#maybe his frustrations ultimately lie with himself....

[lokh]

LISTEN... for all that shuro is frustrated by him he really Gets who laios is. it's because he understands him so well that he felt bad about being frustrated for so long

[globalrebrand]

How long do you think it would take the reader to actually fall in love with Capitano because they're in an arranged marriage? And the other way around

Starting with Capitano!

Capitano will always uphold the values of marriage and will be a model husband. He is an a generous yet pragmatic provider. Capitano will not spoil you, but he will ensure what you have is more than adequate for your needs. However, above all, Capitano is honest and loyal, he will never lie or attempt to deceive you.

At first this ideal husband behavior is more so because he respects the institution of marriage very highly and not necessarily because of who you are, though Capitano makes an effort to get to know you. He questions you about your habits and hobbies and after a while will think about how to cater to them.

Capitano actually has rather high expectations of his spouse. I imagine Capitano was pushed to marry due to his status and position, so he will want a partner who is independent, intelligent and dutiful. He will expect the same level of respect in the union that he is giving to you. The irony is that while he picked these characteristics to get a lover who will not disturb him, Capitano is deeply attracted to diligent, mindful and clever individuals. So as the reader demonstrates these traits, Capitano begins to fall in love with them, but due to their independent nature they aren't be the most receptive to the ways in which Capitano shows love, namely by being over protective and insisting on doing everything together. He's home so seldom that what little free time he has he would prefer to spend with his spouse. This becomes especially apparent the longer you two are together.

As detailed above, Capitano possesses many admirable traits which on paper make him easy to fall for, however this ignores his blunt, keen and sometimes prideful nature which depending on who you are, could rub you the wrong way at first.

He is an acute observer even without you detailing the quotidian goings on of your daily life, Capitano will start to notice and comment. He isn't necessarily critiquing, just seeing and noting. He will casually tell you about yourself which can be incredibly jarring at first, especially if you're unused to being seen by the people in your life. However...when it comes to himself, he doesn't freely offer information which can be frustrating. He wants to expose all of your inner workings, but is very selective when divulging his own. He begins to share more freely when you earn his trust, which builds slower than his actual affections for you. Capitano will come to love you before he fully trusts you. It's just the nature of the fatui that make him so suspicious and not necessarily you. He wants to trust you but years in his position have made it difficult for him to lower his guard.

Basically, Capitano appreciates a partner who is brave, self-sufficent and above all loyal. Devote yourself to him and Capitano will find his feelings changing rather soon into your union. Ultimately it takes maybe 2-3 months for Capitano to fall for the reader.

The reader in A Lady's Secret is incredibly independent and self-sufficient young woman from a modest background who knows what she wants and doesn't require Capitano's support. She is principled, hardworking, and doesn't meddle in Capitano's affairs. In fact she develops a pretty well rounded life outside of their marriage. She has season tickets to the ballet, successfully convinces Capitano to let her have two dogs (large thick furred beasts who can easily takedown wolves) and walks them around the forest to visit their distant neighbors when the winds aren't too cold.

The reader does these activities alone because she assumes that Capitano wouldn't want to join her but when he quietly questions why she doesn't invite him she starts to incorporate him into these activities. Not all of them. Capitano has no interest in visiting the neighbors, but he can be convinced to attend a quiet night at the ballet and walk the dogs in the forest. And the reader while initially worried she'd find that his company dulled her experiences, is delighted to realize that she actually prefers his accompaniment.

They definitely butted heads in the beginning when Capitano demanded that she inform him every time she left the house. She wasn't too keen on her whereabouts being surveilled, as she was used to coming and going as she pleased. Initially he was more flexible about these things but as he began to get attached he assigned her a personal body guard which had her really annoyed with him. This led to an argument where she called "smothering" and he called her "stubborn."

The difficult part for the reader early on is that she's intensely attracted to Capitano so she starts the sexual part of their relationship right away, but her feelings for him are slower to crystalize and Capitano uses this to his advantage. When you're still arguing with him about a security detail, he'll be withholding until you agree to his terms.

For someone as independent as the reader she struggles with Capitano's desire for control over her. He's not possessive per se but he is very very over protective and unfortunately due to his position he has every right to be. She just resents that she doesn't quite feel like his equal when he frets over her like this.

However, as she comes to appreciate his company, she is more permissive of Capitano's particular brand of affection which is demonstrated through ensuring her safety. Once the reader learns to appreciate Capitano's brand of care she falls for him. He is a supportive partner and an excellent listener. He is stoic and gruff but she knows from his actions that he cares for her deeply. I would say it takes the reader about 5-7 months to reciprocate his feelings in earnest.

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing The Kings to Your Plushies

me and my bestie have a joke about my faves showing up to my place for sex and i would not realize and just start talking about my plushies based on this dumb post we saw once, thought it'd be funny to turn into an actual scenario lol might do this for the other devils, angels, minhyeok if the ppl are interested lol notes: mildly sexual - not really anything deeply insane, gender neutral reader !!!

Satan

On one hand, he thinks you're really cute. On the other hand, he's here to fuck so.

He's going back and forth so much in his head for a moment he's not even paying attention to you talking oops.

Gets so frustrated and angered from trying to decide what to do it ultimately ends with him just jumping on you.

Cut you off mid word with an incredibly heat filled kiss from rage.

Honestly you might not even 100% be certain what happened but you're not complaining!! You can always talk about the rest of your plushies later!!!

Well. If Satan doesn't fuck you until the point you're resting for the next couple days.

Once he actually pays attention to you talking about them he'll remember some names here and there, but he will get them wrong on purpose to try and see you angry lol.

Mammon

The reality is he probably got you most of these plushies.

He adores seeing how you cherish them and the lore you've decided for them!!

Will remember every single detail you tell him about them!!

He thinks it's super cute and will humor you for the moment.

However, Mammon will get what he wants eventually. But for right now you're so adorable how could he tell you no?

He is DEFINITELY teasing you later once he does get to sleep with you about how cute you are.

This man lives to see you embarrassed and shy from his compliments.

Is probably buying you even MORE plushies now, hope you're prepared for that!

Leviathan

I think it depends at the point in your relationship, if it's early on he might just toss the plushies aside and get to the point of what he wants.

Later on I do think he genuinely listens, even if he's impatient and pretends like he doesn't care. If it's important to you he does care, just doesn't always show it.

Especially if you use the plushies as a form of comfort due to trauma or any other issues.

You won't even realize how much he paid attention until he refers to your plushies by their names if you accidentally leave them laying around.

However he does still get jealous so so easily so maybe try not to spend too much time at once focusing on them rather than him.

He tries so hard but eventually the jealousy will overtake him and he will just get straight to the sex.

For what it's worth, he still found you cute! He just can't help himself.

Beelzebub

I'm not gonna lie, you might be able to successfully distract him for a good bit.

Dude's invested in the names and lore and anything you have created for them!!! He likes hearing about it !!!!

He isn't gonna be able to remember every single bit of these details but he might remember some of it here and there. Either way he likes listening to how you talk about them!

That being said he can only sit still for so long so maybe introduce him a little at a time lmao.

Especially because once he DOES start to get distracted he's gonna remember the original reason he was here.

And well. Yeah just like that it's time to fuck!

Because you successfully distracted him for a bit you might be in store for an extra long session this time so! Good luck!

Lucifer

He listens fully. Wants to hear everything you have to say about them.

He finds the plushies super cute, so he enjoys listening to your ramblings, even if he had certain intentions when he arrived.

But most importantly, he's so endeared, you're so absolutely adorable to him. The way your face lights up when you talk about them, he can't get enough!!!!

So he lets you have your moment.

And when you're finally done is when he's actually gonna fuck you lol. Yeah, that was still happening he had a goal.

And if he's teasing you extra specially tonight, don't even worry about it (whether it be from compliments or degradation who's to say!! just know you're gonna be crying extra hard this time he's so worked up from how cute you are!).

Of course, he remembers every single detail you tell him, he has that shit committed to memory. Asks you questions sometimes to see that adorable look on your face again!

Belphegor

Goodnight.

He tries to pay attention but he's ready to fall asleep apologies.

He showed up for sex and when it wasn't happening his brain turned off.

That being said the second you realize he's asleep and start trying to wake him up he's on you!!

Like okay conversation done we're fucking now right?

It's just easier to give what he wants and lecture him in the process.

It's fine he tries to listen later. That being said if he invites Beleth to listen too don't worry about it. He totally didn't tell him to memorize details for him because he's probably gonna fall asleep again.

Asmodeus

Sorry there's just no way to distract this man from sex.

If he's showing up for sex he's here to for sex !!!!

And he WILL get it!!!

If anything he just starts fucking you while holding up the plushies to you and asking you details about them.

Unfortunately you're kinda too fucked out by that point to truly answer them.

He's a fucking menace apologies.

And he cannot be stopped I fear.

That being said any information he does manage to get out of you he does fully remember!!

It's his own weird way of showing affection, ya know?

[xe-n4]

slow starts

feat. sae note: i just needed some fluff (life is so hard 😢), unedited contains: fluff, possibly ooc total: 727

Before you opened your eyes, you felt his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Sae laced his fingers with yours and rubbed the back of your hand.

“Mornin’,” he said in his raspy morning voice.

“Shut up,” you groaned. Slowly opening an eye, the sun-illuminated curtains flooded your vision and brightened your bedroom. Mild irritation built within you before you eventually rolled over and pressed yourself against Sae.

He rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead. “It’s morning, y/n.” Sae reached over to the side table for his phone, trying not to jostle you too much. 11:17. He kissed his teeth at the frustration of sleeping in much later than he intended to, which explained why he felt so groggy.

“It’s eleven in the morning, y/n. We—”

“All the more reason to stay in bed.” You placed a finger to his lips. “Stop talking so I can go back to sleep,” you whispered.

“You’ll have to get up eventually.”

You didn’t respond, ignoring everything Sae said to capture any remnants of sleep you had left.

Sae scoffed but relaxed into you. He didn’t want to admit it but felt nice to finally not have to get up at five every morning to train. His muscles weren’t screaming in exhaustion, and he could finally recharge his social battery. The stress of travelling the world for the last 4 months had gotten the best of him. Constant training, games, and interviews, rinse and repeat.

Sae sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe you were right, this is the perfect excuse to lie in even if it was for an extra hour before he forced himself to become human again.

That is until the sound of your stomach growling cut through the air like a hot knife to butter.

“Hey Sae?”

He hummed without opening his eyes.

“I think you might be hungry. And I also think you should make us breakfast.”

“What? That wasn’t me—”

“Oh, you should definitely make waffles,” you sighed, almost salivating at the thought.

“We don’t have a waffle iron.” Sae began to shuffle to the edge of the bed to put his slippers on. “I’ll make pancakes—he stood up—and you’re helping me.”

Before you registered what he’d said, Sae had already thrown you over his shoulder and was carrying you to the kitchen. He put you down and instructed that you get the ingredients from the fridge while he got everything else.

Cooking with Sae was like working a well operated machine. He’d set up stations around the kitchen to avoid bumping into each other, but he just had an air of authority about him, especially when he was concentrating.

After mixing together the pancake batter, you watched his piercing green eyes as they focused on the task at hand, flipping the pancakes. It may not seem like serious business but Sae liked his pancakes to be even on both sides. He was always very proud of himself when he’d manage to pull it off, walking around with a smug smile until his inflated ego was ultimately burst by the fact that pancakes were meant to be eaten, not hung as trophies.

You cleaned up while Sae set the table, bringing out the extortionately expensive maple syrup you only used for special occasions, such as Saturday mornings. It’s Thursday.

When you sat down at the table, you questioned him about it.

“What? I can’t treat my girl?”

You raised an eyebrow before digging in. “Thish ish sho good,” you said with your mouth full.

“Are they? Maybe we should start a business. Pancake restaurant? It’s a very unique idea”

“Shut up and answer my question.”

Sae put down his utensils and cleared his throat which made your ears perk up. “I’m thinking of taking a break from football…not for long, just for a season.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” You leaned back into your seat. “I thought you were gonna tell me something crazy.”

“But this is important, it affects you too.”

“I know, but I also know you’ve been stressed—you put your hand over his—take care of yourself before you start thinking about anyone else, okay?”

He nodded while pressing his lips together in disgust.

Your brows raised in confusion.

Sae gently lifted your hand off of his. “You’re sticky.”

You scoffed before rolling your eyes and continuing your breakfast.

m.list | like & reblog

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Five More Games

Batter Up Chapter 3

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You haven't seen your boyfriend in over two weeks, your longing for Joel interrupts a FaceTime session. Warnings: smut, baseball talk, FaceTime mutual masturbation, pining, softness, Joel cum's all over his stomach Words: 3,000 A/N: These two have previously appeared together in 18 Seasons and Golden Corral. I wanted to write something super self indulgent to celebrate the month anniversary of posting my first fic Golden Walkway on here. I also want to shout out two people who helped me in this whole writing process. @ohheypedrito for being my steadfast fellow obsessor and idea bouncer offer and @justagalwhowrites for her very sweet response when I asked for words of advice that ultimately made me take the big step to hitting post.

Masterlist Series Masterlist Playlist

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Joel has internally struggled this season:  unhappy with his new team, unhappy with his new city, unhappy with the game he loved. Unfamiliar fans, unfamiliar apartment, unfamiliar restaurants, unfamiliar grocery store. The only familiar thing for Joel is you, taking the train down to the city whenever you can, staying in his aforementioned unfamiliar apartment making it seem more like home. You of course knew you couldn’t go to any of his games and openly root for him, but you were happy to watch the game on his couch in his new home, welcoming him back with a hug, smelling the sweat of the game still on him… Joel always far too impatient to shower at the stadium, too excited to get back to you. 

The two of you stuck together living a secret nobody knew about, the two of you never admitting the love you had for each other was growing into something loud enough that soon everybody would hear. What would your dad think? What would Joel’s old teammates think? What would his agent think? What would your coworkers think? What would Sarah think? 

For eight months you and Joel have done this alone, the only people privy to your relationship is whomever might look over at him placing his hand on your thigh at a restaurant, a couple of close friends of yours, and maybe the doorman of Joel’s apartment building delivering packages addressed to you. No, you didn’t want to live in this lie, but to stay with Joel and know him like you do, all of the struggles were worth it.

When he got off the call letting him know that the Philadelphia Liberties signed him to a one year deal, Joel didn’t call his daughter, he didn’t call his brother… he called you. Playing in Philly meant he would only be an hour and a half train ride away. How many more times could you make empty excuses as to why you needed to fly back home to Texas? He knew the toll it was taking on you personally and professionally, he couldn’t give you up, but he also couldn’t live with himself always seeing how tired you were as you stepped out of the airport and into his car. 

The worst part of all of this… Joel was having one of the best seasons of his career. Articles and reporters all repeating over and over how at his age he was having a banner year. Joel loved a challenge and he loved to take his frustrations to the field, playing harder and more focused than ever. 

He wanted to share his accomplishments with you, publicly. He wanted to see you as a part of the wives and girlfriends group, knowing how much you’d stick out against all of the preened and fancy clothed wives, never understanding why they dressed up the way they did to watch a ball game in the Summer heat. He wanted to see you cheering louder than anyone else as he rounded the bases after hitting a home run. He wanted his teammates to tease him for having a picture of you taped up in his locker. He wanted to see you waiting for him in the tunnel after the game wearing his jersey. He wanted to be able to call you his to anyone who’d listen. 

He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in almost twenty years. Once Sarah’s mom left, he gave up dating and significant others to focus on the game and being a dad. Maybe there was just never anybody worth it, but you? You were worth it, and he hated that he couldn’t show everyone how much he loved you. 

——

“Next week’s the All Star Game, you still able to head home?” Joel asks as he watches you change into one of his old Capitals shirts you took as a sleep shirt. 

He loves FaceTime. For years he rolled his eyes at the idea of having to look at who’s he’s talking to… until he learned he can watch you go through your nightly routine in your bedroom. Now he gets to watch you apply your face lotion, feeling a bit like a voyeur looking in on your world from your MacBook screen. He especially likes FaceTime when you angle the laptop on the bed to show him your body as you make yourself cum while chanting his name and how much you miss him. 

“Yeah, so far so good. Can’t believe we’re doing this, especially seeing as you’re in the actual game and we’re letting everybody know the night before. What happens if it’s not good and it affects your g—” 

“I’ll be fine no matter what. It has to be done, I don’t know how many times I can tell Sarah my agent is texting. I think she knows something’s up, she’s too smart, she knows I don’t have friends,” he sighs. “How do you think your parents are gonna take it?”

“I think my mom will be cool with it, she always liked you, especially because of Sarah. My dad? I don’t know, I think he’ll be fine but I also think he’ll have a lot of reservations about us and how it’ll look once everyone finds out. He’s going to drop some business words and worry how it might end up as tabloid fodder amongst baseball people, and I fully understand his issues.” You get into your bed, moving the computer to lay next to you, Joel’s face and broad shoulders taking up most of the screen, it’s such a pitiful replacement to having his warm body next to you. “I don’t know, I wish we could just not do this but be able to do everything like normal people.” 

“There’s nothing normal about this, I’m in a hotel room in Seattle and I just got done eating $45 grilled chicken and brown rice from room service. You just closed your blinds with a remote in your apartment with a view of Central Park. We’re not a normal couple sweetheart,” Joel gives you his reassuring smile, his dimple pressing into his skin, you wish you could touch it. God, you miss him.

“I know, I just wish things could be more simple.” 

“I know baby, me too,” his smile faltering as he hears the longing in your voice. 

“I think I just really miss you… it’s been almost two weeks.”

“It has, we’ll be together soon. Just have to wait six more days.”

“Five more games,” you whisper. 

The two of you always finding it easier to break it down in games. Only 45 innings.  Only five trips for Joel to step on the team bus and head to the ballpark. Only five games worth of you checking your phone for updates.

“Five more games,” Joel’s voice dropping. “You able to watch tomorrow?”

“Don’t think so,” you try not to let the disappointment in your voice show as much as it does. “I have that dinner with the group in from Toronto. I’m hoping I’ll be home around 9, and the game starts at 4 there… I guess I might be able to see maybe the last couple of innings.”

“Mm, pretty sure I’m just DHing tomorrow, so should be in for the whole game.”

“Save your home run for the last inning please.” 

“‘Course,” he smirks. “I’ll swing for the fences.” 

“Joel—“ you whisper out.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I wish you were here right now.”

“Me too, your bed’s always so comfortable. Sick of these hotel beds.”

You bring the neck of Joel’s shirt up to your nose and inhale. “Your shirt no longer smells like you, I need a new one.” 

“I’ll have one for you next time baby. I won’t take this one off.” 

“You can take it off now.”

“Yeah? Why do you want me to take it off?” Joel’s eyes get darker. 

“I want to look at you while I touch myself, so take it off.”

“Love how bossy you get.”

“Preaching to the choir.”

“Very funny,” he leans forward, pushing his laptop farther down the desk to give you a better view and removes his shirt. 

The two of you are well versed in the proper set up to have this type of experience over FaceTime. No bright lamp behind you because your body will be blown out by the light. Make sure you angle the screen the right way at the right distance so you can still see each other’s faces and bodies. Joel usually chooses to stay on the couch or in an office chair when he’s in a hotel room, allowing him to sit up and jerk himself off while he can still watch you. You always place your laptop on his side of your bed, laying diagonally across it so he can watch you touch your pussy while staring at the screen. 

You love seeing him shirtless, the way his body fills out in all of the most broad and right places. His shoulders are so wide and muscular, connecting to his toned and strong arms, his muscles never being overbearing and huge, just the perfect size and super capable of hitting a ball over 250 feet. The smattering of hair across his chest trailing down his stomach to the waistband of his shorts. His stomach, you’re obsessed with his stomach, it’s so soft, your favorite feeling on earth is laying your head against it. The perfect amount of softness filling out his athletic midsection. Joel’s body perfectly encompasses him, soft and rugged, broad and safe. 

“You’re staring again sweetheart,” Joel’s voice blinks you out of your daze as you ogle the square of him on your screen. 

“Sorry, I just really like looking at you.”

“I know, and I like looking at you.” Joel leans back, placing one of his arms behind the couch, his other hand resting against his thigh. “Now, let me really see you. Take m’shirt off.” 

You nod and move your laptop to its customary location so Joel can see all of you. You take his shirt off leaving you bare for his eyes to roam across your body from over two thousand miles away.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, wish I could rub my hands all over your soft skin. Wish I could smell your hair, wish I could taste your skin. Miss you so fucking much.”

“What would you do to me if you were here?” Your voice barely above a whisper, your body aching for his touch.

“I’d rub my tongue up and down your neck,” you move your fingers to your neck and begin to trail them across it copying Joel’s words. You close your eyes and pretend instead of hearing Joel’s voice coming from a tinny set of computer speakers you’re hearing him from across the bed before he touches you. 

“I’d move my mouth down to take one of your nipples into my mouth.” Your hand grazes down your body to one of your breasts, grabbing your nipple and pulling at it. 

“Fuck baby, yes, grab your other tit, play with ‘em,” you open your eyes at the gruffness of Joel’s voice. His hand is still behind the couch, the other has moved from his thigh to cup his half hard cock through his shorts. 

You begin to push and pull your tits apart and together, rubbing your nipples as you stare back at Joel holding eye contact through the computer.

“Looks like your pussy is drooling all over your sheets, lemme see how wet you are.”  

Your hand goes down in between your legs, you pet yourself making sure to bite your lip, something you know Joel likes as you touch yourself. A groan spills out of Joel’s mouth as he watches you bring your soaked hand up, spreading your fingers to show him how your wetness stretches across your digits. He angles himself up to pull his shorts down, his cock standing hard and solid, you can’t take your eyes off of it as his hand wraps around his length. He begins to stroke himself, as you put your hand back to play with yourself. 

“Wish you could smear yourself all over me and watch me jerk off, wish you would spit in my hand—,” Joel spits in his hand, “so I could fuck my hand until I cum all over your pretty face.” 

Your back arches as you watch Joel lick a bit of spit up from his bottom lip, his eyebrows wrinkled in concentration as he smears the spit all over his shaft and begins pumping. 

“You’re so pretty, god I miss you. I miss feeling your body pressed against me, I miss sucking your tits, I miss fucking you.” You can’t stop staring at the screen, your fingers paused and resting on your clit. He’s beautiful, the way his muscles in his arms tense as he strokes himself, the way he snarls as he twists his fist around the head, the way he can’t stop staring at you through his laptop screen. “You miss me babygirl?”

He knows what his words do to you, he knows that if he can’t touch you he can at least talk you through it. He’s so thoughtful, not stopping at anything to make you happy, to think about you, to care for you. You hate that you aren’t even close enough to be in the same time zone.

“Yes,” you whisper, if you were any louder you might just start to cry. “So much.”

“I know, I know, fuck,” Joel stops jerking himself off, “I know,” blinking the lust out of his eyes, his big brown concerned eyes planted on his screen. “You okay?”

You didn’t want to do this, you wanted to get off with your boyfriend, shut your laptop lid, and go to sleep. Now? Now you miss him so much you’re naked with your hand still in between your legs and sniffling away tears alone in your bed.

“I am, yeah, I will be. I’m sorry, it just really hit me how long it’s been and I guess I’m just nervous about everything we have to do. I don’t want to lose you…” and at those words and the fear that gets planted inside your heart, you pull your fingers away from your cunt.

“We’re going to figure it out sweetheart. M’not losing you.” Joel follows you and unwraps his hand from around himself. “It has been long, but we’ll have almost a week together next week.”

“Five games?”

“Five games.” The softness of his voice and the reassuring smile he gives makes your stomach twist.

“I’m sorry.” An apology, you’re almost embarrassed by your juvenility, missing your boyfriend so much you almost started to cry.

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize, believe me, I understand.”

“Did you still want to…”

“I’m only happy doing what you want to, sweetheart.”

“I want to show you how much I miss you.” Your hand snakes up your body to start petting the area between your breasts, the place where Joel always like to nuzzle his face in and smell your skin.

“Fuck, okay sweetheart.”

“Five more games until I can feel you inside me.”

“Jesus, getting right back to the point, aren’t we?” He smirks, his eyes follow as you snake your hand down to back in between your legs.

“I’m efficient,” you bend your knee to give Joel a better look as you begin to rub circles along your clit.

“Fuck sweetheart, you look so fucking good,” he groans, wrapping his hand back around his cock. “Fuck yourself with your fingers baby, pretend it’s me.” 

You moan as you stick two fingers in, slowly pushing them in and out, ignoring how poor of a substitute they are for Joel’s cock. 

“Good girl, look at you. My pretty baby, I love you so much.”

His eyes soften as he watches you get lost in fucking yourself. You love how you can tell just how much he loves you by his big, brown eyes, even on your small laptop screen they shine bright. 

“I love you,” you whimper as you reach your other hand down to begin rubbing your clit. Your fingers working overtime inside you and on your clit causing your orgasm to build. 

“Love you baby, so much. Love watching you do this for me,” he grunts as he fucks his fist faster.

“Baaaby,” you breathe out, your heart beginning to rapidly beat, the swirls around your clit quickening. You’re a quivering mess on your bed, staring into your computer screen as you feel your orgasm show. 

“Oh, you’re close, can see it pretty girl, you gonna cum for me? M’gonna cum for you,” he grits out as you watch the hand against his thigh tighten its grip against his skin. He’s close, his jaw going slack, his tongue resting in between his lips, his brows furrowing deeper. It’s a sight you’ve seen so many times now, most of your FaceTime sessions ending like this.

“Cum for me,” you whisper as you orgasm, your pussy squeezes your fingers, your clit pulses against your finger, you fight the urge to shut your eyes because you need to watch Joel as he begins to spurt thick ropes of cum all over his stomach. You love how he looks, biting out swears totally blissed out, his cum pooling against the plush skin of his stomach. 

He swears as he grabs his shirt and cleans himself up, you smile as you watch him, feeling like you’re spying on your own boyfriend. You love FaceTime.

“You’re smilin’ quite big,” he chuckles as he tosses his shirt next to him, and pulls his shorts back up. 

“I like to watch you, that’s all, you’re so handsome.”

“Handsome, hm?”

“Yep, always thought it, and now I get to look at you whenever I want to.”

“Lucky you, huh?”

“Lucky me. Only five more games until I see my handsome boyfriend.”

“Five more games.”

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Series Masterlist

[daisynik7]

OMG I love your party idea it's so cool!! how about "slow down baby" by Christina Aguilar for Eren Yeager 💓💓 one of my favs

Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby and don't act crazy, don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: modern-day au, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implications of cheating, cheating, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, princess)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jean is working late again, and you can’t help but be suspicious that there’s something nefarious happening behind your back. Pent up from not seeing him this whole week, you take this alone time to treat yourself to some much-needed self-care. 

Eren Jaeger knows that his friend is cheating on you, and he hates it. You don’t deserve it, not one bit. When Jean asks him to do a favor to try to cover up his infidelity, Eren seriously considers telling you the truth, ultimately deciding against it because of “bro code”. But what happens when he walks in on you taking all your sexual frustrations out on a little toy? Can he really keep his mouth shut?

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @shepnicolo! Love me some Xtina, great song for the y2k karaoke party! This was a fun one for me, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading everyone! MDNI banner designed by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest.

“Hey babe. Sorry, but I’m going to be at work late again tonight.” It’s already past nine in the evening when Jean calls you, informing you of this last-minute change of plans.

“Again?” He’s had overtime every day since last week. He’s also been leaving early in the mornings so by the time you wake up, he’s gone. It feels like you’ve barely seen him at all. “How about dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already ate.” There’s shuffling in the background. And maybe it’s just your paranoia, but you swear you hear a woman giggling quietly beside him.

You swallow hard, asking, “Is someone with you?”

“Huh?” His tone shifts, as if you’re asking the most ridiculous question. “What do you mean?”

Immediately regretting it, you rephrase, not wanting to sound accusatory. “I was just wondering if anyone else is working overtime with you. That’s all. Didn’t want you to be lonely there.” The last statement is a lie; you sincerely hope he’s alone and not doing what you’re suspicious of.

He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. Well, yeah, there are a few people here with me, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

Too late for that, you think, listening carefully for any more clues. When you can’t hear anything else, you sigh into the phone. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later then.” You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. Quickly, you add, “I love you – ” 

He hangs up before you can get it out completely. 

Jean had been pulling away from you for a while now. It didn’t just start with the overtime. It began over a month ago, when you noticed how glued to the phone he was while the two of you watched TV together. When you asked who he was texting, he answered, “It’s my new coworker. She’s asking some questions about work.” At the time, it didn’t raise any alarms in your head, so you dropped it. Every day, he was immersed to the screen, sometimes excusing himself to take a call outside on your balcony. You resisted every urge, every temptation to eavesdrop on his conversations, look through his text messages, interrogate him further. 

You continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s no way Jean would ever cheat on you. While you haven’t been together for that long, you like to think that you know him well enough to be sure he’s a faithful boyfriend. You don’t even have proof of his infidelity. It would be unfair to accuse him of such atrocities over some silly speculation, right?

Since he’s been in the office late this entire week, the two of you haven’t had sex in what seems like forever. Pent up and frustrated, you take this time to care for yourself, since Jean’s not around to do it. It starts with a serving of your favorite dessert, then a warm bath, soothing the tense muscles in your body. You surround yourself in a comfy robe, brushing your teeth with the full intention of falling asleep as soon as you do the one thing you need to make yourself feel better tonight. 

With all the lights off, except for the dim glow of the lampshade on the nightstand, you snuggle into your bed, untying the robe so it’s splayed beneath you. Inside the drawer, you retrieve your favorite vibrator and a small bottle of lube, pouring a tiny bead on the tip. Spreading your legs wide, you smear it on yourself. Using your free hand, you navigate to your favorite dirty audio, playing it out loud. 

~~~

Eren hates this. Absolutely hates it. 

He’s driving towards your apartment with a set of keys in his pocket and a bouquet of roses sitting in the passenger seat. All because your friend is a piece of shit. 

Eren’s known for a while now that Jean is cheating on you. It started with a not-so-subtle comment in the group chat. My new coworker is fucking hot. That alone disgusted him. Connie, of course, laughed it off. Armin didn’t say anything, probably unsure how to respond at such a statement. It only went downhill from there. 

She’s got the best body omg.

 I’m in trouble now.

This is bad guys lol. 

Don’t tell the girls okay? 

Jean has always rubbed Eren the wrong way, ever since they were kids. But at least he respected him. Now, not so much. Not at all, actually. You don’t deserve this, not one bit. No one does, but especially you. And maybe the reason he can’t completely berate Jean is because Eren’s harboring a secret of his own: He’s head-over-heels for you. 

Of course, he’s never acted on it. Bro code, right? Thou shall not hook up with another bro’s girl, or whatever the unofficial rule is. But what if said bro is acting like a total asshole? And what if this bro would treat you the way you deserve and more? Then what?

It’s because of this stupid code that he finds himself in the most ridiculous, aggravating situation. Earlier in the night, Jean texted the group chat. SOS SOS SOS. Armin and Connie were both busy, so didn’t respond, leaving Eren to answer the cry for help.

Jean explains it quickly through the phone, voice all panicky and guilty. “Dude, I need you to do me the hugest favor right now. I would you owe big time if you could help me out.” Basically, he needs Eren to buy a big bouquet of roses and deliver them to your apartment, where you can see them first thing in the morning. 

“Why?” he asks, irritated by this request.

“I think she’s suspicious. So I need to do something to throw her off the scent,” he explains. Eren can already see the cocky, shit-eating grin on his face. Why is he friends with this douchebag? And why did he agree to do this? He’s complicit in this mess now, not only for keeping his friend’s infidelity a secret, but for helping him continue it. He wants so badly to tell you the truth so you can escape this relationship. At the same time, he’s supposed to have his friend’s back no matter what, even if he is being a massive prick. 

So, he decides to help his buddy out, no matter how much it’s killing him. He meets Jean at an unknown address, most likely his side chick’s place. “Dude, seriously. I owe you one,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

Eren nods silently, not wanting to speak in case he lets his true feelings slip. Jean hands him the spare keys to your apartment. “Just sneak in and set the flowers on the kitchen counter. She won’t suspect a thing.” It takes all of Eren’s willpower not to punch him in the face, so he quickly turns around to get into his car and drive off. 

It’s almost midnight by the time he arrives to your apartment. Surely, you’re asleep by now, still completely unaware that your bastard boyfriend is cheating on you. Still, he shouldn’t meddle in your relationship, even though he wants what’s best for you, which is not Jean.

He unlocks the door quietly, tip-toeing into the kitchen to set the flowers down, as instructed. He notices your bedroom door is ajar, a faint streak of light coming from the inside, and the undeniable sounds of a man growling expletives like, Come for me, slut. Yeah, give it all to me.

His eyes widen, surprised that you’re still awake, even more so that you’re listening to something like this. Curiosity gets the best of him; he stealthily makes his way beside your door, peering through the tiny opening to get a glimpse of you. 

You’re laid out on the bed, bare and exposed, gripping a vibrator to your pussy. The sight alone is enough to put him into a frenzy. Hearing your soft whimpers from your mouth along with the electric buzz from the toy fluttering on your clit sends him into a trance that he can’t snap out of. Before he can think logically, he’s pushing against the door, making his presence known. 

~~~

“Eren!” You sit up in bed, flinging the toy off to the side, covering yourself with your robe. “What are you doing here?”

He stands before you, a crazed look in his eyes, an obvious bulge protruding from his pants. He stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, glaring at him. 

His mouth is agape, unable to get the words out. You’re losing patience, watching him struggle to explain why he’s here, inside your home, watching you masturbate. You grab your phone, making sure to exit out of whatever filthy audio that’s still playing, fingers ready to dial your boyfriend’s number when he blurts out, “Jean is cheating on you.”

You freeze on the spot, heart sinking from having your worst fear confirmed. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, staring down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

There are no tears in your eyes, surprisingly. Instead, your throat is heavy with emotion as you repeat for a third time, “So, what are you doing here?”

Still avoiding your gaze, he answers, “Jean thought you were catching on to him, so he asked me to bring you flowers to throw you off.” 

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask, “How long have you known about it?”

“A few weeks.” He looks up at you, saying your name this time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

After a deep breath, you sigh, relaxing against the headboard. “I’m sorry you’re involved in it.” You smile at him. “And I’m sorry you had to see me…you know.” Embarrassment catches up to you, heat rushing into your cheeks, aware that you’ve just been caught touching yourself with your vibrator, which is still in plain view beside you. 

He steps forward, inching closer towards the end of the bed. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Jean is a fucking asshole. You don’t deserve this.”

“What do I deserve, Eren?” You peer at him, tears welling in your eyes now, desperate for any ounce of comfort he can give to you in this moment. 

He sits near you on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. “You deserve to be loved by someone who’s always going to treat you right. Someone who’s going to love you from head to toe.” 

“Someone like you?”

A gentle smile forms on his face. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

No matter how badly you want to close the distance between you, want to feel the love he says he can give to you, guilt holds you back. Sensing your hesitation, he scooches nearer. “Let me help you. Tell me what you want.”

Eren has always been sweet to you. Too sweet, in fact. You’ve always gotten the sense that he cares more for you than he lets on. And maybe it’s because you’re hurt right now, fragile, heartbroken, even a little scornful towards Jean. Whatever it is, it makes you realize you’ve been too busy with the wrong man to notice the right one has been here all along. However, two wrongs don’t make a right. Even with the confirmation of Jean’s adulterous behavior, you’re still his girlfriend until you officially end it, which will be soon. 

In the meantime, you manage to come up with something you can do to take advantage of this moment. 

You let go of your robe, letting it fall to your sides, displaying your nude body to him, arousal wet between your legs from earlier. He watches you carefully, cock straining against his sweatpants, breathing heavily.

“I’m not a cheater like Jean,” you mutter, spreading yourself wider, showing off your glistening cunt.

“I know you’re not,” he whispers, scooting forward, hand drifting to his lap.

Reaching for your vibrator, maintaining your gaze on him, you say, “I’m a good girl.” 

He swallows hard, palming his erection through the fabric. “Fuck. You’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Understand?” Your finger hovers over the button, tip pressed to your throbbing clit.  

He nods erratically, licking his lips. “Yes.”

“Good,” you smirk, turning the toy on, ready to give him a show. “Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

He shoves his boxers down, cock sprung stiff against his abdomen, the slit shiny with precum, veins bulging on his shaft. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, better than what’s-his-face by a longshot, though you might be biased now, given the circumstances. Eren wraps his fist around it, jerking himself off while he watches you tease the tip on your swollen bud. “I want to fuck you into this mattress,” he moans. “Pound this pussy until we break the bed.”

“Yeah?” you purr, pressing the fluttering tip deeper into your clit. “What else?”

“Want to bounce you on this cock, watch you cream all over me,” he huffs, stroking himself faster. “God, this is hot. So fucking hot.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, toes curled from the sensation, so close to your climax with his soothing voice spitting his nasty fantasies at you. “I wish you could fuck me right now,” you confess, limbs quivering from ecstasy, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled. 

“Me too, princess. Me too. But you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t cheat.” He readjusts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of you, stroking his hard dick. “I can give you this cum, though. That’s not cheating, right?”

You blindly agree with him, approaching your climax. “Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me, Eren.”

He swears loudly, shooting his load onto you, spilling over your clit, dripping down your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, marveling at how pretty you look covered in his seed. 

You smile at him, relaxing against your pillows, dipping the tip of your vibrator in his mess. His mouth hangs open, eyes half lidded, watching as you stuff it inside your cunt. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, stroking his cock again, eyes fixated on your pussy. 

Do technicalities even matter anymore? All you know is that you want to be loved from head to toe by Eren Jaeger. You set aside the toy, sitting up to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his. He hesitates before deepening the kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth, sloppy and eager for more.

When you break apart to catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against yours, whispering, “Are you going to be a bad girl now and take this cock?”

Grinning, you nod, pulling him in for another kiss. 

[asiuapng]

The Heart Wants What It Doesn't Have - Stanley Pines and His Undeniable Want for People to Want Him Back

Stan's strength doesn't lie in the streets. We have a whole decade of him not catching a break, getting banned by majority of the states, and even served time more than once. No, I believe his strength is his innate interest in people.

In their childhood, Crampelter told Stan that if it weren't for the company of his brother, he'll be alone. In that instance, we immediately saw that that is his true fear. He loves people but they don't seem to love him back, so he clings on to the person he knows who does: Ford. The idea of together forever brought comfort to him. It didn't matter if he fails, so long as he is standing with someone, then he never failed to begin with.

I'd like to think that his parents knew about this. And I'd like to think that that was Filbrick's main motivation to kick him out. You saw how Stan's tough love was a direct copy from his father, and that no matter what he's been through, he can't bring himself to completely hate the man who worked so hard to provide for his family. Again, Stan loves people—he wants them around. But Filbrick had other ideas. He knew his sons love each other, believed that Ford will get over it, and knew that Stan knew that too. But that would mean he wouldn't face the consequence, and Filbrick didn't want that. He wanted Stan to actually learn from his mistakes, and that those mistakes, no matter how much of an accident it was, will always have consequences. The world is cruel, and it's the father's job to make his children be above it.

What Filbrick did made Stan's fear into a reality. Believing that will toughen him up, believing that he'll rise up, believing that he'll finally become a man. But he doesn't know his son. He didn't know that what he's done was the complete ruin of Stan. That he was the nightmare Filbrick also had trouble sleeping when he was a kid.

I believe Filbrick never hated his son, just frustrated. Caryn knows that. Why would he never wiped of '#1 Dad'? That pride and ultimate shame of being his father, no wonder he didn't attend his youngest son's funeral.

Anyway, back to Stan. After getting kicked out, he tried to put a brave face. He may be Caryn's son, but the man can only lie so much before crashing down. Everything Stan did was just to go back home. He took every shortcut he can, but he can't bring himself back at the porch empty handed. He loves his father way too much.

As years has gone by, he finds himself getting further and further away from the glass shard-ridden beach. The sounds of waterbirds are just as muffled as his judgement, and all Stan wants is to get things over with. From illegal work to downright immoral, somewhere along the lines Stan might've gave up. He allowed himself get drowned not by the sea of salt, but all of his problems. He never stood a chance; and giving up his name seems to be easier than staying alive. But no matter how many time he has betrayed himself, Stan just can't get rid of the heart he thought had died years ago. No matter how much he runs aways, the whole entirety of him just wants to stay. And his soul is stuck, anchored and haunted by the presence of a payphone.

No matter how many years has passed, there's a part of him that refused to grow up. As if he is saving it for the same boy he believes will welcome him back in open arms. Even after heart break after heartache, Stan still stands—and he's so, so tired.

When Stan got ahold of the postcard, his heart started bumping. Like he's been lifted from the depths of the watery deep, and he couldn't be any more thankful. No storm can stop him, no goons can scare him, it's just him and his second chance of together forever. But that didn't work out, and he realizes that Stan is indeed just a boy. Tried to burn his journal? What was he thinking? Maybe he did deserve everything, and another thing for not learning. What was wrong with him? And now he lost his brother again. His father was right, mistakes, no matter how accidental it may be, bears consequence, and he had become his brother's executioner.

A life a for a life. He threw everything away just to get him back. He was ready to betray himself once more. He'll stop running away, stop trying to go home, stop trying to find a spot for himself in other people's hearts. It's what killed him after all. But, life has a sense of humor to them, because it's now keeping him alive. For the first time, he hears a laugh and his heart melts. They like his jokes? Now that was something. It would've meant something, but his lifeline isn't his anymore.

Stan swore on his breath that everything he has been through will all be worth it if it meant saving the first person who was there for him. A life for a life, right?

You'd think that after forever had passed, they'll be too old for this. Turns out, all wounds are fresh if it came from the person you love the most, and Stan is reminded yet again that no matter how much of an accident a mistake is, consequence will follow. He didn't mean to endanger his family, but that doesn't matter anymore.

So yet again he has stripped, lied, and bore his heart. Yet again, another act of self-betrayal. And yet again, Stan tricks himself that this time, it will surely be worth it.

The heart wants what it doesn't have, and he'll gladly offer it to the world if it meant another chance for together forever. Stanley's love for people is what killed him. But it was also what brought him back to life.

[ddejavvu]

Hi mei <3 I hope you're doing lovely.

I am absolutely in love with your insecure reader drabble as someone completely insecure because of past experiences and people being very judgmental to anyone who looks different, smells different (from air freshener), etc so it's really hard not to be insecure.

Which got me to think of perhaps an insecure!f!reader who hasn't gotten to shower, because she always showers before they play out of pure fear of Eddie thinking she's gross or something, so when he comes home from works and wants to fool around a bit, mainly just eat her out but anything else would be fine too. And so she's trying not to feel guilty about not freshening up for him and he's asking what's wrong. She explains it's just a really bad day and she's self conscious about her discharge and doesn't want him to feel like he has to do something that gross with her because she knows she hasn't freshened up and so he comforts her - tells her it's completely normal and okay.

pussy is pussy is pussy to this man a day of sweat will not change that.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Eddie's handsy after you get home from work, he always is. By now you should expect it, but typically he's out at his own shift, giving you time to shower before he gets home. When his van pulls up next to your car and crunches leaves beneath its tires, you try feigning excitement.

"Eddie," You gush, stomach tensing as he squeezes your waist. He knocks his nose into yours, scrunching his eyes in delight.

"Hi, pretty," He croons, hands already wrapping around your waist and sinking lower to squeeze at your ass, "I got off early today. Sooo, that should give us, like, thirty more minutes to-"

"Wash the sheets," You pat his chest, "We need to wash the sheets."

"Let's wash the sheets after we fool around," He's practically giggling like a schoolgirl, "No use in putting fresh ones on just to stain 'em."

There's no wrestling his hands away from your ass now, and you have to admit an orgasm would surely fix some of the pent up frustration you'd been feeling from work. But the thought of Eddie changing his mind once he realizes you aren't as fresh as you usually are is a haunting one, and it strikes fear into your heart.

"Okay," You relent with a sheepish grin, "Okay, you win. We'll fuck. Lemme just pee first, 'kay?"

You're not really in need of the toilet, rather the pack of baby wipes you keep beside it. Maybe if you give yourself a quick wipedown it'll block whatever sweaty scent you're sure is between your thighs.

"Nooo," Eddie whines, keeping his grip tight on your hand, "You're supposed to pee after. Can't you just hold it?"

"I need to pee now," You lie, laughing at his protests, "Can't you just let me take five minutes in there?"

"I'll be quick, baby, like, ten minutes! I just wanna taste you," He pleads, leaning in to kiss your bottom lip in a gesture that ultimately breaks you down.

"I don't think I taste very good right now," You warn, letting him drag you to the bedroom.

"I bet you taste like pussy," Eddie grins wolfishly as he pushes you back over the mattress. You bounce slightly after landing, and before you're fully settled he's already between your thighs, "That's I left work early," He admits, face nestled between your legs and nose pressed to your clothed clit. He lets out a groan, nuzzling his face further into your panties, "So that you wouldn't have time to shower and wash it all away. So fuckin' tired of eating soap," He mouths messily at your cunt, soaking your underwear with his drool, "I want pussy!"

He only drags himself back to tug the waistband of your panties down, nearly ripping them off in his eagerness to get started. He licks a long stripe up your slit, tongue flat and wet to your skin. "And that," He grunts, eyes fluttering shut as he goes back for more, "Is pussy."

[seriousbrat]

you said james changed but did he? no apology in sight... still tricking lily and going behind her back to hex snape.. leaving his wife and newborn alone in their secret hiding spot to mess with muggles..

genuinely lol what is this 'leaving their hiding spot to mess with muggles' thing, I think you're the second anon who has claimed something like that recently and it's like.... where lmao. when did that happen? who r these muggles? 😭

if you're referring to the prequel, that was almost certainly, like 100% certainly, before harry was born when lily and james were fighting for the Order along with the rest of the Marauders and not in hiding. This is what Lily says, years later, in her letter to Sirius:

James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell -- also, Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.

doesn't that imply he wasn't sneaking out? and if he had left the hiding spot in the past it was "little excursions" with Lily's full knowledge and approval, with the safety of the cloak. I don't see the big deal, and it's possible that Lily was leaving the house on occasion too when they had the cloak.

people are so determined to see things in the worst possible light it's kind of funny. It's not enough that James was a dickhead and a bully in canon, he has to be this insidious abusive master manipulator guy who somehow conned Lily "you make me SICK" Evans into marrying her and having a kid with him. Like, no offence but it's just not that deep.

We don't see how he changed because the story isn't about him, it's about his son, but there's plenty of evidence that he did, a BIG example being that a girl who couldn't stand the sight of him and was extremely vocal about the fact ended up marrying him. Something changed, and it's just highly unlikely that James, a fictional character, constructed an elaborate ruse behind the scenes that we see no evidence for to trick Lily, and every other character, into thinking he was an entirely different person. If that had been the author's intent for these characters who, btw, do not exist outside the text we're given, there would be proof of it. Rather, we're given evidence he 'deflated his head' and that lily fell in love with him and that they were happy together.

I've already said it but I don't think James not telling her about fighting with Snape (who, let it be said, at that point was also instigating) is a good thing. Obviously. It's dishonest and he should have told her. But I also think a likely reason he didn't tell her was not wanting to hurt her. That doesn't make it okay, but there can be problems and slip-ups and things to work through in a relationship without it being some big evil insidious manipulation.

Sev hid all sorts of things from her too, important things like "I'm thinking about joining the Death Eaters btw lol". People lie and hide things, especially teens. Maybe the simplest explanation here, rather than this weird jamespiracy thing, is that a seventeen year old boy was kind of shit sometimes but ultimately dedicated his life to protecting others, fought bravely in a war, grew tf up, and sacrificed himself to save his wife and child.

idk like to me it's not that deep, and it's continually bonkers to me that some snape fans will have wildly different standards for their innocent baby boy (idk him) than they do for every other character. bro did way worse stuff than not telling his gf he was getting into fights, james did worse stuff, and yet I still love them both and u wont convince me not to

[magi-the-writer]

‘How long has it been?’

I couldn’t help but ask myself, staring blankly at the ceiling like the many times before.

The room was dark, done so purposefully—with both the bedroom and bathroom door closed tightly. The thick curtains were drawn and even the shutters were brought down. All in an attempt to keep me in the dark.

But it wasn’t entirely pitch black.

The warm glow of the light within the hallway leaked in through the edges of the doorframe. Lighting that part of the hall in a dim warmth.

‘Maybe he feels bad?’

That is a question I know is a lie.

But the dim glow truthfully wasn’t enough for me to keep myself entertained by tracing over each expensive painting that hung on the walls.

Going over every line like I had painted it myself—guessing how and which stroke of the brush was done and came first. Or how—after getting bored from that, I’d move on to watching the small bugs that zip around the ceiling light.

Only to die and fall by the small jumping spiders that like to live within the fancy glass.

I was left in here by that man to stare at the dark. Mostly to,

're-think my resent behaviour,’

and

‘come up with a suitable apology for my childish act.’

‘Honestly, it was so stupid.’ I couldn’t help but remark to myself. Whether it truly was a reflection of my actions, or a statement in regards to something else.

What else could it be—at this point, it could honestly be anything.

My teeth chewed at the inner-side of my cheeks, having nothing else to do but that small act of self-mutilation.

I knew there wasn’t much point in wriggling about this bed like a worm. Even when I’ve crinkled the god-awful satin sheet, somehow nudging the thick duvets to the floor and pulled up the matching fitted sheet with nothing but my exposed toes.

In the end, all that hard work only gets me encased within the cool fabric that I distain and ultimately exhausted.

And truth be told, it would be satisfying if only to serve as a minor annoyance to the man that dub himself as my lover.

But in reality, all it really does is cause the devil to chuckle a the hilarity of the sight.

He’ll come in when he believes i have learnt my lesson. Lean against that door and say something with amusement, the condescension hidden under his carefully crafted words. Hiding it so well, even I struggle to spot it.

That, and he’ll smile lovingly as if my little act of defiance isn’t a future inconvenience at all.

Just to saunter to my bedside, lanky fingers brushing through my staticy hair. Pulling the strands that hid my face from his view. Reveling my forehead as he'd place a soft kiss upon the crown of my head with his bottom-heavy lips.

Just to leave me like I am now, to wallow in my spite and shiver in regret as he’d turn the AC down just that slightest bit.

To be a petty betty as he’d wear that stupid grin at my pitiful state. Knowing full well there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

All that I am and would have been, taken. Robbed all in one night; all I have left are memories, memories that have been tainted and ruined in some form of way by him.

‘I have to go and delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control… but what else am I supposed to do?’ Frowning, the frustrated tears prickled my eyes once again.

Stinging the already puffy and irritated skin that surrounded my eyes.

Other then this, crying is the only thing I can do. And it only frustrates me more.

Outside of my delusions of grandeur, I have nothing. Everything I own either doesn’t belong to me, and the things that I once owned are gone.

Him… him, him, him, him, HIM!

…

God, I hate it. I hate him—and yet, I can’t find it in myself to despise him…

Out of everything he’s done, out of all that he’s shown me… never once did he do something to make me loath him.

‘It’s so fucking sick,’

Disgust.

I am so disgusted with myself.

I can’t find it in my soul to blame him—I know I should. Everything is his fault, but I can’t.

In some twisted way, I place the ounces on myself.

He may have placed the restraints, but I caused the chaffing that now caused my writs to bleed. His soft touches and lingering hugs and sickly-sweet kisses that he gives me… it’s all my fault.

I wouldn’t be dressed and bounded in the one fabric I despised next to felt and velvet if only I stop deluding myself.

And yet, I can’t—I can’t except that nothing will ever be normal with him.

I can’t except that I am a prisoner here and he’s the warden that dictates the show. I can’t except that I’ll never return home again. To be surrounded by my family… and that all of this is just some silly, little nightmare within a dream.

‘If only we lived in a perfect world…’

Closing my eyes, in a perfect world the son of Lucifer would have never grown possessed. Never become obsessed—never fell into the false-sunken fallacy that was the idea of being in love with me.

The slow drawn of the door’s hinges had dragged me back to the present. The warm glow of the hallway’s light flooded the room.

Casting the four walls in a faded glow, I didn’t need to guess who it was standing at the door.

His figure blocked some of the light, casting an unintentional elongated silhouette that stretched from the doorway and came right out from my nightmares.

Traveling along the floor, over the bed—shadowing my bounded form and against the wall.

‘I don’t need a paralysis demon when I have him.’ I dryly laughed at the bland joke.

He was akin to a monster from the deepest depths anyways.

Though I doubt I’d ever voice my thoughts about him. So, I remained quiet. My throat unintentionally clenched as my heart started to beat faster within my chest.

I was nervous—no, anxious for what was to come as I always was around him. Especially after punishments. Even though he’s never laid a hand upon me once as a punishment.

‘Well in a non-abusive way anyway’s.’ I noted, recalling the copious number of times when the palm of his hand would roll.

Caressing the sides of my arms, groping my waist and grabbing hips. Ghosting my behind when he’s forced me to sit in his lap… or when that one time. The time where I was the weakest… where I craved some form of comfort.

A time where I nearly begged him to rub my stomach, to place pressure over the cramps that left me feeling feeble in the knees.

How his fingers would brush my cheeks, run through my hair and attentively attempt to brush against what lays between my thighs.

Or how he’ll hold me against his chest as we sleep, his grip never faltering—even when he slept… it was something akin to young child, clinging onto a stuffed toy for dear life.

An attempt to make them forget the shouting of your parents and the smashing of ceramics.

But perhaps that’s me projecting. A small part of me, a part from a past long since gone. Creeped, making me wonder…

‘When will he snap? When will his patience’s run dry… and—and…’ The thought alone had my heart sinking, and the pit in my stomach attempting to swallow me hole.

A fear of mine that ran deep since I was little; I’ve seen the things he’s done, just the memory alone makes me nauseous, and once again. I feel like I’m back to being a child when he’s around.

Helpless.

“Darling,” the soft drawl of his voice was like honey-due.

Sweet… homely and devious with hidden intent.

A beat of silence rung; sometimes I wished he could never tell if I was awake or asleep. I wish he was as clueless as I am each night when I lay awake.

Sleepless from the countless rampt thoughts that kept my brain from subcoming to melatonin.

I’d find myself staring at his peaceful face as he’d slumber for hours.

Undisturbed by the monstrosities he and his gang of thieves have caused through the years.

Sometimes my hand has a mind of its own, I’d find myself brushing his raven locks from his face. Tucking the silky strands behind his ears.

Sometimes he’ll wake up, it always startles me. But I felt angry when he’d sleepily snuggle his cheek into my open palm. Sniffing my wrist as his eyes stared into my own with… with something akin to adoration.

And I fucking loath it.

But other times, he remained unshaken. Fast asleep as his pale skin was like the moon in the dark. Soft and illuminous under the soft glow.

And at nights like that, he looks absolutely stunning.

And for all the nights, where I’m too stir-crazy to drift to sleep. I find myself questioning.

‘I wonder if he regret the choices he’s made? Do he also have nightmares of his past… is he just as haunted by his childhood like I am?’

Is that why he is the way he is?

God, am I possessed by the ghost of my past the longer I am trapped here with him. Memories I believed I had long since forgotten, or never even knew existent came bursting to the forefront.

I could be doing anything…

Showering, eating, reading, laying in bed or on the couch. Forced to cuddle in the arms of my abductor.

Terrible, calamitous memories that have me quietly weeping into my hands when I am alone…

Or just one day collapsing into a heaping mess before the devil.

It’s a wonder as to why my older sisters turned out the way they did…

Sometimes, I wish to bleach my eyes.

Burn them with the fancy candles the demon brings to my feet as gifts to show his affection. I have to resist the urge to claw them from my skull, to finally have peace from the hideous flashes of what that man I call my father did…

Other times, I crave to ram the burrow my kidnapper would use in his puzzles. When he’s not quiet in the mood to read, I like to imagen how deep that black pen would go into my ear.

All so that I can silence my sisters please, to mute my mother’s cries of regret.

But instead of the man that loitered over my childhood. Crushing—destroying any semblance of my innocents and casting an endless fear that tremor still to this day… My phobia of falling in love with anyone, in a deep apprehension of falling into an endless cycle of abuse.

It was him. The man that stood at the door, my kidnapper and self-proclaimed lover.

Chrollo Lucifer

But like how I couldn’t read him most of the time, it was the opposite for him. Chrollo could read me like a book.

Picking me off from the shelf that is surrounded by many other books he has collected. I was apparently his favourite to read—out of all his favourites. Something he’ll never grew tired of… or so he proclaims.

He will trace his hand over my cover, caressing the thick spine and spreading open my pages. His eyes reading every word inside, annotating and studying everything written upon the fickle pages. Memorising each sentence and dissecting that of my life tale.

He was a terrifying force of nature.

“I see you’ve kept yourself busy,” his eyes traced over the bedding. Seeing the satin sheet crumped on the floor, once again rejected and abandoned along with the duvet that hanged halfway off the bed.

The velvet fabric showing where I brushed up against the tuff.

And the pillows were pressed to the ends of the bed...

What else did he expect?

“I hope whatever is left of your tantrum had subsided—I’d hate for you to stay like this.” With a tilt of his head, I couldn’t see his face, the warm glow of the ceiling light never reached it… or perhaps it casted the truth.

Showcasing the true him.

I couldn’t help how my body trembled. It was such a struggle to remind myself that even though Chrollo is a horrible being. There are monsters that exceeded him in other ways.

The shadow that casted over his face was a reflection of his soul.

Black and rotten, the symbol of a demonic evil that will possess your soul. And from greed, he will consume you until there is nothing left…

Or prophases it’s a reflection of who Chrollo really is. Under the mask that is the skin of his flesh that makes up all his gentlemanly suave and charming nature. Lays an empty man. Someone that has nothing is nothing.

Hollow from his past, gutted by a void that is ever consuming.

Sucking in everything like a vacuume, love… hate… envy… gluttony. He collects it all, an endless appetite to become someone, to be someone who he isn’t. All so that he could fulfill the emptiness that forever lives inside him.

And like predicted, the repeat in his behaviour was close to clock work as he walked.

Entering our shared bedroom—but unlike the usual. Unlike what I expected, instead of heading to the bedside, where he’d kneel down to stare at my back.

The antichrist or broken child; depending on how one would veiw a shattered man like Chrollo began crawl straight across the bed.

My breath hitched as it wasn’t long before he replaced his shadow. Hovering over me, his arms caged me under him—I felt so, so small beneath him.

The white button up tucked into the tux slacks that were held by his belt.

This was Chrollo’s casual wear, with his hair down—framing his face, the middle was parted to show off his forehead. The tattoo stood out against his pale skin. My eyes remained trained on his face, staring up into his black eyes.

The obsidian hues were true to the analogy of when you stare into the void, it stares back.

I never know what Chrollo is thinking.

“Hm, though. I see you have yet to pull off the fitted sheet…” His eyes drifted to the white linin that clung to the mattress underneath. The silky thing continued to cause an irrational ire.

My sense of smell was consumed by his colonel. And admittedly, the smell was good. Pleasant to my nose and at times, helped ease my anxiety.

And that only irritated me beyond what is normal.

His cold hand moved, gently cupping my cheek. His lips pressed into a frown; his thumb brushed under my puffy eye.

Swiping at the tear stained cheek, he leaned down.

Forehead pressing to mine, his breath reeked of expensive wine.

And like many things in this world.

I despised alcohol.

It makes people do terrible things… or it only pushes the true you out for the world to see…

Either way, alcohol is a sin that ruins more lives than people realise.

“You’ve been crying again…” he mused, though his tone lacked any sense of amusement. His eyes were half-lidded, an obvious sign that the alcohol was affecting him… or maybe it’s something else.

There are times it seems Chrollo enjoys it when I weep.

Maybe it’s because when I cry, I cling to him because he’s the only living thing that’ll whisper affirming words. He’ll gladly hug me back, holding me firmly and easing away my sorrows—it’s the only moment where I genially hug him.

Not because he asked, or forced me into one, but because I desire to feel safe… to feel something other than depression. Something that isn’t the consuming worry of becoming like my mother.

A fucking coward.

Or maybe because he enjoys consuming my suffering, perhaps it’s a way to make him feel better. Or because he’s a monster. A demon, a devil—Lucifer incarnate.

Either way, it’s a mystery.

“(YN)”

Drawing me from the depths of my thoughts, his nose slid beside my own as his eyes closed.

Pressing down on my legs, he sat upon them, and just like my hands, my ankles were bounded just as tightly.

His other hand moved, laying against my chest. Just above the protrusion of my breasts. His hand slipped. Sliding up my collarbone and up my arm. Closing in on the silk restraints.

“Be good for me, and I will untie you.”

He spoke in a whisper, his tone still sticky like honey...

“…alright,” my voice, barely above a whisper. Near close to just being mute slipped from my throat.

Maybe he’s like my father… maybe he’s different—or perhaps he’s something else entirely.

Chrollo’s frown turned, a smile—so small, but noticeable enough appeared.

With a simple tug, the binds came undone as he pressed his lips gently against my own in a chaste kiss.

And all that I could conclude when his one kiss turned to two. That swiftly delve into something a kin to passion.

even if it means I live within a delusion, failing to admit that I am already there.

All I can do now… is hope he isn’t. Pray to a dead god that might not even exist he’s different… that Chrollo won’t fill the role in a cycle I wish to never repeat in.

But at the end of the day, I disgust myself.

…

Because I wish, I hope and pray to the real devil that Chrollo is a monster to everyone but me… That he isn’t like my father. And never commit the sins that he inflicted upon my siblings and that coward I call a mother.

I hope the past never repeats…

[dylan-o-yumm]

Hi there! I just wanna say that I love your writing it’s so good 🫶 anyways I can’t stop thinking about Leon coming back from a mission terribly hurt, and the reader just worries over him and takes care of our sweet boy 🥺 giving him the love and comfort he deserves 🫶 stay safe out there and remember to hydrate! 🫶

Firstly, thank you for the sweet and kind words, anon 💜 you’re precious

Okay so I changed it up a little bit just because I have a longer fic in the works that’s exactly this request lol, so keep an eye out for that one! This one is more… moody? And the love and comfort is more... frustration and argumentative. Hehe

And I imagine RE6/ID Leon for this one but you can imagine who you want!

WARNINGS: wounds/gore, if you're squeamish then maybe don't read just to be safe. Reader is also kinda a bitch, but we all know Leon loves his challenging women lol

“Hey, kid. Mind if I come in?” He asks, already slinking his way inside your home, his hand clutching his right shoulder that was scratched and torn up, leaking blood down his leather jacket and spilling small droplets onto your floor as the blood slid down his bicep and trickled down his fingers.

“Leon, go to a hospital. You’re making a mess,” you grumble, shutting the front door that you had just opened to greet him, and turning around to glare at him with your arms folded over your chest.

“Nice to see where your priorities lie,” he quipped with a hint of humour in his voice. “I’ll clean up any mess I make, I promise.”

You watched him as he made his way to your bathroom, grumbling to yourself as you looked at the floor and saw the trail of blood that he was leaving behind him.

You’ll have to mop again. Even though you just mopped the floors this morning... Maybe you wouldn’t care about the mess if Leon was actually dying. However he loved to come to your house to patch himself up after, almost, every mission. This wasn’t a once off, this was a reoccurrence.

Last time it was broken ribs, which you got into a fight with him about. You were determined that he go to a hospital and seek actual medical attention, but he was adamant that he was fine and would heal on his own. The two of you had a screaming match— well, you screamed, he was pretty calm the whole time. You were paranoid that he would pierce a lung, and then what would you do? You had no medical practice aside from when he would visit, you’d have no idea how to help him. Turns out all he needed was some ice and lots of rest, so it wasn’t too bad.

The time before that, he had a pretty severe concussion. Which again, resulted in the two of you fighting about if he should or shouldn’t go to a hospital, but the night ultimately ended with you forcing him to stay awake so he didn’t die in his sleep. You realised fighting would probably make his condition worsen and he was too stubborn to give up and go to a hospital so you lost a lot of sleep that night, keeping him awake by talking since watching tv would also worsen his condition. So Google says anyway.

The time before that it was a dislocated shoulder. The time before that it was a nasty slice on his thigh that desperately wanted to get infected. The time before that— well, you get the picture. You are Leon Kennedy’s personal nurse whether you like it or not.

“Hey, kid. Come here,” he called out to you from inside the bathroom and you sighed heavily, ready to see whatever injuries he had. It was going to be bad and you were going to yell at him to go to a hospital and he would refuse and you would end up helping him. Rinse and repeat.

You made your way to the bathroom, dodging the drops of blood on the floor so you didn’t walk even more of a mess throughout the house. “I keep telling you, I’m not a fucking doct- oh fuck!”

The moment you saw him, you stumbled and fell back against the bathroom door, feeling your stomach drop while bile rose in your throat.

His jacket was off and hanging over the shower door while his shirt was half off, hanging around his neck and his left arm as he had freed his right arm. Though it wasn’t the lack of clothing that disturbed you, it was the pair of tweezers he was digging into his bloody shoulder, clearly trying to dig something out.

More blood was gushing down his arm and the sickening squelch of him digging around inside his own flesh made you very light headed.

“Hey, come here I need an extra pair of hands.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Come on, I can feel it, I just can’t get a hold of it. Need that bad boy outta me before I can stitch it up.” He barely looked at you, instead frowning deeply at his shoulder while he dug around his own flesh.

You were going to kill this man with your own bare hands.

“Bullet wound?” You ask, swallowing the bile in your mouth.

“Not sure.”

“How are you not sure?!”

“Just— help me would you?” He sighed, giving up on the task at hand as he took the tweezers out of his shoulder, handing them towards you. Both the tweezers and his fingers were covered in blood, warm and sticky. You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or punch him. All of the above.

You took the tweezers and grabbed the open bottle of rubbing alcohol off the bathroom counter, spilling some over your hands and the small tool. Leon watched you silently, sitting comfortably on the closed toilet lid, man-spreading and slouching as if he didn’t have a gaping hole in his shoulder.

“I hate you so much, just FYI,” you told him as you placed one hand on the top of his shoulder to steady him and yourself while the other hand with the tweezers came up and slowly dug into the hole. Leon hissed, probably because of the antiseptic, but he was soon calm once again. The man had probably been through so much pain in his life that this felt like a breeze.

“You wouldn’t be doing this if you hated me,” he smirked, watching your face while you were very focused on finding whatever it was that was inside his arm so you could get it out safely. And also not throwing up on him as the squelching noises of the tweezers moving around inside him made it very hard to control your stomach.

“Maybe you hate me then. Having me do this for you even though you know how much I hate it, when you could just go to a fucking hospital.” You grumbled, frowning at his arm. You could feel the small piece inside him, scraping against it with the tweezers, you just had to grab it and pull it out without accidentally pushing it further inside.

“That’s not hate. That me being selfish,” he looked away from you, his smirk dropping and his eyes hardening. “I trust you more than some stranger to poke around inside me with a pair of tweezers.”

“You shouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing.” You huff.

He was silent then but not because he didn’t have a response. He was more focused watching you pull out a small golden bullet from his arm, that was slightly crumpled from the impact at which it was fired.

“Well what do ya know? It was a bullet,” he sighed heavily, though relaxing further into his seat. The both of you looked closely at the piece that was once in his arm, but now sat firmly between the pincers of the tweezers.

“What the fuck else would it have been?!”

“Trust me you don’t wanna know.” He scoffed. “Anyway, time for you to stitch me up.” He clapped his hands once, wincing at the pain that shot up through his arm as he did so. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbow on his knee.

“Leon. I’m not a doctor,” you huffed, dropping the bloody bullet into the small trash can beside the toilet. You then dropped the tweezers into the sink and ran some water to rinse them off. “I understand you trust me more, for whatever reason. But this isn’t fair. I hate doing this. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I thought you cared more about the mess I was making in your house.”

You rinsed your hands in the sink next, watching Leon’s blood swirl down the drain. Though his snide comment had you shutting off the water and turning to look at him with a hand on your hip and an unamused look on your face.

Leon parted his lips and avoided your gaze, sighing as he realised you weren’t in the mood for his playful attitude.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head and grabbed a handful of toilet paper to start wiping away the blood on his arm. “I know I shouldn’t put you through this. I know it’s unfair on you.”

You crouch down in front of him and place your hand on his knee. “Tell me why you do it. Why do you come to me instead of a professional?”

Leon continued to clean his arm, avoiding eye contact with you but the fact that he was being quieter and softer now made your frustrations ease a little. He was acting more unlike himself and more like a soldier, hardened by the many wars he faced.

“When I’m out there on the field,” he pauses what he’s doing and looks up, but he doesn’t look at you, instead his eyes remain distant, unfocused. Maybe lost in a memory. “I look forward to this. Spending time with you. It’s not the best circumstances I know, but after seeing the shit I see... coming back to see you is like a breath of fresh air. I guess I just wanted to be selfish about something, you know?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and you looked down at your hand that was resting on his knee.

He didn’t get to be selfish a lot in his line of work, it made sense that he would just like to be doted on and cared for instead of being the one who cares for everyone else. This was his break, his vacation.

“I guess—“ you swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to meet his gaze, not that he was looking at you as he was quite flustered after what he just confessed. “I’ve been pretty selfish too. I mean you show up with a bullet wound, bleeding everywhere and I... I mean I’ve been pretty bitchy,” You chuckle but you don’t feel very good about yourself.

“Look,” you start, “what if you come see me more often? Preferably when you’re not bleeding. We can watch movies, relax. Give you the down time you deserve. Just... if you have a crazy injury like this, please get it checked out by a professional? That’s all I ask. I’ll pamper you as much as you need afterwards, okay?”

You’ll give him a vacation that he actually deserves.

“I’d like that,” Leon smiles, closing his eyes to take in the warm feeling for a moment longer. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn’t look away this time. His eyes were so blue, so expressive, so inviting.

You’re not sure what compelled you but your eyes lowered to his lips, so soft looking, only a little chapped, probably from being a little dehydrated after his mission, or maybe the blood loss. Either way you felt yourself leaning forward, inching closer and closer.

Until he cleared his throat.

“Do you mind sewing me up? I’m kinda bleeding out here.” He chuckled softly and you felt your face heat up and your eyes widen.

“Oh fuck, right,” you quickly jump to action, finding the needle and thread, cussing silently to yourself for being so stupid. “We could have talked after I patched you up, you know?”

“Ah where’s the fun in that?”

[batsplat]

casey is obvs funny with this rivalry stuff because on the one hand he's very 'well I don't care who I beat' (lie) and 'I don't motivate myself using my rivals' (also a lie) and then he's also repeatedly emphasising that valentino was ONE of his biggest rivals and he only competed against him a few years... like a lil side quest in the story of his career. Those Few Years where valentino was his big rival. whereas dani and jorge were his cohort so he did compete with them for a greater span of time... and this is technically true and does MATTER but it is also extremely noticeable in his output which rivalry he has the most thoughts about. and yes casey would say that this is because everyone ELSE cares the most about That One Rivalry the most and also his opponent being an annoying dickhead means it's the one he has the most complaints about... but at a certain point, it doesn't really matter, because there's still one rivalry you're talking about way more than any other. you can tell that he's at least given jorge's interiority a bit of thought, kinda went 'well he was arrogant but also Learnt From The Error Of His Ways and was maybe misunderstood so' -- but also he's not going beyond that, he's not examining jorge's soul, and he's not even doing any of that with dani. it's very much a rhetorical commitment to those other two rivalries. ultimately the point is that he's doing what he can to not talk up his biggest rivalry TOO much, because, you see. he Did Not Care That Much. (lie.) now objectively speaking this kind of framing literally does not matter, who cares which one of these was the most meaningful rivalry, but it's interesting that it matters to him!! casey's problem is that he is extremely sensitive and cares deeply about what other people say about him, but one of the things he's most sensitive about is the idea that he could let himself be mentally affected by ANYTHING, worst of all his rivals. they cannot be granted that much power over him. and all of this has kinda funny consequences in that he has pretty rigid patterns in how he talks about this stuff that are at times quite convoluted because he has to simultaneously emphasise that a) none of his rivals massively mattered to him, b) That Rival didn't matter more than the others, c) what That Rival did to him was completely beyond the pale, and d) none of that affected him mentally whatsoever. at most one of these is true. there are so many things casey wants so badly not to care about but it keeps spilling out of him anyway, this oozing sludge of resentment and repressed hopes and desires and frustration and longing and bitterness. he keeps giving himself away... he cares so much and he can't stand it

[duckiemimi]

the end.

i feel…content. which shouldn’t be surprising considering i’ve reached the ending, but you see, i keep a little document to log in everything that passes through my mind each chapter and i’ve typed in a lot, still as soon as i reached chapter 271, my mind was quiet. this is a lie—it wouldn’t be me if i had nothing to say, but the point still stands. i liked chapter 271. a lot. cue emotional end-of-the-movie soundtrack.

i also wasn't lying about the document. i picked up with a reread of chapter 268, but my biggest gripe was with chapter 269. this chapter was...strange. it was as if gege was using his characters to communicate his frustrations instead of exploring how everything would've affected them individually, or even (in gege fashion) moving onto the next thing entirely. this isn't totally out of the ordinary considering there have been other instances where it seemed like he was speaking through a character, but it felt even more jarring considering there was nothing to explain now that everything's said and done. it almost seemed like he was self-aware but couldn't help himself from writing the chapter this way, because these were also my sentiments while reading:

this chapter is so dense with information that we could've gone without. gege kept revisiting the past arc as to justify some of the writing choices he made, using maki to channel the voice of a frustrated audience. considering the long-winded discussions on why alternative plans wouldn't have worked, instead of a "say sorry and make up" chapter, the overexplained writing reads insecure. defensive, even. it seems like the collective pressure from fans and publication caved him in, but i wish he stuck to his guns instead of trying to clumsily fill fringe plot-holes with old cement. i hope this experience didn't kill his confidence in his capabilities—gege’s circumstances were rough as it is from what i know.

the new shadow school exposition dump and the scene where mei mei kills the school head felt rushed, too. which begs the question, why even include this? the earlier portion of jjk had an emphasized narrative on the fault in their system and anti-traditionalism, so perhaps this was gege trying to close circles. what i don't understand, though, is why introduce a new system at the end to ultimately kill it when residues of the old system still exist, the kamo and gojo clans being the biggest examples, two of the big three clans with the most influence in jujutsu society. even mei mei acknowledges that the death of the school head would mean the survival of the kamo and gojo clans, and likely their political clout. was something like decentralization not the goal here? yes, monopolies and tyrannical coups are undesirable, but that last scene was handled rather messily. but perhaps it was all a set up for mei mei's characterization. which begs the question, (again) why?

"the world ended but the earth kept spinning," is how i'd describe chapter 270. despite all the questions i had for past chapters, chapter 270 felt hopeful. it's the type of chapter you could easily picture in an ending-credit montage following the characters in the aftermath, which gave me a laugh. what stood out to me in particular was the reveal that cursed spirits are now public knowledge, meaning jujutsu is no longer a secret. that also pulled a dumbfounded laugh from me. i actually like the fact that we weren't given the nitty gritty of how society rebuilt after sukuna, particularly jujutsu society. timeskips at the end don't usually need that much explanation for them to have good impact. also, who is that next to takaba?

ending on a mission felt warm. i missed the way our main three used to work together, and maybe it's been a while, but it seemed like their chemistry got a lot better. or maybe the world got a lot brighter. and ohhh, that glimpse into how the jujutsu system works now was such a treat, especially seeing sorcerers and non-sorcerers interacting so well with each other! that conversation with gojo that yuuji had also felt warm. the conversation mahito, the ferryman of the styx, had with sukuna also felt warm, even if the change in heart felt like whiplash. i could probably churn out a couple more posts gushing about chapter 271 if prompted, but for now i say despite all the protruding bones i've picked at, i love the jjk's ending.

wow. it really is the end. for the six years of jjk's existence, i've only been there for four, but if i were a tree, you could cut me down in half and see four rings colored differently from the rest. thicker, richer. there'd be debates among scholars on which world-changing event made this happen, but the tree knows. rings become ink on paper.

anyway,

thank you to gege for creating jjk, and i'm sorry if there have been things i've said that were unsavory. now. i've never really given myself the chance to pat myself on the back for catching onto things, so allow me to be a little big-headed here. yes, i am going to list out some of the things i got right:

jujutsu no longer being a secret (i talked about this here and here);

yuuji's flashback to his conversation with gojo instead of a letter (this one is a little more minor, but here);

sukuna's humanity, despite how he seemed to be for a majority of the story (i talked about this here and here); and

a hopeful ending instead of a last-man-standing one (to be frank, most of my posts about jjk have this outlook, and though i was a little headass in this post, here it is anyway).

alright, petty-time over. but, yea! thank you so much for reading jjk with me! despite everything, it was fun!

[beeboos-creativecorner]

Speed, Shadows & Hijinks - part 3

Woo ! Day 5 and part 3 of this series. Jinx and Shadow commit crimes together. That is the peak of their mentor-mentee relationship imo. These antics carry right on from part 2.

Fic under the cut x

Speed, Shadows & Hijinks

Part 3 : Incrimination

"They keep this place under lock and key overnight, but that shouldn't be a problem for us."

"Are you authorised to pull these kinds of stunts?"

"No one is. It just comes down to who has a key."

"Do you?"

"All official racers on the shortlist do. Don't doubt me again."

"Sorry."

—

A bout of silence ensued, wherein Jinx stood off about a metre away from a focused Shadow, who was busying himself with narrowing down the correct key to unlock their garage. After rounds upon rounds of keys jingling and the lock rattling in protest, Shadow flagged the key idea. He hummed a flat note, lost deep in a process of thought forbidden to everyone but him. With care, a glove grazed his spines twice over, then, without any prior warning, delved into the void of his quills to pluck two expertly chosen needles. These, tenderly placed between digits, were used to infiltrate the lock. He was dexterous in doing so, but the endeavour ended in failure.

Keys useless, lock picking pointless; no way in.

Jinx heard him wince, while he patted himself down to regain some of his lost dignity. He tried to stay under the radar and he'd deny all allegations if asked, so Jinx kept it to themself. Perhaps the less they confronted him and gave him time, they'd be more likely to see this version of Shadow. The one who wished to speak more than a sentence, without apathy and disapproval.

"Damn," he cursed, turning to Jinx with grim eyes. Soft eyes. With none of his regular 'superiority' act. It wasn’t vulnerable or heartfelt, even. Just pleasant.

"What?"

"I can't open the garage to your vehicle."

"Can't you blast it down, or something?" they offered, hoping the idea was creative enough to take hold. Apparently not. Their viewpoint was countered almost instantly.

"This is a covert assignment. To attempt a break-in will raise the security alarms. I messed with the security camera footage on our way out, but there's no easy access to your garage. Not with what I can get away with."

"Your 'Ultimate Life Form' moniker is becoming less and less valid by the minute," they joked, with a hint of nasty sarcasm that wasn't intended. Shadow rounded on them swiftly. Absent of aggression, but no less startling. His softness died sooner than it lived.

"Moniker?" he challenged lightly. Jinx was subject to their first blush of Shadow's arrogance. "Ha, it's a title. It holds a weight most wouldn't be able to bear. If anyone had to do even half of what I do, they'd forfeit their life to whatever divine power they worship. Whatever I do, whomever I aid — it's thankless." The word 'thankless' held an immense tragedy to it, to which Jinx was unaware of.

Jinx processed the words and the emotion behind the words. The depth and meaning, on the other hand, they found elusive. Rouge didn't lie when she told them Shadow was complicated. Even if they did manage to pry his brain apart and get to his thoughts, it'd be like opening Pandora's box. And maybe that moment was not the adequate time to do so. They figured what they could begin with, though, was an apology.

"Oh... I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful before. I should've apologised for that earlier, but... I was scared. I don't get it. You barely speak, and when you do, it's... I dunno. Offensive? I try to lead with my best foot forward but nothing is up to your standards. I'm not perfect, okay? And it just feels like... you demand perfection where failure is unacceptable. That expectation is tough, especially for a newbie." Finally, as if some heavenly being possessed him, Shadow was cowed into speechlessness. His dark lids hooded his eyes and after an eternal pause, he released a sigh. Not one telling of frustration or pity, or the sort of tone that belittled someone. It was acceptance. The critique became the critiqued and he took it in his stride. He listened. All this time Jinx spent irrationally ruminating over how to describe their issue, when it was truly the easiest thing they had ever expressed. He bore the brunt of their abuses, criticism, among many other variants of winged words. Without fail. Without trouble. Was it tolerance or fatigue towards pointless argument? No matter the true answer, Jinx saw this as patience.

Shadow, in spite of his resting grumpy face, was incredibly tolerant. Not once had he lost his head over whatever new way Jinx managed to err. His speech often sowed the seed of self-loathing within his target, yet he himself hadn't been caught lashing out in retaliation — verbally or physically. Knuckles and Amy had, on both those counts. So much that they should've tallied the accounts on a scoreboard. Rouge lost her marbles once or twice, going off at Knuckles over some petty instance on the track. Sonic himself engaged in a good row on the rare occasion. But Shadow... refused to entertain the notion of improper conflict. Above it or not, he kept this composed, stable state of mind where blind rage didn't exist. He wasn't peaceful, no. Troubled, more so. Rouge was honest in her justifications in that regard. It was very clear upon first meeting: Shadow could harness great power. He could wield chaos like a blade with little resistance. So why had he chosen to stay passive instead of fighting to support his opinion?

Scripture from their home once read: 'Those who choose kindness are also those capable of inflicting extreme disaster.' Even if Jinx sold their soul for a single opportunity to decipher Shadow, forever wouldn't be long enough to decode his 'why'. His brain fascinated them. They were ashamed to admit that. A curious creature, unreadable to those not discerning — how would one not find an innocent interest in it?

He took his precious time to formulate his admission. It was no apology, but coming from Shadow, what he said next seemed the closest to one.

"As one of the top three racers, I guess the bar is set to an unattainable height." And he was as vague as that, shutting Jinx down from making further points. He had barriers. They weren't to be trifled with, so they left it at,

"Yip."

—

"Hmph. I can access my car. I'll let you drive it tonight, which means I am entrusting its safety to you while you're behind the wheel."

He lifted the door and let it roll up on its own, revealing Shadow's preferred vehicle: the Dark Reaper. The meek light from Jinx's flashlight was enough to showcase the resplendence a mere car could possess. It shone in the spotlight, its body a black sheen and its accents a striking red matte. It was kitted out with modifications to his liking — courtesy of Dodon Pa and Tails. However plagued with fatigue, Jinx had never experienced such a surge of excitement.

"Woah... sleek." They took the opportunity to run their hand along the hood. They'd sworn they'd never felt so satisfied through such an action. Shadow, again, stood a few metres away, supervising. There was an extreme awareness in his gaze — worry, maybe? For his car, probably. Trust being so fresh didn't help anyone.

Jinx vaulted into the driver's seat and peered through the windscreen, beaming at Shadow as they did so. They got no response from him. It was to be expected, especially at the rate they were going. The ecstatic feeling didn't last and was replaced with an audible yawn. Shadow approached them warily.

"Don't abuse this privilege," he said, leaning over towards the crimson dashboard, analysing who knows what. Jinx saluted.

"Yes, sir." A joke, a good-natured joke at that. It was ignored. Shadow was dead serious, and understandably so. Handing the reins over to an inexperienced driver was a risk. Jinx knew that just by reviewing their own performance. The understanding was clearly mutual, which is why he disclosed,

"I'll be running right beside you, so if anything goes horribly wrong —"

"— there'll be hell to pay?"

"Mhm. Now, this baby can fly, but only if you put faith in your actions. Be confident, but control yourself. Arrogance gets you killed. The track's turns will creep up on you — be wary. And above all else: keep your headlights on at all costs. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." And they had not been more sincere.

The Speed, Shadows & Hijinks Series :

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[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: some angst, and a bit of real life struggles lol

A/N: Going to do some world building! We get to see one Khonshu's first conversations with Merit! Sorry the chapter feels so... short and rail-roaded. But I want to do some more chapters from Khonshu's point of view because it's no fun to only see just Merit's angle!

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog @themostegotisticalgirl124 @patchesofwork @lialiwasneverseen

Chapter 16:

Luna meminit

"I will not stop asking." The young woman proclaimed, her arms crossing defiantly as she lifted her chin to lock her gaze with his.

Khonshu grunted, rolling his eyes and stamping his staff down, "And I will continue to tell you: I will not tell you our secrets."

"You say that," She huffed, flicking a strand of her wig back off her shoulder as she continues her line of indignant behavior. "But I am very good at figuring things out. I am a scholar. I learn. It is what I do."

"Merit." He hissed, glaring down at her, "The ways of the Gods are not for mortals like you to know. You cannot--"

"Bakenkhonsu is your high priest," She pointed out, beginning to pace, her expression almost seemingly bored as she speaks. "You are saying you do not tell him things? That you lie?"

He growled, throwing his hand in the air in frustration, "That is different, woman! He is my Avatar, but I do not reveal my secrets to him. Nor do other gods reveal theirs to their Chosen."

She was manipulating him. It was obvious. Merit had spent most of her life in the presence of the intrigue and intimacy of the courts--her parents paid well for her education (namely due to her father wishing to marry her to one of the Princes, before the Pharaoh declared it be left ultimately to her own choice) and as a result, she was very glib. Had he been a mortal man, Khonshu would have played directly into her ploy--danced in her palms like the toy she was attempting to malleate him into.

Her eyes were a beautiful shade of green, hints of maybe blue or brown mixed into them. Khonshu could understand how easy it would be for any mortal man to be drawn in, her voice always so soft and demure; but that was a veil masking the true strength that silver tongue of hers possessed.

He had half a mind to ask her to be his second Fist. But someone as gentle as she was not suited for the violence that she would have to be subjected to were she to accept that role.

Merit had suffered enough.

So... what was the harm in feeding her a few morsels? If it at the very least got her to stop pestering him with her incessant, unrelenting curiosity.

He sighed deeply, pinching the point where his beak met his brow, his eyes closing with irritation, "Fine... an answer to your previous question: yes. We... observe mortals. Very few of us interact as closely as I do, however."

Merit smiled, stopping on her heel to turn and look up at him, smiling.

"Which gods? How often do they listen?"

Khonshu held up a finger, a long talon pointing to the sky. "That, I cannot tell you."

She crossed her arms and sighed, disappointment etched on her features, "Cannot? Or will not?"

"It is... A rule." He answered cryptically.

To her credit, Merit didn't seem annoyed by this. She just smiled up at him and turned away, the jewelry she wore tinkling softly.

"Very well. That is all I will ask you." She hummed; "Today."

Khonshu's head reeled back as she exited the temple. Was that really all she wanted? She was an academic--she had to have wanted more information than that. Why did she step away so easily?

He grunted, thinking; dismay swept through him.

Despite himself... Khonshu had fallen into Merit's ploy, anyways. He'd answered one of her questions--albeit cryptically--but in a roundabout way he'd likely answered one she didn't voice aloud.

He shook his head and sighed, laughing softly.

A very good scholar, indeed.

Khonshu lifted his gaze from the dusty floor. He was sitting in a rather undignified position--slumped and hunched, his head hanging as he recalled those early days with Merit.

His back rested against the stone sarcophagus, the closest he could get to her, now, in any form.

He recalled the long, hushed academic conversations he would hold with her when she returned to her cousin's home, to avoid waking them. Especially Anippe, in her pregnant state. She needed as much asleep as she could claim, until the baby arrived.

He recalled arguments--discussions that dissolved into heated words when the two of them would talk each other in circles. Arguments that would end with her fuming at him, or Khonshu so ready to bash his head open on a stone.

And several... Other arguments that ended far more pleasantly. Heavy, hungry hands pawing, gripping, kneading; nights of passion that often did not end until the sun rose the next day...

And the cycle would merely repeat itself again, and again; his heart growing more and more wrapped around Merit's own as each day and night swept past them.

"You always had a knack for sussing out whatever it was you wished to know." Khonshu chuckled bitterly.

"You also knew when to stop; when you'd gotten the nugget of whatever answer you were hoping to get. So strong... I only wish you had gotten your dream." His voice cracked, like a dead stick scraping against a stone.

And indeed, Merit's grand dream of preserving her knowledge of the gods had been lost. After her death, Akhenaten went to the temple and found her scrolls. He'd ordered them to be burned, whilst everyone was away at her burial; far, far away in the desert.

He had given the order she was not to be buried with her family, for her "heretical" ambitions in serving "lesser" gods, and not his "true" god, Aten.

His rage and grief had only been doubled when he returned to see her life's work so callously turned to ash, to be forgotten so easily.

It was like getting stabbed in the heart that died and been buried with Merit. The few scraps of her voice, those words written by her own hand that he had left to cherish--gone.

As a result, he hid her tomb with magic. So that only he, his Fists, and any others he deemed trustworthy enough to know its location, could find it.

Nobody would desecrate Merit in any way for the rest of eternity. Her tomb would become a shrine. A shrine to the only creature in existence that had Khonshu ready and willing to throw away his divinity, if only to glimpse her sweet smile once again; to hear her laugh flow from her lips.

To hear his name whispered on short breaths.

But alas. Even though he freed the world from Ammit's terror, he was still banished for causing too many problems for the Ennead. While grateful, they maintained his exile. So that meant he couldn't go to the Field of Reeds to see Merit.

In hindsight... if he had kept his rage in check, maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe, even in the afterlife, he could still see her. Smiling, laughing, embracing her family with loving arms again. Watching her study until her soul grew exhausted, hearing her voice sing as she danced in the fields... But even then, it would have been a bittersweet comfort.

It wouldn't undo the fact that she never got to be the mother she would have been. She never got to see their child grow, or see what they would become.

No.

That blessing was ripped away from them both.

And Khonshu never found the culprit. His greatest failure. His greatest sin.

His broken heart; that still haunted him thousands of years later.

You awake, groaning; acutely aware of the throbbing in your temples as you hurled yourself out of bed and into your bathroom in desperate search for your bottle of generic painkillers.

You dropped a few into your palm, the bottle rattling as you set it back into place as you tossed them into your mouth and scooped palms full of water to your mouth from the running faucet; cringing at the nasty taste city water always left in your mouth---but your throat was utterly parched, so you drank deeply anyways--your taste buds revolting at the slightly waxy feeling coating your tongue as you splashed some water on your face.

You didn't care if it got on your clothes or in your hair; hell, even if it got on the floor and counter. You just wanted this damned migraine to go away.

You stumbled along out of the bathroom after you relieved yourself--and made your way to your kitchenette, hoping you had something palatable to dine on.

You were ravenous. Starving.

You grabbed some sandwich meat from your fridge and a loaf of bread. Sniffing the contents of the cold cut bag, you deemed it acceptable enough to eat. Groceries were growing more and more expensive, and god damn it all if you weren't suffering because of it. Especially because of your greedy landlord and bill payments that constantly hung over you and people cursed to be at the same social-status level as you.

You made two sandwiches with everything that remained of the meat, grabbed a bottle of nice water from your fridge and sat down on the edge of your bed.

You closed your eyes as you began to eat, hoping the room would stop swimming long enough to keep you from getting dizzy and hurting what sustenance you were putting in your belly.

Sighing, you weren't surprised when you felt a chill creep down your spine. A soft fluttering filling the silence of your apartment--save for the noises from your neighbors to either side or above and below you.

"Can't this wait? I feel like hammered shit." You groaned.

And... to your utter surprise, Khonshu asked you a question:

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. Thirsty. And I feel like I need a shower." You replied between bites.

"Understandable. You were unconscious for nearly two days." He hummed thoughtfully.

You nearly choked and looked at him, "What?"

"You used too much magic too quickly," Khonshu explained. "I should not have taught you such advanced-level magic. You were not ready. I must admit I was impressed with your inherent abilities that I negated the simpler aspects of your training. As a result, you could not stem the flow of your magic."

You stare at him as cold realization creeps in. Those men at the bar, the fight in the alley. The sound of bones breaking--

"You killed one of them instantly. The other died of his injuries. The third was a coward and broke under interrogation. He was stabbed in prison and is near death currently." He said calmly, as if he were reading something from a local newspaper and not giving you a carnage report. "And, your body collapsed after releasing so much energy too quickly. Think of it as a pulled muscle."

"I... I killed someone?" You choked.

"They would have killed far more innocent women and young girls if not for you. The three of them had been scouring city after city for fresh prey. I was fortunate enough to have picked up on it when you walked past the bar." Khonshu said, tilting his head, "You saved that woman last night by doing so."

"B-but, I... I..." You say, your heart pattering in your chest and with each beat your migraine worsened. "I killed someone. I... God, I felt his neck snap..!"

Khonshu sighed heavily. He should have expected this. You were not experienced in taking life like Marc, his alters, or even Yehya. What more could he have expected of you? A civilian, until recently, who had only been skilled as a cleaner?

Seeing your weakened state, he decided to show mercy and not give further details, instead he focused his eyeless gaze on you as you dropped your head in your hands.

"What did you see in your dream?" He tipped his head to the side. "You kept moaning and calling for help."

"Blood." You whisper.

Your eyes dragged up to lock onto his sockets--to meet his gaze you could only guess was still in his head.

"I saw blood."

Chapter 17: Not sure, dealing with some health stuff atm

[shikai-the-storyteller]

UEUEUEUEUEUEU ILL SEND YOU THIS WHILE WAITING TO SEE BOBBYS STATUS.

Dw idm u answering publicly, I want everyone to be cursed w the thought that Rubius is a babygirl and a very bad one at that <3

Honestly I've only read a few explanations of their lore and bits about their relationship but they seem sooooo,,, /pos. Like they have such a fun and silly dynamic that has this air of toxicity and their loves feels quite self destructive bc rubius is kind of a destructive force of nature of a person who has a tendency to hurt those around him, perhaps as a defense mechanism or perhaps out of simply not understanding there are consequences to the things he does while vegetta is someone far too forgiving, he continues to love rubius despite how much he hurts himself, others, and vegetta himself. I'm not saying cubito rubius is an awful person but from what I've seen he is,,, complex. Difficult despite seeming silly. I could be just completely wrong tho LOL I am doin my best I prommy

ANYWAYS IM CHEERING U ON IN WRITING!!! I'd love to talk to u abt them more and learn more abt rubegetta bc like. Look. Theres no way q!vegetta isnt hung up on that demon idc,,,

I'm likewise waiting for the Eggstatistics (which will probably get posted while I'm in the middle of writing this) (EDIT: IT DID) and you gave me the opportunity to infodump so prepare for an essay LMAO

There are SO many layers to Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship (both romantic and friendship-wise), and that complexity makes them fascinating characters to study. I’ve been discussing this a lot in private lately, but I feel like there’s quite a bit of misinformation / misinterpretations of Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship amongst some of the newer fans who might not know some key components of their personality and their relationship dynamic as a whole (which is understandable since the majority of their lore came from Karmaland, and a lot of newer fans only speak English / only watch QSMP), so ALLOW ME TO ELABORATE:

I think of the two, Rubius definitely gets mischaracterized the most (which, again, maybe isn't too surprising since not everyone watched Karmaland and he hasn't been on the QSMP server too much lately). I could go off on a tangent here and list my frustrations about the people who harassed him for his role / his actions during the Egg event / whining about ships to the point where he decided not to log into the server again ‘til the Egg event is over, but that's ultimately irrelevant to this discussion.

“Their love feels quite self-destructive” is a really good way to sum things up, because Rubius is a pretty self-destructive man. Rubius is, fundamentally, a man who is full of love for the people he cares about, but those feelings are in direct conflict with his reluctance to let people get close to him (and his commitment issues). He can freely give hugs and kisses (and more) to Vegetta, but when it comes to expressing his true thoughts and feelings, he’s pretty emotionally constipated. We’ve already seen this a few times on the QSMP server – when Rubius visits on Vegetta’s birthday, he sings him the most beautiful heartfelt love song ever, but as soon as it’s over and Vegetta tries to talk to him, Rubius runs away. Even in Karmaland V, when hooked up to a lie detector and asked about his feelings for Vegetta, Rubius tried to wiggle his way out of answering. Only when the world was literally ending and they all thought they were gonna die did Rubius finally admit his feelings, shouting his confession and his love for Vegetta at the top of his lungs.

(The real tragedy here is that it was so chaotic with everyone shouting, Vegetta never heard his words…)

Although it’s easy to slap the label “toxic” on Rubius, I think that’s unfair to him and his character, as well as his intentions. He truly does love Vegetta with all his heart, in every universe, and he doesn’t want to hurt him, but Rubius doesn’t want to get hurt either. The Meteor shower conversation gives us a clear understanding of that:

Rubius: I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get my hopes up, and then get hurt. It's happened to me many times before. Especially here in Karmaland. Vegetta: Have you had lovesickness? Rubius: Yes. In Karmaland, everywhere, in real life... I'm already used to getting beaten. Vegetta: That's a pity... Rubius: I just want someone to take care of me, and that's it. I don't ask for much. Vegetta: I'm very protective.

The way I see it, Rubius is afraid of his feelings for Vegetta, because the larger his love grows, the larger that potential for hurt and disappointment gets. Does this excuse all his actions? No, of course not, however there’s a big difference between doing something out of self-preservation (possibly as a trauma-response, depending on how you interpret his character) and doing something with the intent to hurt someone.

IMO, Rubius isn’t a toxic guy, he just needs therapy.

Vegetta doesn’t get mischaracterized quite as often, though I do feel like people have a tendency to put him on a pedestal and minimize the flaws he has. I’m a massive Vegetta fan, but this guy’s far from perfect. He’s self-centered, borderline narcissistic sometimes, and he’s a very prideful man. He’s never left Rubius at the altar, but he’s still had his fair share of “oopsies” and "yikes" in their relationship. One (which I’m surprised people don’t talk about more) is an incident from Karmaland IV where Vegetta, very unhinged and mentally unstable at the time, kidnapped Rubius’ wife Nieves and threatened her with a sword, saying, “If Rubius can’t be mine, he can’t be anyone’s.”

For the longest time I genuinely thought that line came from a fanfic or something, then I stumbled upon the clip one day and I was just like:

Anyways

In Karmaland V, Rubius became very close with a little alien child named Titi. He took care of Titi like he was his own son, and despite his attempts at emotionally distancing himself early on so he wouldn’t get attached, Rubius wound up caring a lot for him.

Then Titi died.

It was basically Rubius’ worst nightmare come to life – he’d let himself get close to Titi, he’d loved him unconditionally and let Titi into his heart, and Titi’s death utterly destroyed him. Everyone in Karmaland was affected by the death, but Rubius took it especially hard because of how close they were. Rubius was hurting badly and resorting to terrible coping strategies to deal with the pain, and Vegetta…

Well. Vegetta wasn’t very nice about it.

There are a lot of ways we could interpret Vegetta’s actions and words during this time – maybe he’s not super sensitive when talking about death since he’s probably some kind of demigod, maybe he speedran the grieving process, maybe he thought brutal honesty and direct action would help Rubius “snap out of it” sooner. However you see it, ultimately it did a lot more harm than good for Rubius’ overall mental health.

I bring these examples up not to paint their relationship as toxic or negative, but rather to express just how complex it is. Because, despite all their mistakes and drama and heartbreak, at the end of the day, Rubius and Vegetta still love each other more than anything else. Even towards the end of Karmaland V when they were quite literally on opposite sides of the battlefield (one supporting Quackity, the other supporting Luzu), their true loyalties lay with one another. When Rubius was hit by an enemy, Vegetta defended him with his life, and when Vegetta was hurt, Rubius did the same.

Yes, Rubius doesn't really know how to handle healthy relationships, and yes, Vegetta tends to forgive him too easily, but that doesn't erase the love they have. The key we need to remember here is that Rubegetta is a telenovela that sits squarely in the romcom category. They may wander into other genres and tropes from time to time, but they will always gravitate back to one another. Whether you define that as fate or soulmates or just sheer dumb luck, the facts remain and the love is there.

PHEW anyways that felt good to get out, I have so many thoughts on Rubegetta so I appreciate the excuse to rant. I'm always happy to chat about these two! :D And you're so right - Vegetta is so smitten for that demon, I hope he gets to meet the angel too. I hope Rubius comes back soon so Vegetta can see his Osito Fiu Fiu, but in the meantime, we'll have to keep wishing and praying just like Vegetta...

(ALSO THANK YOU the current chapter of that dang Rubegetta fic is kicking my butt rn because it's the only chapter I didn't outline and life events keep interrupting me when I try and work on it, but it IS getting chipped away at bit by bit! I hope folks enjoy the outcome when it's released :D)