#i have survived worse and i can deal with a man not being in love with me and just wanting sex

[honeyjuice]

being horny and a hopeless romantic has blinded me to the fact that he actually might be more in it for the sex

which like that’s fine but unfortunately i have developed Feelings and he says he has but i feel that that might not be the case and maybe he is saying it just bc he likes sex and someone who really really likes having sex with him

and again. that’s perfectly fine. i can learn to be happy with an arrangement where im hanging out at my best friend’s house and having sex with her roommate because honestly that is not a bad time overall

i think i’m just crazy

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[onehundredelevven]

I love what you did with Toji during y/n’s birth. Could I maybe request one where y/n breaks the JJK men’s hand from the labor pains? I’d love to see their reactions lol I feel like Nanami and Sukuna would take it like a champ but Satoru and Toji’s voice would crack 😂

U ask, I give

---

Chaotic labor room scenarios for the JJK men.

cw. JJK men being chaotic and Satoru's dramatic arse, and broken hands

---

Satoru Gojo

“Babe, you’re doing great—OW, OW, OW!”

Satoru’s voice cracked like glass as you crushed his hand with a strength you didn’t know you had. He winced, his signature cocky grin wiped clean off his face.

“Are you seriously whining while I’m the one giving birth?” you snapped, glaring at him through your contraction.

“I think you just shattered my bones,” he whimpered, blinking back tears like a kicked puppy. “Do you hate me that much?”

“Right now, yes!”

He pouted dramatically, but when he looked down at you, sweat on your brow and pain in your eyes, his expression softened. “Alright, alright. Crush my other hand if you have to. I can survive for you and the kid.”

You didn’t hesitate to grab his other hand as another contraction hit. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

☆☆☆

Suguru Geto

Geto didn’t even flinch when your grip tightened like a vice. If anything, he just smiled down at you with that calm, reassuring presence he always carried.

“Do you want me to get you some ice chips?” he asked, his voice completely steady despite the audible pop from his knuckles.

“ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN?” you screamed, half in agony, half in disbelief at his composure.

“I’ve been through worse,” he replied coolly, brushing your hair out of your face. “Though you are quite strong, I’ll give you that.”

You let go of his hand, panting through the contraction, and saw his fingers twitch slightly. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Only a little.” He smirked. “But it’s nothing compared to what you’re doing right now. You’re amazing, you know that?”

☆☆☆

Kento Nanami

Nanami’s hand was practically vibrating under your grip, but he sat stiffly beside you, not a single wince or grunt escaping him. The man was a fortress.

“You can… let go if it hurts,” you offered between labored breaths.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said firmly, though the sweat beading on his forehead betrayed him. “Focus on yourself.”

Another contraction hit, and you let out a guttural groan, clamping down harder. This time, Nanami’s jaw tightened, and his free hand gripped the armrest of his chair hard enough to leave marks.

“Okay, maybe I’ll need a splint later,” he admitted, voice as calm as ever.

☆☆☆

Ryomen Sukuna

“You call that a squeeze?” Sukuna barked out a laugh, sitting beside you like this was all a walk in the park.

“I hate you,” you hissed, crushing his hand harder out of pure spite.

“Go ahead, brat. Try harder,” he taunted, his grin widening as you gave it your all. “You’re going to need more than that to—”

CRACK.

His smirk faltered, his eye twitching as he pulled his now-clearly-broken hand back. “...You’re lucky I love you.”

“Shut up and hold my hand again!”

“Yeah, no.” He offered his other hand instead, still smirking through the pain. “I’ve got two. Let’s see if you can break them both.”

☆☆☆

Toji Fushiguro

“AH, SH—” Toji’s yell was cut short as your grip sent a sharp pop through his knuckles.

“Toji, don’t you dare yell louder than me right now!” you growled.

He bit his tongue, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Alright, fine, but damn, woman. How are you this strong while pushing out a kid?”

“Because I have to deal with you every day,” you snapped.

Toji let out a strangled laugh, his voice wobbling. “Tch, fair enough. Just... don’t tell the kid their mom broke my hand, alright?”

[asha-mage]

BingLiuShen au where Shen Qingqiu's fevered heteronormativity poisoned brain decides that the best way to avoid dying for the crime of being a heterosexual male in a stallion novel is to pretend not to be heterosexual and thus not a threat to the protagonist's harem. He figures if he can hit that sweet spot where his (supposed! Not real at all!) sexuality is just a quirk of the beloved mentor then the narrative will have no choice but to keep him alive. Airplane might be a hack, but he's exactly the sort of hack who would put in a token gay character, then shunt them off to the background, only to be trotted out again when he's getting flack in the comments for sexist, homophobic, and/or generally shitty writing decisions.

And for Shen Yuan, whose stated life goal is to idle away the hours in luxury and occasionally bask in Binghe's protagonisty coolness (in a very heterosexual way of course!) that would be the perfect out. There's just one problem- how does he demonstrate his (definitely fake!) homosexuality without playing into homophobic tropes and getting himself killed for offending the genre's aggressively het sensibilities?

The answer? Pretend to be pinning away silently in unrequited love for another man. It's perfect! All he has to do is drop a few extremely subtle hints in Binghe's hearing implying having feelings he would never act on for say, Liu Qingge, and he'll be golden. After all, what person attracted to men (which he isn't!) wouldn't fall immediately in love with the Bai Zhan War God? It has the added benefit of proving what a good Token Gay he is by the fact that he saved Liu Qingge's life without any expectations or hopes and without ever even revealing his (supposed!) feelings.

Shen Qingqiu gets about a week of feeling like a genius after putting this plot into motion before Liu Qingge starts showing up at Qing Jing with small gifts and pastries and asking to spar, and well. In between melting down (because how on earth did he put it together from the grand total of three entirely ambiguous hints he dropped!) and trying to stay composed (because even the straightest guy- which he is!- would get flustered by having Liu Qingge smiling at him Like That) he figures the only rational thing to do is just Commit To the Bit, resign himself to one day becoming cultivation partners with Liu Qingge and retiring together into the background of future plot shenanigans. Their are clearly no other possible ways of dealing with this situation, and hey being with Liu Qingge of all people isn't bad. That's a fan favorite character and he's stupidly handsome and brave and kind! Shen Qingqiu could do a lot worse, especially in a world like PIDW. In fact given the alternatives, Shen Qingqiu's could probably consider himself incredibly lucky. Objectively that is. From a purely 'guy trying to survive this dumb novel' point of view. It would be an honor to have Liu Qingge's arms wrapped around him. If he where into men of course.

Meanwhile you have Luo Binghe in the background of every scene the two are in with a forced smile, internally speed running the '*fork in garbage disposal noises*' to 'I just want my Shizun to be happy! I swear!' to 'actually Liu-shishu is really nice I can see what Shizun sees in him' to 'oh no I think I want to be in the Middle Of Whatever That Is' arc.

(And of course, Binghe at the end of the day IS the protagonist, and after much trial and tribulation, is supposed to get exactly what he wants...)

And all the while you have Liu Qingge, utterly oblivious to the mental anguish and gymnastics of his shidi and shizi, who just keeps turning up at Qing Jing, because he really does like Shen Qingqiu and even if that first date was his sister's idea he's found he really does enjoy spending time with Shen Qingqiu, and also Shen Qingqiu's sticky first disciple who despite the crocodile tears is actually clearly pretty strong. He has no idea that Shen Qingqiu is silently picking out drapery for the future house while Luo Binghe tries to rationalize his out of control heartbeat as a completely normal side effect of the sparring match they just fought (Which he only keeps challenging Liu-shishu to make sure he's strong enough to protect Shizun! He swears!).

WIll the three of them ever figure it out and get their act together? Sure. Will they do it before the Conference/Abyss arc upends everything? Absolutely not.

[i-cant-sing]

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

-

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

[leighsartworks216]

Scar Tissue

Sylus x gn!Reader

Eyyyyy @comatosebunny09 I finally finished it >:3

Based on this post

Title from "Scar Tissue" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Warnings: cuddling, early relationship, intimacy, injury, guns, knives, semi-nudity

Word Count: 2,421

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Speak.”

The generic carpet muffles his footfalls as he crosses the room to the oversized floor to ceiling windows that peer out over Chansia City. You follow behind him until you get to the dresser, lined neatly with your clothes.

The hotel is very nice, especially high up here in the presidential suite. Though, you haven’t had much time to actually enjoy it. You got here yesterday, and it feels like all you’ve had time for is sleeping and getting dressed. It’s all been meetings, deals and exchanges otherwise. The only reason you’re back here at all is to change clothes to go to dinner with another client.

Sylus sighs, irritation painting his face with a scowl. You can just barely hear Luke’s voice on the other end. They’ve been holding down the N109 Zone in Sylus’s absence. “More petty land grabs?”

“Nah, from what we’ve heard it sounds like an affair came to light and now they’re duking it out to win their love.”

You snicker as you pull out a clean shirt. You turn and drop it on the bed, back to Sylus as you take off your shirt, bloody and torn from your earlier meeting. He turns to shoot you a half-amused half-annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Have Mephisto-”

But the words get stuck in his throat. Time seems to slow down as he stares at the bare expanse of your back. Your skin looks like a well-used cutting board. Scar after scar, criss-crossing over each other, fundamentally altering the appearance of your flesh for years to come.

He can pinpoint which were from missions he’d sent you on. Jobs that put you in the line of fire, where you had to fight your way out to survive, where someone got a surprise jump on you.

Others are completely foreign. Cuts and bullet wounds and burn marks, all unfamiliar to him. What secrets from your past do you keep locked away from him? How safe are you from the ones that hurt you? Would you ever tell him if something was wrong? If something cropped up from back then, from a time he’d never know enough of? Perhaps not.

Somehow, the former was worse. Knowing he was the one that sent you into trouble. Or those damn injuries you earned from taking a hit intended for him. Being the root cause for your pain aches more than never knowing the damage you incurred before.

You slip your shirt on, hiding the marks from view, and peek over your shoulder at him, confused by his silence. Time speeds back up.

He schools his features into something neutral, hiding the regret and hurt, and burying it deep down within him. He looks out the windows once more. Luke asks if he’s alright. Sylus ignores it, speaking as if nothing ever happened.

-

Dinner was dull, for the most part. The client didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t there for conversation, repeatedly prompting you to answer questions. You’d have signaled Sylus to put the man in his place, but it was all too amusing to see him flounder.

“What kind of gun do you use?” You’d slipped it from its holder mid sip of wine and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud. That’d taken him by surprise. He recovered quickly enough, spewing off facts about the make and model that you already knew.

“Has it been modified?” You broke it down and separated the parts that had been replaced or enhanced. He’d curiously reached out to inspect them, but you put it back together before he could touch anything. He paused, but put on a slightly strained, polite smile as he awkwardly sat back in his chair.

“How good is your aim?” You shot the end of his cigarette when he went to tap the ashes into a dish, scaring him so bad he shook the entire table and had to rapidly keep his drink from tipping into his lap.

He seemed content to leave you be after that.

You fall back into the bed, arms spread out wide and still in your dinner attire. Sylus chuckles. “Have fun?” he teases. He sits down beside you, leaning on his arm with an amused grin.

You shoot an unimpressed glare his way. Fabric rustles as you slide your hand along the bed to hold his arm, caressing the tensed muscles of his forearm. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me.”

His grin turns into a salacious smirk. You smack his bicep. “Not like that.”

“You don’t know what I was going to suggest.” Nonetheless, he kicks off his shoes by the side of the bed and lays down beside you. With one hand acting as a pillow, the other rests comfortably on your stomach. You wrap your arm around his neck to play with his hair. Content, you close your eyes.

The last vestiges of the sun filter through the window. Combined with the few lights in the room, you look… peaceful. It’s starting to become a common sight, and he takes great pleasure in being the one allowed to witness it. These times when you trust him enough to relax. When you stop listening out for the slightest hint of danger. When your body releases the tension constantly preparing your body for an attack. It’s a privilege. He hopes never to take it for granted.

Your fingers flit lazily through his hair. His body still tenses on the onset of your touch. His natural instinct yells for him to pull away, go on the defensive, protect himself. It’s always a battle to fight against them and allow himself to completely trust someone. As this - cuddling together, the small moments of physical intimacy and skinship - become the normal, the fight gets easier and easier.

He wonders if that same defensive instinct wars on in your head when he slips his hand under the hem of your shirt. The first brush of his fingers on your flesh, the flinch of muscle away from the contact, that eases back into his touch after a pause. If it does, you say nothing of it. Rather, when your stomach flinches away, you tug on his hair. An equal exchange. And perhaps a reminder of the lengths you have both gone to expose yourselves to each other.

Calloused fingertips dance across your belly, hidden by the fabric of your shirt. Soft ridges and toughened skin of layers of damage done across the years. His mind is shot back to the thoughts he had earlier. You can feel the shift in his touch. The way his fingers lift to barely ghost over your skin, as though you’re as thin and fragile as wet tissue paper. You open your eyes to watch him.

His face is stern. Like when discussing a difficult deal, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are dark. He slowly pushes up the shirt until it rests in a rumpled heap around the bottom of your ribcage. The shift in your breathing latches on at the edge of his senses. Just as with your back, scar after scar decorates your skin. But one stands out from the rest.

Along the line of your hip is a cut. It’s shallow. The skin it tore apart is irritated from lack of care and not having a moment to rest properly.

That’s his fault, too. Dragging you out to a dinner you didn’t really want to go to instead of giving you the opportunity to sleep and heal. Technically, you’re his bodyguard - his guard dog, always by his side, defending him from anyone who you deem a threat. Yet, he’s discomfited by just how quickly you step in to protect him. That’s what this scar is the result of.

The meeting this morning. A fight broke out. He was aiming a gun at the other group leader. One of their lackeys came up from the side with a knife. And you got hit. It had bled, but you’d brushed him off so easily when he mentioned it. You weren’t doubled over, nor were you in a rush to patch it up, so he trusted your judgement. Without a second thought.

Fortunately, your judgement is dependable. All it really needs is a bandage to keep the skin together and bacteria out while it heals, and yet he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t move. All he does is trace alongside it, feeling how it becomes intertwined with the scars before it.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, but the tone of his voice is odd. Teasing, edged with something raw. Something more vulnerable. Something that you two have been dancing around for weeks. “Tell me the next time you’re hurt. I’ll patch you up.”

You brush the hair from his face. His red eyes shift first to the bunched up fabric of your shirt, then to yours. His eyes are soft. The deep maroon of before has melted into a bloody crimson.

“I can patch myself up.”

He scoffs with a smirk and the slight tilt of his head. “I wasn’t asking, sweetie.”

You quirk a brow up at him. “Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily.

Your fingers falter. He brushes his thumb more firmly along the edge of the cut, still light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but with enough force that it no longer feels like he’s treating you like something fragile.

You frown at him, tapping three times at the base of his skull, a silent request for more information. He pushes himself up onto his elbow. It should be salacious, even intimidating, for him to hover over you like this. But it’s not.

His eyes follow his hand as he traces other marks on your belly. A bullet entrance wound here, a Wanderer’s blade there. The ones he caresses are newer. They haven’t yet faded into your skin. Of all of them, he’d only helped treat one or two. Some, he never even knew about, but he could trace back to when, what mission, they were received from.

“How many of these are from protecting me?” he asks lowly. “You do realize I can heal from all of these much faster than you can, don’t you, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. “It bothers you… that I do my job?”

He chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. “You could stand to be a little less efficient at it.”

The world falls quiet. The sun disappears, leaving darkness in her wake. The orange glow of the hotel lamps forms mountains and valleys along your skin. You study him, searching for answers.

Over your lifetime struggling to survive, you’d gotten good at reading people, Sylus included. Of course, he had broken your assumptions and expectations. If he hadn’t, you’d never have let him get so close. Never have allowed him to touch you like this, see your skin like this.

Right now, you can’t understand him.

He hired you to be his bodyguard, to protect him. To be his own personal shield when shit hits the fan. But he doesn’t want you to? A lingering fear in your mind worries for the end of your partnership. Would he really touch you like this if he wanted to fire you? Besides, when you made the damn deal, he said only you would have the power to call it off. He wasn’t someone to go against his word.

You drop your hand from his hair. His eyes snap to you, a flicker of fear that is snuffed out when you touch his chest. He’s still wearing his nice dress shirt, jacket discarded elsewhere. You play with one of the buttons. “How many times have you stepped in to protect me?” you ask.

Countless times. More and more frequently.

“Do you let any of them scar?”

He slowly shakes his head. It’s always second nature for him to use his Evol to take care of any and all injuries. Anything that could scar is gone before he has a chance to think about it, so long as he’s in the right conditions to use it.

“Then you can’t understand.”

He hums. “Enlighten me.”

You grin. Gliding your hand from his chest, down his arm, you hold the back of his where it rests on your stomach. It doesn’t take much effort to guide him. He watches, feels the scars that scrape by, as you bring it back back down to your hip, until his palm rests over the cut. It will heal within a couple of weeks, probably less. Once it’s healed, it will scar over. Once it scars over, it will be nothing more than a lasting memory embedded in your skin.

“They’re badges,” you say quietly. When he looks back up at you, you’re watching his hand, trailing your fingertips over the veins that decorate them. “I earned them from protecting you.”

So why would I not want them?

It goes unsaid, but he catches it anyway in the gentle reverence of your carress, the quirk of your brow when you look at him wordlessly asking if he can understand now. It doesn’t need to be said.

He slips his hand out from under yours. The bed shifts with his weight as he turns and gets up. You feel the loss immediately. It’s easy to hide the disappointment, but it churns over in your gut, more distinctly than you’ve ever felt it before, as he disappears around the corner of the wall. Did he really hate them so much?

He returns a minute later when you’re considering fixing your shirt with a medkit in hand. He sits on his knees, sets the kit down beside your body, and opens it up to get what he needs. The disinfectant stings as he wipes it along the cut, but you hardly feel it when he just looks so beautiful. So focused on taking care of you.

“Tell me when you're hurt,” he reminds you. He unspools a length of gauze and wraps it around your midsection securely. He glances at you with a slight grin as he grabs a roll of bandages from the kit. “They won’t scar well if they get infected first.”

A week later, you’re the one patching him up. He sits calmly on the couch as you draw a needle through the skin of his bicep. It’s just a knife wound. Earned from stepping in to protect you.

He can’t wait to see the scar.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[fadelbison]

one of the things that I loved about the fadelstyle stalker date was that despite all of the conflict, style seemed to be the first person that showed an interest in fadel's life - like a genuine hey are you having a good time with your activities level of interest.

He showed up to the restaurant to watch him prep and make commentary. Fadel went all brooding and knife-ey on him sure but we dont see him pull out those biceps that we already know can drag style out.

He calls him chef and helps him out, doing exactly the job that we see Bison abandon earlier in the episode - when was the last time someone made fadel feel like he was something other than a cold blooded killer?

And then you remember that style and fadel have already had this heartbreaking interaction in episode 1

[Screenshots from Ep1 of Style asking Fadel "You do everything yourself?" and Fadel responding "I do."]

I was never convinced that that interaction was just about the heartburgers management for fadel lol

style is going to figure out they're assassins, style tries to backtrack from the car deal when kant agrees. i think asking for the car was style's way of refusing that favor but when kant agrees he gets curious or really starts believing that kant is in love.

style is probably the most intelligent of the four but he's definitely the most emotionally intelligent of the four though it's masked by his carefree personality - and he has figured out for better or for worse that fadel is lonely, desperately so.

style asks for a list of things that fadel likes doing and the best bison comes up with is his schedule which is exactly the same everyday but bison doesn't even know. and style makes it work. he tries to create intimacy at the burger shop in ep1 with fadel and it fails and when he's handed a schedule that is 70% fadel either prepping for or being at the burger shop, style comes back with companionship on offer.

when bison said fadel's insides need a beating, style correctly interprets it as put that man through the mortifying ordeal of being known and he really does it in a way that's not random. The random method failed so now he's trying to understand fadel, something that fadel hasn't experienced in a long time if he ever has.

And the cookie crumbles in less than a day. fadel should feel some embarassment for how easy it was?

look at fadel - he's confused. error 404 not found expression on a man if i've ever seen one. there are no internal protocols of handling this situation, so for the first time he has to rely on his instincts, instincts that were forced into ignoring and mistrusting this sort of stimulus.

fadel simply wants. the comeback of what he thought his long, dead desire (bison is the only person he's convinced himself he needs!!) and those hardened, survival instincts are at odds, and the struggle to push that impulse away, to jerk off angrily in the hopes its flushed out of his system - oh fadel i love that you're so un-normal about this.

style sets the challenge in the pursuit of fadel for himself in a way. despite having almost no information and this probably being a slightly hyperbolic statement style has surmised the stakes of this mission much better than even kant has.

style has him and im fairly certain style knows he has him...if he wants him. you've thrown your own gauntlet style so just how far are you going to go to meet that challenge?

[wolven91]

Drought vs Flood

Cat calls.

Being called 'cute' or showered with compliments.

Paul had never really considered these an annoyance before. Hell, if he though back to his time on Earth, he couldn't remember the last time when he'd ever received a compliment from a stranger before.

No, that was a lie he realised.

Many years before, an older lady once stopped him to compliment him on a jovial Christmas jumper he'd worn. She said she liked it and that he was handsome in it too. He vividly remembered having a great day that day, despite having to deal with a queue of irate customers throughout the afternoon.

That compliment had kept the man sated for years!

As a man, Paul had never really understood the frustrations of women when they bemoaned the fact that they received compliments and manners from random strangers every day. The man would always hasten to add that he understood them from a logical point of view, but there was always a part of him that had wanted a taste of that life for a while.

Sure, maybe getting them every day might have gotten old, but after over a decade of surviving off one compliment? The man didn't *understand* the frustration. The isolation had to be worse right?

That was until the Earth was destroyed and Paul ended up like a few of his fellow humans, lost amongst the stars as a human, alone in the void.

At first, Paul thrived. He'd lived alone for seven years and with his friends moving away, getting families, or just losing touch; there had been times in his life where he'd gone whole weeks without saying a single word out loud.

After that initial period of learning the ropes, figuring out where he could get a job, food, even the stuff that wasn't quite 'legal' like a drink, Paul settled into what he expected would be a quiet life.

Only, every time he spent time out in public, like when he went to sit in the tiny bar that would serve him under the counter, it wasn't that quiet.

"I just love your fur; can I touch it?" Asked the bull-like alien as they had already begun reaching out and touching thick leather pads to the crop of hair atop Paul's head. The man shoved the alien's wrist away from him.

"No, thank you." He grunted, still hunched at the bar, uncomfortable about the two aliens that stood either side of him. Both were, alien, they had the heads of bulls but bodies that he would have given his left arm for back home. But regardless of their physical attraction, this was week three of not being able to have a single moment's peace outside of his own quarters.

"Oh come on, I read you love it when someone pets you?" Smarmed the second, quoting some bullshit, pardon the pun, text that Paul himself had read. Apparently, a few of the survivors had let slip that they were touch starved, so now every alien and their mother was quoting this as if gospel.

If Paul ever got his hands on the moron that uttered those...

"Not all humans are the same." He growled back, gripping his drink.

"Well, what if I showed you a gun? You like guns, right?" Offered the first taurian, briefly turning their hip and displaying a holster.

"I repeat, not all humans are the same." Paul was British, he thought guns were a tool and nothing more. No more exciting than a pen or a pair of expensive scissors. More than a handful of Americans made it out and had made a huge scene when they found out guns were illegal to humans. Yet more misinformation chumming the water.

"Aww come on, we're just being friendly. It's okay! I also read that your society said you had to be prudes; it's not true, you can relax." The alien explained as if she wasn't taking a big dump on the entire human civilisation and its history.

Paul sneered at the fact that he mildly agreed. The odd concepts that were considered fact back home were outright frowned on up here. With all the fur and lack of breasts on those without; clothes were almost optional by those not actively working. Granted Paul wasn't a nudist and didn't have the body to want to flaunt it, but it was a breath of fresh air to not be so gummed down with social rules.

"I was relaxed," Paul sniped, but the jab went well over the two female taurian's horns. "I just want a quiet drink." He reiterated, breathing deep and remaining calm. The sluggat barkeep watched him carefully, his eye stalks watching the taurians and the human independently. He was hanging around by the bar's emergency distress button.

"We can drink with you." Offered one of them, Paul didn't even bother looking now, instead attempting to drill a hole in the opposite wall with his eyes.

"I don't want company." He explained clearly.

"Why not?" They prodded.

"Because I said so."

"That ain't a real answer, just let us-"

"Can you actually fuck off?!" Paul snapped, turning his body to the last one to speak. "I don't want company, I don't want a drink from you, I want to be left alone!"

"Alright, fuck us, right? We were being nice and now you're acting like we're attacking you. We're the nice ones, but I guess you'll only learn that when you meet the other kind."

Paul just rolled his eyes as the pair stepped away from the bar and, as one walked past, clipped the leg of the stool Paul was sat on, jangling his already on edge nerves.

They grunted something as they passed that the translators flagged as an insult.

Paul rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed and tried to relax. The sluggat slithered over and asked if he was all right.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine." The man replied absently, using a thumb to wick the moisture off the side of his glass.

A drought, versus a flood.

That was how Paul now considered the perspective from before. How he would explain the difference of perspectives to a younger self.

How could the drowning woman understand the dying man in the desert?

It was great to be the centre of attention for a week or two, but the way they got handsy? If he didn't actively stop them, and make it clear he wasn't 'playing hard to get' that they'd start groping him?  The way they didn't give him space or even listen when he said 'no'?

Even when they were weird... and smelt bad... Not all the creatures up here were attractive.

"Fuck." The man drew the word out with a breath he only realised was shaking as his voice shuddered. With a guilty grimace, the man reached into his pocket and retrieved the data slate. He scrolled through the minimal contacts and selected his guardian.

It rang once before being answered by a near frantic voice that was obviously being kept neutral.

"Paul?"

"Hey Shu'ba. I fucked up... Can you... Can you come get me please?" The man asked humbly.

"Is everything alright?!"

"It's fine, nothing's happened, but I'd feel safer if you were near."

"I got your location, I'm two minutes away."

"Thanks, Shu'ba."

"Don't think anything of it."

"I'm sorry."

The voice of the ssypno sighed through the speaker.

"I get it's hard to have a babysitter, but we're here for a reason. It's okay, I'm almost there."

Paul stayed on the line, even though he and the sluggat were the only patrons of the bar, but when the neon green scales of his guardian slithered into the room, a wave of relief washed over him.

Perhaps it was time to stop giving the serpent the slip?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[yoonyeon0]

Hi, could you write headcanons of Raian Kure in a relationship? Like when he likes someone and doesn't know how to approach them?

original asker most likely couldn’t find my ask box so I did it myself 😭

also, my ask box is always some type of song/lyric so just look for that!

RAIAN KURE RELATIONSHIP HCS

“i hate you, i love you.”

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ raian is a very..peculiar lover. maybe not weird, but definitely out of the normal range of lovers. and trust me, it’s even worse when he has feelings he can’t exactly express.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ you gotta be one damn cool and special person to even grab the attention of raian in a romantic sense. you have to be careful and very cautious - someone that doesn’t deal with bullshit and is quick to shut things down. basically someone that is stronger than him mentally but not physically. even with all of your strong points, raian will always somehow be more dominant.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ raian is surprisingly awkward. its the first time he has felt love in a romantic sense and the way it is so intense it takes him off guard which is surprising. obviously his type of awkward isn’t the same as a normal awkward person - it’s wayy more aggressive.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ because raian is so awkward, he doesn’t even know how to go along with his feelings - he most likely doesn’t even realize that he’s in love. he probably treats you like everyone else - insulting, annoying, and more. but he puts a strict ‘no’ at threatening you. he, for some reason, doesn’t want to see you hurt in any type of way and definitely avoids even play fighting with you.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ trust me, if raian has a crush on you, he will pick on you more than he does for anyone else. honestly i feel like that’s why he wants such a mentally strong person, someone that will snap back if they’re insulted because its so much more fun that way!

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ contrary to popular belief, i feel like he shows concern but to an extent. when he has a crush on someone, he will definitely notice new things - whether they are bad or good.

“oi!”

you rolled your eyes and let a loud exhale, obviously irritated by the voice you registered as the man you despised. you don’t know why he was intent on bothering you when your just trying to survive without him being at every corner. you slowly turned around to see the man looking at you with his classic smirk, obviously ready to give you hell.

“hi. what do you want?”

his shit eating grin slowly faded when he looked you up and down before locking on to your broken arm.

“hey. what happened?”

the both of you looked down to your broken arm and prayed he wasn’t going to bring it up but who were you kidding? he always does and you always want to punt him 30 yards.

he slowly started chuckling before breaking into a loud cackle.

“hey! you’re weak as hell! do your bones break when you pick a 5 pound dumbbell or some shit?”

your face obviously scrunched in anger and with a glare that even the birds around you noticed, you went up to him and grabbed his collar.

“shut the hell up. only reason I have this broken arm is because i was busy beating up bitches that wanted you gone.”

he raised an eyebrow before softly chuckling before leaning so close you could feel his hot breath on your eye lashes.

“oh really? what do you want as a reward? maybe a kiss? maybe you want me to get on my knees and thank you, kissing your feet and slowly going up to you thighs and-“

your hand immediately moved from his collar to his face before you gave him a hard slap with your non-broken hand which obviously didn’t even phase him.

“shut up you loser! ugh, i can’t fucking stand you!”

you immediately turned away and walked away, trying to make it seem like you didn’t want to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

unknown to you, raian was behind you chuckling some words while rubbing the slap on his cheek.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ everyone in Kure family can obviously tell that raian’s feelings for you are different than most people around him. it probably became a joke in kure family that you and him were dating because of how obvious it was.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ the person to tell raian that he is very much in love with you is no one other than his own sister, fusui. this probably happened when he was having one of his yearly meetings with her.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he most likely thinks that she’s just being a dumbass 😭

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he would have to get near you one more time after fusui telling him that he’s in love to really believe her words.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ i won’t even lie, he would either never tell you he likes you or he would tell you as soon as he realizes. of course when he does tell you, its not a normal confession.

˚꩜ .ᐟ˙ he def asks fusui for some advice that he tries to take. keyword: tries.

you were so confused right now. there was raian kure, asking you to train with him, knowing damn well that he was so much stronger than you.

“hell no. i know you hate me but i never knew you wanted to kill me.”

he seemed to take a deep breath before looking at you, dead in the eye. he seemed to be looking for something in your eyes. if you hadn’t moved you head slightly, you two would have probably been standing there staring at each other.

“i..don’t hate you.“

he said the sentence so quietly, which was so sudden and surprising, you almost didn’t hear him.

“what did you say? speak up.”

“ugh, you fuckin’ complain too much. cmon, you don’t have a choice. i said i want to train with you. what more of a reason do you want?”

“why? so you can break all of my bones?”

you started getting closer and closer to him, as if to mock or intimidate him.

“huh? what’s wrong? come on say something!”

you stopped right in front of him, now looking up into his eyes. you couldn’t decipher what he was thinking about, what was bugging him. you thought that maybe he was finally going soft on you so you started smirking.

“wipe that fuckin smirk off your face you crazed bitch. making me feel all types of ways, you did this on purpose right?”

your smile faded as raian’s smile came into your sight. he started slowly approaching you while you stepped back, little by little.

“all you want is my validation right? what a whore. well, you got what you want so don’t pussy out now.”

˚꩜ .ᐟ when your relationship with raian finally starts, he doesn’t know what to do. this is most likely his first rodeo and he probably think relationships only consist of fucking and kissing so it’ll be a little hard to teach him that relationships are more than that.

˚꩜ .ᐟ raian is terrible at anything romantic. not that he can’t be romantic, but it’s more of him just doing his own thing.

˚꩜ .ᐟ once a blue moon raian will get you flowers and invite you to train with him because that is his idea of spending time together.

˚꩜ .ᐟ i dont think raian reminds you that he loves you unless you are in a really messed up mental situation but even then he’s hesitant.

not because he doesn’t love you, he just thinks that you already know this. like you being with him isn’t already enough?

˚꩜ .ᐟ i’ll be honest, if you thought that raian would be mentally available; you’re wrong. if you feel like you guys aren’t communicating enough, you’re gonna have to force him to sit and listen to you and and what the two of you should do.

˚꩜ .ᐟ you don’t even suspect raian to be cheating. like not only because of his terrible behavior, he just doesn’t show any interest in people other than you.

˚꩜ .ᐟ you two do get in fights. more than normal. mainly because raian refuses to cooperate and/or communicate with you. he also kinda disrespects and disregards your feelings in fights because he is kind of a dick.

˚꩜ .ᐟ don’t think that he’s like akoya, he definitely notices his wrongs and he always apologizes, even if the apology is just not really him saying sorry. he’s trying okay?

˚꩜ .ᐟ you will NEVER catch him in a submissive way outside of your relationship. but inside the house, he is kinda of a piece of mold. insufferably clingy.

˚꩜ .ᐟ he’s never home. but he always asks to call you and send texts which is adorable in a way. sometimes when he’s feeling extra lonely and romantic, which is rare, he’ll write you a letter that has spots of blood on them. and people say that romance is dead.

˚꩜ .ᐟ no body knows you exist and are in a relationship it’s raian if they haven’t been in the kure village until you two get married. he keeps you secret because he knows how many enemies he has so he doesn’t want you hurt.

˚꩜ .ᐟ does raian want kids? no. does he end up getting them anyway because he doesn’t pull out? yes! but don’t worry, he does love them even if it doesn’t seem like it.

˚꩜ .ᐟ doesn’t like matching things but has a photo of you in his wallet that he FORBIDS people to look at.

˚꩜ .ᐟ will and would buy you whatever you please, just don’t ask him much or it’ll irritate him.

dividers from both @plutism and @aquazero 🥰

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

[dustcrumbs]

I love the idea of Dust just having a gun. I personally see Dust as a guy who fights far distance. And being forced into close combat, while not bad at it, it restricts him a lot. Even worse when it comes to hand to hand combat since he probably isn't physically strong. He's fast but not necessarily the strongest.

So, having a gun would cover his weakness.

And also to add more on how i believe the gang fights.

Horror would rarely strike first. He's probably more of a defensive player. He blocks blows and keeps the stars from getting close to Dust. It's hard to fight when someone(dust) is shooting blasters and bones at you. And being unable to knock that problem out when you're being continuously shoved further away by a brute with immense strength. (Horror can pack a PUNCH. I PROMISE YOU.)

Also because I believe that Horror, being the defense, matches my HC of his urge to protect and shield people. And not wanting to necessarily kill unless provoked or necessary. Horror is even given permission by Nightmare to not kill anyone unless deemed necessary for survival.

Now, onto how Killer fights. He'd prefer to fight in close combat, not necessarily hand to hand, though. Killer would struggle to fight far distance because of the issue with his vision. With the tears flowing out of his eyes, he'd struggle to see things from far away. Which can allow his target to escape if he struggles to spot where they are from a far. He also isn't very strategic with his blows. He'd be the opposite of Dust, who fights with strategy and logic. Killer fights with luck and opportunity. He prefers his fight to be fun without thinking or processing the possibility of failing. He also likes to confuse his victim, pulling out random jabs at them or teasing. His idea of a fight is excitement, not if it's life or death. He doesn't take fighting seriously unless he gets badly injured or someone else in the gang is almost ripped apart. Killers' unpredictability would give him an advantage in fighting. Since you don't know if he's willing to risk an arm of his own. Or yours. Also one more thing.. Killer, if not already fighting someone, he'd take on whoever Horror is dealing with. Ya know, making sure the defense isn't forced into the offense.

I fully believe that Nightmare has crazy strength in both physical and magical compartments. His preferred fighting tactic is close combat, and he'd only get into hand to hand combat when pissed off or forced into it by a stronger force. Far distance is when he doesn't necessarily take his victim seriously, that he doesn't have to get down there to fight them. Or that he's injured badly or too weak for his opponent at the moment.

That's kinda it..

Dust is like a sniper (He'd probably have a revolver or pistol and an actual sniper depending on the mission.)

Horror is the defense and also keeps people from getting to Dust.

Killer is close combat

Nightmare is able to fight no matter what. That old man can throw hands, trust 🙏

I wrote this down in case I wanted to draw it later. But also if you guys have your own personal ideas.. Let me know, I'd actually love to read how you guys think they fight as a team. 😼

[darylbae]

Pls could you write daryl dixon x fem!reader at the kingdom? carol and ezekiel took in a worn out and struggling woman and have been helping her get back on her feet. daryl comes along and teaches her to hunt and maybe r lost some memory but got a bit back when she shot her first animal w daryl maybe she’s actually a vvv good hunter

crack shot — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you find the kingdom, and an archer who's willing to train you.

note: love this, going to make a lil drabble of this.

You'd been alone for a long time. You'd survived with your stealth and trusty knives, but it was getting harder. Your backpack of supplies were low, you hadn't found a proper place to settle down, and you'd recently injured yourself trying to hide from a horde of walkers. Until you'd been found passed out from blood loss sat on a branch in a tree. A man, who spoke as if he'd been pulled from a fantasy book, and a woman, who seemed the exact opposite of him. And yet they worked together well enough to get you back to wherever it is they call home. The Kingdom.

That was almost a month ago. You'd spent a long while recovering, getting to know the Kingdom and it's people, and helping out with your very minimal mobility. Turns out your injury had been worse than you or anyone had thought. When Carol, the woman who found you, had sat at your bedside to question you, you appeared to have lost any knowledge of what's happened. Memories muddle into one, not being clear enough to decipher. You'd forgotten a lot of your life before this, but you assumed that was because the world had changed so drastically. You remembered some long-term things, like family members you had, what was happening in the world at this point in time, and where you were born, but everything else had fallen short. It was time to start building you back up. Carol would visit you a lot, bringing you things to eat, taking you around on walks to show you how things are going, and today she had other ideas in mind. "So," Carol sighed, sitting next to your bed once again, "I think you've recovered enough to start doing something. I've asked a friend to train you in dealing with walkers. Just to make sure you can defend yourself still." You nodded, finishing lacing up your boots and getting out of bed. "Who? Jerry? Because I love Jerry." Carol laughed. "No, an old friend of mine offered to help actually. He's waiting outside."

Carol had taken you outside, and stood in front of the both of you, was God himself. Everything you'd liked in a man, he was here. But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your brain, focusing on learning. "This is Daryl," Carol introduced him, and he held the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder, giving you a quick look up and down, and a nod. "He's going to take you hunting today."

The two of you had left the Kingdom, quietly walking towards the woods. "Carol said you forgot everythin'," he mumbled, his voice gruff but it pushed a few buttons for you, "that sucks." "Yeah. It's a strange feeling. I don't really remember much except the family I had, and how the world turned out like this." You explained. "So you're a hunter?" He nodded. "I'm good at it. Been doin' it all my life." "Well I hope I catch a good deer or something for Carol and Ezekiel."

It had been a long, slow day. You'd spent a long time just walking through the woods silently, trying not to scare any wildlife away. With the occasional "come 'ere" from Daryl. But you'd finally found a deer; stood gracefully between two trees, sniffing at the ground. Daryl raised his crossbow, explaining how to use it. "Wait," you exclaimed in a whisper, "can I do it?" Daryl handed you his crossbow, and before he'd opened his mouth about how to hold it, you'd fired the arrow and it landed perfectly into the deer, killing it in the most humane way. He was in shock, analyzing your features for any signs of shock. "You done this before?" He asked, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder again before following you towards the deer. "Maybe? I don't know. It just felt natural to me." You answered, and he was still reeling from how impressed he was. "Have to take you huntin' with me all the time now, crack shot."

[wolf-tail]

Since I'm far more comfortable being weird on 40k tumblr than I used to be, I'm gonna say some unhinged things.

Now that you've all been thoroughly warned, I'm thinking about which Primarchs would be the best or worst to deal with if they got pregnant:

Lion-You do not know he is pregnant. He would preffer it that way. He seems crankier, meaner, more reclusive, amd just a bit rounder, but you don't know about it until he winces and slinks off during a meeting, then returns a few hours later with babby in tow. No one is allowed to touch or even look at babby for at least a week.

Guilliman-He's doing pretty ok, but very anxious. Lots of body aches, but you have a hell of a time trying to convince him to ease off the work and rest. You often find him fast asleep on top of his desk. Constantly craving olives. Overall not too bad.

Horus-VERY proud papa-to-be. Constantly showing off his big ol belly and bragging about how knocked up he is. He has a canonical breeding kink, he's wearing every embarrassing maternity t-shirt he can find. Mortifying ordeal, but could be way worse.

Konrad-OH GOD, whoever impregnated this man, answer for your fucking crimes. Anyone who so much as breathes too loud in his vicinity is a skinless splatter on the pavement. Mercifully, he doesn't seem to want to leave his room. Just avoid him as much as possible and you might survive.

Sanguinius-Glowing, positively GLOWING! He's vibrant, elegant, happy, the type of thing people tell you being pregnant is like to try and convince you to have kids. Happy to let anyone rub his tummy. (Would he even give live birth or just lay an egg?) He's eepy, so very sleeby eepy. He just wants to nap. That just serves to make it cuter. The only issue is that in the later weeks he starts going broody. That will not be a fun time.

Fulgrim- Also an idealistic glowing beauty, but probably is a struggling a lot more than he lets on. You just know he's nauseous as hell and his feet hurt like a bitch. Give him a foot rub , he deserves it. Has a bunch of super long baby names picked out, Definitely rearranged the nursery seventeen times at least because it's "not good enough". And the second fact that thing comes out the womb it's dripped tf out. Little fuck is leaving the hospital in a Dior onesie. Fulgrim insists on doing his makeup before leaving the maternity ward, because he refuses to look as worn out as he is. Let this poor man REST.

Ferrus-Oof. I don't know much about him, but he strikes me as the type to have body image issues. Baby has a normal ass name like "John" or smth. When it's born he's scared to hold it with his metal hands, but bub doesn't care, falls right asleep in them.

Perturabo-ABORTION. He has no time for kids. But in the chance he does keep it, he's even more cranky and insufferable than ever. Yells at his own belly bc MiniPerty is kicking him while he's trying to work. Sending u prayers🙏

Dorn-Hmmm, idkkkk. I have not read enough about him. Dorn fans answer this one for me. But from what I do know he'd have a hard time describing as his complicated emotions about it. Would swaddle the Dornling in his grandpa's blanket.

Angron-OH FUCCKKKKKKK. You thought Konrad was bad!? The sad part is, all of the parts of him that want and love the baby are being punished for it by the nails. But can you fucking imagine a pregnant hormonal Angron!? The galaxy shakes in fear. The second sperm met egg, Khorne shifted uncomforably upon the Skull Throne.

Magnus-He's having a great time! Studying every parenting book he can find (TAKE NOTES EMPS!), getting cool belly tattoos, doing mysterious pregnancy rituals, psychically communicating with MiniMagnus once they're developed enough. Has a BIG belly, sometimes hard to maneuver. Probably twins. Sons always happy to give it a lil rub when he walks last. Often found lounging in his tower, lazily talking to bubby while reading, go ahead and give him a back massage.

Mortarion- As much as I think he'd look cute with a baby, I don't think he was ever at any point in his life healthy enough to carry one to term. Isha, fix his uterus, he needs to be a daddy immediately. If he was miraculously to get preggers, he'd definitely be cranky, but not overwhelmingly so. He'd love the kid, but occasionally pat his tummy and gently admonish it for being such a little nuisance.

Corax- Drawing a total blank here. Raven guardies tell me plz. But he might go broody too, goes with the bird theming.

The Khan- Continues riding his bike until he's physically too big to do so. You can't even try to stop him. Little Jag is travelling at Mach Fuck You every day. Labor is 5 seconds long, and as soon as the kid's delivered he's strapping it to his chest and getting right back in the saddle.

Vulkan-Biggest cuddlebug EVER!!! Joyous and glowing, always up for a belly rub. You just know his ass is 8 months pregnant and still in the forge, working on little practice weapons for his lil Salamander. His water will probaby break and he'll beg you to let him quench a sword in his own amniotic fluid (don't, that's gross) Prone to hot flashes, get him a nice cold drink plz.

Lorgar-A baby is joyous blessing! He's insanely happy about it, going on about how his body was "chosen to bring forth a wondrous being". Touching the tum is a religious experience. Gets a new tattoo to celebrate, if he can find the room.

Alpharius/Omegon: You either have no idea which one's pregnant, or they all somehow get pregnant at once. Twins are a guarantee either way.

[theoddest1]

Nahh, Val defenders are SCARY. I just saw the recent tea and lemme tell you. I’m an artist who does artist alley at huge cons over the USA and I’ve had people upset at me for having almost every Hazbin character as a keychain design except for Val because that mothafucker can go jump into an insect repellent buzzer for all I care. And I have had actual encounters IN PERSON of people who were upset I didn’t have the rapist man. I’d tell them I am too uncomfortable to draw him because guess what honey, I survived rape so of course he makes me uncomfortable. Also I’m the artist and I can draw whatever the fuck I want. And people would get upset saying they needed their husbando or tell me gee sucks for you but he’s a fictional character. Don’t care! I don’t care if he’s fictional, do you see how people treat awful men like him saying shit like they wished that Val had a contract with them? Don’t get me started on the ValAngel cosplayers who would pose in questionable manners, or the Val cosplayers who used their cosplay to excuse they heinous shit like touching people’s asses because they think they’re in character. And now with this print issue, it’s just going to get worse because people find the rapist man hot thanks to glorification of sexual assault. Also to the people comparing ValAngel to a consensual non-con kink, please seek help. Sorry babes I just had to get it out of my system because this is making me furious. Anyways, that’s my piping tea, and I love your blog.

Oh, sis, I just wanna start off saying that I am so sorry you have been dealing with this and that you're strong af for still being here and being you despite what horrors you faced. I wanna applaud you for your strength and keep up the good fight! I'd also like to apologize for taking so long to answer asks! After the latest drama, I have been getting so many more asks, and tbh I never thought my acc would get as much traction as it does nowadays! Glad you and every have been enjoying my posts and hope that I can better she'd light on Biv and her little posse!

Regarding your situation at cons, I am so sorry you had to deal with them obnoxious ass people. They say in one breath, "Oh, it's fiction!" But then, in the other, get pissed when said fiction is not available, that's how you know that they dgaf and only care about their "interests" over actual survivors concerns and critiques over the handling of SA. The fact that a lot of them do these sexual acts onto people proves the fiction DOES INDEED affect reality, unsurprisingly. Ima say it again, these mfers need to see Val get dogged on and made fun off lime a punching bag, and we'll see if they pull that same excuse.🫢🤭

[earthtoharlow]

Rich Criminal

Scalvo x OC

main masterlist

Chloé Delacroix had always lived a life of luxury, her days filled with designer clothes, lavish parties, and the best education money could buy. She was the epitome of high society, the kind of girl who had everything. But for all the material wealth that surrounded her, something was missing. She craved excitement, something that would break the routine of her seemingly perfect curated life.

Then came Scalvo. He was the kind of man her parents had always warned her about—a criminal with a dangerous edge. Rumors swirled about his involvement in illegal activities, but Chloé was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was everything her world wasn’t: raw, unpredictable, thrilling. When they two first met at an underground club, she knew there was no turning back.

Her friends and family tried their hardest to stop Chloé from seeing Scalvo. But Chloé was defiant. “You don’t know him like I do,” she would say, brushing off their warnings with a confident smile. To her, Scalvo wasn’t the villain they all made him out to be. He was misunderstood, a product of a world that had dealt him a rough hand. She saw the softness behind his hardened exterior, the vulnerability he showed only to her.

When they were together, Scalvo opened up in ways she never imagined. He told her about his rough childhood, about the choices he had to make to survive. “You’re the only one who gets me, Chloé.” he’d say, his voice rough but sincere. “With you, I feel like I can be someone better.”

And she believed him. She believed in the man she saw when they were alone, the one who held her close at night and whispered promises of a future where they’d rise above it all.

As the months went by, the tension between Chloé and her loved ones grew. They couldn’t understand why she was risking everything—her reputation, her safety, her future—for a man who lived on the edge of society’s laws. But Chloé remained loyal, convinced that love would conquer all, that Scalvo would change because of her.

But the darker side of Scalvo’s world soon began to seep into their relationship. Late-night calls, unexplained absences, the constant feeling of being watched—Chloé tried to ignore it all, clinging to the belief that Scalvo would turn his back on that life, that they could start anew.

He started showing up at her house with bruises on his arms, a cut on his lip, or a black eye that he would shrug off with a casual, “Just a misunderstanding,” or “You know how it is.”

The first time she saw the bruises, she was concerned. “Scalvo, what happened to you?” she asked, reaching out to gently touch the darkened skin on his cheek.

He winced slightly but offered her a crooked smile. “Nothing you need to worry about, Chloé. Just some idiots who don’t know when to back off.”

She wanted to press him for more, but the look in his eyes—a mixture of weariness and defiance—made her hesitate. She didn’t want to push him away, not when she felt him slipping through her fingers.

As the weeks passed, the bruises became more frequent. Sometimes he would try to hide them, pulling the collar of his shirt up to conceal a mark on his neck or wearing sunglasses indoors to cover a swollen eye. But Chloé wasn’t easily fooled. Each time, her worry grew, and she couldn’t help but feel that Scalvo was spiraling deeper into a world she couldn’t reach.

One night, after he arrived with fresh cuts on his knuckles, she couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Scalvo, this is getting worse. You’re getting hurt more often. What’s really going on?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he sat down on the edge of her bed. “It’s complicated, Chloé. Things are getting tense in the city. Some deals aren’t going as planned, and people are starting to get desperate.”

“But why do you have to be involved?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration. “You don’t have to keep doing this. We can leave, start over somewhere new.”

Scalvo reached out and took her hand, his grip firm but tender. “I wish it were that simple,” he said quietly. “But this life… it’s not easy to walk away from. I’m in too deep.”

Chloé’s heart ached as she listened to him, the man she loved more than anything trapped in a world she barely understood. She wanted to save him, to pull him out of the darkness and into the light, but she didn’t know how. And every time she tried, he would reassure her that he could handle it, that everything would be fine.

But the bruises told a different story.

In the back of her mind, the warnings from her family and friends echoed louder than ever. “He’s no good for you, Chloé. You’re playing with fire.”

Yet, despite the growing dread, Chloé couldn’t bring herself to walk away. She was convinced that if she stayed, if she loved him enough, he would find a way out. She told herself that they didn’t know him like she did, that they couldn’t see the man he truly was beneath the bruises and the scars.

But as Scalvo continued to come to her battered and bruised, the realization began to sink in: maybe, just maybe, the world he was part of would never let him go, and she might be dragged down with him.

The next time Scalvo arrived at her doorstep with yet another black eye and a deep gash across his cheek, Chloé’s resolve began to crack. She couldn’t bear to see him like this anymore, broken and battered, caught in a life that seemed determined to destroy him.

They sat together in the dimly lit living room of her home, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Chloé was quiet, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the armrest of the couch. She had always believed she could handle whatever came their way, but now, seeing Scalvo in this state, she wasn’t so sure.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Scalvo, this has to stop. You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep going like this. We need to find a way out.”

Scalvo leaned back, his expression hardening. “Out?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Chloé, there is no ‘out.’ This is who I am. This is the life I chose, the life I’ve been living long before you came along.”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and love. “But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can leave, Scalvo. We can start over somewhere far away. We don’t need all of this.”

Scalvo’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, a flicker of something soft crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by the cold, unyielding mask he wore whenever they talked about the future. “You think it’s that easy?” he asked, a bitter edge to his tone. “You think I can just walk away and everything will be fine? It doesn’t work like that, Chloé. You don’t get to choose the easy way out when you’re in this deep.”

He stood up, pacing the room, the tension radiating off him in waves. “I’ve tried to shield you from the worst of it, tried to keep you safe, but you’re in this now too. And I need to know if you’re really with me.”

Chloé’s heart pounded in her chest as she listened to him, the gravity of his words sinking in. She had always known that being with Scalvo meant embracing a life of uncertainty, but she had never fully grasped just how deep his ties to that world ran.

Scalvo stopped pacing and turned to face her, his eyes locked on hers. “I need you to understand something, Chloé. This isn’t a fairy tale. There’s no happily ever after where we ride off into the sunset and leave all this behind. This is real life. My life. And if you’re not willing to ride or die with me, then you need to walk away now.”

Chloé’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood in front of Scalvo, her mind reeling with everything he’d just said. He was giving her an out, a chance to walk away from the chaos and danger that surrounded him, and deep down, she knew she should take it. But the thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again, was like a knife to her heart. She loved him, even with all the darkness that came with him, but this…this was too much.

“I can’t do this, Scalvo,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything’s going to be okay. It’s not, and we both know it.”

Scalvo’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue, might try to convince her to stay. But instead, he just nodded, the resignation clear in his eyes. “I understand,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “You deserve better than this—better than me.”

He turned to leave, his footsteps heavy as he moved toward the door, and Chloé felt a surge of panic rise up inside her. She couldn’t let him walk away, not like this, not when she still loved him with every fiber of her being. “Wait,” she called out, her voice trembling.

Scalvo stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob as he turned back to face her. The anguish in his eyes mirrored her own, and in that moment, all the fear, all the doubt, melted away. She crossed the room in a heartbeat, her hands reaching for him, pulling him back toward her. And then, before either of them could think, she pressed her lips to his in a desperate, passionate kiss.

It was a kiss full of everything they hadn’t said, of all the love and pain and longing that had been building between them. Scalvo responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he had into that one, final connection.

The kiss quickly turned heated, their hands roaming over each other as they stumbled toward her bedroom. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. It was as if they both knew this was their last chance to be together, and they weren’t going to waste a single second of it.

Their clothes were discarded in a frenzy, and soon they were lost in each other, their bodies moving together with an urgency that bordered on desperation. The passion between them was raw, intense, and filled with the bittersweet knowledge that this was goodbye.

Chloé clung to Scalvo as if she could somehow keep him with her, her nails digging into his back as he moved above her. Each touch, each kiss, each breathless gasp was a plea for more time, more moments together before the inevitable end.

And when they finally reached the peak, it was with a mix of ecstasy and heartbreak, their cries of pleasure tinged with the sorrow of parting.

As they lay together afterward, their breaths mingling in the quiet darkness, Chloé wished she could freeze time, hold onto this moment forever. But she knew it was impossible. She knew Scalvo was already pulling away, steeling himself for what came next.

Scalvo pressed a final, lingering kiss to her forehead before he slowly disentangled himself from her embrace. He got dressed in silence, every movement deliberate, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of her touch, the scent of her skin.

Chloé watched him, tears silently streaming down her face, knowing that once he walked out that door, it would be over. He would be gone, and her life would never be the same.

When he was ready to leave, Scalvo paused at the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as he looked back at her one last time. His eyes were filled with so much emotion—regret, sorrow, and a love that would never fade, no matter how far apart they were.

“Goodbye, Chloé,” he said softly, his voice breaking.

“Goodbye, Scalvo,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears.

And then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in the emptiness of the room. Chloé curled up on the bed, clutching the sheets that still held his warmth, and let the sobs that had been building inside her finally break free.

Scalvo walked away into the night, the pain of leaving her cutting deeper than any wound he’d ever suffered. He had done what he had to do, what was best for her, even if it destroyed him in the process.

As much as he hated himself for what he was about to do to her family, for the betrayal that was already set in motion, he knew there was no going back. But at least he had given her a chance to escape the fallout, to find a better life without him.

And that was the only solace he had as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind the only woman he had ever truly loved.

***

Chloé spent the entire night at the benefit dinner in a haze, her mind replaying every moment with Scalvo on an endless loop. The weight of their goodbye pressed heavily on her, making it impossible to focus on the conversations around her or the polite smiles she was supposed to give. All she could think about was the way he had walked out of her life, leaving her with nothing but memories and an aching heart.

Dressed in a gown that shimmered under the lights, Chloé looked every bit the part of the mayor’s daughter—poised, elegant, untouchable. But beneath the surface, she was a mess of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest since Scalvo’s departure, a sense that something terrible was about to happen.

She’d tried to put on a brave face, mingling with the guests, offering polite smiles and nods when necessary, but it was all just an act. Her heart wasn’t in it. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel Scalvo’s touch, hear his voice, and the pain of his absence was almost unbearable.

As the night wore on, Chloé’s unease grew. She hadn’t seen her father in a while, and a creeping sense of anxiety began to take hold. She tried to shake it off, telling herself that he was just busy with the event, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Something was wrong—she could feel it.

Excusing herself from a conversation she wasn’t really a part of, Chloé began to search for her father. She moved through the grand hall, past clusters of guests engaged in lively discussions, but her mind was elsewhere. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn’t ignore the nagging fear that had taken root inside her.

As she approached the back of the building, where the offices and private rooms were located, she heard raised voices—angry, panicked. The sound made her blood run cold. She quickened her pace, her heels clicking loudly against the polished floor as she turned the corner and saw something that made her heart stop.

There, in the dimly lit hallway, stood Scalvo, his face a mask of grim determination. He was locked in a standoff with two of his men, who were pointing guns at her father and his security detail. Her father’s face was pale, his expression a mix of fear and defiance as he tried to negotiate with the men holding him at gunpoint.

“Scalvo…” Chloé’s voice was barely a whisper, the shock of seeing him there, in that moment, rendering her almost speechless. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing—couldn’t reconcile the man she loved with the one now threatening her family.

Scalvo eyes flicked to her, and in that split second, she saw the torment behind them. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but there he was, standing on the precipice of an unforgivable act.

The two men with Scalvo exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that things were spiraling out of control. “Come on, dude, let’s get out of here,” one of them urged, his voice tense. “We’ve got what we came for.”

But Scalvo shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving Chloé’s. “No,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s too late. They’ve already seen my face. They know who I am.”

Chloé’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what he was saying. He wasn’t going to walk away from this—not without consequences. The weight of the situation hit her like a tidal wave, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Scalvo, please…” she begged, stepping forward despite the danger. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt anyone. We can still fix this.”

But before Scalvo could respond, everything happened in a blur. One of the security guards moved, and there was a sharp, deafening crack—gunfire. Chloé screamed as she watched in horror as Scalvo staggered backward, a dark stain spreading across his chest where the bullet had struck him.

“No!” Chloé’s voice was raw with anguish as she rushed to Scalvo’s side, dropping to her knees beside him as he crumpled to the ground. She pressed her hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but the blood just kept coming, slipping through her fingers.

Scalvo’s breaths were shallow, each one a struggle, and his eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and regret as he looked up at her. “Chloé…” he whispered, his voice weak.

“Don’t talk, don’t move,” Chloé sobbed, her hands trembling as she tried to hold him together, tried to keep him with her. “You’re going to be okay, Scalvo, just hold on.”

But deep down, she knew the truth. She could see it in his eyes—the resignation, the acceptance of what was happening. Scalvo reached up with a shaky hand, brushing a tear from her cheek as he tried to offer her a small, sad smile.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I wish…things could have been different.”

Chloé choked back a sob, her heart breaking as she watched the light begin to fade from his eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with grief.

Scalvo’s hand fell limp in hers, his chest rising and falling one last time before stillness settled over him. Chloé cried out, the sound of her heart shattering into a million pieces echoing in the cold, empty hallway.

Her father’s security team rushed to her side, trying to pull her away from Scalvo’s lifeless body, but she couldn’t let go. She clung to him, the man she had loved despite everything, the man who had walked away to protect her, only to meet his end in her arms.

And as the reality of what had happened settled over her, Chloé realized that her world had changed forever. There was no going back, no fixing what had been broken. All she had left were the memories of a love that had been doomed from the start, and the hollow ache of a heart that would never be whole again.

***

AN: 😢 let me know your thoughts

[nqmonarch]

Red Flags in HSR Characters

I have a problem of simping for the most red flagged characters except I can't handle red flags. Like violence makes me nope the fuck out of any relationship, I am so scared of getting hurt in any way, shape, or form. In real life I'm fucking terrified of being manipulated into being dependent on someone because I've experienced that shit and it isn't fun. Hate being insulted, degraded, all of that.

But the red flagged characters are just too cool???

Like Dr. Ratio, sure he's a pompous shit and would probably end up degrading you which I hate but he's so cool?! So I need to find some way to make him into this weird yellow flag without making myself into some super genius because no way is that gonna happen.

So instead put him in like a tutor AU, he's teaching you and when you get something wrong he gives you such a side ways insult. Like it takes a minute to realize it's an insult, it's worded in such a creative peculiar way. The second it registers you begin doing ten times worse on every question. It doesn't take long for him to realize that being told you're shit isn't inspiring to everyone. So he takes a... kinder approach. He's still a hard ass and strict but he's actively trying to do better and you can tell, when he starts a sentence suddenly stops and then brings that sentence in a completely different direction. You both end up learning. You end up learning the material and he ends up learning how to be somewhat better at dealing with people whose ideal day isn't being insulted.

Then there's the aeons. i simp for all of them, like how can you not??? Especially Nanook (using he/him pronouns for Nanook), Yaoshi, IX, and Aha. Now first off IX isn't a red flag IX is a lovely little black hole who I will defend with my life. But the other three??? They're as red as a stop sign.

Like sure, Nanook would probably destroy you the first chance he gets. Maybe Nanook is the destruction because he wants to be destroyed. I, I don't know man. Like he's so beautiful but how the hell do you even write romance with him? That isn't just like destroying the love interest.

Maybe he's had an insatiable urge to destroy everything ever since the dawn of his existence and he can't remember why. He's always been filled with rage, hatred, toward everything that's existed. Then he sees you and it all comes rushing back toward him. Your death, the hole it filled, the only thing that could really be blamed was the universe. It was everyone and everything's fault. So he would destroy it all to protect you.

Still a red flag but man I'm trying my best, no matter what Nanook will always be a red flag. Yaoshi on the other hand... surely there's a way I can make Yaoshi into a yellow flag after all they just want to help.

Yaoshi who would save your entire planet, heal every individual part of the ecosystem and every person, just to see you smile. They would ask nothing in return and instead remain by your side, enjoying the beautiful of the world. Then the mara strikes, people begin to lose their minds and themselves and you're left to beg them for a way to reverse this. But this is the price of life.

Yaoshi assures you that this is natural but they still watch on in horror as you inevitably succumb to the mara as well. Only then do they try to figure out how to fix it.

The further I get the more hopeless I become. Then there's Aha...

They probably found you entertaining at first, a human full of surprises and excitement, someone that could survive any trial. Then you grew on them a bit more and they found himself becoming attached. Aha wasn't supposed to be attached but this of course just makes an opportunity for more entertainment! Now they're actually invested and can experience the nail biting tension of all this drama!

Just another form of entertainment, it'll be a shame when you're gone though.

Then there's all the other beautiful red flags Ruan Mei, Jing Liu, Blade, Luocha, and Aventurine and Sunday seem like red flags as well even though they're not out. Like if bad to date why do I want to date?

Their red flags are a part of them and it's hard to work around it, so sometimes you just gotta embrace it. Life's rough man. In the end it's my fault for liking red flags. I'll just stick to Jing Yuan for now, peak husband material.