Hello 👋🏽 If you’re still taking requests, may I please request headcanons for Basilio and Strohl reacting to their girlfriend being attacked and she manages to kick major ass?
I love how you think, girl.
SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, BTW I DIDNT FORGET ABT YOU!!
Characters: Basilio Lupus Magnus, Leon Strohl DeHaliatus
Tags: Fluff??, Female Reader, POC reader, Violence, average metaphor refantazio shenanigans.
You joined the party, and took the role of healer. Poison, Curses, Cuts, Broken bones, you name it, you fix it.
Now, Strohl, being your lover couldn't always help but be worried you. He'd take his position at the vanguard in front of you, Call out whenever you were in the line of fire, and even chastise you if he thought you were being too reckless.
"I can't have you dying out there, love. Please, stay close to me."
Bear in mind, He'd never seen you fight before.
And for a good reason. You didn't like fighting. As a healer it was quite literally the antithesis of your code.
And, you also the thought of Strohl playing into the strong, gentle, protector role was very hot.
So you tried your best to stay out of harms' way, diffused tense situations the best you could, and generally were polite to everyone.
But of course, fate had other plans for you.
In an encounter with a human, the two of you were separated.
Safe to say, Strohl was mortified.
He tried his absolute hardest to make his way to you, with little success. You were cornered, against a human? He thought the worst was about to happen.
That you would surely die.
In that moment, you revealed that you had an archetype yourself. Granting you the ability to use powerful light magic without an igniter.
Turns out, you ended up dealing the most damage out of the team.
After the battle was over, before you could even calm down, strohl was immediately in your personal space, pressing kisses all over your face.
"I thought I'd lose you! I thought I'd lose you..." he'd repeat over and over as he pulled you close into his arms.
Everyone was surprised by your newfound power, but Strohl couldn't care less.
He was just glad you were safe.
Here, you weren't really a part of the crew at all!
You owned a quaint, cozy, out-of-the-way tavern in Altabury Heights. A place where folk of all races and faiths can eat, drink, and rest peacefully.
It was one day when you were tending the bar, that Basilio first saw you.
You were up to your normal activities, pouring mugs and bussing tables, you noticed Basillio staring at you awestruck, and playfully, you decided you'd go speak with him.
"You ought to pick your jaw up off the floor, sir! Heaven knows I do my best to keep it clean, but it'd still be ill-advised for you to leave it there." You teased him as you folded up your cleaning rag. It was only then that the paripus snapped out of his daze.
"Oh— I- um... Sorry, I just–"
Before he could complete his thought, a loud crash rang throughout the bar. And the agitating voice of one of the drunken patrons "Oh, sweet barkeep! Could you come here and help a poor bastard?"
You sighed, and tossed the rag on the counter.
With that, you strode over to the stumbling man, an irate expression plastered onto your face.
"Alright, lad. I'll give you some grace and won't make you pay for the damaged cup. But you've had more than enough to drink tonight. Go home."
Your stern request fell upon deaf ears, for in his drunken stupor. All the man picked up were the words, "Go Home". Which sounded to him, like an insult. He straightened up, (what little he could) and scowled.
"Go home. Go home!? You kickin' me out huh? You ungrateful wench, I'm your most frequent customer. And I tip nicely!"
While all this occurred, Basillio was watching over like a hawk, carefully weaving his way through the tables to get to you in case the situation called for it. Though it was all going much slower than he'd like. Damn, why did these tables have to be so close together!?
You exhaled through your nose, your patience waning.
"Sir, trust that I am more than grateful—"
"You must think me a fool!"
The drunk interjected. It was here that he started to get concerningly close, he got close to your face. So close you could smell the ale and beef on his breath, and every other meal he had before.
"I work all day, and you drain my pockets and think you can just kick me to the curb!?"
Now, here there were three main actions, each happening quite fast, all at the same time. There was Basilio recklessly pushing the last chair out the way to intervene, The drunk man's palm swinging out to connect with your face, and your fist moving in a swift upward motion to gracefully connect with the drunk man's jaw.
Out of all three, yours was the swiftest.
The punch was so crisp, his jawbone couldn't handle the damage. He fell to the floor, cradling his jaw. And babbling indecipherable words.
Basilio was quite impressed! He relaxed the tension in his body, as it looked like the threat had dissipated, and just stared, trying to process it all as you wiped your hands on your apron. Your gaze snapped over to him.
"Well I'm glad you enjoyed the show, but I need this idiot out of my bar, and I can't carry him." You said, gesturing to the mess.
At that, Basilio couldn't help but smile.
