, pressing yourself not to her body but to the backrest, watching her twirling the wine in her glass. The relationship is still new enough that seeking comfort feels... abnormal, But ambessa, senses your slight unease with the storm, decides this is an opportunity. for comfort, and perhaps, for… demonstration.

"Storms like this," she begins, her voice calm, "remind me of the siege of Fae'lor. The sky wept for three days, and the wind carried the screams of dying right through the stone walls." She pauses, gauging your reaction. You edge slightly closer to her warmth. Good.

"The defenders," she continues, her voice dropping slightly, becoming more intense, "believed they were protected by ancient forest spirits. Superstitious fools." She takes a sip of her wine. "They performed nightly rituals, leaving offerings of blood and bone." Her eyes flick towards the shadows in the corner of the room. "Some say the spirits did answer. Not with protection, but with hunger."

You swallow hard, trying to appear unaffected, but the combination of the storm, the flickering firelight, and her chillingly matter-of-fact tone is getting to you. You subtly shift closer, your arm now brushing against hers.

"On the third night," Ambessa goes on,putting down her glass on the low table beside the lounge, her voice barely above a whisper now, compelling your attention, "our scouts reported… movement within the trees. Shapes that were not quite animal, not quite man, drawn by the scent of fear and desperation. They say those unlucky enough to be caught outside the inner walls..." She lets the sentence hang.

A particularly loud clap of thunder makes you jump, letting out a small gasp. You instinctively press close against her side,hiding your face in her chest, seeking solace from the storm outside and the one she’s conjuring inside. Success. Ambessa's arm comes around you immediately, pulling you firmly against her solid frame. Her earlier narrative coolness vanishes, replaced by warmth.

"Easy now," she murmurs, her tone shifting. "Just ancient history. Long dead ghosts." Her hand strokes your back reassuringly, though there’s a faint smile playing on her lips, hidden from your view. "And even if they weren't," she adds, her voice regaining its confident edge, "they wouldn't dare trespass on Medarda soil. Not with me here." She holds you tightly, enjoying the feel of you clinging to her, seeking her strength.

Sevika

You're huddled together in your small living space, than... power flickered out momentarily, plunging you into near darkness, the only light now coming from the burning tip of her cigarette. The relationship is still finding its footing, so even though you're scared, you can't exactly voice it. Sevika, sensing your nervousness in the dark, sees an opening.

"Dark like this," she begins, her voice low and gravelly, cutting through the silence, "reminds me of the stories they tell about the sump." You instinctively shift closer to her on the worn sofa. "Said sometimes... they'd pull things up from it that weren't fish, weren't junk." She takes a slow drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing brightly before fading. "Things that had too many limbs, or eyes that glowed green in the dark, hungry."

Her voice is flat, matter-of-fact, which somehow makes the story more chilling.she puts her cigarette out, in the ashtray on the table beside the couch, before continuing "One crew vanished entirely. Found their dredger adrift weeks later, empty. Just... slime trails on the deck and this godawful clicking sound echoing from the empty cabins." She deliberately makes a soft clicking sound with her tongue.

You jump, letting out a small squeak, and grab onto her arm, hiding your face in her neck. Bingo. A faint smirk ghosts across Sevika’s lips in the darkness.

"Just stories," she says dismissively, like she didn't just try to scare you. her arm, the flesh-and-blood one, comes around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against her side.like she’s securing you. "Probably just chem-mutated eels or sump-crocs." Her hand gently caressing your skin, gentel and kind despite her nonchalant tune. "Still," she adds, her voice dropping again, "wouldn't want to meet one alone in the dark." She tease further but quickly comfort you with the next sentence, "Good thing you ain't alone, huh?" She enjoys the feeling of you pressed against her, seeking refuge, confirming her strength and your reliance on it. The scary story was just the bait; the real prize was feeling you instinctively turn to her for protection.

Grayson

It’s a dark, stormy night, perfect for staying in. You’re sitting together on Grayson’s comfortable sofa. Seeing you jump slightly at a loud clap of thunder, a playful, slightly mischievous glint appears in her eyes.

"You know," she begin casually, "this weather reminds me of an old case file I found in the cold archives. Never officially solved. They called it 'The Watcher on Widow's Walk'." She lowers her voice slightly, adopting a conspiratorial tone. "Supposedly, on stormy nights like this, people reported seeing a figure standing in the dark, watching the houses near the sump."

You try to look nonchalant, but you lean a little closer. Grayson notices, hiding a small smile. "The reports were always vague," she continues, "Shadowy figure, glowing eyes according to one witness... probably just reflections, of course. But then things started happening. Objects moved in locked rooms of the same houses that reported the figure. Whispers heard when no one was there." She pauses dramatically. "One family fled their house overnight, claimed the watcher had started appearing inside, tapping on their bedroom window..."

Another crash of thunder punctuates her story, and you can't help it ...you flinch hard, pressing close against her side, grabbing her arm. Mission complete. Grayson's arm immediately wraps securely around you, pulling you into a protective hug. "Hey, hey," she murmurs soothingly, her playful tone gone, replaced by warmth. "Just an old ghost story, sweetheart. Probably kids playing pranks, or subsidence causing strange noises." She holds you tightly, rubbing your back. "Besides," she adds, her voice dropping to a low, reassuring whisper near your ear, "even if there was a watcher, he wouldn't get near you. Not while I'm here." She enjoys the feeling of you clinging to her, finding comfort in her.

Sevika who covers you with her poncho on cold nights catches a cold herself and you end up nursing her (⁠〃ﾟ⁠3ﾟ⁠〃⁠)

Keep me warm baby.

Sevika × Fem Reader : Fluff, Cute Domestic ACK. very short sorry mami.

Rain poured down the streets of Zaun you and sevika had finish your little date and was now running back to her car her poncho covered your while she only had her arm laughing as the both of you were now drenched in rain.

"oh goodness baby are you okay?" she asks softly as she pulled you inside the car warming it up immediately you smiled softly looking at her chuckling softly, "missed opportunity to kiss me in the rain" you said jokingly as Sevika could only roll her eyes at you.

"how about you? vika you're gonna get sick!" you muttered reaching to grab a towel you keep in the car and started drying her off somehow "i don't get sick doll" she said confidently.

her confidence was short lived as she now laid in their living room wrapped in a warm blanket and some snacks on her side and tissues beside her sneezing and coughing, "what was it again about you not getting sick?" you raised a brow as you were met with big puppy eyes from her huh... a rare sight indeed.

"stop scolding me, i am not si—" she was cut off with a loud sneeze as you just chuckled and got a warm towel and started wiping her face and arms kissing her cheeks softly.

"I'll keep you warm baby, I got you" you said softly as you spent the whole three days taking care of a very sick Sevika.

need this so bad actually