seen from Russia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Maldives
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Israel
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
After the fire… comes the part that matters. Staying.
Losing the gamble pt.1
Gi-Hun x F!reader angst
S1 before the games, mention of gambling addiction, mention of age gap, some very light swearing, break up, violence mentionned, toxic relationship (quite depressing, really).
English is not my first language so sorry if there is spelling mistakes. I would love feedback on this!
A PART 2 RELATED TO THE GAMES IS COMING UP IN A WEEK.
It was yet another night Gi-hun came home to you, totally beaten up. Loan sharks had found him and made him pay for his unpaid debts. Gi-hun had promised multiple times to stop, to just try and quit gambling, but in reality, he couldn’t—it was an addiction.
Despite everything, you remained by his side, trying to help him as you could, even by lending him the little money you had to keep him out of trouble.
You even moved in with him five months earlier, and your presence had significantly improved his lifestyle. He was really trying to be better, for the sake of your relationship and himself. But it still wasn’t enough, and tonight was the last straw for you.
I loved writing this <3
This is a pipa in case you don't know
Earth was lively that morning, sunlight gleaming off Capsule Corp’s domes, laughter echoing from the garden where Trunks and Goten were sparring again. Bulma shouted something from the kitchen about breaking her furniture, Vegeta barked threats from the gravity chamber, and amid all the noise, you sat quietly beneath the shade of a large tree, a book open in your lap.
The sound of the breeze through the leaves was softer than a whisper. It was the one place you could breathe, away from the chaos that came with being the eldest Briefs-Saiyan hybrid. You had always been calm where your family was not, patient where your father was furious, and kind where your mother was fiery.
You turned a page, and the sky trembled.
A ripple of energy swept across the atmosphere like thunder laced with divinity. It wasn’t ki. It was something colder and divine.
When the light descended, the entire planet seemed to hold its breath.
Inside Capsule Corp - Moments Later
Bulma was already yelling when the doors opened. “Whoever you are, this is private property! And if you’re here for another food sampling—”
“Shut up, woman,” Vegeta hissed, every muscle in his body tightening. His instincts screamed. He knew that energy.
Beerus floated through the air as if gravity was a mere suggestion, Whis just behind him, smiling with polite amusement.
“Lord Beerus, this is Earth,” Whis said lightly, “the planet with the marvelous food I mentioned.”
Beerus hummed, eyes wandering lazily, until they stopped.
Not on Vegeta. Not on Bulma.
On you.
You stood at the far end of the room, half hidden behind a pillar, clutching your book to your chest. You hadn’t meant to stare, but his presence was impossible to ignore: cat-like, lean, purple, and impossibly composed, radiating a strange kind of quiet destruction that made your heart thrum in both fear and fascination.
His golden eyes blinked once, then again, slower this time.
The corners of his lips curled.
“Whis,” he murmured, “remind me why you didn’t tell me this planet housed a goddess.”
Vegeta nearly choked. “What did he just call her?”
Bulma gasped. “Excuse me, she’s my daughter!”
Beerus tilted his head, completely unbothered by the outrage in the room. “Mm. Then I suppose I’ll have to thank you for her.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to crush a mountain.
Later - Private Garden, Capsule Corp
You hadn’t even realized how fast everything had happened. One moment your father was preparing to attack, the next, Whis had blinked him into a corner and Beerus was... simply talking to you.
He’d followed you outside, apparently done with everyone else.
“You’re different,” Beerus said simply, examining a delicate pink blossom between his claws. “Your energy… doesn’t irritate me.”
“I… thanks?” you offered softly.
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that somehow didn’t sound cruel. “You should. It’s rare for me to meet mortals who can exist near me without trembling or posturing.”
You smiled faintly, eyes dropping to your lap. “I just don’t think fear helps anyone. And my family trembles enough for all of us.”
“Hm.” His gaze softened, only a fraction. “You’re calm. That’s dangerous.”
You blinked. “Dangerous?”
“Yes,” he said, stepping closer until you could feel the faint hum of his divine aura. “Because calm makes me forget what I’m supposed to destroy.”
Your breath hitched. He noticed.
He smiled. “You’re beautiful when you’re startled.”
Before you could answer, Vegeta’s voice roared from the distance: “GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU PURPLE MENACE!”
Beerus sighed audibly. “And there’s the migraine.”
Bulma stormed out behind Vegeta. “If you even think about touching her—”
“Oh, I don’t think,” Beerus interrupted calmly, “I decide.”
His tone was mild, yet the words carried such weight that even Vegeta froze mid-step. Whis appeared just behind Beerus, looking positively delighted.
“Well,” Whis chimed in, “this certainly took an unexpected romantic turn.”
Your cheeks flushed. Beerus smirked.
“I like this one,” he said, nodding toward you, “so I’m keeping her.”
The world stopped.
“Keeping-?!” Bulma shrieked.
Whis raised a brow. “Lord Beerus, perhaps a more... tactful phrasing?”
Beerus ignored him entirely. “She’ll be my companion. My wife.” His gaze flicked to Vegeta, eyes glinting. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to challenge a God of Destruction over family politics?”
Vegeta’s ki flared—and then, under Bulma’s death glare, fizzled out.
“Unbelievable,” Vegeta muttered, jaw clenched. “Unbelievable!”
Beerus turned back to you, and for the first time, you saw something sincere beneath the arrogance.
“I’ll protect your planet,” he said simply. “And I’ll protect you. That’s my promise.”
You hesitated. Then, softly, you nodded.
Somewhere deep inside, something told you this was not the end of Earth, but the beginning of something far greater.
...
Years Later - Beerus’ Planet
The temple was peaceful. You sat near the edge of the floating palace, legs folded neatly, playing your pipa. Each note shimmered through the air like light through water, wrapping the planet in calm.
Beerus lay nearby, tail lazily flicking, eyes half-closed.
“I destroyed three moons today,” he murmured, voice low, “and somehow, I still don’t feel at peace until you play.”
You smiled, not looking up. “I can play forever.”
He cracked one golden eye open. “Careful. I might hold you to that.”
The laughter that followed was soft, and for a god of destruction, oddly human.
Whis appeared beside you both, smiling knowingly. “Ah, harmony and chaos in balance. How poetic.”
And somewhere in the temple halls, a small child’s laughter echoed, their daughter’s ki flaring briefly like a tiny star, before fading into warmth.
The universe remained safe that day because its most dangerous god had found something even stronger than destruction.
---
The planet of the Destroyer God was quiet again, at least, for the first few seconds of the morning.
Then came the soft, rising hum of a familiar melody: your pipa, echoing across the floating gardens. The strings shimmered under your fingertips, their tone bright and calm, filling the vast emptiness with something Beerus didn’t have a word for.
Peace.
He lounged on the nearest stone pillar, eyes half-closed, tail lazily curling around his leg. Whis floated nearby, smiling in that infuriatingly knowing way of his.
“Your wife’s music has improved, my Lord,” Whis said, voice light and teasing. “One might say she’s achieved divine resonance.”
Beerus’s ear twitched. “She was already perfect. The music simply caught up.”
Whis chuckled. “Ah, I see. And here I thought you didn’t do sentimentality.”
Beerus cracked one golden eye open. “I don’t. I simply state facts.”
But his gaze softened when it found you, sitting on the edge of the platform, blue hair glowing under the morning light.
And then there was the other sound, soft giggles from the temple steps.
Your daughter, a small bundle of wild light blue fur (?, toddled toward him. Her eyes gleamed just like yours, but her face was unmistakably his.
“Papa!” she chirped.
Beerus sighed, long, theatrical. “I told you not to run on the stairs, little star.”
She climbed into his lap anyway, completely ignoring the “god of destruction” part of his title. Whis stifled a laugh as Beerus muttered something about mortals having no respect for authority.
“She’s learning from her mother,” Whis commented, smirking.
Beerus glared. “Watch it.”
You joined them moments later, carrying a tray of sweets you’d baked that morning, light, fluffy things that melted the instant they hit his tongue. The only reason Earth still existed, Whis often said, was because you’d learned how to bake.
“Breakfast for my two favorite beings,” you said softly, sitting beside them.
Beerus leaned back, pretending disinterest even as his tail brushed yours under the table. “Hmph. At least one of those beings appreciates your cooking properly.”
Your daughter’s cheeks were already covered in powdered sugar.
“Clearly,” you said with a giggle.
Whis poured tea for all of you, the moonlight reflecting off the golden cups. “It’s rather endearing,” he mused, “how a destroyer’s planet has become… domestic.”
Beerus scowled. “Watch your tone.”
“Oh, come now,” Whis teased, “if Vegeta could see you now, lounging in a robe, sipping tea, with your daughter using your tail as a pillow, he might actually faint.”
Beerus didn’t respond, but the faintest shade of pink brushed his ears.
Later That Day - Capsule Corp, Earth
“NO.”
“That’s not an option, Vegeta,” Bulma snapped, pointing her spatula like a sword. “You’re going. I want to see my daughter, and you’re coming with me.”
Vegeta crossed his arms, jaw tight. “You expect me to visit him?”
“He’s your son-in-law!” Bulma said. “And it’s been three years! Now get in the ship before I make Trunks drive us there.”
Vegeta grumbled the entire flight to Beerus’s world. Whis met them halfway through, teleporting them directly to the courtyard where you were serving tea.
“Mother! Father!” you greeted, joy bright in your tone. “It’s been so long-”
“MY BABY!” Bulma cried, crushing you into a hug before you could finish. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful, oh, I knew the god thing would look good on you!”
Vegeta only gave a curt nod, muttering, “Hmph. You look well, brat.”
Then his gaze slid to Beerus. The two locked eyes instantly.
“Still alive, I see,” Beerus said with an infuriating smirk.
Vegeta’s ki flickered. “Barely resisting the urge to fix that.”
Your daughter peeked out from behind your leg, tail flicking. “Grandpa?”
Vegeta froze. “She… called me.?”
You smiled. “She knows everyone by name. She’s smart like her grandma.”
Bulma was already sobbing. “Oh, she’s perfect! Look at that little tail!”
Beerus looked vaguely smug. “Of course she is. She’s ours.”
Vegeta scowled, but there was no fight left in him. Not when his granddaughter toddled over, reached up, and patted his cheek.
You’d never seen your father go so still. Then, slowly, Vegeta crouched down and let her climb onto his shoulder.
“...Hmph. Fine. She’s worthy of the Saiyan name.”
Beerus smirked. “She’s also part deity. So yes, I’d say she surpasses it.”
Bulma sighed dramatically. “You two are never going to stop competing, are you?”
Whis chuckled from behind them. “Oh, I rather hope not. It keeps the universe interesting.”
That Night
After everyone left, you and Beerus sat together on the edge of the floating temple, legs dangling into the starlight. The child slept peacefully inside, her tiny ki pulsing softly.
You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. “You were good today.”
Beerus hummed. “What are you talking about? I’m always good.”
You laughed quietly. “You didn’t threaten to blow anything up.”
“Because you were there,” he murmured, turning his head slightly. “That’s enough to keep me busy.”
You tilted your face up toward him. “You’ve changed, you know.”
“Don’t spread rumors,” he said, though his voice softened. “A destroyer isn’t supposed to change.”
“Then maybe you’re something new,” you whispered. “A god who loves.”
He didn’t respond, just leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. The stars reflected in his golden eyes, and for a moment, he looked utterly human.
“Don’t tell Whis,” he said softly. “He’ll never let me live it down.”
You smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
From somewhere behind a pillar, Whis’s amused voice floated out: “Oh, I heard everything.”
Beerus groaned. “Whis!”
You laughed into his shoulder, feeling his arm wrap around you, tail curling protectively around your waist.
The destroyer of worlds, the calm of creation, and their tiny spark of life, three heartbeats against an endless sky.
The universe was at peace again.
Masterpost
DBS Masterlist
@ultimate-percussionist
Jean Kirstein x Male Reader || Gears and Guardians
A tall, buff mechanic keeps Jean safe and well, and Jean can’t stop bragging about him.
it’s easy to spot you in the scout yard.
not because you’re loud. you’re not. because you’re big. tall in a way that makes people double take. broad shoulders, forearms always smeared with grease no matter how much you scrub. you work the mechanics bay, fixing odm gear, reinforcing blades, rebuilding what comes back broken and bloodied.
jean likes that you smell like oil and iron instead of sweat.
he leans against the doorway while you’re bent over a workbench, sleeves rolled up, hands steady while you rethread a cable. you don’t look up when he arrives. you already know it’s him.
“you’re gonna stare a hole through my back,” you say.
“can’t help it,” jean answers. “you’re blocking my view.”
“of what.”
“everything else.”
you finally glance over your shoulder, one brow lifting. jean grins like he’s won something. he always looks proud next to you, like standing close makes him bigger by association. you don’t tease him about it. he pretends not to notice anyway.
your relationship is quiet. solid. the kind that doesn’t need announcing.
There’s nothing like writing women in love, because they fall, break, forgive, and still choose each other — proving that softness can survive anything. ✦
Not All Dark Wings Are Red Flags: In Defense of Rhysand 🖤✨🕊️
After talking about Tamlin... let’s talk about Rhysand!
No, really. Let’s talk about him — because for a character who’s literally written to be the fantasy, he sure gets called toxic a lot.
It’s a conversation that keeps resurfacing in fandom spaces: “He’s manipulative.” “He hides things.” “He has too much power.” And sure, if you squint hard enough and remove all context and character development… you might be able to argue that.
But here’s the thing: Rhysand isn’t toxic. He’s complicated. And there's a very big difference.
🧠 First of all: He was introduced as a mask. Let’s not forget A Court of Thorns and Roses was written through Feyre’s point of view — and Rhys, at that point, wanted her to mistrust him. He wasn’t trying to be liked. He was trying to protect his people, himself, and Feyre, in the only way he could under Amarantha’s rule. The Rhys we meet at the beginning is not a complete man — he’s a cornered animal with claws out.
🌟 But the deeper we go, the more we see the real version. By A Court of Mist and Fury, we learn that Rhysand is one of the only characters who respects Feyre’s autonomy. He gives her choice, time, space. He doesn’t lock her in a house, doesn’t silence her pain, and certainly doesn’t pretend to know what’s best for her. He challenges her, but never controls her.
💔 He understands trauma — because he lives with it. Rhysand doesn’t arrive in the narrative as a knight in shining armour. He’s broken, strategic, full of pain — and still able to offer gentleness. Unlike the male love interest in book one, he never tries to rescue Feyre from herself. He helps her become who she wants to be, not who he wants her to be. That's not toxic — that’s healing.
📜 "But he kept things from her!" Yes. Because trust is something that’s built, not automatic. Because he wanted her to choose him, not feel obligated to him. Because sometimes, people make the wrong call — even when their intentions are good. And importantly: when Feyre does confront him, he listens. He apologises. He grows.
🧸 Being powerful doesn’t make him a threat — how he uses it is what matters. Rhysand has immense magical, political, and personal power. But not once does he use it to force Feyre into anything. That’s the point. He could, but he doesn’t. Because real love is consent, balance, and agency. He’s an example of strength that chooses restraint.
🌠 At the end of the day, Rhysand is a fantasy. Yes, he’s written to be alluring, clever, strong, and just a little bit smug. But above all: he’s written to be safe. The man who waited. The man who saw her breaking and didn’t rush to fix her — he knelt, and said: I’m here if you want me.
That’s not toxic. That’s emotional literacy in wings and starlight.
[Roberto Crescenzio]
Why Men Respect Women Who Walk Away
When a woman walks away, she sets the world on fire in the quietest, most elegant way. There’s no screaming. No grand finale. Just a soft, deliberate exit that echoes louder than anything she ever said.
Why does that move haunt them? Why do men respect the woman who chooses herself over chaos?
Because walking away is power. It’s a boundary in motion. It’s the ultimate act of self-respect in a world that romanticizes staying, sacrificing, shrinking. It says, “I am no longer available for what doesn’t serve my softness.” And softness, make no mistake, is not weakness it’s sacred. It’s selective. It’s divine.
They notice when you stop over-explaining.
They feel it when your silence replaces paragraphs of pleading.
They respect it when your absence says what your presence couldn’t.
The truth is many men don’t wake up until the warmth leaves. Until the texts stop coming. Until the emotional labor stops flowing like an unearned river. That’s when they feel the cold reality: she was the light, and they dimmed her.
It’s easy to take for granted the one who always shows up. It’s easy to keep pulling from a well you think will never run dry. But when that well suddenly goes still… it’s not just thirst. It’s reckoning.
The woman who walks away doesn’t always want to. She just finally loves herself more than the version of her that begged. She sees clearly now love shouldn’t feel like convincing someone of your worth.
So she leaves.
Quietly. Softly. Unapologetically.
And that is when they start to understand what real value looks like. Not in desperation. Not in availability. But in the distance. In standards. In energy that no longer chases what confuses it.
Because the truth? Respect doesn’t bloom where convenience lives. It grows in the space where you remind the world I am not for sale at the price of my peace.
Let them wonder. Let them spiral. Let them sit in the silence they once ignored.
You walking away is not lost.
It’s a lesson.
And for the first time, you’re not the one learning it.
Let your leaving be the love letter you never got. Let it be the revolution.
Reblog if this speaks to your soul. Follow for more soft truths and sacred rage. And send this to someone who’s almost ready to choose themselves.
💚 ……… Thank You ………. 💚
✨🍎 New Design Drop! 🍎✨
She’s got the apple. She’s got the plan. Now all she needs is a Savior with a snack craving and zero self-preservation instincts.
💭 “How do I get the Savior to taste my forbidden fruit?” Honestly, same energy as texting your crush while pretending it was a typo.
This chibi-style boss lady is plotting more than just municipal takeovers—she’s serving up fairytale drama and sapphic yearning one juicy apple at a time.
📌 Grab it as a sticker, magnet, tote, or even a notebook for all your own mildly inappropriate internal monologues.
🛒 Available now on Redbubble!
