Rai

19 ✨Sapphic✨ INFP

[roseflamingos]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: welcome to my little corner of the internet:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Hi, i’m Rai <3

☾ basic lore ☾

🌷🌸☘️

✧ age: 19

✧ pronouns: she/her

✧ Sexuality : undefineedddd (women)

✧ currently shows obsessed with:

ARCANE, The Blue Eyed Samurai, Light's out, JJK, Moriarty the Patriot, Hannibal, Haikyuu, bnha, Tumbaad and many moreee

♫ currently playing in my head:

Butch4Butch by Rio Romeo

✿ things i love:

— Sweet and spicy food

— Novels

— Art✨

— Horror Movies

— questionable media

✧ things i don’t vibe with:

— Bitter food and people

— Homophobic,Transphobic, Conservatives,etc

— Romantic movies (don't attack me)

☾ this blog is basically:

A messy diary of internal thoughts, fan girling over fandom chaos and letting the romantic queer little rat inside me run free 人⁠*⁠´⁠｀⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

✉︎ talk to me about:

random thoughts , books , music , food, life, trauma dumping at 3am, etc

⁠✿I exist somewhere between:

late night playlists, unfinished thoughts, and pretending everything is poetic

[dut1fuldyk3]

Ambessa Medarda

dreaming about modern age gap ambessa,,, need her so bad. all pics from pinterest i don’t take any credit!!!

[akumasasayaku-deactivated201505]

Visit Original Link

BLCD - Tight Rope

the scene that you wouldn’t found on the OVA„„

seme : Suzuki Tatsuhisa

uke : Tachibana Shinnosuke

Headphone alert!!! 

[r4inerr]

girl dad bakugo with a shy and sweet toddler the exact opposite of him ?

Shy Girl Dad Bakugou

Katsuki who had a real wakeup call when your daughter was born. Not that he’d change it for the world, he absolutely adores her. But unfortunately for him, along with his patience, she was the complete opposite of him. She wasn’t loud or abrasive like him, instead she was soft spoken and timid. At first he’d just thought it was a developmental thing, but he found himself ruling that out pretty quickly when she met milestones exactly when she should’ve. 

Katsuki who shocked everyone with how quickly he adapted. He didn’t push her, at least not when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. He found himself lowering his tone around her, having way more patience with her than he had with anyone else. She really was the apple of his eye the second she was brought into this world. 

Katsuki who noticed every little thing about her. How she’d insist on sharing her snacks with the people she loved; even when that left her with less. He noticed how soft her voice was when talking to strangers, the way she’d tuck herself into the back of his leg or into the crook of his neck. He noticed the way she’d play with her hands or her clothes in spaces full of people. 

Katsuki who was very protective over her. Never letting people get too close. He’d never stray too far from her, always being there to be her shield. Though he’d never force it, he’d watch for her reactions, if she seemed okay with the attention, he’d hover, but when he noticed the uncomfortable expression would wash upon her face, he’d be there.

Katsuki who always had 5 little fingers wrapped around two of his own. Her hand still being way too small to fully hold his own. Over time it became soothing for him, the feeling of her being so close. 

Katsuki who loved playing dress up with her. He didn’t mind the uncomfortable tiara, or the hot pink feathery boa that always accompanied it. He didn’t mind the ache in his legs from the tiny, toddler sized chairs he was forced to sit in. Nor did he mind the demanding tone she took on when she took on the role of Queen. He’d drop anything to play with her. 

Katsuki who loved when she sat on the floor while he cooked. He constantly finds himself picking her up to have her taste his cooking. Even when her only criticisms were that it needed to be more sweet, or that he needed to add chocolate. 

Katsuki who’d defend her against anyone. If people asked her to speak up or to repeat themselves he’d tell them to get their ears checked; even if he himself couldn’t hear her either. He’d been temporarily banned from the playground from scaring other kids when they wouldn’t let her play with them because she was too quiet. 

Katsuki who always made sure to have a tiny pair of sunglasses and a small hat with him when in public. He knew some of his fans were crazy, along with the media. So if it was unavoidable he planned on making his daughter as comfortable as he could in the situation.

Katsuki who loved hearing her call him Papa. Even if he almost couldn’t tell if she’d actually said it. He still cherished it. 

Katsuki who found himself pondering back to his own childhood a lot because of her. Her actions constantly made him rethink his own. How sweet and caring she is versus how he acted back then. How he still behaved now. He knew she got it all from you. And he couldn’t say he hated it all that much. But still. It made him regret a lot of things. He couldn’t possibly imagine someone treating her the way he treated others and getting away with it.

Katsuki

[roseflamingos]

Our Bi king 😭 they are so precious

[roseflamingos]

Saw someone say I am fueled by spite and smut and like hell yeah!

[roseflamingos]

Jealous of queer couples on my timeline :⁠'⁠( like damn you found your soulmate in this rotten world, but like so proud of you *⁠\⁠0⁠/⁠*

[deerdollyy]

Hii dolly i love your writing it's amazing!!

I'm not sure if you're still taking requests but i finished watching tangled and i couldn't stop imagining knight sevika x princess reader in kingdom dance / floating lantern scene the thought of sevika taking reader out to the festival celebration and mesmerized has me kicking my feet!! (≧▽≦)

Thank you so much! Ah I loooove Tangled!! Such a cute idea!

Knight!Sevika x Princess!Reader - Lantern Light

Summary: You drag Sevika to the kingdom’s lantern festival. While you’re captivated by the thousands of lights filling the sky, Sevika can’t seem to look at anything except you.

The festival had been your idea.

Sevika had been grumbling about it since the moment you suggested it. Judging by her constant complaints, you’d think she’d been forced to attend at swordpoint.

“It’s crowded.”

You ignored her.

“The food’s overpriced.”

You ignored that too.

“And if some noble bumps into me, I’m throwing them in the river.”

That finally earned a laugh from you.

Sevika’s chest tightened at the sound.

The capital was alive tonight.

Strings of lanterns hung between buildings, painting the streets gold and amber. Music drifted through the air. Vendors called from colourful stalls. Children ran through the crowds carrying tiny lanterns that glowed like captured stars.

You looked like you wanted to see everything.

Sevika found herself slowing down every few minutes because you’d stop to admire another decoration or stall.

“Look at these,” you gasped, holding up a delicate paper lantern.

Sevika glanced at it.

Then at you.

Then back at the lantern.

“It’s nice.”

You smiled.

Sevika immediately forgot what the lantern looked like.

Hours seemed to disappear as you wandered through the festival together.

You sampled sweets from market stalls. Watched performers dance through the streets. Stopped to listen to musicians playing on a crowded corner.

By the time you reached the river, the sun had long since disappeared.

The sight waiting for you stole the breath from your lungs.

Thousands of lanterns floated across the water.

Golden light shimmered across the river’s surface, reflecting against the dark sky above.

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

“Oh.”

The quiet wonder in your voice made Sevika look at you.

A mistake.

The lantern light painted your features gold.

Your eyes were wide with amazement.

A soft smile pulled at your lips.

You looked like something from a story.

Something far too beautiful to be real.

“Sevika,” you whispered, reaching for her arm. “Look.”

“I am.”

You smiled without turning away from the river.

Sevika wasn’t looking at the lanterns.

Not even a little.

The crowd pushed past around you, but neither of you moved.

You stepped closer to the water’s edge.

The lanterns drifted slowly beneath the night sky.

One after another.

Thousands of tiny lights carrying wishes into the darkness.

“They’re beautiful.”

Sevika swallowed.

“Yeah.”

You finally turned towards her.

And froze.

Because she was already staring.

Not at the river.

Not at the lanterns.

At you.

Heat crept into your cheeks.

Sevika looked away first.

A rare occurrence.

You smiled to yourself.

Then your eyes landed on a small rowboat tied nearby.

A grin immediately spread across your face.

“No.”

You hadn’t even spoken.

“No.”

“Sevika.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Absolutely no one was surprised when she found herself helping you into the boat five minutes later.

The river carried you gently away from shore.

The sounds of the festival grew distant.

Soon it was just the two of you surrounded by floating lanterns.

The world felt impossibly still.

You sat opposite her, your hands resting against the side of the boat as you watched the lights drift around you.

The lanterns reflected in your eyes.

Sevika found herself staring again.

You noticed this time.

“You haven’t looked at a single lantern, have you?”

Caught.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“Seen lanterns before.”

You laughed softly.

“Thousands of them?”

“No.”

“Then why aren’t you looking?”

Sevika leaned back against the boat.

Her gaze never left yours.

Because she was Sevika, she could have looked away.

Could have brushed the question aside.

Could have hidden behind another sarcastic comment.

Instead she said quietly,

“Got something prettier to look at.”

Your breath caught.

For once, Sevika seemed just as startled by her own honesty as you were.

The lanterns continued floating around you.

Golden light danced across the water.

Neither of you looked away.

And suddenly the thousands of lanterns surrounding the boat didn’t seem nearly as bright as the smile spreading across Sevika’s face when she realised she was the reason you were blushing.

[deerdollyy]

Hello!! First time requesting, hopefully you don't mind minors interacting with your (sfw) content or making requests? im asking just to stay on the safe side since i can't find an intro post or anything.

But if I may, could you do vi x reader where reader has scoliosis? they're having one of those days where their back just feels wrong and crunchy and achy and they ask vi to give them a back message so they can get some relief. she just seems like she'd give good messages.

very self indulgent honestly. if you end up writing this, thank you!!

Hi! Yes, that’s so okay, thank you for letting me know and for keeping it sfw! I hope your back isn’t giving you too much grief! 🩷

Vi x Reader - Better Already

Summary: Your back is achy and stiff. Vi finds you in pain, sprawled out on the couch and is more than happy to help.

Some days your back just felt… wrong.

Not injured. Not unbearable. Just wrong.

Everything felt tight and out of place, like your spine had decided to rearrange itself overnight and forgotten to tell the rest of your body. Every movement came with an uncomfortable ache, and every stretch was accompanied by a collection of alarming little crunches and pops.

You were sprawled face-down across the couch when Vi walked in.

She took one look at you and snorted.

“Damn. You look like someone shot you.”

A muffled groan came from the cushion.

“Close enough.”

Vi dropped onto the couch beside you, running a hand through your hair.

“Bad day?”

“My back’s being annoying.”

“Ah.”

The immediate understanding in her voice made you smile slightly.

Living together meant Vi had become familiar with the days your scoliosis decided to make itself everyone’s problem.

You lifted your head just enough to look at her, giving her your best pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Can you do the thing?”

“The thing?”

“The back massage thing.”

Vi grinned.

“Oh, that thing.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes. That thing.”

She cracked her knuckles dramatically.

“Good news. You’ve come to the right person.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true.”

Despite the bravado, she was surprisingly gentle as she shifted behind you.

“Move over.”

You obeyed, settling back down.

The second her hands landed on your shoulders, you let out a long sigh as your entire body nearly melted into the couch.

A pleased grin spread across Vi’s face.

“That bad, huh?”

“Don’t look so smug about it.”

“What can I say? I’ve got magic hands.”

She worked her thumbs into the tense muscles beside your spine.

You immediately groaned.

A very embarrassing groan.

Vi barked out a laugh.

“Oh, that’s terrible.”

“Shut up.”

“You sounded possessed.”

Another press of her thumbs.

Another helpless noise escaped you.

“Vi.”

“I’m helping!”

“You’re making fun of me,” you whined, voice muffled as you pressed your face further into the couch cushion.

“I can do both.”

She punctuated the comment with a quick kiss to your shoulder, softening the teasing edge of her tone. You could still feel the curve of her grin against your skin.

Her hands continued working through the knots littering your back.

She wasn’t professionally trained or anything, but years of fighting, training and generally being built like a brick wall meant she gave a ridiculously good massage.

Slowly, the tension began to ease.

The ache didn’t disappear completely, but it softened around the edges.

Your shoulders dropped.

Your breathing slowed.

Vi noticed immediately.

“Feeling better?”

You hummed. “A little.”

“A little?”

She pressed into a particularly stubborn knot.

Your entire body relaxed.

“… A lot.”

“That’s what I thought.” The smug satisfaction in her tone made it easy to picture her smirk.

For a while neither of you spoke.

Vi just continued working patiently, occasionally shifting to a different spot whenever you muttered, “Right there,” or, “A bit lower.”

At one point something in your back gave an especially loud crack.

Both of you froze.

Then Vi blinked.

“Was that you?”

“Probably.”

“Sounded expensive.”

You laughed into the couch.

“Yeah, my spine just does that.”

“Pretty sure that crack was your spine apologising.”

Another laugh shook your shoulders.

Vi smiled to herself.

That was always her favourite part.

Not fixing things.

Not making pain disappear.

Just seeing you smile again.

Eventually her hands slowed, giving your shoulders one last squeeze for good measure.

“How’s that?”

You stretched cautiously.

A few more pops sounded.

Then you sighed.

“Oh my god.”

Vi smirked.

“That good?”

“I think you’ve added ten years to my life.”

“Only ten?”

You rolled onto your back and reached for her.

“Come here.”

Vi immediately folded herself over you, letting you tug her down into a hug.

She buried her face against your neck.

“You know,” she said, “I should start charging.”

“You’d never.”

“No, probably not.”

You smiled and kissed her temple.

“Thank you, Vi.”

Her arms tightened around you.

“Anytime, babe.”

And judging by the way your back liked to behave, Vi suspected there would be plenty more massage appointments in your future.

Fortunately for both of you, she didn’t mind one bit.

[badasserywomen]

Vi's amazing back

[deerdollyy]

Wife!Sevika Headcanons - Part 7

Summary: Life married to Sevika.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

-

• The first time you call her “my wife” in front of someone, she freezes for half a second because the title hits her harder than she expects. It isn’t just the words themselves, it’s the way they sound coming from you, so casual and certain, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

• She barely reacts outwardly at first, just a slight pause, a flicker in her expression before she’s back to normal. But inside, something shifts. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything. Your hand brushing hers, the way you stand close without thinking, the fact that you just claimed her like it meant something real and permanent.

• The rest of the day, she gets butterflies in her stomach, replaying it in her head. “My wife.” Over and over, like it’s stuck on loop. It makes her chest feel tight in a way she doesn’t fully know how to name, and she catches herself smiling at nothing more than she’d ever admit.

• Even small things start to feel different after that. When she looks at you across a room, there’s a softer edge to it. More certainty. Like that single phrase rewired something in her, and now she can’t un-hear it, can’t un-feel it, and honestly doesn’t want to. She is your wife.

• She’s terrible at verbally asking for comfort some days. Instead, she’ll hover nearby while you’re doing something, leaning against counters, sitting too close on the couch, silently waiting for you to tug her into your side. When you do, she holds you as close as humanly possible and completely melts into you.

• She likes burying her face in your neck, chest, or hair, breathing you in slowly like it settles something deep inside her. Your scent comforts her in a way nothing else can, grounding her almost instantly after a rough day. She’d never admit how much she needs those quiet moments, but the way her entire body relaxes against yours gives her away every time.

• She keeps random little things you hand her, without telling you. Receipts with doodles on them. Notes. A bottle cap from a date night. A dried flower that you once tucked behind her ear. She pretends she’s not sentimental, while secretly hoarding evidence that you love her.

• Arguments with Sevika rarely involve yelling. She grew up around enough screaming to hate it. When she’s genuinely upset, she gets quieter instead. Short answers, tense shoulders, avoiding eye contact. Though the moment she finally mutters, “C’mere, baby,” you know she’s already halfway over it.

• Sevika can stay stubborn for hours if she really wants to though. Arms crossed, jaw tight, pretending she’s still annoyed while you glare and pout at each other from opposite sides of the apartment. But the second either of you finally cracks and reaches out first, all that resistance disappears almost embarrassingly fast.

• She’s more than happy to apologise or forgive if it means holding you again. The moment the argument is over, she’s pulling you against her chest like she physically can’t stand the distance anymore. Sometimes she’ll grumble a quiet apology into your hair, sounding irritated only because she hates admitting she was upset in the first place.

• Even after small arguments, she sleeps closer than usual. One arm wrapped tightly around your waist, face tucked against your neck, holding onto you like she’s making up for every second you spent apart. You’ll wake up half tangled beneath her, with her grip still firm even in sleep.

• Sevika never wants pride to matter more than you do. She grew up around people who let anger and resentment rot relationships beyond repair, and she refuses to let that happen with her marriage. No matter how stubborn she is, loving you will always come easier to her than staying angry ever could.

• She learns your routines without ever setting out to. The exact way you take your tea. Which side of the bed you curl toward when you’re hurting. What expression means you’re overstimulated and need to leave immediately. Whether you need comfort, encouragement, distraction, or space. She knows which side of her you naturally gravitate toward when you’re walking together. She can tell what kind of day you’ve had from the moment you step through the front door. She remembers every topic that makes you light up and never gets tired of listening to you talk about them. She knows when you’re asking for help and when you’re silently hoping she’ll notice you need it.

• Eventually, she stops thinking about these pieces of you as things she’s learned at all. They’re just you. As familiar to her as her own routines, woven so deeply into her everyday life that she couldn’t separate them even if she tried. They stay tucked away in the back of her mind alongside everything else that matters. Caring for you becomes as natural as breathing.

• Sevika is terrifyingly protective when you’re sick or injured. You look a little tired? God forbid someone mentions it. Someone accidentally bumps into you too hard? She’s already glaring before you can even react. If you’re bedridden, she turns into a guard dog that refuses to let anyone bother you. Friends trying to pressure you into going out? Not on her watch. Boss trying to call you into work? Get fucked.

• She loves domestic intimacy way more than she expected. Washing dishes together, swaying to music. Trying to learn a new recipe while wearing ridiculous matching floral aprons, Sevika grumbling the entire time even as she keeps tugging you close with flour-covered hands. You sitting on the bathroom counter while she gets ready, legs swinging back and forth as you admire her. Standing side by side, brushing your teeth, sending quick glances at each other through the mirror. Quiet evenings spent with your legs draped across hers while she reads through paperwork, wearing the glasses she insists she doesn’t need.

• Her version of flirting after marriage becomes deeply unhelpful. Smacking your ass while walking past. Leaning down while you’re cooking to murmur something in your ear that makes your cheeks heat up. Pressing kisses into your neck when you’re trying to concentrate on work. Casually calling you “pretty girl” at the worst possible moments knowing it makes your heart race.

• Sevika never thought she’d have a home that actually felt safe. Some nights she’ll just sit with you in comfortable silence, looking around the apartment with this distant expression because part of her still can’t fully believe this life belongs to her now.

[deerdollyy]

hii dolly

apparently i keep coming back to send these sad requests, but you write both the reader's and sevika's perspective so well that the comfort is hard to resist.

reader is stuck in a cycle of bottling up all of her emotions and avoiding them at all costs; drinking, never speaking, isolating, momentary highs (thanks to any possible substances) that always end with her feeling even more miserable and hopeless about life ... the whole works.

once again, sorry and thank you 🧷

Please don’t apologise, babe! I’m more than happy to write these for you. I truly empathise. (A message for you down below fic) 🩷🌷

Wife!Sevika Headcanons & Fic - Bottled Emotions

Summary: A lifetime of buried emotions catches up with you, and Sevika is there when it does.

TW: Brief mention of substance abuse.

• It takes Sevika a long time to realise that every coping mechanism you have is really just another way of avoiding yourself.

• Drinking to forget. Staying busy to avoid thinking. Chasing brief highs because feeling nothing seems easier than feeling everything.

• Every time life gets difficult, you disappear a little. Lock yourself away. Ignore messages. Pretend you’re fine until you’re too exhausted to keep pretending.

• The thing that scares Sevika most isn’t your sadness. It’s how determined you are to carry it alone.

• Arguments rarely happen because you refuse to let them. The second a conversation gets too personal, you change the subject, make a joke, or leave the room entirely.

• She spends months wondering what you’re protecting her from before realising it’s yourself.

• The rare occasions you do open up, even slightly, she treats them like something precious. Never pushing. Never demanding more than you’re ready to give.

• “You don’t always have to be okay around me, you know.”

• You hate hearing that because part of you doesn’t know how to be anything else.

• Some nights she finds you sitting awake at three in the morning, staring at the ceiling. Neither of you mention it. She just climbs into bed beside you and pulls you against her chest.

• The first time you finally admit, “I don’t know how to deal with any of this,” she looks more relieved than upset. Not because you’re hurting. Because you’re finally letting her see it.

• Recovery isn’t one big conversation. It’s hundreds of tiny moments where you choose honesty instead of avoidance, and Sevika is there for every single one.

• She can’t fix the pain for you. But she’ll sit beside you while you face it, no matter how long it takes.

-

The apartment door clicked shut sometime after midnight.

Sevika was still awake.

Not waiting, she’d told herself.

Just not tired.

The excuse fell apart the second you stepped through the door.

Your smile arrived before you did.

Too bright. Too easy.

The same smile she’d watched you wear for months now.

“Hey, baby,” you said, tossing your jacket over a chair.

“Hey.”

You wandered into the kitchen, talking about something that had happened earlier in the night. Someone had said something funny. Someone else had spilled a drink. You laughed halfway through the story.

Sevika listened.

Then listened some more.

Then realised you hadn’t actually said anything.

Just words. Noise. A performance.

You finally looked over.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Sevika.”

“What?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re about to start something.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

You stared at her.

She stared right back.

The silence stretched.

Your shoulders sagged first.

“Can we not do this tonight?”

There it was.

Not anger.

Not annoyance.

Just exhaustion.

Sevika’s chest tightened.

“Do what?”

You looked away.

“This.”

“Talking?”

“Talking about me.”

A humourless laugh escaped you.

“Actually, talking at all.”

The room fell quiet.

You rubbed at your face.

Suddenly looking far older than you had five minutes ago.

“I’m tired, Vika.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“No, I mean…”

Your voice caught.

You swallowed hard.

“I’m tired.”

The words hung between you.

Different this time.

Heavier.

Sevika didn’t speak.

She didn’t try to drag the rest out of you.

Didn’t push.

Didn’t ask questions.

She just watched. With kind eyes and all the patience in the world.

She watched.

As the mask you’d been holding together for months finally started to crack.

Your eyes filled first.

The sight seemed to surprise even you.

You blinked rapidly.

Looked toward the ceiling.

Tried to force them away.

It didn’t work.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

The laugh that followed sounded awful.

Broken.

“I had a good night.”

Another tear slipped free.

“I was fine.”

“No, baby,” Sevika said softly.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?

You weren’t fine.

Hadn’t been for a very long time.

You just kept finding new ways to avoid thinking about it.

One distraction after another.

One temporary fix after another.

Anything to keep moving.

Anything to avoid being left alone with yourself.

The tears came harder.

Sudden and uncontrollable.

You pressed a hand over your face.

Humiliated.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Sevika crossed the room before you could turn away.

Her hands settled on your wrists.

Gentle.

Careful.

Pulling them away from your face.

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

Your expression crumpled.

“Then why can’t I just deal with things normally?”

The question came out small.

Almost angry.

As if you were frustrated with your own existence.

Sevika hated that look.

The one that said every ounce of your anger had been turned inward.

She guides your arms around her waist, cradles your face in her hands, and rests her forehead against yours.

“Because you’ve been trying not to feel anything for so long that now it’s all catching up.”

A shaky breath escaped you.

“I don’t know how to stop.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You don’t have to fix it tonight.”

Another tear slid down your cheek.

Then another.

Sevika brushed them away with her thumb.

“You don’t have to fix it tomorrow either.”

Your eyes met hers.

Lost.

Tired.

Scared.

“What do I do then?”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Sevika pulled you into her arms.

Holding you so tightly it almost hurt.

“Stay.”

You frowned against her shoulder.

“Stay?”

“Yeah.”

Her hand moved slowly through your hair.

“Stop running for one night.”

The tears started again.

But this time you didn’t hide them.

Didn’t apologise.

Didn’t force them back down.

You just stood there in her arms and let yourself fall apart.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to do it alone.

-

Dear anon,

I can certainly resonate with numbing emotions and self-isolating. I started drinking when I was 15/16 as I faced the daunting reality of chronic, lifelong pain.

I’m now five years sober, and along the way I’ve found a much healthier outlet through animals! (As silly as that may sound!) 🩷

Over the years I’ve rescued lab rats, chickens, ducks, geese, goats, and dogs! With a range of illnesses and disabilities. Caring for them has helped me more than I can put into words. They gave me something positive to focus on and brought a lot of joy into some very difficult periods of my life. 🐐🦆🐓🪿🐀

I truly hope you’re able to find something that helps you in the same way. Be kind to yourself, and if you ever need someone to listen, please don’t hesitate to message me. 🫶🏻

Love, Dolly x

[moonselune]

∘₊✧─✧ 𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕄𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✧─✧₊∘

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Some of my work is NSFW and can contain some dark content so beware and minors do not interact, please and thank you x

-Seluney x

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ᯓ✦ Lae'zel ᯓ✦

⋆✮⋆.˚Karlach ⋆✮⋆.˚:

₊˚.⋆☾ Shadowheart ₊˚.⋆☾:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Jaheira⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

✶⋆.˚ Gale ✶⋆.˚:

☾⋆⁺ Halsin ☾⋆⁺:

ִ ࣪𖤐⋆.˚ Astarion ࣪ 𖤐⋆.˚ :

⁺₊✧ Wyll ⁺₊✧:

★⋆. ࿐࿔ Rolan ★⋆. ࿐࿔ :

⊹₊⋆Raphael ⊹₊⋆:

✦. ── Dark BG3 Masterlist ── .✦

✰ ART MASTERLIST ✰

ִ ࣪𖤐Karlach's Big Dayִ ࣪𖤐

ִ ࣪𖤐Karlach's Big Day Pt 2ִ ࣪𖤐

ִ ࣪𖤐Gale x Drow!tav ִ ࣪𖤐

ִ ࣪𖤐Druid!Tav x Karlachִ ࣪𖤐

[moonselune]

BG3 Crew reacting to runaway parent trying to get back in your child's life

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The quiet of the night was shattered by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jolted awake, heart pounding, as the noise continued with an almost frantic urgency. Glancing at the clock, you realized it was well past midnight. Your child, already asleep in their room, was oblivious to the commotion. You hurriedly dressed and made your way to the door, the unease in your chest growing with every step.

When you finally opened the door, your breath caught in your throat. There stood your child's absent father, a man whose presence had long been a source of pain and disappointment. His disheveled appearance and haggard expression were a stark contrast to the composed demeanor you remembered from the past.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s the middle of the night. My child is asleep.”

He pushed past you, ignoring your protest. “I’m here to see my child,” he said gruffly. “I’ve come to make things right.”

You stepped in his way, blocking his advance. “No. You don’t get to waltz back into their life whenever you please. You had your chance, and you squandered it. Now, you need to leave.”

His face reddened with anger, and he sneered at you. “So, you think you can just keep me away? You’re nothing but a petty little obstacle. It’s my right as a father to see my child.”

Before you could respond, you heard the heavy tread of footsteps behind you. Karlach, ever vigilant and protective, had come to investigate the commotion. Her presence was like a storm rolling in, radiating an aura of fierce, unyielding strength. Her eyes locked onto the intruder with a look that could melt steel. Karlach stepped forward, her voice low and menacing.

“You’re in no position to make demands, buddy” she said, her tone cold and dangerous. “This is a warning. Leave now, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a veteran’s wrath.”

The father’s eyes widened in shock as he took in Karlach’s formidable presence. She was a force to be reckoned with, her imposing frame and battle-hardened demeanor making her a terrifying figure. He took an involuntary step back, clearly unnerved by her.

Karlach continued, her voice like gravel. “I fought in the Blood War. I’ve faced demons and horrors you can’t even imagine. Do you really think you want to test me now?”

His bravado crumbled under the weight of her words. He stared at Karlach, then at you, and finally, with a defeated sigh, he turned on his heel and stumbled away into the night, leaving you with a mix of relief and lingering anxiety.

You closed the door with a trembling hand, your heart still racing. The fear that had gripped you was slowly giving way to a profound sense of gratitude. Karlach’s fierce protection had ensured that your child remained safe from harm, and her presence had been a steadying force in a moment of distress. Turning to Karlach, you took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with both relief and admiration. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Karlach’s expression softened, though her fierce demeanor remained. She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “I’d do anything to keep both you and the little one safe. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of appreciation for her unwavering support. “I know,” you said softly. “And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. Truly.”

Karlach’s lips curled into a mile. “Well, then,” she said with a hint of her usual fire, “let’s make sure that anyone who tries to come near you both knows that they’ll have to go through me first.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her resolute tone, feeling the last of your tension dissolve. As you made your way back to your child’s room, Karlach followed close behind, her presence a comforting shield against the uncertainties of the night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The night was calm and still, the kind that promised peaceful rest, but that illusion was abruptly shattered by the sound of frantic yelling. You jolted awake, heart pounding, and glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. The cries and shouts came from your daughter’s room, and your immediate concern propelled you out of bed.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you shook Minthara awake. Her eyes snapped open, her expression shifting from drowsy confusion to alert determination quicker than light. Together, you raced down the hallway, the sounds of the confrontation growing louder with each step.

Bursting into your daughter’s room, you were met with a sight that filled you with dread. Your daughter, barely able to contain her fear and anger, stood her ground against her father, who had somehow managed to infiltrate the sanctuary of her room. His imposing figure loomed over her, and his presence was both unsettling and unwelcome.

“Leave me alone!” your daughter shouted, her small voice trembling but filled with determination. “I don’t want you here!”

Her father, a grizzled mercenary with a hardened demeanor, looked down at her with a mixture of annoyance and condescension.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” he sneered. “I’m your father, and you will listen to me.”

As you and Minthara entered the room, your daughter’s eyes met yours, and she bolted towards you. You wrapped her in a comforting embrace, holding her tightly and whispering reassurances. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” you murmured. “I’m here.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the intruder. Without a word, she strode purposefully towards him, her demeanor cold and menacing. With a swift, practiced motion, she grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a strength that left no room for argument. The mercenary struggled, but Minthara’s grip was unyielding. He attempted to boast about his exploits, his voice full of bravado.

“I’ve fought in countless battles,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. “I’ve taken lives, dealt with worse than you—”

Minthara interrupted him with a harsh, mocking laugh. “Please. You’re nothing can even compare to me,” she said, her voice laced with disdain.

Your daughter, still clinging to you, looked up with wide, fearful eyes. “Can you make him leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked over to Minthara and gave her a slight nod, the type that Minthara takes as nothing is off limits. Minthara glanced at your daughter with a reassuring nod, then turned her gaze back to the mercenary.

“You heard the child,” she said, her tone cold and final. “It’s time for you to leave.”

As the mercenary started to raise his voice again, Minthara’s patience snapped. With a swift, decisive blow, she knocked him out cold. His body slumped to the floor, and she turned to your daughter with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ll deal with him.”

Your daughter’s face brightened with relief as she held onto you tightly, nodding her head eagerly at Minthara. Minthara gave you a curt nod before she dragged the unconscious mercenary outside, her expression a mixture of determination and satisfaction. As she left, you held your daughter close, whispering soothing words of comfort.

When Minthara returned, she found you and your daughter in your shared bed, your daughter nestled against you, her tiny frame trembling slightly from the recent ordeal. Without a word, Minthara climbed into bed beside you after, of course, washing off the grime from her... excursion. Your daughter, still shaken but comforted, immediately latched onto Minthara and snuggled into her, finding solace in her presence.

You watched as Minthara, despite her usually stoic demeanor, gently stroked your daughter’s hair, her expression softening as she comforted the child.

“There, there,” Minthara murmured softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Your daughter looked up at Minthara, her eyes heavy with sleep but filled with trust. “Goodnight, Mother,” she whispered, before closing her eyes and curling up closer.

You smiled softly at the sight, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and warmth. Minthara’s actions had been more than protective; they had been a testament to her unwavering dedication and love for both you and your daughter. You reached over, careful not to disturb your daughter and took Minthara's hand, giving it a soft squeeze in thanks, forever grateful for her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

At home, Lae'zel had been adjusting to her role as caretaker, the initial discomfort giving way to a surprising degree of warmth. Your son, now peacefully napping in his room, was nestled under a soft blanket, completely unaware of the impending danger.

The tranquility of the house was abruptly shattered by a soft but deliberate creaking of the door. The estranged father of your child, driven by a mixture of unresolved feelings and a twisted sense of entitlement, had managed to break into your home unnoticed. His presence a dark shadow against the peaceful setting as he made his way to the child’s room.

With a furtive glance around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside. The sight of your sleeping son stirred a pang of something akin to remorse in his eyes, but it was quickly overridden by a sense of possession. He reached down and scooped up the toddler, cradling him in his arms. The action was abrupt and rough, causing your child to stir and awaken with a frightened whimper.

The sudden disturbance woke Lae'zel from her own moment of repose. Her heightened senses detected the commotion in the room, and her instincts immediately went on high alert. She could tell immediately that this was not your son's ordinairy fussing, she moved swiftly to the source of the noise, pushing open the door with a forceful shove. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw the man holding your son against his chest.

Lae'zel’s expression hardened into a fierce scowl as she took in the situation. Her hand moved to the weapon at her side, and with a practiced flick, she drew it. The blade glinted ominously in the light.

“Put the child down!” she commanded, her voice a growl filled with righteous fury. The man’s eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and defiance.

“This is my son,” he declared with a scoff, his tone dripping with contempt. “I have every right to him.”

But the reality of the situation was starkly different. Your son, still half-asleep and disoriented, immediately began to fuss and whimper, reaching out with tiny, pleading hands towards Lae'zel. The distress in his voice was unmistakable as he called out, “Mama! Mama’zel!”

Seeing the child’s evident fear and his desperate need for Lae'zel, the warrior’s resolve hardened. She took a step forward, her weapon poised with deadly precision. “You are not taking him. He needs to be with someone who cares for him, that is not you.”

It seemed the father had suddenly realised that danger he was in now he was at the blade's end of a Githyanki silver sword. In a panic and with a final, reckless gesture of defiance, the man threw your son into the air. The sudden action was shocking, and Lae'zel’s heart raced as she watched in horror. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her sword and leaped forward, catching your child with a protective embrace as he fell. Her fierce determination was evident as she cradled him close, her blade still held firmly in her other hand.

The man, seizing the opportunity bolted for the door. Lae'zel’s focus was on your son, and as she made sure he was safe, she allowed the man to escape. She did not let her guard down, but her priority was to protect the child, and the man’s escape was a calculated risk she was willing to take.

Outside, the commotion had drawn attention. As Lae'zel made her way to the front of the house, her eyes fell on the scene unfolding before her. You stood over the unconscious form of your estranged partner, your knuckles bruised and bloodied from the confrontation. There was relief in your expression as you looked up to see Lae'zel, your son safely and happily in her arms. Lae'zel approached you with a careful but determined stride, holding out your son to you.

“He is safe now,” she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. “He was frightened, but I kept him close.”

“Thank you, Lae'zel,” you said softly, your voice filled with emotion after pressing a kiss to Lae'zel's cheek “You saved him.”

Lae'zel nodded, her face a mix of weariness and satisfaction. “It was my duty,” she replied simply. “I will always protect him.”

You took your child into your arms, feeling a surge of relief and gratitude. As you held him tightly, Lae'zel’s eyes softened with a rare gentleness, she had faced a thousand horrors but nothing was as terrifying as the thought of your child, her son, getting hurt.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over the farm, where Shadowheart and your young daughter were enjoying a peaceful afternoon. The fields were alive with the joyful sounds of chirping birds and playful animals. Your daughter, her face alight with happiness, was darting around the farmyard, feeding the animals and laughing at their antics. Shadowheart, her demeanor relaxed and gentle, followed closely behind, occasionally helping with tasks and sharing in your daughter’s exuberant joy.

The scene was idyllic: cows mooed softly, chickens pecked at the ground, and your daughter’s gleeful giggles blended harmoniously with the sounds of the farm. Shadowheart’s protective nature shone through as she tended to the animals alongside your daughter, clearly enjoying the role of caretaker.

But this serene moment was abruptly interrupted when a familiar figure emerged from the edge of the farm. Your daughter’s father—who had been absent from her life—appeared with a look of determination on his face. His eyes scanned the farmyard until they landed on your daughter. Relief washed over his features as he strode forward, his expression a mix of desperation and authority.

“There you are!” he called out, his voice carrying across the open fields. “I’ve finally found you. Come here!”

Your daughter’s face went pale as she spotted her father. She immediately bolted behind Shadowheart, clutching at her skirts. Her small voice quivered as she looked up at Shadowheart with wide, frightened eyes. “Mama, make him go away! I don’t want him here!”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed, her protective instincts kicking in immediately. She placed herself between your daughter and her father, her stance firm and resolute.

“You need to leave,” Shadowheart said, her voice steady and commanding. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

Your daughter’s father scoffed, clearly irritated by the interruption. “Oh, come now. She’s my daughter. She needs to come with me, I want to spend time with her.”

"She doesn't need to do anything." Shadowheart’s jaw tightened. “No. I will not allow you to upset her further. Leave, now.”

The father’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but he disregarded Shadowheart’s command. He took a step closer, his intent clear—he was determined to take your daughter regardless of Shadowheart’s interference. As he reached out a hand toward your daughter, Shadowheart’s reaction was swift and decisive.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Shadowheart drew upon her time spent as a Sharran. Her movements were a blur as she executed a series of precise and powerful strikes. Your daughter’s father barely had time to react before he was struck down, collapsing to the ground in a heap, unconscious and defeated. Face first in the mud.

Shadowheart stood over him, her breath coming in measured gasps as she surveyed the scene. She turned to your daughter, concern etched across her face.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently. Your daughter’s initial shock quickly transformed into awe. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Shadowheart, a mixture of admiration and excitement shining through her fear.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. “Can you teach me how to do that? Please? Pretty please!”

Shadowheart’s concern softened into a smile as she saw the spark of admiration in your daughter’s eyes. She knelt down, placing a comforting hand on your daughter’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly. “But learning how to fight and defend yourself is not something to take lightly. You have to practice lots and lots.”

"I don't care!" Your daughter’s enthusiasm remained undiminished. “I want to learn! I want to be strong like you! That was so cool!”

Shadowheart’s smile broadened, touched by the girl’s resolve. "Okay, okay, little fighter, let's go ask your mother about it and see what she says, okay?"

Your daughter sprinted off, bellowing your name, the previous incident seemingly forgotton. Shadowheart couldn't help but chuckle and then sighed as she looked at the father's crumpled form. With a hand on her hip and a snap of her fingers a portal opened. Shadowheart was sure that he would have a much better time in the neighbouring farm's fertiliser tub. Maneure was so good for crops this time of year.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Your daughter’s school fete was abuzz with excitement, the large open park filled with the chatter and laughter of parents and children. The annual talent show was in full swing, and each performance was met with enthusiastic applause. It was a time for the students to showcase how far their wizarding skills had developed. You couldn't tell who was more excited, your daughter or Gale.

You and Gale stood near the front, eagerly awaiting your daughter's turn to showcase her magic. The weeks of practice and preparation between Gale and your daughter had culminated in this moment, and both of you were a mix of pride and nerves.

Gale was showing signs of his own anxiety—fidgeting slightly, his eyes darting to the stage and then back to you. It was clear that he cared deeply about how this would go for your daughter.

Just as your daughter's name was called out to get ready to go on, she began making her way to the backstage area to prepare, until her face suddenly fell. You turned to see what had caused the abrupt change in her demeanor, and then you heard the unmistakable voice of your ex—her estranged father—cutting through the ambient noise of the school fete.

“Hey there, little one! Where’s my hug?” he called out, his tone laced with a mixture of familiarity and condescension.

Your daughter hesitated, her small frame visibly tensing as she reluctantly approached her father. With a forced, apprehensive smile, she gave him a quick hug. The look of discomfort on her face was evident as she pulled away, and with a quick look of worry to you, she darted to the backstage entrance where she began to prepare to perform with the other kids.

Confident your daughter was out of sight and earshot, you felt a surge of irritation and disbelief. You hadn’t expected him to show up here, let alone disrupt your daughter’s big moment. Turning sharply, you confronted your ex, your voice edged with frustration.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, crossing your arms. “Why show up now?”

His face remained a mask of faux innocence. “I’m here to support my little girl, of course,” he replied with a shrug, but his eyes betrayed a glint of something darker as he glanced at Gale. “Had to make sure that new boytoy of yours isn’t a bad influence.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you were about to launch into an argument when your daughter's teacher approached, her expression soft but serious.

“Excuse me,” the teacher said, addressing you and Gale. “Your daughter has developed a case of stage fright, bless her, and has asked for her father.”

Your ex immediately stepped forward, a smirk spreading across his face as he assumed the teacher was referring to him. But the teacher’s next words made it clear they were talking about Gale.

“I'm sorry, but I’m actually referring to Mr. Dekarios,” the teacher clarified, gesturing toward Gale. Gale’s face brightened, and flashed your ex a smug smirk, only for it to fade into concern as he followed the teacher, catching sight of your teary daughter waiting nervously backstage. She ran over to him, looking up at him with a mix of hope and distress.

“Gale!” she said, her voice trembling, “I need your magic!"

Gale knelt down to her level, his expression softening. “Sweetheart, I can’t help you with the performance,” he said gently. "I promise you will do amazing, you've been working so hard and-"

"-No, I need your magic to make him disappear!" Your daughter sniffed and Gale realised what she had meant.

"Ah, well that I can do," Gale whispered with a smile and your daughter’s face lit up with relief, and she threw herself into a hug with Gale.

“Thank you, dad!” she said, her voice now full of gratitude, those tears gone and a smile plastered on her face. With a renewed sense of determination, she ran back to the stage, her earlier anxiety replaced by a brighter, more confident demeanor. Gale watched her go, then returned to your side, where you will still arguing with your ex in hushed whispers. At the sight of him, you both quietened, keen to hear what had happened.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “But there's something I have to do.”

With a subtle flick of his fingers and a murmur of arcane words, Gale cast a spell. Moments later, your ex’s face appeared puzzled as he was enveloped in a shimmering aura, his protestations fading as he was magically transported away. Gale turned back to you, his face reflecting a blend of satisfaction and affection.

“One less distraction for her,” he said, giving you a warm smile.

You felt a surge of gratitude and admiration for Gale and without warning grabbed him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I adore you, you know that".

"Not as much as I adore the both you," Gale assured you, “Now, let’s enjoy the show.”

You both watched your daughter take the stage with a confident smile was a moment of pure joy, made even more meaningful by the support and love surrounding her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The schoolyard buzzed with the end-of-day excitement as children and parents alike gathered to leave. Astarion, impeccably dressed as always, stood near the gate, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd with the kind of aloof interest one might expect from him. Today, he was tasked with picking up your daughter from school as you ran an errand.

As Astarion waited, he noticed a commotion near the gate. Your daughter, spotting him through the throng of people, waved frantically and beckoned him over with an urgency that immediately set off alarm bells in his mind. His instincts, honed by years of surviving in a dangerous world, quickly jumped to the worst-case scenario.

With an exaggerated flourish, Astarion swept toward the commotion, his cloak billowing behind him like a cape of night. He shoved parents and children alike out of the way, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination as he approached the source of the disturbance.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Astarion demanded, his voice carrying an edge of authority that was both commanding and melodramatic. His gaze fell upon a man who was arguing heatedly with one of the teachers. The man’s expression was a mix of frustration and entitlement.

The teacher looked visibly relieved upon seeing Astarion. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here! This man claims to be your daughter’s father, but he’s not on the approved pickup list.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed in disdain as he took in the man’s appearance. “Really now? And just who do you think you are, daring to disrupt the well-being of a child? My child.”

The estranged father, clearly unperturbed by Astarion's theatrics, argued back. “I will have you know that, I am her father! And I have every right to pick her up.”

Before Astarion could retort, your daughter bounded over, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of her Papa. She launched herself into Astarion’s arms, who caught her with practiced ease.

Astarion beamed down at her and gave her a subtle wink before pretending to hear something you had said and then looked on to growing crowd with feigned surprise and distress. “Oh dearest, what have you told me, my little one? Did he say he was going to do something terrible?”

Your daughter, catching onto the game, nodded vigorously, a playful glint in her eyes. “Yes, Papa! He said he was going to kidnap me!”

Astarion’s eyes widened in exaggerated horror, and he tightened his hold on your daughter, pulling her close to his chest. There was a concerned murmur among the other parents as they looked at your daughter's father accusingly. “Oh, my gods! We mustn’t let him near you then. Neither should you fellow parents! Come, we’ll have to leave immediately!"

The father, growing increasingly agitated, protested loudly. “This is absurd! I’m her father! I am not trying to kidnap her.”

With a smirk, Astarion began walking away, your daughter securely perched on his hip. However the father began to follow the two of them. At this Astarion called out over his shoulder with a dramatic flair, “Help! Someone call the authorities! This man is stalking us!”

Your daughter, struggling to suppress a giggle, chimed in, her voice a high-pitched wail. “He’s following us! Help!”

Astarion shot her a playful but stern look. “Shush, darling. We mustn’t blow our cover!”

Despite her best efforts, your daughter couldn’t entirely suppress her laughter, and Astarion had to shush her with a gentle but firm hand on her mouth.

As they made their way towards the school gate, Flaming Fist had arrived, drawn in by the commotion. They quickly assessed the situation, and the paretns quickly took Astarion's side. He was the one afterall who would pick her up from school, he was the one who would begrudgingly sew the costumes for the school play - even when no one asked him to. He was the one your daughter called papa, not this stranger.

Astarion, still holding your daughter close, offered a graceful nod to the Flaming Fist as they dealt with the situation. With the father now in custody, Astarion made a clean getaway, carrying your daughter away from the scene. Once they were safely out of the school’s vicinity, Astarion finally allowed himself a genuine smile as he set your daughter back down on your feet. “Well, that went rather splendidly, didn’t it?”

Your daughter looked up at him with adoration, her earlier anxiety completely forgotten. “Thank you, Papa!”

Astarion’s expression softened as he looked at her, . “You’re welcome, my dear. Just remember, I’ll always be here to keep you safe.”

As they walked hand in hand away from the school, the sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, a perfect backdrop for a day’s adventure turned into a cherished memory.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of spices and simmering sauce as you and Wyll busied yourselves preparing dinner. Your son sat at the kitchen table, deeply engrossed in his coloring book, his small tongue sticking out in concentration. The evening was shaping up to be a peaceful, if ordinary, family affair.

The pleasant hum of conversation and the clinking of pots and pans were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Before anyone could move, the door swung open, and your ex, carrying an impressive stack of brightly wrapped presents, barged into the kitchen. His arrival was as abrupt as it was unwelcome, and his presence brought a palpable tension into the room. You braced yourself, a tight smile forced onto your face as you faced him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. The birthday for your son had been last month, and you had hoped that was the last of these unscheduled visits.

“Better late than never,” your ex replied with a nonchalant shrug, as if the delay of several weeks was an afterthought.

Wyll, standing by the stove, appeared taken aback but quickly regained his composure. He extended a hand, offering a polite greeting. “Hello, I’m Wyll. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Your ex ignored Wyll’s outstretched hand completely, his focus solely on your son, who looked up from his coloring with a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Hey little man look what I've got for you! From your good ol' papa!"

“Thanks for the gifts,” your son said, his small voice full of genuine appreciation. “But I have a new dad now.”

Wyll’s face brightened with a mix of pride and relief and he placed a proud hand on your son's shoulder. “That’s right!... I’m his new dad now.”

Your ex’s face darkened, and he tensed visibly. “Wyll isn’t your real dad, kid. I’m your real dad.”

Your son, still focused on his coloring, paused to think. “Nope, Wyll is my dad. He picks me up from school, reads me bedtime stories, and he loves me. That’s what a dad does.”

Your ex’s face flushed with anger, and he started to call your son ungrateful. However, before things could escalate further, Wyll stepped in, his tone firm but calm.

“Let’s settle this outside,” Wyll proposed, his expression resolute.

Your ex, who was taller and bulkier than Wyll, agreed with a snort of disdain. You watched with a mix of apprehension and curiosity as Wyll winked at you before stepping outside with your ex.

You followed them to the door, your heart racing as you anticipated the confrontation. As the door closed behind them, you heard a sudden, odd sound—a poof of magic followed by the unmistakable bleating of a sheep.

Confused, you stepped outside to see Wyll standing there, looking smug and decidedly pleased, while your ex was transformed into a sheep, bleating in protest. Wyll turned to you with a grin, clearly proud of his handiwork.

“I knew I held onto that polymorph scroll for a reason,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your tension dissolving into mirth. “What am I supposed to do with a sheep now?”

Wyll’s grin widened. “Well, you could always sell him to a butcher, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous.”

Your laughter rang out freely now, the absurdity of the situation breaking through any lingering stress. The evening’s peace was restored, and as Wyll and the transformed sheep made their way inside, you felt a renewed sense of warmth and relief. The family dinner would go on as planned, now with one less complication and a story for the ages.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. You and your son had spent a pleasant day foraging among the underbrush. Your son, his spirit as free as the woodland creatures around him, had been frequently shifting in and out of his wildshape, delighting in the thrill of his magical transformations. You watched with a fond smile as he scampered around, shifting effortlessly between human and animal forms, the laughter and joy in his eyes brightening the entire forest.

As you crouched to inspect a patch of herbs, the distant sound of wheels on a forest path reached your ears. Your heart skipped a beat, a gnawing sense of unease creeping up your spine. The sound grew louder, and you recognized the unmistakable clatter of a carriage—a carriage that seemed all too familiar. Your pulse quickened as you straightened and scanned the surrounding trees.

You spotted the carriage as it emerged from a narrow forest trail, its ornate design and gilded trimmings unmistakable. The insignia on the side confirmed your worst fear: it was indeed from your ex’s noble family. The wheels crunched over the fallen leaves, and you felt a cold wave of apprehension wash over you.

With a determined, but calm demeanor, you called out to your son. "Sweetheart, you need to go back to the grove right now. Run to Halsin and stay with him, okay? Mama has someone she needs to talk to."

Your son’s face, still flushed from his wildshaping fun, looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes. "Mama, what’s wrong?"

"Just go quickly," you urged, kneeling to meet his gaze. "I’ll explain later. Go, now."

Hesitantly, he nodded and bolted down the forest path, his small figure quickly disappearing among the trees. As your son sprinted, his tiny feet pounding against the earth, the distant sound of the carriage faded into the background. The urgency in his heart spurred him on faster, each step propelled by a mix of fear and determination. His breath came in quick gasps, the forest blurring by as he made his way back to the grove.

The grove came into view, and your son’s eyes scanned the area frantically. He spotted Halsin, who was tending to a small group of the squirrels, and ran up to him, his face flushed and eyes wide with panic.

“Papa! Papa!” your son called out, his voice trembling as he urged himself forward. “Mama needs help! My evil papa is here!”

Halsin’s expression shifted from calm to concerned in an instant. He dropped what he was doing and knelt down to your son’s level, his eyes searching your son's face. “What happened? Where is your mother?”

Your son, barely able to contain his anxiety or catch his breath, explained hurriedly. “This big carriage came, and-and Mama told me to run back here and-and she said she needed to talk to someone, but-but I know it’s my evil papa who’s come. 'Cause I only see Mama that upset when- when he’s around.”

"Take a breath, little one, it will be okay. Stay here and stay safe, go play with the other children” he instructed firmly, giving your son's shoulders a squeeze. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

“No!” your son protested, his small fists clenched. “I’m coming with you!”

And as if to make a point you son clung onto Halsin's leg, Halsin looked down at him with uncertainty, he knew he would get an earful from you later, but your son really cared. Your son’s determination had won out. Halsin let out a sigh and nodded. “Very well. Hold on tight.”

Meanwhile, you continued to argue with your ex.

"So, here you are," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you in such... rustic surroundings."

You squared your shoulders, fighting back the rising tide of frustration. "What are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath.

A haughty smile curled on your ex’s lips. "My family is pressing me for an heir. The pressure is mounting, and I’ve come to collect my son. It’s time he fulfilled his role in our family’s legacy."

The words felt like a physical blow, each syllable carrying the weight of his disregard for your family and your son's well-being. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. "You can’t just waltz in here and demand him like he’s some sort of accessory. You’ve been absent for years. You have no right to claim him now."

Your ex’s gaze hardened. "I have every right. I am his father, after all."

"You have no understanding of what it means to be a parent," you said sharply, taking a step closer. "You think you can just come and take him after all this time? You’ve done nothing but make his life more difficult."

Your ex’s face twisted into a sneer. "And you’ve done a remarkable job of corrupting him with your… unconventional lifestyle."

The words stung, but you refused to let them show. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "If you think you can just come in and take him away, you’re mistaken. He has a family here who loves him and a home where he belongs."

Your ex’s face twisted with disdain. "You think your little forest dwelling and its inhabitants can replace what I can offer him? He needs to be in a proper environment, one befitting his heritage."

The sharpness of his words cut through you, but before you could respond, the situation took a dramatic turn. The footmen who had been idly standing by suddenly turned aggressive, encircling you with threatening movements. Just as you prepared to defend yourself, a small, but fierce bear cub you recognised skidded into the clearing. It growled and snapped at the footmen, causing them to flinch and hesitate.

"It's only a cub! Kill the little beastie!" your ex barked, his arrogance masking his growing anxiety. He turned to retreat, but was abruptly met with a much larger, imposing figure.

A massive grizzly bear roared ferociously in your ex’s face, its powerful form blocking his escape route. The footmen, their bravery crumbling in the face of the beast, fled into the forest with cries of terror, leaving your ex isolated and vulnerable.

You let out a relieved laugh as you scooped your son up in your arms. He had shifted back to his human form, his face alight with mischievous joy.

"You’re safe now," you murmured, holding him close as he giggled.

The massive bear continued to roar, rising up on its hind legs in an intimidating display. Your ex, panicked and covering his face, braced himself for an attack that never came. Instead, the bear suddenly shimmered with a golden light and, in a swirl of magic, Halsin emerged from the transformation, his human form standing tall and resolute. His stance, however, was no less aggressive. Halsin’s eyes locked onto your ex with a steely, unyielding glare.

“You’re not welcome here,” Halsin’s voice rumbled, each word measured and threatening. “You are not taking my son. I suggest you leave before something unfortunate happens.”

Your ex, shaking with a mix of fear and anger, attempted to regain his composure. “This is outrageous! I have every right to take him. I am his father!”

Halsin stepped closer, his presence radiating a potent blend of authority and menace. “You have no right to disrupt his life after being absent for so long. He is my son, and you are trying to take him from his home, from the family who loves and cares for him. You have no claim here.”

Your ex’s bravado faltered as he looked around at the animals—deer, wolves, and other woodland creatures—gathering once more, their eyes fixed on him with a watchful, protective intensity. The forest itself seemed to close in around him, adding to his sense of encroaching dread.

“You can’t do this!” he shouted, his voice rising with desperation. “This is a matter of family legacy and honor!”

Halsin’s gaze remained unyielding. “No, this is a matter of what is best for my son. You are an intruder here, and if you do not leave immediately, you will face consequences beyond your understanding.”

Your ex’s gaze darted around, his composure crumbling as he realized the gravity of his situation. The animals’ eyes glinted with an unspoken threat, and Halsin’s unrelenting stance made it clear that he would not back down. With a final, resentful glare, your ex backed away, his movements hurried and clumsy.

“This isn’t over,” he spat, before turning and stumbling back to his carriage. He climbed in hastily, his footmen still cowering in the forest, and the carriage lurched away with a trail of dust.

As the carriage disappeared from view, Halsin let out a long, slow breath, his form relaxing as the immediate threat passed. He turned to you and your son, his face softening with concern.

“Are you both alright?” he asked, his voice gentle now, though still laced with the remnants of his earlier fury.

You nodded, your heart still racing but calming with each passing moment. “We’re okay. Thank you, Halsin. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Halsin reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “No need to thank me. We are a family, and we protect each other.”

As you all made your way back through the forest, the weight of the day’s events began to lift, replaced by a profound sense of relief and solidarity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

The market was a bustling tapestry of colors and sounds, a vibrant mosaic of stalls and vendors peddling everything from fresh produce to handcrafted trinkets. You, Rolan, and your young toddler son meandered through the market, enjoying the lively atmosphere. Your son, perched on Rolan’s shoulders, was giggling and pointing at the various sights and sounds, his eyes wide with wonder.

Rolan had a firm but gentle hand on your child’s legs, ensuring he was secure while still allowing him to enjoy the view. You walked beside them, occasionally glancing at the stalls, picking out small treats or intriguing items. The air was filled with the delightful aroma of fresh bread and spices, mingling with the cheerful chatter of vendors and patrons.

As you approached a stall selling brightly colored fabrics, a familiar yet unwelcome figure emerged from the crowd. It was your ex, looking disheveled and distraught. His clothes were tattered, and he seemed to be making his way through the market with an air of desperation.

“Please!” he cried out, dropping to his knees in front of you. His voice was choked with emotion, a stark contrast to the authoritative tone he had once used. “Please, I’m begging you. I want to be a part of our child’s life. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m ready to make things right. Just give me a chance.”

You stopped in your tracks, your heart hardening at the sight of him. The memories of his absence and the pain he had caused surged up, making it difficult to maintain your composure. You took a deep breath, summoning all the resolve you could muster.

“You had your chance when our child was born,” you said firmly. “You walked away, leaving us behind. You don’t get to waltz back into our lives now just because it suits you.”

Rolan, standing close by with your son, nodded in agreement. His face was set in a serious expression, his eyes reflecting the protective nature he had come to embody.

“You had no part in his life before,” Rolan said, his voice calm but unwavering. “And you’ve shown no effort to make amends until now. It’s not fair to our family to let you back in on a whim.”

Your ex’s face twisted with a mix of desperation and anger. “I’ve changed,” he pleaded, his voice rising with frustration. “You can’t just shut me out like this. I’m his father!”

Without warning, he lunged towards you, a sudden movement fueled by desperation. The instinct to protect surged within Rolan. His eyes narrowed, and with a decisive flick of his wrist, he cast a thunderblast. The crackling burst of energy erupted with a deafening roar, sending your ex stumbling backward.

Your ex’s eyes widened in shock and fear as the spell hurled him through the air. He landed with a splash in the nearby fountain, the water erupting around him in a frothy surge. The sight of him floundering in the fountain, soaked and sputtering, was both dramatic and almost comical.

Amid the chaos, your toddler, who had been watching the scene unfold from Rolan’s shoulders, burst into fits of uncontrollable giggles. His laughter was a bright, musical sound that cut through the tense atmosphere, his tiny hands clapping with glee at the sight of the man he had only heard about but never seen in such a state.

You couldn’t help but smile at your son’s reaction, the tension of the moment dissolving into a shared moment of levity. Rolan, still standing tall and composed, watched as your ex scrambled out of the fountain, his dignity as drenched as his clothes. The crowd that had gathered looked on with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, whispering among themselves.

With a final glance at your ex, who was now pulling himself out of the fountain with an air of defeat, you turned to leave.

You and Rolan guided your son away from the market, his laughter still echoing in the cool evening air. The market’s lively bustle continued around you, but you walked with a renewed sense of security and unity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The weight of the day’s stress seemed to settle heavily on your shoulders as you sat in the study of the grand estate, trying to focus on the papers spread before you. Your ex had reappeared in your life with a demand that rattled you to your core: he wanted to see your daughter more often, and, worse, he was insistent on having a greater role in her life. The mere thought of him attempting to insert himself into her world again filled you with a sense of dread and frustration.

Raphael, who had been surprisingly supportive of your emotional turmoil, took it upon himself to reassure you. Despite his usual aloofness, he had shown an unexpected level of concern. Yet, as you talked through your frustrations with him, you noticed a shift in his demeanor—a subtle, almost imperceptible pang of hurt hidden behind his devilish exterior. The notion of your daughter potentially calling another man "papa" seemed to strike a chord with him, even if he refused to vocalize it.

Of course he had to do something about it, somebody had to save your wretched little souls and why shouldn't it be the devil that loved you both?

One night as you held your daughter close to your chest, worst case scenarios tearing through your mind like a nightmare on repeat, Raphael took a seat necxt to you and placed a hand on your thigh.

“It's been dealt with, dearest,” Raphael said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “You needn’t worry about him any longer. He’s been… persuaded to leave you and your daughter alone.”

His words were confident, but you sensed an undercurrent of something more complex, though Raphael’s expression remained inscrutable. You chose not to press further, trusting that he had the situation in hand. Days passed, and true to Raphael’s word, your ex disappeared from the scene, making no further attempts to contact you or interfere in your life.

You couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of relief and unease. The problem had been resolved with unsettling speed, leaving you feeling as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. One evening, as you and Raphael relaxed together, you finally broached the subject of your ex’s sudden disappearance.

“What exactly did you do to get him to leave us alone, my love?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, though a thread of curiosity laced your voice.

Raphael’s smirk was back in place, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing out of the ordinary. I made a deal with him.”

His casual response did little to quell your lingering curiosity. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

Raphael’s expression remained carefully neutral, his voice maintaining its smooth, unaffected tone. “Just a little something to ensure his cooperation. You know me, darling. I always have my methods.”

You couldn’t pry further, and Raphael’s words left you with more questions than answers. You did notice, however, that your ex was no longer a problem—an outcome that seemed almost too convenient.

Unbeknownst to you, the deal Raphael had struck was far from ordinary. Raphael had promised your ex immortality—a promise that seemed generous at first glance. In reality, Raphael’s “gift” trapped your ex’s soul in a form of eternal confinement, bound within the House of Hope—a luxurious prison within the estate.

In the House of Hope, your ex found himself a mere spectator, condemned to watch as Raphael embraced the role of father to your daughter. He was forced to endure the sight of Raphael’s effortless integration into your family, witnessing the tenderness and affection Raphael showed to your daughter, which he could never again claim for himself. The once-dreaded presence had become a ghostly observer, unable to interfere but ever-present in the periphery of your life.

Raphael’s decision, though cloaked in his usual bravado, was driven by a complex mix of feelings. The thought of another man being a father figure to your daughter stirred a pain he struggled to admit even to himself. Yet, by ensuring your ex’s permanent removal from your lives, Raphael had also managed to secure his own place in your family, albeit in a way you would never fully comprehend.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oof this was a big one, I have been binge watching dexter which definitely inspired this. I hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

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

[roseflamingos]

[deerdollyy]

hi dollydollyyy, i adore your writing i truly think you capture the essence of sevikas character and what makes her HER so beautifully. if i may ask i want to read a short story or hcs of sevika with a hyper independent reader in ur style. THANK YOU FOR UR ART

You’re so sweet, thank you!! 🩷😚🫶🏻🌷

Sevika Headcanons & Fic - Stubborn Girl

Summary: Sevika slowly teaches her hyper independent partner that love doesn’t have to be earned alone, and that relying on someone else can be safe for once.

• Sevika notices it immediately. The way you apologize for needing help before you even ask. The way you’ll struggle with five grocery bags cutting into your fingers instead of calling her from downstairs.

• She starts doing little things without making a big deal out of it because she knows if she fusses too much, you’ll get embarrassed. Refilling your water before you realize it’s empty. Buying your favourite snacks when you run out. Plugging your phone in when you fall asleep on the couch. Quiet care.

• You’re so used to solving your own problems that sometimes you genuinely forget you have someone now. Not because you don’t trust Sevika, but because relying on people has never really felt safe before.

• Sevika pretends to be annoyed every time she catches you trying to do something alone that you absolutely do not need to do alone.

“You know I’ve got two functioning arms, right? Even if one’s mechanical.”

• The first time you wake her up because you need something, Sevika nearly melts on the spot. She’s half asleep, voice rough and confused, but secretly thrilled that your first instinct was her.

• She’s patient about it. Never pushes too hard. If you pull away or insist you’re fine, she lets it go for the moment and just stays nearby instead.

• Sevika’s love language becomes making space for you to rest. She knows you’ve spent your whole life surviving independently, so she tries to teach you, gently, that love can be soft instead of transactional.

• Sometimes she’ll physically take things out of your hands. Laundry basket, toolbox, heavy bags.

“Sit down before I bench press you instead.”

• When you finally do start leaning on her more, even in tiny ways, Sevika acts smug about it but she’s unbearably soft underneath.

“Look at that. Finally learning.”

• Secretly, nothing makes her happier than hearing:

“Sevika?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me with this?”

Because to her, that means you trust her.

-

Sevika looked up from the couch, brow furrowing as she watched you carry an overstuffed box across the room with your jaw clenched tight.

“You moving out?” she asked dryly.

“I got it.”

“You say that like I asked.”

You ignored her, already trying to awkwardly shove the box onto the top shelf. Your arms trembled from the weight.

Sevika stared for three whole seconds before standing with a long suffering sigh.

“Move.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are visibly not fine.”

Before you could protest again, Sevika stepped behind you and effortlessly lifted the box from your hands. She set it on the shelf like it weighed nothing.

You crossed your arms immediately. “I could’ve done that.”

“Mhm.”

“I could.”

Sevika looked at you for a moment, then snorted softly.

“You know what your problem is?” she asked.

You narrowed your eyes. “This should be good.”

“You act like accepting help is gonna kill you.”

Heat crept up your neck.

“It’s not that dramatic.”

“No?” Sevika leaned against the counter. “Yesterday you nearly burned yourself because you refused to let me carry the soup pot. Last week you limped around on a bad ankle for two days before telling me. And ten minutes ago I caught you trying to move furniture alone.”

You looked away.

“I just don’t wanna bother you.”

The room went quiet.

Sevika’s expression changed instantly, irritation melting into something softer. Something aching.

“You bothering me would be if you started a fire, or… I don’t know, slapped me across the face.” She paused thoughtfully. “Actually, wouldn’t hate that.”

A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it, and you rolled your eyes, swatting lightly at her chest.

“Helping you isn’t bothering me,” she continued, reaching out to brush your hair back.

You shrugged weakly. “I’m used to handling things myself.”

“I know.”

And she did know.

Sevika knew about the years that taught you depending on people usually ended in disappointment. Knew that independence had stopped being a personality trait a long time ago and turned into survival instinct instead.

She stepped closer, warm hands settling gently against your cheeks.

“You don’t gotta earn being taken care of with me,” she said quietly. “I want to.”

Your throat tightened immediately.

It was embarrassing how much those words affected you. How badly some small, hidden part of you wanted to believe them.

Sevika noticed the way your eyes glossed over and immediately softened further.

“C’mere.”

You let her pull you against her chest with surprising ease. Her arms wrapped around you firmly. Warm and steady and safe.

For a minute neither of you spoke.

Then, muffled against her shirt, you muttered, “I still could’ve lifted that box.”

Sevika barked out a laugh.

“There’s my stubborn girl.”

[deerdollyy]

Someone requested this but I accidentally deleted their message instead of answering, I’m so sorry anon!

Wife!Sevika Headcanons & Fic - Cramps And Comfort

Summary: Your period leaves you miserable and emotional, so Sevika pulls you into her lap and takes care of you.

• Sevika absolutely keeps track of your cycle without ever admitting it outright. She notices patterns. The way you get quieter. The way you curl into her side more at night. The specific face you make when cramps hit suddenly.

• If your cramps are bad, she becomes weirdly attentive. You’ll grumble that you’re fine while practically folded in half on the couch, and suddenly there’s a heating pad plugged in, painkillers beside you, water on the table, and Sevika standing there like:

“Didn’t say you had a choice.”

• She’s very big on physical comfort. One massive arm around your waist while you lie against her chest. Warm hand rubbing slow circles into your hip or stomach. Carrying you to bed when you’re too exhausted to move.

• Her metal arm is surprisingly useful because she can cool drinks against it for you or press the colder metal against your forehead when you’re overheating.

• If you get emotional easily during your period, Sevika never makes fun of you for it. Ever. Even if you’re crying because a stray cat ignored you or because you dropped a spoon.

She’ll kiss your forehead and mumble:

“C’mere, sweetheart. World’s cruel enough already.”

• She becomes very protective in public during that time. Keeps a hand on your lower back. Glares at anyone irritating you. If someone stresses you out, she looks seconds away from committing a felony.

• If your pain gets severe, Sevika gets genuinely angry on your behalf. Not at you, just furious that your body hurts you so much.

“Stupid fucking biology,” she mutters while massaging your stomach gently.

• She learns your comfort cravings by heart. Specific tea. Salty foods one day, sweets the next. The exact blanket you like because the texture feels nice when you’re overstimulated.

• At night, she sleeps lighter so if you wake up hurting or nauseous, she notices almost immediately.

• Sevika secretly loves when you get clingy during your period. She’d never tease you for it because she knows you feel awful, but internally she’s like:

Finally. My wife accepts she belongs in my lap.

-

The apartment was quiet except for the rain tapping softly against the windows.

Sevika sat sprawled on the couch, one foot on the floor, the other propped lazily on the table. One arm rested around your waist while you lay curled against her chest beneath a blanket, face buried against her shirt.

Her fingers moved slowly over your side.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

You’d barely moved for almost an hour.

“You alive down there?” she rumbled quietly.

A miserable groan answered her.

“Mm. Tragic.”

You weakly shoved at her stomach without lifting your head. “Don’t be mean to me. I’m dying.”

Sevika snorted softly, though her hand immediately slid lower, rubbing gentle circles over your abdomen.

“You said that three hours ago.”

“Because I’ve been dying for three hours.”

“Poor baby.”

Another cramp twisted through you, sharp enough to make you tense.

Instantly, her grip tightened.

“Another cramp?” she asked, voice lower now.

You nodded against her chest.

Sevika clicked her tongue under her breath. “C’mere.”

Before you could even process what she meant, she shifted, tugging you fully into her lap. Her warm hand spread across your stomach while the cooler metal fingers of her prosthetic brushed lightly along your spine.

The temperature contrast made you sigh.

“Better?”

“A little.”

“Little’s enough for now.”

You melted further against her, exhausted and sore and emotional in that horrible fragile way periods always made you feel.

“I hate this,” you muttered quietly.

“I know.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“My body’s evil.”

That made Sevika finally tilt her head down toward you.

“Hey.” Her voice softened immediately. “Don’t start talking about yourself like that.”

You shrugged weakly, blinking hard against the sudden sting behind your eyes. “I just feel gross.”

Sevika stared at you for a moment like the statement personally offended her.

Then she leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead.

“You’re my favorite thing in the world,” she murmured. “Little blood isn’t changing that.”

Your throat tightened embarrassingly fast.

Which, of course, made Sevika notice immediately.

“Oh, don’t you dare cry.”

“I’m not-“ Your voice cracked horribly.

She sighed the deepest sigh imaginable, already pulling you closer.

“Alright, alright. C’mere, sweetheart.”

You buried your face against her neck with a pathetic little sound.

Sevika held you without hesitation, large hand smoothing slowly up and down your back while rain filled the silence around you.

After a long moment, she muttered against your hair:

“If anyone invented a way to fistfight a uterus, I would.”