#i wonder if what got a lot of people was that the episode did feel like the sort of things that typically happen in final episodes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

calypsocolada · 5 months ago

Text

MISO SOUP AND SWEET POTATOES | g. tomioka

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: you're tasked with convinicing Giyu to join the Hashira Training author's note: hello. this was a days worth of writing. from 11 am to 3 am. i even wrote parts in my notepad at work. i really like how this turned out. i finished the hashira training arc last night and think that final episode might've been the best episode of anime i have actually ever seen. this is a whole ass story cw: slightly suggestive, major spoilers for rengoku and the hashira training arc, character death, gore, ANGST, fluff, happy ending, not proofread, fem reader, use of y/n a lil, lover!giyu, hardheaded!reader wc: 6.3k

click here for my masterlist

--------------------------------------------------------

“Would you mind talking to Giyu for me? So that Giyu, who tends to put himself into a negative frame of mind can start looking ahead again. Will you be persistent in your efforts to speak with him?”

You stared at the letter. You reread it again and again and again. Your body still aches from the previous fight in the swordsmith village and you sort of hoped this was a hallucination. That you were still unconscious. But as your crow beside you squawked and you jumped you knew it was real. The paper crinkled beneath your hands. Kagaya’s handwriting is flawless and script. You followed the trail of his pen again.

Would you mind speaking to Giyu for me?

You wondered if maybe this letter was accidentally sent to you. Even as your eyes wandered back up to the top of the paper that clearly said ‘Dear Y/n’. Even if it didn’t say your name there were no accidents with Kagaya.

But… but there had to be. Out of everyone, all the Hashira that were certainly closer to Giyu. But you, the newest Hashira, had been chosen to speak with him? In what world did that make any sense? You barely knew the guy. Granted he had been the reason you joined the corp originally but he’d dodged your very presence the best he could ever since.

Your village had been attacked about four years ago. Same old story for a lot of people victimized by demons. There was never a happy ending with those monsters involved. Always blood. Always loss. It was no different for you. Half of your family was slaughtered before you could even rouse yourself from sleep. But when you did all you saw was the inkblots of blood on your white walls, the color shining from being hit by the moonlight. You remembered sitting up and feeling numb as you heard someone screaming. The scream that never left you. Something you’d never be able to ingest for as long as you lived.

When you got to your feet your mother had busted into your room. She looked pale, blood gushing from beneath her white nightgown. She scooped you up and kissed your head as she stuffed you into the closet. She shushed your cry’s and told you not to come out until the sun shone beneath the crack in the door. She gave you one last kiss. You didn’t know then it was the last. You reached for her but she pushed your hands back, silently shook her head then pressed the door closed.

You’d always been a good kid. You stayed put exactly as you’d been told. Even as you heard more screams. Even as it went quiet.

Only until that sun shone beneath your door did you move. You busted out of that closet. Your mother’s name is the first thing on your lips but she wasn’t the first person you saw. The scene in your house was horrific to say the least. The sights of the people you loved in multiple torn pieces is something that comes back to you in flashes when you fight demons.

It spurs you on to do exactly what they did to your family back to them. To tear them to shreds.

In the middle of it all was a boy. He was sitting so still that you didn’t even notice him amongst the slaughter. Your living room was still dark, dark enough that it kept this monster safe as it rose to its full height. No longer a boy but a creature from your deepest darkest nightmares. It had your family’s blood on its mouth as it smiled a wickedly devilish smile.

“Hmm. Missed one.” It spoke in a gravelly tone as it swallowed whatever it was chewing on. You could guess what. You stepped back into your mother’s blood… or maybe your father’s? The blood, thick beneath your foot slid out from underneath you and you crashed into their bodies, something sharp sticking into your side as you gasped in sudden pain. Your mother’s hand still gripped a knife that had now lodged itself in your thigh. The demon only laughed. “Clumsy one aren’t you. Mother wasted her time hiding something so useless.” He growled, approaching with a predatory gleam in his dark eyes.

When he pounced towards you something momentary took hold over you. You, a measly twelve years old, ripped that knife from your own leg and thrusted it into the demon's eye. The creature roared like nothing you’d heard before as it stumbled back away from you. You just blinked as you watched it, numbness contending with your fear. The creature yanked the knife out and tossed it angrily to the side. It growled, fuming as it charged back at you. You raised your hands to defend yourself, screwing your eyes shut. You heard the whoosh of something cutting through the air itself and when you opened your eyes the creature had halted its assault. It locked eyes with you moments before its head toppled right off its shoulder. You stared in abject horror as the creature's body started to burn a blood red color and you saw a figure behind it. You were as still as a statue as the figure behind it took shape.

The shape of a boy, he couldn’t have been much older than you. Eyes an indigo blue, dark and almost unfeeling as they met yours. You watched as he gave a quick swipe of his sword to rid it of the demons burning blood as he sheathed it back at his side.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice young like yours. You weren’t hurt. Somehow. And you couldn’t open your mouth to answer him, not with your body still on top of your parents. You just stared at him, even as your eyesight got cloudy and stinging tears slid down your cheeks.

The boy walked towards you and remained still, unable to move as he bent down in front of you. He reached and clumsily brushed the tears from your face. It was as if he knew you wouldn’t part your lips to speak because wordlessly he, with immaculate ease, picked you up off the corpses and carried you out of the house. You moved for the first time in minutes as your head tilted to look back towards your family.

“Eyes on me.” He said and sure enough your eyes snapped to him. To take in his face. Eyes endlessly dark blue as they stared forwards. He had to have been your age, maybe a year older. He had the shape of a young face, with full cheeks and raven black hair to the nape of his neck. You couldn’t look away, it had nothing to do with his looks but everything to do with his command.

You were a good kid. When someone told you to do something you did it. Years later you would come to thank Giyu for that, for commanding you to look at him instead of glancing back at what remained of your family.

Everything after that was just sort of a blur. You stayed some place warm, a faint fire flickering and that boy with the sword stayed with you until some men in black uniforms found you. You remember not being able to walk, the shock and grief of the night not letting you. You’d held onto your saviors shirt, your fist balled. He let you, in fact he even came along with you and the men in black and when they asked you to let go you blinked at them. You hadn’t even noticed you were still holding on. You let go in an instant. Your hand is sore from how tightly you’d been clenching. The men in black’s hands were on your shoulders guiding you away and when you looked back your voice came to you.

“What’s your name?” You asked, everything paused for you so you could hear his answer.

“Giyu.” He answered. You put a name to his face. You parted your lips to thank him but nothing came out again. You couldn’t say thanks. Not when you were the only breathing because you cowardly hid in the closet. You felt you didn’t deserve to be thankful. You met his eyes again and something, somehow, told you he understood. He gave you the softest nod of his head and when he turned to leave you felt your heart drop. Like something had bonded you to this boy. But you turned and let yourself be whisked away.

A year later you worked for the very same people as Giyu had. You were given a sword and trained thoroughly by a man with red and orange hair. You weren’t ever good with names but the fire in him fueled the fire in you. Which is why you eagerly learned that breathing style and trudged up that mountain to crush the selection test.

A few years after that you ran into Giyu. You were sent on a mission to help the Water Hashira. You’d never met any other Hashira besides Rengoku so you were sort of apprehensive. You never liked meeting new people. All those years spent with Rengoku and his fiery personality you wished at least some of it had rubbed off on you but… you were still demure and quiet, quick to anger and prone to disappearing. You liked your alone time. You had all but begged Rengoku to let you go with him in his mission, apparently some demon had infested a train, that sounded far more exhilarating than helping some water Hashira you didn’t know. Rengoku did what he always did when you were disappointed. He gave you a sort of unwanted hug, though secretly you wanted and needed it, and ruffled your hair.

“We’ll see each other in two weeks. Next mission is yours and mine.” He said and then he was gone and you were boarding a train going the opposite way.

When you arrived, stepping off the train your eyes met the same indigo blue eyes from so many years ago. When you were both kids. Now both adults. You stopped where you stood, unable to walk any closer as everything fled back. Stuff you had managed to keep down deep for so many years. Memories you wanted to erase. All that time wasted and drudged back up in mere seconds. Giyu may have had those same eyes but he was grown now. His hair longer and tied back, his face had lost that boyish roundness. He looked tall and lean. Well at least taller than you. For a moment he looked just as surprised as you but he smoothed over that emotion into something practiced.

“It’s you.” He said, his voice deep and soft. You swallowed, your hand resting on your sword.

“You’re the water Hashira?” You asked and he nodded his head as the train behind you dinged and slowly pulled out of the stop, the wind brushing your hair over your shoulders.

“You’re Rengoku’s tsuguko?” At that you nodded your head back at him. His eyes trailed to your sword, to your haori, and old one Rengoku had lent you. His eyes lingered on that fiery pattern.

“I never learned your name.” He said and then his eyes flicked to yours. You swallowed dryly, you weren’t sure why he made you so nervous, why your heart was beating so fast. You wondered if he was a part of a life you wanted to die off. The scared girl in the closet was far from who you were now. Rengoku never got to meet that scared girl. No one had. Except Giyu. You told him your name and he repeated it, as if feeling how it felt on his own lips. Your heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way he spoke your name. It felt different coming from him. You grabbed ahold of yourself.

“Shall we?”

But your mission with Giyu was cut off with the sudden death of Rengoku. You and Giyu hadn’t made it back to the village before both of your crows had delivered the news. You still remembered everything about that moment. Giyu walking beside you, your haori catching a gust of wind, cold wind, as if winter was coming. You could replay your footsteps on the dirt road. The distant flapping of wings growing closer and closer and then stopping as they landed. Your initial glance over at the water Hashira before the delivering of the news. The ripple before the crack in your soul. Giyu had been present for the worst two days of your life. Something about losing someone again that felt like family irrevocably broke something in you all over again. This pain you felt before today you wondered for years if it would last. Rengoku had healed some of it. And begrudgingly and foolishly you let him in. But now you have your answer. This pain would last forever. You couldn’t even cry, you just stared blankly ahead, just as you had in your dark house wrecked with the stench of blood.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t want to look at him.

“Go, I’ll finish the mission.” He said, his voice different, there was a coldness before but now only warmth. You still didn’t look at him as you turned to leave.

“Be careful.” You choked out before taking off in a run back towards the train station.

You’d seen Giyu a few times after that but only in passing, never long enough to start up a proper conversation though both of you hated talking. You never let anyone else in after that. You took up the position of Fire Hashira and the only thing fiery about you was your utter hatred for demons. The other Hashira were sort of weary of you and that kept them at a distance. You only talked when absolutely needed and was the first to leave after Hashira meetings. You liked that distance. You’d do anything to keep it. There was only so much heartbreak and loss you could take. You were at your limit. You didn’t have room for anyone in your scabbard dying heart.

That’s why receiving that letter from Kagaya had caught you so off guard. He of all people knew who you were and still he asked you for a favor. Probably a dying wish. He had shown you kindness and since it was the only thing he’d ever asked you for, reluctantly, you found yourself at the front of Giyu’s home. It was cold out as your knuckles rapped against the wooden door. You waited, stepped back and looked off to the side, expecting to see Kagaya’s crow lingering around somewhere to report back to him. A minute had passed as you gave one more series of knocks. Nothing. Maybe he wasn’t home. You sighed and turned to leave just as the wooden door clicked and was pulled open. When you turned back those striking blue eyes met yours. There was skepticism on his face as you swallowed. That feeling that met you every time you saw Giyu never seemed to fade. That persistent speeding of your heart. That faltering of words. All highly inconvenient.

“Y/n?” Giyu spoke first, pulling the door open just a tad more. He was in casual clothing, he looked as though he may have just woken up.

“Giyu. I never knew you lived in this part of town.” You lied. You knew.

“It’s quiet.”

“I can see.” The lack of noise was slightly unsettling, only the rustling of leaves in the wind could be heard. You swallowed. “May I come in?” Your voice was slightly strained and didn’t at all sound like you wanted to do that but to your detriment Giyu moved to the side. Giyu’s home was a reflection of himself. It was clean, almost sterile, with dark walnut furnishings and dark curtains. He really must’ve been sleeping because he reaches over and flicks on a few lanterns, casting an orange glow to his living room.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” He says over his shoulder and you almost agree.

“Unwanted?” You ask and when he shakes his head ‘no’ you relax sort of.

“I’ll make us some food. Did you travel long?” He asks as he leads you towards the kitchen. You take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him get to work.

“Yeah. Long train ride.” You answer as Giyu nods his head. You know he’s probably dying to know why you’re here but you're sure if you told him things would turn sour. You watched Giyu gather ingredients and supplies, he was very orderly about things, kept things nice and clean as he prepared dinner for you both. You had a lot of experience cooking growing up with Rengoku, that man could eat and eat. Just at the thought you felt a pang and forced your face not to show it.

“Do you need help?”

“That’s alright, you rest.” Giyu intones, setting a cup in front of you as he fills it with hot black tea. You thank him, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You stare down into the tea for a moment and realize you had no idea how to go about this little favor Kagaya had asked of you. You barely spoke with anyone, you were well out of practice. How genuine would this ask even be coming from you?

“How’re you?” You asked, not letting yourself be embarrassed by your lack of social skills. Giyu flicks on the stove.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked over his shoulder and stupidly, because he wasn’t even looking at you, you nodded your head before clearing your throat and speaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You hoped that didn’t come out as sharp as it sounded.

“I’m… well. Thank you for asking.” Giyu answered, his monotone answer at war with the words he spoke. He sounded anything but well. You remembered the last Hashira meeting. You remembered Giyu’s back turned as he said, “I’m not like the rest of you.” Unlike Sanemi you didn’t feel angry at that. In fact you knew how that felt. To feel unwelcomed and wanting it to stay that way.

“If you’re well then I’m well.” You said and when Giyu turned, his eyes meeting yours, you felt a flash of how you saw him that first time. You blinked it away as he turned back.

“I didn’t think… you of all the Hashira’s would be the first to visit.” Giyu said, turning back to the stove. You stared at the back of his head.

“Me neither.” You said with a soft sigh. “But here I am.”

“Here you are.” He says, his voice soft again. It did funny things to you. Funny things that only he could elicit. It was frustrating.

“Giyu…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject. “Did something happen? To make you not want to help out with the Hashira training?” Giyu was quiet for a long moment. You watched him stir some stuff into the pan and for a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you.

“Can we not… talk about that?” He asks almost kindly. But that’s all you needed to talk about. If you didn’t stay on topic you’d be doing Kagaya a disservice, though could you count that as a hardy first try?

“Of course.” You answered, fiddling with your hands. You’d left your sword back at the inn you were staying at and wished you’d had it just so you could fiddle with something else. “Though, I apologize but, I almost wish I could sit it out too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Training a bunch of snot nosed kids sounds like hell to me.” You spoke truthfully and watched Giyu;s shoulders rise and fall quickly, almost like he was maybe laughing, but he still wasn't facing you so you wouldn’t know.

“Not a fan?”

“I had my fill with the three from the swordsmith village.” Tanjiro, his little demon sister, Nezuko and Sanemi’s little brother Genya. All a handful. But very capable in a fight.

“How’re your wounds? I… never got to ask.” Giyu says as he reaches for some seasoning, finally turning to the side to face you.

“Scarring up.” You said and Giyu nodded his head, his eyes drifting to the scar on your cheek.

“Two upper ranks. If anyone could handle them I knew it’d be you.” He says with a sort of gleam in his eye.

“Can’t take the credit. That red head kid killed one of ‘em while MItsuri and I held off its body. Muichiro took one by himself.” You recounted, the fight honestly felt like it would never end.

“You and Kanroji worked together?”

“Surprising, right?”

“Not at all.” Giyu answers. “You two are very alike.”

“In what way?” You almost laughed at that statement.

“Strong, fierce, never quit.”

“I think we all have that in common.” You say and Giyu gets this look in his eyes as he turns back away. You feel as though you lost some ground. You chew the inside of your lip. Clearly Giyu doesn’t feel as though he had that in common with you. Something ignited in you. A need to say something on your mind. “Giyu… I-- I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me?”

“I’ve… wrestled with it for a long time. How to… go about it. Kyojuro used to tell me to practice with all the people we met. To thank them for stupid things, like holding the door open or bringing me food. Just so the words didn’t feel so foreign. But I never really felt thankful for you saving me. I lived because my whole family died. Because I hid.” You take in a shaky breath. You’d never talked about this stuff out loud, not even with Rengoku. You felt embarrassed suddenly, shaking your head, you forced out a choked laugh. “Nevermind. I don’t know what I’m saying.” You felt his eyes on you but you forced yourself to keep looking down at your warm tea. As long as you stayed like this maybe he’d move the conversation along to something else. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood, if there even was one to begin with.

“You don’t have to stop. I… I would like to know more about you. I… always have.” Your eyes shot to his like a gun hitting its mark. Those dark eyes, you could swim in them. Get lost in them. Those eyes… could make you feel something. That made you shoot to your feet, your tea spilling over. Giyu didn’t startle, he just turned to grab a rag but when he turned back you were halfway to the front door. He dropped the towel on the table. “W-wait, Y/N,” He called to you but when he rounded into the living room the front door slammed closed.

You fumbled outside, steps clumsy as you started to run and run. You didn’t want to think about it. You had to get away, as far as those legs of yours could take you. You could run to the next town over, retrieve your sword in the morning and never speak to the water hashira again. Never again. Favor be damned. What you felt was dangerous. That kind of thing left you the hollow husk you were today. You preferred this safe loneliness. You couldn’t ever be hurt again. You stopped for a moment, the cold air tough to run in as you huffed and puffed out condensation clouds.

“You’re fast.” You hadn’t even heard his approach. You didn’t turn, just swallowed.

“I- realized I have something to do in the morning. Can’t stay out late.”

“Come back, Y/n. Please.” His voice was doing that soft thing you body liked so much. You clenched your jaw, if you could stab your heart you would.

“Can’t.”

“Why? And… tell me the truth.” You heard him walk a bit closer. Please, you thought, just go back home.

“Maybe you’re right. What you said at the last meeting, that you’re not like us other Hashira. Maybe I just realized it.” You wanted to hurt him, it was a common defense you used quite often.

“And?”

“And I’m wasting my time speaking with someone who’d rather sit on the sidelines.” You spat over your shoulder. That’ll do it, you thought, that’ll get him to leave. It was quiet, heartbreakingly quiet and you were too much of a coward to see the hurt you caused so you started to walk away towards your inn.

“I… don’t care if you hate me.” You stopped walking instantly and turned, Giyu looked stricken, as if you slapped him. You regretted turning around. “You can hate me all you want. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want to do. But I need you to know… you might regret me saving you but I have never regretted saving you…”

“Giyu,”

“Please… let me.” He straightened slightly. “I… am amazed by you.” His words hit you like the sharpest sting. Like a knife in the gut that slowly twists. “You’re incredible, nothing ever could rival you. You… lost so many yet you fight with purpose. I could never be like you.” You tense your jaw, eyes sharp.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You take a step towards him. “I am hateful. I don’t have a purpose to fight anymore I just do it because it needs to be done. You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t. But… I want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m not succinct.” Giyu sighs, as if tired. “I just do.” Want to know you. You stared at him and that traitorous heart of yours, that naive heart did another flip. You shook your head.

“You don’t. No one does.”

“Rengoku did.” Your eyes lit like fire, some heat filling your soul. You wanted to yell at him for saying his name. For bringing him into this. But you’d done it first.

“He’s dead. They all are. My whole family. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want you to know me. I want you to go back home and let me be.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Maybe for the same reason your eyes find mine every time we're in the same room.” Giyu took a step closer, you watched him move as though he was going to strike you down. LIke he was going for a killing blow.

“I… I don’t do that.” The lie was so obvious to your ears it almost made you cringe outwardly.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you because… I look for you in every room. I… I lied to you the second time we saw each other so many years ago I… I knew you were Rengoku’s tsuguko because he’d written to me. He… sensed something and told me he was sending you to me for that mission. I was so… so damn nervous to see you again after so many years. So curious about how you were faring and I couldn’t even get more than fifteen words out. And when Rengoku passed I would write Kagaya, ask him how you were because I was too much of a coward to ask you myself.” That’s why Kagaya wrote to you. Your heart still beat, skipped a beat then beat again. Everything was falling into place. Why Rengoku had sent you away when you had always gone on his missions with him. The scheming man was playing matchmaker. And even Kagaya was playing the same damn game.

“Don’t say anything else, Giyu. Please.”

“I won’t speak the rest of the night if you come back. You can even leave at first light. Just please… let me feed you and give you a place to sleep.”

“My inn isn’t too far.”

“Please.” The emotion in his voice was staggering. It was a plea. It had sounded like something he needed even more than breathing. You stared at him. If you went with him now that would be the very first crack in your walls. You never gave an inch away since Rengoku died and if you started now everything would crumble.

“No. I’m going back to my inn.”

“I’ll join the hashira training.” He said and your lips parted in silent surprise. “That’s why you came tonight wasn’t it? You’d never do it alone so Kagaya must’ve written to you? Am I right?” Your face must’ve given away the answer because Giyu continued and you realized right here and now this is the most you two have ever talked. An hour together had more dialogue than almost eight years. And this was why you kept your distance all these years. Because if anyone knew you it was Giyu, he’d seen you at your lowest yet here he was… begging you to stay for just a few hours. “Come back and I’ll join. You can consider your favor a success.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“Be serious.” You growled and Giyu took another step forward. You hadn’t noticed him getting so close but suddenly he was close enough to touch. You stepped back.

“Come back. Please.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all.”

“You already saved me once. That’s enough.” You condemned with a shake of your head. Giyu looked doubtful for a moment, unsure of how to convince you to come back. But if you made good on Kaguya's favor this could be the end of it. “I’ll come back.” His eyes shot up to yours. “But I’m gone first light.” He nodded his head at that.

Giyu finished up dinner as you set the table. It was quiet between you two after everything. Giyu had all but confessed the real depth of his feelings but you had an idea and it wasn’t something you’d let yourself dwell on. That idea was something close to hope. Something close to the degree of happiness. That’s not something you wanted. Not something you’d let yourself have. If there was one thing you were truly good at, it was self destruction.

You took your seat as Giyu placed down the food. Miso soup with sweet potatoes. You stared at it, stricken. Rengoku’s favorite meal.

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“Seriously? That was at least your sixth bowl.” You huffed as Rengoku smirked as he pulled the bowl to his lips, slurping down the rest of its contents. He placed it down and reached for the ladle again. You watched him in amused surprise as he dulled out a seventh bowl. “You’re overgorging yourself.”

“It’s too good. Who taught you to cook, kid?”

“You did.” You sighed with an eyeroll as Rengoku laughed heartily.

“Ah! That’s right I did.”

You blinked a few times and suddenly your face felt wet. You pressed a hand to your cheek. You hadn’t cried since losing your parents. You thought you were incapable, that you had exhausted your tear ducts at night. You hadn’t cried when you lost Rengoku and you always felt inhuman because of it. You looked across the table and met Giyu’s wide eyed stare, he looked startled at your tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you couldn’t stop the tears now. They fell so fluidly, so overwhelmingly. You tried to apologize but your words just came out in stuttered croaks in your throat. Giyu stood so fast he knocked his chair over as he crossed to the other side of the table. He dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you to him. Rengoku hugged you a lot. You’d say it was unwanted but it was something you needed. Giyu’s arms around you felt different. He hugged you close to his chest, his hand tangled in your hair as you fell prey to your emotions. But startlingly so… it felt nice. Bottling things up for so long had very nearly ended you and you might’ve been able to really shut off your humanity if it hadn't been for that damned letter. If it hadn't been for Rengoku’s unending kindness. If it hadn't been for Giyu’s persistence. You could’ve nearly ended up as black hearted as the demon that flipped your life upside down. That was the most startling revelation of them all.

Giyu hugged you tight as you fell to pieces. He didn’t let go, never even loosened his arms a little bit around you. He just held you and let you cry and cry. It should’ve been embarrassing but as he pulled your hair back out of your face and wiped your wet cheeks there wasn’t an ounce of that annoying sympathy in his eyes. Just utter understanding. And this was the most inopportune time, seeing as your eyes were probably bloodshot, nose probably running like crazy, but without thinking you sucked in a ragged breath and then pressed your mouth to his.

Giyu made a sound low in his throat, you felt his arms around you tighten, drawing you in, deepening the kiss. This wasn’t something you knew of. Your parent’s pecked each other’s lips and cheeks but this… no this was something for behind closed doors. For just you two. That fire that pooled in your stomach upon seeing Giyu had heightened at least tenfold when he pulled you into his lap. Your bodies pressed against one anothers, no room, not even a milimeter’s length of space. He kissed you softly, but you kissed him back hard. That chasm of loneliness in you had reached its peak and you wanted it gone. He gently ran his hand through your hair and you balled your fist in his shirt. He gently lowered you back and kissed you against the hardwood flooring of his kitchen.

You shoved your chair away from you both and hooked your legs around his hips. He made another sound and you found that you liked it so you tightened your hold and slid your hand in his hair. That awarded you another sound, like a whimper. When he pulled back for air you yanked him by the hair back to your lips. Fuck air. You didn’t need that. You’d rather breathe him in. He whimpered again, his hips mindlessly moving, sending a wave of heat through you and this time it was your turn to groan. He hooked an arm around your back and with strength and swiftness, he hoisted you up off the floor without even breaking the kiss. You gasped in surprise and he walked you through the hallway. Kissing you against the wall and the door and the dresser before he finally made it to his bed.

You two fell into the softness of his covers, his body trapping you beneath him. He trailed his lips away from yours and whimpered at the loss of contact. But he kissed both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and to your jaw. He paid extra attention to your neck before kissing your collar bones. He kissed his way back down your body. Kissing your scars that had once been an eyesore to you. Ever so gently tracing some absentmindedly with his other hand. Whatever growing between you two was something to be earned. Sure you loved Giyu but you needed more time with him. You spent eight years barely speaking. You could tell Giyu felt that too because when his lips met yours again and pulled back you both blinked tiredly at one another.

Astonishingly you watched the softest of smiles spread across Giyu’s face. You wanted to catalog this moment forever. To remember it till the day you died. Giyu pressed one last kiss to your forehead and then dropped beside you on the bed. He pulled you to him, your back pressed to his front. Your legs tangled as his hand reached across you and intertwined with yours. You blushed but settled against him. The dregs of sleep calling for you. You two didn’t need to speak another word.

You watched the first light roll in through Giyu’s curtains. It shone like blades across his room. Giyu softly snored beside you, arms still around your body. You’d never kissed a single soul before but you knew what a kiss meant. You knew whenever your dad kissed your mom or the other way around that it was an unspoken way to say I love you. But it was a different kind of love your parents shared. You loved your family. You loved Rengoku.

But you loved Giyu.

You loved him as you clamped your fist in his shirt the night he saved you. You loved him when you stepped off that train. You loved him at every hashira meeting and every stolen glance. You loved him as you read Kagaya’s letter and loved him when he opened the door. As he chased you down in the street and begged you to come back to his home. So many problems never go away, some pain felt as though it would last forever and you never thought you could break through. You never thought you could just grow around it, because nothing was more persistent than a plant in the presence of the sun. You never told Rengoku you loved him, never told him how much he meant to you and that his kindness never fell to deaf ears. You had spent eight years loving Giyu and not letting yourself know it.

And all it took was some miso soup and sweet potatoes.

#fem reader #demon slayer giyuu #demon slayer x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyu x reader #giyu x y/n #giyu x you #giyuu x reader #kny giyuu #kny x reader

1K notes · View notes

byfulcrums · 8 months ago

Text

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

#i'll make more of these later #i'm just very bored and i love rtte #race to the edge #rtte #how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd rtte #toothless #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #dagur the deranged #tuffnut thorston #ruffnut thorston #heather the unhinged #avis' post

2K notes · View notes

ifwebefriends · 7 months ago

Text

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

#Bluey #bluey the sign #meme #Bluey heeler #rad heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #baby race #my ramblings #my rambles #frisky heeler #brandy cattle #spoilers #bluey the sign spoilers #bluey spoilers

1K notes · View notes

ecoterrorist-katara · 9 months ago

Text

Zutara, romance novels, and the female gaze

Okay so I’ve been thinking about the female gaze a LOT so I checked out a subreddit about romance novels, despite never having read one. I came across this meme (which was initially a Tumblr post and then got posted to Instagram and then to Reddit and I’m now bringing back to Tumblr — Internet telephone, pls never change):

And…what is The Southern Raiders, if not a platonic grovel? Katara’s pain is central to the episode. It’s central to Zuko. Zuko asks Katara what he can do to make up for his betrayal; she demands the impossible. He reads between the lines, cockblocks her brother to get the necessary information, and then waits outside her door overnight (which he also did for Iroh, the one person we know for sure he loves). He basically makes himself a receptacle for her rage, and he holds space for her by coming with her on her revenge quest and carrying their bags and not saying a damn thing about what she should and should not do beyond like…asking her to rest. And obviously the grovel works! She forgives him and then they’re thick as thieves, bantering and fighting and saving each other’s lives, etc.

On a different note, I’ve been told that enemies to lovers is one of the biggest tropes in romance novels, similar to YA lit and fanfic. Here’s something else I found in the romance novel discourse:

And…yeah. In TSR, Katara really does show Zuko her worst self, because she doesn’t feel the need to perform for him. She doesn’t feel the need to perform moral perfection OR cold blooded vengeance. She bloodbends in front of him and he just goes with it. She doesn’t kill Yon Rha and he just goes with it. He doesn’t treat her any differently afterwards. Maybe they talk about it off screen, but I kind of like the idea that they don’t, because Katara doesn’t need to explain anything. And it’s so interesting, because some people in the ATLA fandom have a totally different read on TSR. They think Zuko was encouraging Katara to get revenge (by what, keeping his mouth shut?), and that Aang is the one who acts as her moral compass. I believe that either Bryan or Mike said in the DVD commentary that Aang is the angel on her shoulder the entire time. And this interpretation does make sense if you see it from the male gaze, where Katara as an object of affection is acting in an angry, irrational, threatening way. But if you see it from the female gaze, you recognize that actually it’s probably the most emotionally taxing experience Katara has to go through, and she doesn’t owe it to be nice or perfect to anybody. Katara’s formative trauma literally comes to a head, and she has to make a decision — no, a discovery — about who she is in relation to the tragedy that defines her life and even her identity (as a waterbender, as a parentified child who becomes the mom friend, as a genocide victim), and she’s accompanied by someone who trusts her judgement and validates her feelings.

I’m not saying TSR is explicitly romantically coded, but when it conforms so well to romance novel tropes…is it any wonder that so many people thought “yes this is her man?” And then he takes lightning in the heart for her and reaches for her when he’s literally dying, I will never be normal about that either

#Zutara #Katara #Zuko #the southern raiders #Pro zutara #anti Bryke #I guess #I swear I’m not a Bryke anti but I feel like they just don’t get #The female gaze #and the fact that Zutara is so female gaze is kind of an accident and I find that fascinating #atla fandom critical #The southern raiders turned me into a Zutara shipper #one ep away from the finale #Zutara meta #My meta

2K notes · View notes

twilightcitysky · 30 days ago

Text

Whooooo okay, so. Thoughts.

You can get a lot done in 90 mins. Many books are made into 90 minute movies.

(Season 2 was 6 episodes... but maybe 90 minutes of it total was actually *necessary*.)

Think about what we've learned. Neil wasn't the person we thought he was, and it showed in his treatment of a story we all love. He said himself that he gave fans what they wanted (in terms of the kiss), but we "wouldn't like it." His ego thrived on manipulating, ridiculing and generally stirring up the fan base. The more upset and vulnerable we were, the more satisfied he felt. What do you think, then, was in store for us in his Season 3? Do you think his scripts would have left us feeling satisfied, even if we got the cottage ending?

The new producer doesn't know GO, but the cast and crew love this world and love the story. I'm going to choose to trust that a group of people that overall has been so united and wonderful, so very much on the same page in terms of this love story, will see things through. And I'm excited for an ending that truly is for us... because let's face it, we almost didn't get an ending at all. A TV show that gets rocked in this fashion generally does one of two things: cuts ties and continues if there's enough financial incentive to do so (think House of Cards, Rick and Morty-- both of which are/were MUCH bigger and more profitable than GO), or cancels. Considering how long it took to greenlight S3 and Mickey's "We did the impossible" post on X, I'm sure Amazon was on the verge of pulling the plug. (I'm not going to talk about my opinion on the ethics of these decisions. I'm just saying it's reality. Corporations care about their bottom line and their optics.)

It'll be okay. Let's be optimistic. Neil is gone, the story will continue, and they're doing it for us.

(Last thought: remember that-- in a different reality where Neil Gaiman actually is the person we thought he was-- we might not have gotten anything more satisfying in terms of the A/C love story. Neil doesn't think "settled relationships" are good television. He wouldn't let them lay a finger on each other until the very last episode, I guarantee it.)

(Also, this is the guy who decided that "Crowley lives in his car and Aziraphale doesn't know or doesn't care" made any kind of fucking sense; no, I'm not over it yet.)

#good omens #good omens season 3 #gos3 #the finale #ramblings #we'll be okay #good riddance to plotlines like 'aziraphale goes to Scotland for no reason'#'crowley lives in his car now'. 'Why?' 'Because #'farting nazi zombies'#need I say more

218 notes · View notes

chironshorseass · 11 months ago

Text

ok i really really really enjoyed watching the first two episodes and i think the show is already so faithful to the books in ways the movies wished they were BUT i’m gonna be a bitch just because i can and rant about a few insignificant but at the same time very important Things the writers didn’t Understand:

percy is angry.

and i know this is seen with his anger towards poseidon in the show, but i’m talking angry. as in, generally speaking. when he’s with grover and they’re talking about nancy, percy says something along the lines of “we should fight back,” and grover’s like “noooo we can’t stand up to bullies.” and then percy stands up to her and blah blah blah…but in the books percy’s first line is “i’m going to kill her” after she throws a sandwich at grover. grover talks him out of it because he’s already on probation.

with just this scene we know percy stands up to bullies, and that’s partly why he has so much trouble at school! in the show, he stands up to nancy, apparently for the first time, and gets kicked out because of it! sorry but as someone who worked in a school, i know for a fact that kids can get away with so much more before they’re actually kicked out lol. it would’ve made sense, like in tlt, that he’s already at risk of suspension so him “pushing” nancy is the final straw. it’s just very weird, considering it could be only a line of dialogue that makes percy’s anger and the connection between his outburst and him getting kicked out more clear.

consequently, percy arrives at his appartment and gabe is just a general (still admittedly abusive) jerk instead of a drunk, violent (also abusive) man. when we meet gabe, it makes a lot of sense why percy has so much trouble with his anger. it’s easy to see that connection. literal child + alcoholic abusive father figure = there’s bound to be some trouble….that’s not really the case in the show, especially in the way that sally easily stands up to him. people have said a fair bit about this topic already, so i’m not gonna expand on that, but i really wish the writers had focused more on percy’s internal anger, as it’s such an important part of his character and affects the way he reacts to things throughout the books; it just worries me that in the first episode it wasn’t as established. i. e. he hates dionysus on sight because he reminds him of smelly gabe, he hates the gods—is angry at poseidon—because, where was he when my mom and i were suffering at the hands of smelly gabe? ok i’m not gonna talk about more of this or of sally because other people have said it and i could write a four page essay of what the show got wrong plus i want to talk abt other things before this gets too long:

the monster scenes.

the mrs. dodds being a fury reveal felt sooo…weird? even the movie version did it better lol. it felt super rushed and strange how percy’s just standing there and the next he’s on the ground, but he had riptide with him so he just impaled her and then she turned to dust??? in the books, not only does she get percy alone, but grover tries to stand up to her—which is a big deal since he knows what she truly is and shows how much he cares for percy in that moment. percy has time to be genuinely terrified bc he’s alone with a literal monster and he’s about to die…and chiron throws him riptide just in time, but then he too vanishes so percy’s left wondering if he imagined everything. but no, in the show mrs. dodds comes out of nowhere and attacks him, and it’s so fast that percy doesn’t have time to dwell on wtf happened. the situation doesn’t seem as serious as it does in the book; in the book she tries to interrogate percy bc she thinks he’s the lightning thief, and when she doesn’t get her answer, she attacks him. this is another thing: the stakes. they don’t feel as high in the show because there’s no annabeth trying to ask percy what was stolen, no hellhound, no fates cutting a string, and no alecto/mrs. dodds interrogation. there’s not much of a lead up to the quest, really.

theeen the minotaur scene, which also feels super weirdly paced and there’s just not that same sense of urgency. again, other people have talked about this, so i’ll just stick to another main concern of mine: grover’s role in the scene. it was so strange how in the book he’s semi unconscious and in the show he’s fine (so fine that sally does something completely out of character and makes grover swear to keep percy safe? she would never put that much pressure in a child???) ok so he seems fine in the show, but then when they’re running percy’s holding him as if he can’t walk???? they’re not even fully sprinting, given that a monster is chasing them lol. (the problem with the stakes; i mean with the way they run and have an entire talk with sally makes it feel like they’re not in any real danger).

back to grover: he was perfectly fine, and he got percy back safe. not at all like in tlt, where percy has to practically carry him back, after loosing his mom and killing the minotaur. THEN percy passes out and later wakes up at the big house. this is important, bc grover’s entire THING is being percy’s protector, and he couldn’t do that properly bc he was indisposed. he felt awful. of course he did. his character arc is overcoming the guilt and insecurities—that he’s not a proper protector and therefore can’t search for pan; his main character motivation—by successfully completing the quest and helping percy retrieve the master bolt.

these are just little seeds that needed to be planted in the first two episodes of the show…so that the rest of the show feels cohesive and makes sense with what happens in tlt. if these character traits and scenes are looked over and not given proper importance/not replaced with something similar, then the show will have a different tone than it does to the books. i don’t think it’s necessarily bad, but it is disappointing that the details sprinkled in the source material are lost in translation. they may have seemed insignificant to the writers, but not to meeee!!!!!!

#pjo adaptation #percy jackson #grover underwood #they should’ve hired a couple of insane pjo girlies to read and revise the script. just saying!!!!

1K notes · View notes

ven0moir · 14 days ago

Text

Will had hope ... and then lost it.

He had hope that maybe, just maybe, Mike and he felt the same way. And I think it started here:

Mike expressed relief at the idea of Will not joining another party. And Will's look seems ... surprised but joyful? Like he's picking up on Something the audience is not.

Then we have this:

I know a lot of people say he meant this in a friendship way. But I don't think he did entirely. I think he was 'testing the waters' so to speak, to see Mike's reaction to him asking something like this so forwardly--an action driven in part, possibly, also by frustration. Of course their friendship was his priority but he was also Sending Mike a Message. Speaking in code, if you will. And I'm not sure if Mike picked up on it or not, but he knew what he was doing when he used the word 'us'.

Then of course we have Mike's speech to Will in episode 4. The way he slightly tilts his head to the side inquisitively after Mike said 'It's Hawkins, it's not the same without you', as if he's thinking "am I dreaming? Is he really saying this?" And not to be meta but he might even be wondering if he's being delusional here.

On top of that, the speech prompted him to gather the courage to do this:

hope again. But then his arc culminated in this:

Will's facial expressions when Mike is self-depricating ... he seems so sad. In the second one, even Mike notices and cuts himself off to apologize for bringing up this subject.

I think he, sadly, realized Mike did feel the same way as him, but not in the way he had initially hoped. Mike, like him, is struggling with not feeling good enough for the person he loves.

And Will did not want Mike to feel the same way he did. So he did what we saw him do and give the painting to Mike, which symbolizes his love for DnD, for what they do together, for their friend group, for him. His intention here was to make Mike feel better. Important. Seen. Even at the cost of his own heartbreak.

"Every smile you fake, I'll be watching you."

So to recap, at the beginning of the season, Will had been acting weird and painting for someone he liked ( according to El ). We find out very quickly that the recipient of the painting was intended to be Mike. I don't think Will ever intended for the painting to be a full blown love confession--but a start. A continuation of the 'hint dropping' they started doing at the end of S3. But of course, the whole world went to shit, and his feelings got amplified to the point where the painting's meaning took a different turn. And it became the basis of a veiled love confession.

I think this is devastating because the narrative forced them, once again, down a different path from the natural progression this would've been had Mike been allowed to enjoy a nice spring break in California.

I do believe by the end of S4, Will has completely lost the last vestiges of hope he had left that Mike would ever reciprocate his feelings, especially after Mike's love confession. I think he feels stupid for even allowing himself to believe there was a chance.

I mean, look at him. And, terrifyingly, I feel like that is exactly where Vecna needs him to be at the start of S5.

Sprinkle in some #birthdaygate and voila ... we have the perfect recipe for a horrible Vecna vision.

I don't know how they'll resolve this, but it does feel to me that the intention of Will's S4 arc was to get him to a point of loss of hope, which signifies the death of his dream.

Going into S5, he probably sees this dream now as stupid and childish--an impossibility. Adding to this, there's no way in hell Will is going to confess. Not when this happened and it was never resolved.

The ball is on Mike's court, for better or for worse.

And I think this is also another plot twist we will find out through Vecna: the fact that Will had hope that he and Mike could be together and felt the same way. And that honestly makes whatever Vecna does to Will 10 times worse because if Will had NEVER had hope, then there's nothing new there. But having hope and then having it crushed to the ground? Yeah ... my heart hurts as I type this.

#byler #byler analysis #and does this mean byler endgame? I really freaking hope it does bc maybe Will's dream needs to be restored or changed in some way for the #story to be resolved. I keep going back to how his emotional arc ties the whole show together and this might be a piece of the puzzle.

287 notes · View notes

spiteless-xo · 6 months ago

Text

╰┈➤ long distance. ⋙ Jean has been travelling a lot for his new job and it's taking a toll on both of you. One late night, when you're feeling lonely, he surprises you with a phone call.

ft. jean/reader wc. 5k cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, phone sex, vaginal fingering, sex toys, masturbation, fantasizing (oral sex, vaginal sex), dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart), name-calling (slut), established relationship, second person POV

Jean’s been gone for a week, now. This is the longest the two of you have ever been apart since you moved in with each other—it’s weird, but you’re adapting.

He took the promotion because of the sizable raise, saying that it would help secure a future for the two of you. And it was the way he had said it that had convinced you. The hours were longer and he needed to go out of town several times a year for meetings, but it was all for the future—Our future, he had said.

But tonight is the seventh night you’ll be going to sleep alone. The seventh night you’ll have to curl up under the covers to try to keep yourself warm. The seventh night you won’t have the comforting weight of Jean on the bed beside you, the soft sounds of his breathing helping lull you asleep.

You would never complain to him, of course. You already know how much it pains him to sacrifice so much time with you—and to know that his absence leaves such an empty hole in your chest? You’re certain he would give it all up to come back home to you.

So instead, you bite your tongue and put on another episode of your favourite show. You curl yourself up a little tighter in the sheets and try to let the soft sounds from your laptop help you drift to sleep.

But that doesn’t work, because suddenly a familiar buzzing sounds from the nightstand and you scramble out of your nest to lunge for the phone.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, Jean,” you coo, breaking out into a wide grin at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back to the hotel,” he sighs heavily. As he speaks, you can hear the rustling of clothes on the other end of the line—shrugging off his suit jacket, maybe loosening his tie. “Meetings all day today and after work, some of the other managers took me out for drinks.”

“That sounds fun. Did they get you drunk?”

“A lil,” he admits, chuckling. “I figured, why not? It’s covered by the company.”

“Sounds fun,” you say, trying to be supportive. You wonder about the group that took Jean out—other managers, he said. When you think of the management at Jean’s firm, they’re all stuffy, boring, older men. Definitely not the type who’d be interested in going out for drinks on a weekday after work. Does that mean there are younger people at the office Jean’s visiting?

“Did you make any friends?” you pry, feeling guilty from how your heart clenches with jealousy.

“Yeah, there’s a cool group out at this office—I’m having a blast.”

That’s not the answer you were hoping for. “Oh, I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“Yeah,” he says with an easy, relaxed sigh. “I wish you were here though.”

You crinkle your nose—it’s like he can tell how annoyed you’re getting. “Oh, yeah? There aren’t any other cute girls at that office?”

“The only cute girl I know is the one I left back home.”

“Gross,” you say, but your cheeks are getting hot and you have to force a pout to tame your smile. “I miss you, Jean.”

“I miss you, too, baby,” he sighs. “Did I call too late? Are you going to bed?”

“Soon. I was just going to stay up for another episode.”

“Good,” he says and the raggedness of his breath has you squirming on the bed. “I was thinking about you a lot today.” He gasps—a soft, airy sound that sends jolts of electricity shooting down your spine—is he…? “I was thinking about the night before I left.”

“Oh?” you prompt and he chuckles. “What about it?”

“I miss you a lot,” he repeats, speaking with a heavy exhale. “Can we… try something? I really want—I want you, right now.”

“Sure,” you hum, and you can already feel warmth blooming across your skin.

“What are you wearing?”

“Um…” his question catches you off guard. I look down at your pyjamas: one of Jean’s old T-shirts and a pair of loose-fitting shorts. It’s not exactly the sexiest thing in your closet, so you scramble for an answer. “I’m wearing… lingerie.”

“Really?” Even over the phone, you can hear Jean’s eyebrows raising in surprise. “No, you’re not,” he realizes with a scoff.

“No, I’m not,” you agree with a giggle and Jean huffs. “Sorry—next question.”

“N-next ques—no, that’s not how this works,” he groans, audibly frustrated. “You have to like, be sexy. Like, say something that’ll turn me on.”

“Jean, I’ve never done this before,” you admit.

“It’s ok,” he says, his voice low and soft. “I’ll walk you through it—just try to get comfortable.”

You let your eyes slip closed and try to imagine that you’re lying in bed with Jean instead of talking to him over the phone. He called when he got back to the hotel, so he’s probably still dressed in his work clothes.

You love his work clothes. Tight-fitting, dark slacks that hug the muscles of his thighs. Crisp, white dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up around his elbows, exposing his strong, veiny forearms.

You picture him laying back against the pillows of the hotel bed, his legs sprawled out in front of him and his thick cock straining against his slacks. He’s probably already palming at it, you think, based on the soft grunts he keeps making over the phone.

How long has he been worked up like this? Did he duck out of dinner with his coworkers because he was throbbing against his leg? Was he already flipping through old photos on his phone as he waited in the elevator?

The thought makes you burn with arousal and you press your thighs together to quell the ache, swallowing thickly.

“You comfy?” he asks and you nod.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Lying in bed.” You brush the palm of your free hand against the sheets, smoothing them out.

“Are you cold?”

“Not anymore.”

“No? Getting hot thinking about me?” The raspy growl of his voice has you squirming. “Me too. I was thinking about how much fun we had before I left,” he continues, “Do you remember?”

Your hand starts to make its way down your stomach. “Can you remind me?”

You can hear the way Jean’s mouth splits into a smile. “You were laying on your back in bed—just like you are now—and I had my hands on your thighs, spreading your legs open for me.” Jean releases a shaky breath and you can hear the rustling of the sheets on his bed through the phone. “You were already so wet—soaking through your pretty, little panties and I hadn’t even touched you yet. Just kissing your stomach, your hips, your thighs—you were squirming so much for me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your mind replaying that night as Jean describes it. You remember looking down at him between your thighs, his broad shoulders keeping your legs open as he mouthed at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His darkened eyes were focused on your face, watching your reaction as he brushed his stubble against your skin.

You remember how desperate you felt for him—how badly you wanted him to hook your underwear out of the way so he could lower his mouth down onto you. You remember begging him to touch you.

“Jean,” you whine, hand slipping between your thighs. You’re just as worked up as you were that night—and he’s not even here to see it.

He groans and you can hear the familiar clink! of the metal of his belt. Your mouth starts to water in anticipation, listening closely for the dull zip of his pants as he frees himself with another ragged breath. You use your fingertips to ghost shapes around your clit through your shorts—you can feel it throbbing and aching to be touched.

“So wet and needy,” he grunts. “Fuck, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to touch you or taste you. I just knew I wanted to feel you cum. Needed to hear your pretty moans—the way you say my name so breathy and cute when you’re getting close—fuck, baby, I needed it.”

“Jean,”

“Fuck, sweetheart—just like that.”

You rest your phone on your chest, thumbing the speakerphone button to free both hands as you hook your thumbs into your shorts. You drag them down and off of your legs before spreading yourself open. Keeping your eyes closed, you pretend it’s Jean’s big, rough hands touching you instead of your own—grabbing at your thighs, your breasts, your throat—before slipping between your legs to rub at your clit through the thin cotton of your underwear.

Just like before—you’re already soaking through your panties. You squeeze your breast tightly in your opposite hand and your breath catches from the action—it’s almost like he’s here with you.

“I’m really wet,” you murmur, feeling your body temperature rise in arousal. As your fingers slip lower, you can feel the silky wetness soaking the cotton of your underwear. “Jean, I’m making a mess.”

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling. “Are you touching yourself?”

You hum in response, not daring yourself to speak against as you desperately try to hold back your whines from your own soft touch.

Jean swallows loudly and you can hear him grunt over the phone. “Yeah, me too.”

After his confession, you can clearly hear the soft schlick of his palm around his cock and you allow yourself to audibly whimper. “I wish you were here,” you confess, sliding your hand underneath the waistband of your panties.

“Me too,” he grunts. “I really wanna touch you—feel how wet you get for me, even when I’m all the way over here.”

You can hear him grunting louder and it’s so fucking hot that you find yourself slipping a finger inside, shuddering from the feeling of your pussy squeezing around it. “Jean, I need you.”

“I need you, too,” he sighs, and you can hear his palm moving faster along his cock. “I wish you could see how—fuck—how fucking hard I am right now,” he groans, voice growing deeper and breathier.

You hear the distinct sound of Jean slapping his cock against his stomach and your mind is flooded with lewd thoughts. You can visualize it so clearly—thick and heavy in his hand, probably already leaking precum from the tip. You imagine Jean’s hand wrapped around his cock, gently pumping up and down along the length and squeezing the head until another bead spills out.

You slip another finger inside of yourself, whining at the feeling—not quite as thick as Jean’s fingers, so you miss the satisfying ache of your body stretching around him. “I want you,” you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I can hear you—fuck I can hear you touching yourself. You sound so fucking wet.” He groans so deeply, it rattles straight through to your core, and you can hear his hand working along his cock again. “Are you using your fingers?”

“Yeah.”

“Go grab a toy. Which one do you want?”

“You.”

He laughs, “I know, baby—but I’m not there.”

You whine pathetically, biting your lip as you tease yourself. You pump your fingers languidly into your body, curling the tips of your fingers and struggling to find that place that Jean always finds so easily. Rolling your head to the side, you look over at your bedside drawer and think about what you have inside.

Vibrators, dildos, handcuffs, blindfolds—a wide assortment of different toys that the two of you have collected throughout your relationship. Jean always loves to tease you with a toy before giving you his cock—something smaller and thinner than he is, making you beg to be filled.

You slip your fingers out from between your lips but keep running them up and down over your slit. You slide up to swirl across your clit, but never give yourself the pressure you need. It’s difficult to think when you’re turned on like this—all you want is Jean, Jean, Jean.

“I want you to use your vibrator,” he says. “The Rabbit.”

You roll to the side, slipping off your bottoms with one hand while the other reaches over to slide open your bedside drawer. You find the Rabbit quickly, it’s all its bright purple glory. Despite its size, it’s still smaller than Jean—not quite as thick or as long—but the length vibrates and there’s a small external vibrator for your clit. This is one of your favourites.

You set the toy on your stomach, reaching again into the drawer to find a small bottle of lube. You pop the lid open as you say, “I’m going to put lube on it,” and squirt some onto your palm before working it along the length.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty pussy.”

Jean slaps his cock against his stomach again and you can easily picture the way his precum strings from his abs to his tip. The head of his cock is probably red and swollen, aching for release as Jean grips himself hard around the base. You imagine his hand creeping down to grab his balls, tugging them down between his legs until the skin on his cock pulls taught, lifting it from his stomach before slapping back down.

The sounds make your mouth water. You love the salty taste of Jean’s cock and you love the look on his face when you lick a stripe up the underside of his dick. Jean has always been such a giver in the bedroom, but he never says no when you ask to worship his cock with your throat.

It took a long time to learn how to relax your throat enough to take his full length, and you still remember how proud he looked that day. Your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, nose pressed into the ashy brown curls as you blinked back tears—he looked down at you with dark, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. His hand pressed against the back of your head to hold you down as you coughed around him—tightening your throat around his cock.

The memory has you breathing hard as your hand moves up and down along the shaft of the vibrator, aching for the warmth of Jean’s dick against your palm. You work quickly, desperate to be filled, and then turn it onto the lowest setting.

“Hey, wait a second,” Jean tuts, and you click it back off. “I didn’t say you could turn it on, yet.”

“Ok,” you shudder, lowering the toy between your thighs. You rest the cool silicone against your skin, moving the head of the toy around the lips of your cunt.

“Tell me how you feel,” he says, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I need it,” you insist. Your fingers wrap tightly around the base of the toy as you move to press it against your entrance, whimpering in desire before pulling back again, and moving it up to swirl against your clit. “I feel so empty, Jean.”

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he groans. You hear him spitting loudly before returning his hand to his cock, each movement louder—wetter. “Now, put it inside.”

You hum in excitement before spreading your thighs open. You plant your feet on the mattress and sit up on your forearm while your free hand maneuvers the toy into place. Teasing yourself for a moment, you run the end of the toy between your folds before lining it up to your entrance. Even with the added lube, there’s some resistance when you try to push it in—gasping loudly from the feeling of it slipping inside of you.

“Work it in, baby,” he coos, jerking his cock loudly. “I know how tight that pussy is—take your time.”

You try to respond but you’re only able to whimper, tugging your lip between your teeth as you start to move the toy. You push it deeper and deeper with every pump—relishing in the stretch compared to your small fingers—until each movement has your fist bumping against your slick folds.

You whine, working the toy a little faster and—God— you’re so worked up right now, it’s loud. Tilting your head down to watch, you can already see the messy white ring coating the base of the toy. You pull it out to the tip, seeing it shiny and slick with your arousal, before pushing it back in with a loud, wet squelch.

“I can hear you,” he groans. “I can hear your pussy taking that cock—such a good girl for me, getting all stretched out.”

You can imagine his fist working along his length, pumping up and down on his cock in time with his ragged breaths. He’s probably twisting his wrist every time he gets to the head, smearing the spilled precum and spit around the sensitive tip of his cock before stroking back down to the base. The thought has you clenching down on the toy and you moan out from the feeling.

The toy is stiff and unforgiving, so when your pussy clamps around it, it almost hurts from how tightly you squeeze it. “Jean,” you gasp, needy. “Fuck, I want you so bad—I want your cock.”

He lets out a shuddered breath and you can hear him slowing the pace of his hand on his cock. “I know, I know,” he says, “but I’m not there right now, so why don’t you turn that toy on for me and let me talk you through it, ok?”

You hum in approval before shifting your grip on the toy and pressing the On button.

You jolt from the feeling of the vibration of the shaft inside you. It rumbles right against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside your cunt that has you squeezing down on the toy. “Shit,” you whimper, fucking yourself through the stimulation. You bump the end of the silicone cock into that spot with every pump of your arm, brushing the external arm of the toy against your clit each time.

“Feel good?” he coos and you moan in response. “Turn it up for me, I can’t hear.”

You press the button a second time, legs trembling as the intensity of the vibrations increases. You’re rocking your hips on the mattress in time with your arm, digging your heels into the bed as you fuck yourself against the toy and you feel the heat in your gut start to grow.

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s my girl—getting yourself all worked up for me—getting that pussy nice and wet for my cock.”

It’s hard to be quiet with the intensity of the vibrations. You’re whimpering and twitching and squelching around the toy as you chase your high. It feels good—so good—and for a moment, you forget you’re alone when you hear Jean’s husky voice through the speaker.

“That’s my good little slut, fucking yourself to the sound of my voice. Wishing that tiny, little toy was my big, fat cock—I know you need it, baby. Wanna get stretched out so bad, I can hear it in your voice.”

Each word comes out thick and coated in lust. You can feel sweat rolling down your back from how frantically your hips move against the toy as Jean’s voice burns straight down to your core. You try to push it deeper and deeper inside of you, desperate to mimic the length of Jean’s cock and how it always makes you feel like you’re about to burst—but the silicone toy is a poor imitation of the real thing.

“Can’t wait to fuck that pretty, little pussy when I get home—miss how tight she fucking squeezes me—how messy she gets,” he grunts. “Wanna fuck you stupid, baby—feel you cumming on my cock until the only word you know is my fucking name.”

“Jean—Jean!” you gasp, legs trembling. “Oh—fuck, Jean!”

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans. You hear the dull thud! of Jean’s head falling back against the wall and another long, ragged breath. “Sounds so fucking hot. All whiny and desperate… turn the Rabbit on for me, baby. Give that clit some attention.”

Your head is so hazy with arousal, that you can barely feel your hand as you fumble with the toy between your legs. When you press the button, you arch hard off the mattress with an unrestrained cry of pleasure. The external arm of the toy vibrates against your clit and inner labia in a way that has your knees falling shut—overwhelmed from the stimulation in and around your messy cunt.

“Shit, Jean!” you gasp and your hand falls from between your thighs as your back collapses into the mattress. With your thighs pressed together, you keep the toy held tight against your g-spot and your clit as your hands fist at the sheets. Your teeth are chattering from how close you are to unraveling completely—it’s so much, so much—but your hips won’t stop rocking to chase your high.

Jean moans loudly and you can hear the sound of his hand pumping along his cock so clearly, it’s like he’s in the room with you. “Yeah? Yeah?” he goads as you whimper and moan.

“Bet you’re squeezing it so fucking tight, huh? I can hear the fucking mess you’re making and you haven’t even cum yet,” he grunts. “Fuck, I wanna taste you, baby. Clean up the mess that pretty pussy is making while you fuck yourself—lick your clit while you’ve got a cock stuffed inside of you.”

His moans turn into breathless panting as his fist works along his cock. It almost sounds like he’s here, fucking you—his face buried in your neck as he grunts against your skin. Hips snapping into your thighs as he fills you again and again while you babble out his name like his good little slut.

“I’m so fucking horny for you,” he groans, each word coming out in a puff of air. “You’re driving me crazy—fuck—I need you so fucking bad.”

“Jean, I’m gonna cum—” you whimper. It’s barrelling toward you so quickly that your legs are shaking, your body tense and sweaty as the heat in your gut builds and builds into a tightness in your chest. Your pussy is squeezing so hard around the toy that it twitches between your thighs.

“Yeah? Give it to me, baby—come on,” he grunts. “Fuck yourself on my cock, I wanna feel you cum on me—need it so fucking bad, I can’t—”

The smell of Jean’s cologne on his shirt has your head swimming. You can practically feel the weight of his body against yours and the stretch of his cock inside your pussy as he fucks you. You can feel each hot, ragged breath as he breathes against your neck, lips ghosting across your skin as he plants his forearms into the mattress on either side of your head.

You can feel the rough brush of his stubble against your cheek when he moves his lips to your ears, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” he groans, the heat of his breath fanning across your skin.

Your thighs ache from how tightly you squeeze around his hips, pulling him flush against your body as your muscles begin to tense. The rough push of his cock against your g-spot has you gasping out his name, clawing at his back and burying your face into his chest as you cum around his cock.

Your pussy pulses around his length when he pushes into you—as deep as he possibly can—you can feel the swell of his cock as he cums, spilling heat into your gut as he groans into your ear. Each spurt of cum is punctuated by a low grunt, breathing hard through his orgasm until he collapses against you with a heavy sigh.

The overstimulation of the vibrator inside of you jolts you quickly out of your fantasies, and you have to reach between your thighs to slip it out while you’re still trying to calm your body from shaking. You take big gulps of air as your heart pounds in your chest, you can feel wetness on your cheek and chin from watery eyes and your gasping, open mouth.

When the haze in your mind starts to clear up, you reach out to turn off your toy before chucking it on the bed somewhere beside you. You’ll have to remember to clean that in the morning—tonight, you’re too tired to move.

“You still there?” he asks, his voice weak and airy. He’s still breathing hard, too.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Your phone buzzes on your chest and you reach out to find a text message from Jean. Curious, you flick open your messages to see a photo that takes your breath away.

His cock is lying across his stomach, still thick and red from his arousal. Decorated across his abs are thick, white spurts of cum, pooling into the grooves of his stomach. His hand is still wrapped around his shaft and you can see the sheen of cum across his knuckles in the photo. He must’ve taken his pants off in a hurry—he’s only pushed them down to his mid-thigh. You can see how this hug around the thick muscles of his legs as his legs sprawl open on the bd.

“Holy shit, Jean,” you gasp, running your fingers gently across the screen, wishing you could be there to clean the mess off of him.

“See what you do to me?” he laughs.

You send him a few pictures in return, the first one being of your discarded purple vibrator. The shaft of the toy is slick and shiny with streaks of white from the thicker pools of your arousal. The second photo is one of your face.

You push Jean’s shirt up around your armpits to expose your breasts and then bite your lip for the camera. You can still see the post-orgasm haze in your eyes and the drool on your chin. You know when Jean’s received the pictures because he groans over the phone.

“Fuck, baby,” he says with a ragged sigh. “Are you trying to get me hard again?”

You giggle, “Yeah, maybe.”

“I miss you so much.”

You frown. Rolling over to your side, you curl up in the blankets with the phone resting on the pillow beside your face. Jean always gets soft after sex—always wants to hold you and kiss you and remind you how much he loves you—not being able to see you right now must be killing him.

“I miss you too, Jean,” you say with a sigh. “Just one more week before you come home, right?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You can hear how dejected he is from the tone of his voice. He shuffles around on the other end of the phone, probably getting up to clean himself off, but each movement sounds heavy and laboured. “I don’t know if I wanna do this job anymore. I hate being away from you like this. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today, I just wanted to see you and hold you and… fuck, I just want to be with my girl again.”

“I know, baby.” You lay your hand across the bed—where Jean would be lying if he were here with you—and sigh at the emptiness. “Maybe next time I can go with you.”

“Yeah? You’d want that?” he asks, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice level, but there’s a jolt of excitement in his tone now.

“Sure, why not?” you say, smiling. “I could take some time off work and we could go check out the city together.”

“But you’d just be sitting around at the hotel while I was out.”

“I don’t mind,” you say. “But if I got bored, I could just go out for a walk or something. Do some shopping, maybe.”

You can hear Jean smiling when he speaks next. “I’d really like it if you came with me next time. As long as you don’t mind! I just—”

“I don’t mind, Jean,” you say, this time more sternly.

“Ok, yeah. Cool. That’s awesome,” he says, chattering with excitement. “Maybe I can introduce you to the team at this office, they’re all really cool, too. We could go out for lunch or even drinks together or something. There’s this one guy here, Connie, and he’s a fucking hoot—you’re gonna love him!”

You smile as Jean rattles off about the people he’s met and the things he’s done while he’s been away—things that he’s so excited to share with you, too. But it’s getting late and after your orgasm, you can feel the weight of sleep pulling your eyes closed. Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself yawning during Jean’s story.

“Oh, shit. It’s late, huh?” he says. “I’ll let you get to bed. We can talk again tomorrow.”

You don’t have it in you to protest, even though you’re happy to fall asleep to the sound of Jean’s voice. “Ok, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jean. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles.

Fighting against your sleepiness, you manage to call out to him before he hangs up. “Hey wait, Jean?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Can we do that again sometime?”

He laughs. “The phone sex?”

“Yeah. I liked it.”

“Sure, we can do whatever you want.”

You smile, reaching out for your phone to bring it closer to your face. Your voice turns heavy with sleep, breathy as you try to stay awake just long enough to say goodbye. “And next time, can we do it over FaceTime?”

Jean sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, we can definitely do that.”

372 notes · View notes

borathae · 7 days ago

Text

Grief is a funny thing

"Grief is a funny thing. You think that you got over it until you are sitting on a random bench, on a random Monday night and it comes back to remind you that it will always be part of you."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: Angst, married life!AU, Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: OC graduated yaay!!, but it brings up old memories for her and she is in a state of guilt & grief, talk about loss of family and grief that won't leave, tears, but Jungkook is there for her and he is such a comfort, i love him a lot

Wordcount: 2.1k

a/n: sometimes i have the desire to write something angsty for the aaol!couple. listennn, i reread some of the main chapters again and i wanted to write something about OC's grief over her brother and how Kook handles her grief episodes. soo that's why this was created <3

You graduated. You actually did it. You are officially a person with a masters degree. You are something. The degree is at home where you left it. On the living room coffee table next to an empty glass of water.

You can’t look at it.

Nobody would get you if you told them that you don’t want to look at it, because it’s insane. You are aware of it. For years, all you dreamt of was being something one day. And then it happened and you were able to pursue your dream education and to graduate. You literally fulfilled your biggest dream, it should make you happy and it does, but it also doesn’t. Deep down in your heart you know the reason for it, but you aren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet. It would make you cry. You hate crying for negative reasons.

Your phone rings. This is the third time it does and you know that you can’t ignore whoever is calling you any longer.

Your heart stings when you check their ID.

Your Jungkookie is calling. You pick up, feeling guilty as you do.

“Yes?”

“Oh my god, finally. Thank god. Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for what feels like hours. Are you okay?” Jungkook sounds distressed on the other side of the line. Understandably. It is currently one in the morning and you left without warning.

“I’m okay, just went for a walk.”

“At one in the morning?” he sounds confused. Understandably so. You are normally sleeping at this time of day.

“Yeah, well. Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s pouring buckets right now.”

“I guess it is.”

Silence on his side where he clearly tries to process what you are saying.

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up”, he says in the end.

“Paradis. The bench in front of it.”

Another silence. Understandably. You never went back there again after quitting your job.

“Just…just stay there. I’ll be quick”, Jungkook tries to sound neutral, but the anxiety is clear in his voice.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I adore you.”

“I adore you too.”

The call ends. You shove the phone back into your jacket pocket and continue to stare at the sign while the rain pours down on you. Jungkook doesn’t need to worry. You weren’t planning on leaving this bench for quite a while. All of this studying about how to help people and you feel helpless. It almost paralyzes you and makes time pass in a blur.

Jungkook runs to get to you, getting wet even under the umbrella as the water slaps against him. He calls out your name. You turn your head slowly, looking at him with tired, empty eyes.

“Oh my god, my love. You scared me so much. Why would you leave without saying anything?” he says, falling around your neck to hug you against him.

Your body falls into him. He is warm and his hug is tight. He cradles the back of your head, twisting parts of your jacket with his other hand.

“You made me worry like crazy. Please don’t ever do this again”, he says between little kisses all over your face and head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, my love. Just tell me what’s wrong, please.”

Now that he is with you and you are in his arms, the state of you is so clear to you.

“I’m really cold.”

“No wonder. It’s fucking November and you’re sitting here getting drenched.” He says, trying to warm you by rubbing your back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You let him help you to your feet. You hook arms with him, hugging his arm with both hands. You even go as far as to rest your head against it. Jungkook holds the umbrella even though you and he are already soaked to the bones.

“You’re worrying me, my love. What’s the matter?” he asks.

You and he walk back to his car at a slow pace.

“I don’t know”, you say.

“Why did you come here? Out of all the places?”

“I don’t know. I was at my old place too. It’s a storehouse for the restaurant these days.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t really get why you’re here and what you’re doing. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t look at it.”

“Look at what?”

“My masters.”

Silence. You can watch him as he processes what you said. You can also see how he is trying so hard to be supportive.

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, but why? I’m not judging, just having a hard time understanding this correctly.”

You cuddle closer. He always knows exactly what to say. It feels reassuring when he is honest. He might not understand, but he wants to. This is what unconditional love feels like.

“Whenever I look at it, I feel sick. I fulfilled my biggest dream and I’m happy, but I also feel lost.”

“I see. Now I understand. It’s scary knowing that something as big as college is over, but didn’t you play with the idea of doing your PhDs too?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“See? It’s not over yet if you want to. You have all the choices in the world. You can open your praxis or pursue your doctor’s degree. You have all the possibilities in the world. I’ll support you in any of them.”

“I guess.”

“Unless that’s what you’re lost with. Do you struggle with deciding?”

“I struggle with accepting the reality that I am something.”

“No, my love”, he gasps.

“I feel unworthy of it. I had this life”, you say, gesturing at the general direction of Paradis. “And now I have a Masters in psychology with chances of becoming a fucking doctor. It’s insane. I shouldn’t have this.”

“Yes, you should”, Jungkook insists loudly, furrowing his brows, “you worked so hard for it. I had to carry you to bed sometimes when you fell asleep by your desk because you were so exhausted from studying. Remember?”

“Yeah.”

“See? You literally worked your ass off for it. You should have it, for fuck’s sake. You wanted it for years and I won’t let you feel like this now.”

You and he stop in front of his car. He shakes you by your shoulders gently as if to shake you awake from your self-deprecating nightmare.

“You’re intelligent, resourceful and hardworking, ambitious and resilient and you got your degree because of that. You are amazing and you worked hard for it. You deserve it.”

You nod your head, but say nothing to it.

“Okay, my love?”

He looks at you. You look at your feet.

“Okay, my love?” he stresses, caressing your cheek gently.

“Jungkook, I miss my brother”, you confess what truly hurts so bad, instantly breaking into tears.

“Oh ___ my love, I’m sorry. Come here”, Jungkook gasps, wrapping his unoccupied arm around you.

You melt into his chest, sobbing into it while he holds you and comforts you.

“He and I, we always fantasised about how it would be to become something. He always talked about sending me off to college one day. But he’s dead and he won’t ever see that I actually did it. He’s dead. Why is he fucking dead?”

“Oh my love. I’m sorry. Life is so unfair”, Jungkook gets out, crying with you.

“It hurts so bad. He was supposed to see me off to college and, and see me graduate.”

“He was. He really was”, Jungkook agrees, sobbing afterwards which gives you so much comfort. It feels so reassuring and comforting so cry with him. You don’t even mind crying for negative reasons when he is with you.

“I feel so guilty. He was supposed to escape this life with me. We were supposed to get healthy and be happy.”

“You were, my love. But it’s not your fault. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for changing your life for the better.”

“I know, but it still hurts.”

You look up at Jungkook, spilling tears. He does as well, cradling your cheek.

“He was supposed to know you. He was supposed to walk me down the aisle and, and be happy for me because I fell in love with someone like you.”

Jungkook smiles, sniffling.

“He was supposed to be there on my happiest days. Why did he have to die?”

“I don’t know and it’s so unfair.”

“It is. He, he was supposed to be there for me on those days. He was…” A sob interrupts you. Jungkook soothes it with gentle touches to your arms. “It hurts so much to know that he won’t ever see who I became. I will always stay this little, drug addicted orphan girl to him. It hurts so bad that I never became someone different to him.”

“No, my love no. I’m sure that his spirit is still somewhere out there and he watched you grow up and become who you are today, my love.”

“Do you really think that?” you ask, looking at him with child-like hopefulness in your eyes.

“I do. I’m sure he is currently looking down at you and he feels proud and happy.”

“I hope so”, you say and lower your head. Tears drip down from your cheeks. “Urgh god, I hate crying”, you get out, wiping at your own face aggressively.

“Hey no.” Jungkook stops you gently. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

You look up at him while he holds your hands. He caresses your chin with the same hand, using his thumb for it.

“Let’s go home, okay?” he suggests in a soft voice.

You nod your head.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

You let him help you into the car. You stare outside as he drives off and you continue to stare outside as he drives through the city. It’s late and it's raining, which means that the streets are almost empty for a change. Jungkook doesn’t have the radio on. The purring of the car and the rain against the window are all the noises you hear. He has his hand on your thigh, giving you constant rubs of comfort. It’s warm and it’s nice.

You and he drove for a while when you break the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances at you.

“For what?”

“For running off without warning. For being so ungrateful for my masters. For dumping all of my stuff on you.”

“I’m not even gonna play into this right now because there’s nothing for you to be sorry for”, Jungkook answers you with slight anger in his voice. He isn’t angry at you, but your self-deprecating use of words.

You hold his hand.

“I’m just so messy and you’re so good”, you confess.

“You’re tired and you’re exhausted. Today was a very overwhelming day. Don’t believe your thoughts anymore, my love.”

You and he stop at a red light.

“You love me, right?”

Jungkook instantly leans over to kiss you. First your lips, then your forehead.

“I love you so much”, he whispers, cradling your cheek and gazing deep into your eyes. “I love everything about you, even the messiest and darkest parts. I always have and always will.”

You can’t bear to look into his eyes anymore, lowering your head shyly. The red light switches from red to green back to red again in the time you and he sit in the car and let his words sink in. The rain sounds calming as it hits the car.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asks in a quiet, gentle voice.

“A lot. Grief and guilt and, and… I guess, I’m thinking that I don’t feel overwhelmed anymore now that I talked about it with you.”

“Yes? This makes me happy to hear. I’ll always be there for you. And I’ll always come and get you from wherever you run off to.”

He makes you laugh. Jungkook laughs with you, kissing your forehead. The light switches to green. He takes this chance and drives off, holding your hand as he does.

“Jungkook, I wanna take a shower and then talk in bed”, you tell him.

“That sounds good. We’ll shower and then we’ll cuddle and you can tell me all about your brother.”

“But I already told you everything.”

“And? It won’t ever be boring to me.”

“Oh.”

A deep breath fills your lungs and as it leaves you again, you feel lighter. You rest your head against the window, looking at him. The rainy night city passes him, the changing lights paint the prettiest of artworks onto his face.

“You’re the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand because that is all he can do right now in fear of looking away from traffic for too long.

“I can say the same about you, my love.”

172 notes · View notes

dadvans · 15 days ago

Note

i am just so sad right now. like going into s8 i didn’t think bucktommy would be endgame, but the way s8 started changed my mind, so to have them be literally so in love for 5 episodes straight just to have them break up in the most abrupt way?? it just feels so last minute which is shocking because in the interviews this was apparently a planned thing but it doesn’t feel like it at all. Like if this was a concern Tommy had why didn’t it come up at all? like little throwaway lines of Tommy making jokes of Buck getting sick of him or wanted to explore other options or whatever. I hope the backlash makes them rethink, and Tommy comes back but for now it doesn’t seem like it. I guess my only hope is that Buddie goes canon, but even then i won’t be able to really enjoy it. I seriously don’t know if i’ll be able to keep watching the show, not solely because they broke up, but because of how they broke up. (srry for the long ask, just needed to vent)

no apologies needed!

at the end of the day, so many of us found joy in their story, their chemistry, the way even up until the final second tommy admitted that what he wanted with buck was something that would inevitably break his heart.

they were good together. tommy fit into so many intimidating parts of buck's life with ease. tommy is (as far as we know) still good friends with buck's best friend! tommy loved him anyway, loved him warts and all, road shotgun to buck's worst fears and weirdest conspiracies.

at the end of the day, we have a few things:

we GOT them. we got to see them together, we got the soft looks, we got the kisses, the foundation of them that is real and canon in a way we could strike like a match against the edge of a box to light them up for real all over again. i don't think "being canon" gives any credence or superiority to a ship, and have shipped people or characters that have never interacted/existed together in a tangible way, simply because it's FUN. that's how i'll always have fun with ships and fandom, BUT! what a wonderful thing to celebrate that we DID have them, that we have this as a foundation for whatever comes next, that there is never a door permanently closed to them finding each other again when it was already real from the start

for a lot of us, this isn't how their story ends. it's insane that so much fic and content was produced for a canon ship like this. so often fandom is chasing down the what-ifs and never-hads. a lot of us invested in bucktommy because they had the compatibility, the fit, the chemistry, the potential. that's novel shit! that doesn't just evaporate because they broke up in canon. it certainly hurts. the kind of hype we were surfing will crash and sink back in the oncoming months, but i know talking to a lot of people tonight that we aren't done with this ship. we aren't ready to say goodbye.

i'm sad. i'm angry. i felt a real sense of queer euphoria whenever i saw them together, even for 30 seconds, teetering on the edge of this new couple joy learning each other into something new and weird and fun that always lingered as a promise on the edge of their interactions. i was so excited for who buck could become with tommy as his home base. shifting that has rocked me in a bad way.

i expect people to inevitably step away from this ship and this fandom, but i'll mention that non-canon ships like arthur/eames or mcshep or social network rpf or short-lived shows from 1996 (hi sentinel) have had long-lived fandoms and left long-lasting impressions in other fandoms that have lasted for over a decade of zero additional content. this is a playground that, just because they've parted ways for now, we don't have to stop playing in.

and i'll be honest: i have several WIPs i'm like, well trash that! after watching the most recent episode. but i also have a dozen new ideas. new ways they could fall in love now or again, new ways they could meet, new ways they could be for each other.

i'll keep creating. i'll keep dreaming. they won't ever not have the spark that they had. the show could end tomorrow but we'll always have an open door to believing and shaping the thousands of ways they can and will find each other again.

#bucktommy #911 abc #dadvans replies

159 notes · View notes

liveontelevision · 9 months ago

Text

Okay, this started as a rant about Lucifer lore and turned into an argumentative essay on why Lucifer is a bottom. My b.

18+ Smut ahead, lots of angst

•••

Here's the thing about Lucifer. He was an awesome dreamer, fell in love with Lillith, and was banished to Hell. Literally forced to see what the gift of good will can do at its worse. Unless he's made some personal contact with a sinner to get like updates about what the gift of good will did right, he had to be stuck in a depression for centuries, at least until Charlie was born. And while that would've definitely given him a new passion, he'll never feel confident in dreaming again.

With how much he dislikes sinners and what they represent, i wonder if there had to be some strain on their relationship when it came to Lillith taking control? They never really talk about if they had a fallout or if she just disappeared, but i dont think they really got divorced either.

When Lucifer looks at that family picture and winces, does he feel bad about not contacting charlie? About something he did to make lillith leave? Or maybe he feels bad about being upset at lillith for leaving in the first place? There's so much to umpack there i live for the lore.

Love Interests:

But when that comes to potential love interests in the future, Lucifer hasnt had to court anyone before like ever. Not in the circumstances that they live in a big city like Hell. So when he finally ends up catching feelings, he has no idea. People around the hotel literally need to pick up on context clues for him and have an intervention to tell him he's in love again.

Even if he hasnt seen lillith in 7 years, their relationship had to be a drastic change compared to new love. I think that his love interest would also pick it up before he does, and you would let him work at his own pace. Fuck, it is so important that he goes through this process at his own pace.

With so much strain on his past relationships with loved ones, he fully gaslights himself into thinking he doesnt deserves and isnt allowed to feel affection anymore. I hate making characters i love suffer. But i feel like in his state of mind he'd go through depressive episodes and panic attacks, maybe some night terrors. Theyed be about his past and his subconscious would essentially tell him he has feelings again, and he shouldn't act them in case he scares you away and abandons you, like heaven. Or drives you away like lillith. Or purposely blocks you out like charlie. Mans is struggling i swear. He needs some comfort.

After finally coming to terms, hes a nervous wreck about every decision he makes. He'll constantly stare in the mirror in the mornings, making sure he looks his best, would plan mental scripts before even having a conversation with you, and would become a bumbling mess just trying to make jokes out of the situation, some base level actions, like how we saw in the show. He'll manage to finally ask you out, but all he really knows how to do is profess an undying love (i feel like his confession to lillith was hella dramatic) so it was a little awkward, but still cute. And of course you said yes.

So let's say its been 5+ years since he moved into the hotel, met you and finally managed to confess his feelings. When it comes to the actual relationship? You give him reassurance and support him through his mental episodes, and laugh at his jokes and praise him for everything he does. He has such intense imposture syndrome though, that even other demons have to reassure that theres no way you dont love him with all your being. Because it is literally obvious to everyone but him.

He's pretty good at doing the romantic fluff stuff in public, he loves to make a big show out of treating you like royalty and even trying to embarrass you when you become close enough. He's always more charasmatic in public, it seems easier than doing that alone.

Not in a negative way, but Lucifer is so never to be alone with you. You take the lead a bit more in those scenarios, suggesting ideas like movies or just coming up with small talk yourself. He needs someone who'll be patient with him. Being alive for millions of years AND being left or shamed by all your loved ones during that time is literally the definition of Truama.

Of course he's been bottling all that shit up, he has no one to confide with. There's no one who's been alive and witnessed it all the way he has. So bless you for loving and caring for him even without understanding all hes been through.

You'll have some rough patches, where this emotional side locks him away from you and everyone else. It might be a few days before you see him. He'll lock himself in his office, pumping out ducks by the dozen just to keep himself from sleeping, because he's scared he'll have night terrors if he feels asleep. He's in a constant loop;

"what if i fucked up?"

"what if i try to talk about it and then they realize how bad i fucked up?"

"what if that's enough of a reason for them to leave me?"

"what if i scare them away?"

"what if that fucks this up?"

"what if i fucked up.. Again..?"

After he leaves his office, youre excited to see him out and about, but you cant make a big deal out of it. You have to speak to him calmly, make sure he's physically okay before talking to him about his thought process. It might take awhile, but he'll eventually trust you enough to open up. And of course it'll never be bad enough for you to leave him, he's just struggling.

Physical Contact:

It takes him an even longer time to become physical with you. He hasnt been intimate for over a decade at this point, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with little affections like hand holding, cuddling, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing? Hoo boy, he melts after your first kiss. It couldve been even a small peck and he would still become a nervous wreck just trying to ask for more.

He'll ask for physical touch more than provide it at first. You'll give him a quick kiss and he'll look up at you super eager just like, "another?" He'll grow into tastful pda's, linking arms, quick hugs and smooches, holding hands all that.

He becomes putty in your hand when you're alone though. You'll nudge him to lean against your shoulder or even lay his head in your lap while youre lounging or watching movies. He becomes so relaxed in your presence, that you'll want to suddenly peck him just to see his suddenly flustered reaction.

You'd give him massages that he would always be hesistant over. He was always a little nervous that he wasnt giving enough to you, but you were quick to assure him that wasnt the case. You'd straddle his hips while giving him a slowww massage. It starts with light touches, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and spine. You'd trace your fingers over his chest when you would cuddle too, depending on the position. Or stroke his back sweetly. It was enough of a distraction to keep his mind occupied, away from any spiraling thoughts he might be having.

He purrs. Convince me that he doesnt purr. (You cant)

Being secluded for so long probably means that he doesnt fly as much as he used to. It was probably a passion of his, and he was especially delighted to share it with lillith and charlie.

So during those 7 years he barely flew, he also didnt take care of his wings. I feel like theyre something to be summoned, so they arent constantly tucked into his back. You'd basically scold him sometimes to just let you clean his wings.

You'd do it in like a spring-type bathhouse that Lucifer would have in his castle somehow. It was one of the first intimate moments he's experienced in years, so he was generally going insane. Feeling your hands and a little comb rake through the feathers on his giant wings? You'd have to tap his shoulder sometimes to keep him from falling asleep to the relaxation alone. After the first time, the water you used was pretty dirty and he had a lot of loose feathets that were combed out. Damn, he needed this.

Intimacy:

After awhile, you sit down and would have a discussion about being intimate in bed. Lucifer would be absolutely nervous about overstepping by asking this, (even though you've been together for about a year at this point). He would use his mental scripts and basically practice what he wanted to say.

It would mainly be him saying he wants to do this because he loves you and youve done so much for him that he wants to give back to you in this way. It would consist of him saying its okay if you dont want to, or if you ever want to stop to just say so. But of course you want to, how could you not?

It would start slow, he actually tries taking the lead in this specific situation. He would kiss you first, his lips trembling at the thought that this is actually happening. Feeling his nerves, you'd cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs lightly. That will help him ease up enough to start letting the passion take over more.

He'd become more confident in slipping his tongue into your mouth and placing his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him. Lucifer would get lost in the moment, pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed and licked and bit his way across both your shoulders and down to the softeness of your breast. After leaning back to look at the damage his eyes would become increasingly wide, looking up at you with a flustered expression. Seeing you losing it as much as he was, gave him enough courage to keep up at it.

He would almost hesistantly take a hold of your breasts and would massage them softly, running his thumbs across your nipples and becoming absolutely delighted at the reaction you gave. The adrenaline from the pleasure would make you start grinding against his lap, which would make lucifer's hands on your hips pull away for a moment and make his breath stutter. Lucifer would look you up and down as if he didnt know what to do next, studying your body with darting eyes. You'd press a small kiss on his forehead before guiding his hands back onto your hips with yours, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

"Are you okay, Luci?" He would gulp before nodding his head and turning ridiculously red across his face, maybe from the idea of what was to come, maybe just from your voice alone. You'd keep your hands ontop of his at your hips as you'd keep moving, letting out breathy moans. He would be holding his breath without realizing, an absolute nervous wreck just from the view.

He would already be hard just from the previous make out session, so this would cause him to lean his back against the bed, his strength giving out. You'd keep up at it, feeling his hips jolt up to meet yours at times.

He was a sweaty, twitching mess in front of you and you hated to admit how much that excited you.

His scripted plan was immediately forgotten, but he was quick to remember that he wanted to please you.

He'd snap out of his state of intense pleasure, to carefully switch positions, him looking over you with your back against the bed.

You both discuss it, of course, attempting to set boundaries before hand. Even just the tender discussion would get him riled up. So he'd lean foward and kiss you again, showing off his forked tongue before peppering kisses down your entire body, until he was close enough to let his hot breath heat up your folds.

You'd feel his nervous breath on you before delving in. He would be hesistant of course, but would be quick to get used to your entrance after running his tongue across your entirety multiple times. Lucifer loves providing pleasure this way, so his brain immediately knew what to do once the nerves past. He was quick to take a tight hold onto your thighs to keep you in place as he entered you with his demonic lengthy tongue. He would look up at you as he sort of aimlessly dug around at first, waiting for a reaction. Once he'd see you dip your head back with a muffled moan, he would close his eyes to focus all his attention to that one spot. He'd reach his thumb around to circle and massage your clit that he would find far too quickly. You'd arch your back and try to get more friction against his tongue, but it's easy to forget that he is quite literally the strongest being in Hell. You weren't going anywhere.

He'd love feeling your hands in his hair and would absolutely lose it feeling you pull hard when he'd hit just the right spot. As soon as he set a steady thythm and was hearing your voice become more unhinged, he'd speed up to an extent that you didn't realize was possible after going for so long. You discussed cumming before and he made it very clear that he was okay with you finishing on his face. Fuck, he wanted it. You still warned him, moaning out his name to get his attention, "I-I'm almost there- K-Keep doing that.. like that..! Luci-" you'd almost direct him though the whole process, but were quick to become a moaning mess unable to communicate with words. You'd reach your limit and he would let you buck up into his face this time, loosening his grip on your thighs. He'd pull away after licking you clean, sending overstimulated pleasure across your entire body, with a line of your juices following his tongue as he lifted his head. He would pant with his tongue still sticking out of his mouth, and even through hazy eyes you loved seeing his demonic tongue and thinking about how it just drove you to climax.

Things would switch up again, and you'd sit him against the back of the bedframe. you'd have another quick discussion before seating yourself slowly on his length, which had been throbbing for any contact since the night started. The first few times, he'd do his best not to cum immediately. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, after all. You'd only begin to move once you made sure he was okay since his struggle was written all over his face.

The moment you began to keep a steady space, he would jut his hips upwards, becoming needy to feel this sensation he hadn't felt in over a decade. The first time didn't last long. It was sweet, and he would constantly moan out your name and babble on about how much he loves you. The entire time, you'd be praising him through every move until he was going too fast for you to get a sentence out.

He'd cum inside of you, another previously discussed topic. You essentially had to beg to convince him it was okay. You'd collapse onto his chest, a position he didnt see often. While the two of you always cuddled, you were so focused on making sure he was comfortable, Lucifer realized you didnt often get the chance to just relax on top of him. So after realizing that? Aftercare was amazing.

He'd let you sit with him inside you for a while, before pulling you off and immediately cleaning you up. Some nights, when he felt especially dominant, he would lap up his own cum from your incredibly sensitive cunt. He would swallow some of it, but was mainly pushing anything that dripped out back into your entrance.

After cleaning you up, he would wiggle his way back underneath you and pull you onto his chest, enjoying taking care of you the way you took care of him.

After the first night, lucifer would be much more confident. He'd have that healthy glow, but would be more assertive during meetings, more communicative and wouldnt shut others out as often. It really helped him realize how much you gave to him, and he was determined to give all that and more back to you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer

527 notes · View notes

razzledazzlebeach · 3 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon took awhile to age mentally

As I read more and more analysis about Daryl and rewatch some of the earlier seasons, I wonder if it was intended for his character to have some kind of age regression issue. (I didn't do, like, extensive research, I just looked into some CPTSD and age regression signs on a few different sites, so this is just an idea I'm tossing out in hopes of hearing some other perspectives!)

The first situation that really catches my attention is his reaction to Merle being left in Atlanta. Now, obviously, this would be an incredibly emotional time for anyone and it's not entirely out of place to just say he was very distraught over the news and anyone could have reacted the same way he did. I just think that the specific way he did might have some signs. If you think about a grown man, especially one who was raised in a very macho household, you would assume that their reaction might be to storm out or yell at someone. Although Daryl did yell, he also started crying and pacing. It seemed almost as if he was having a full-on meltdown. Some signs of age regression are meltdowns (Ranting, shouting, insulting others, threatening others, whining, angry tears, or getting physically violent) that ring any bells?

I couldn't find a gifs of that exact moment :(

It probably didn't help that the entirety of the camp was staring at him as all of this happened. Temper tantrums can happen because someone is scared/ashamed and can't regulate themselves. (Like sensory overload.)

Another thing that I want to kind of address is the way Rick responds to Daryl when he's having these sorts of meltdowns. Throughout the series, and in the third episode, we see Rick bending down almost horizontally just so he can make eye contact with Daryl. He speaks to him like he's a child, and instead of feeling insulted, Daryl actually takes comfort in it and calms down!

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic, do you think we can manage that?"

What is age regression?

We all know that Daryl was abused as a child, and trauma like that can sort of freeze the brain. This is a quote I really like that explains it: “It doesn’t necessarily make you stuck at a certain age, but instead, [you are] acting out the emotional wounding that happened at that age,” Lapides adds." People may start to regress because they are triggered or feel threatened, and an apocalypse seems like it would cause a constant trigger. Daryl might be reverting back to childlike behaviors as a trauma response. (honorable mention being the nail biting, but that's a bit of a reach) Shane being the way that he was could have also been a trigger for him.

One of the symptoms of age regression is overly clingy behavior. And you are probably thinking, "well, if there's anything Daryl has, it's not clingy behavior. He's a loner." I disregarded this too for awhile before I really thought about it. He is highly independent when he's doing things he's comfortable in, like being in the woods or going for runs. But when it comes to making decisions or being social, Daryl immediately clings to someone who he knows will do it for him. Most of his life he had Mere to hide behind. The most outgoing and shameless person alive. I don't think Merle ever asked Daryl his opinion on anything. He would decide, and Daryl would follow, and I think Daryl took a lot of comfort in that. So when Merle was gone, he latched onto Rick because he was the best choice. He knew Rick was a very righteous man who had plenty of leadership qualities. He knew Rick would make decisions for him, and give him directions.

Carol and Rick's mothering

Circling back to the way Rick would react to Daryl's outbursts, carol sometimes did the same thing. I know some people ship them, but honestly, at least in the earlier seaons, I got major mother/son vibes from the two of them. Especially when Beth died and she was trying to teach him how to grieve. The forehead kisses, the pookie nickname, all of it seemed to point in that direction. There was also another time Rick pulled the "Can we manage that?" move, and it was during Aiden and Glenn's fight in S5. He made sure to get low enough to make eye contact, and block his pacing. He kept telling Daryl that "We can't do this now." It all just looks a lot like he and carol are parenting Daryl, if only in moments where he is feeling intense stress and that trauma triggers.

Anyways, this was just a few ideas I was tossing around, and very clearly this in my first analysis lol, any thoughts?

#twd #age regression #character analysis #fictional characters #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead #carol peletier #rick grimes #shane walsh #childhood abuse #trauma response #trauma regressor

243 notes · View notes

zukosdualdao · 6 months ago

Text

just… the absolute trust between zutara in the finale is unreal. after zuko’s impromptu training attack session, yes, katara is surprised and even somewhat angry as she confronts him, but when she says “you could have hurt aang!” all it reminds me of is the fact that just a few episodes ago, she literally threatened to kill him if he ever gave her a reason to think he might so something to hurt aang. but here, now, even as she’s confronting him, she just… waits for him to explain, and she actually sees and agrees with his point once zuko tells the gaang about ozai’s plan.

there is also the absolutely, 100% synchronized way they fight during the simulated training session, something that calls back to their synchronization and teamwork in the southern raiders, and that inherently shows a lot of trust and understanding between them.

katara is the one who initially asks zuko what they should do after aang disappears. everyone else agrees, but it's katara who trusts him enough to position him, not just to herself but to everyone else, as someone they should listen to because of his history, skill, and experience, especially noteworthy because the reason she gives—“you are sort of the expert at tracking the avatar”—is what used to make him untrustworthy in their eyes. they’ve come such a long way.

then katara notices zuko freeze and sit in front of iroh’s tent, and when she asks if he’s okay, he just… completely trusts her with exactly what he’s feeling, and if he’s even a little worried that what he’s saying might cause her to act derisively, because what he’s referencing here is also what katara was angry and hurt about, he doesn’t show it. he just so completely trusts her with it, and her insistence that iroh will forgive him is born from her own trust of zuko, and she's able to tell him what he needs to hear because she was once in iroh's position and zuko proved his genuine remorse and care to her.

then, of course, we've got zuko not missing a beat as he asks katara to be the one to come with him to confront azula, and her ready acceptance. they make a good team, and they know it.

but when they get there and azula challenges zuko to an agni kai - though she initially has misgivings, katara ultimately trusts zuko when he says he can handle it and understands that he doesn't want her to get hurt if she doesn't have to. (an aspect of zuko's "i can't explain it, but she's slipping" line that i think gets underexamined, btw, is that that's not an inherently good thing for them. yes, maybe that means zuko will be able to take her, particularly because he knows azula and her fighting style well. but someone who is "slipping" is also, in this case, desperate, and more prone to being reckless with people's lives. zuko tries to mitigate that by fighting her alone, but it doesn't work because azula can't follow the terms she sets when she realizes she's losing.)

the lightning scene is a really interesting example of trust as it relates to zuko and katara, because to me, the emphasis there isn't quite so much on zuko and katara trusting each other. there's barely time for katara to think through what will happen to as azula aims for her or wonder what zuko will do, after all, and zuko is probably in too much pain and too out of it to think about katara coming to try to heal him. (though if they did have the time and mental faculties to think it through, i think they would both 120 percent trust the other to help them.)

instead, the emphasis is on the audience trusting the characters. from the moment zuko sees where azula's aiming, he doesn't hesitate, doesn't even think about, just. immediately jumps in front of the lightning before it can reach katara. i've said this before, but as soon as he understood what was happening, there was just no chance of that lightning ever getting to katara and that's the point. we've seen what zuko looks like when he's hesitating or conflicted, and the difference is stark. the show never wants you to question exactly what zuko will do, that he refuses to let katara get heart, that he'll save her.

and for her part, katara immediately runs to try and save zuko despite azula still being around and attacking, and tries again before realizing she needs to defeat azula in order to do so. but the entire scene of katara's defeating her, while obviously heroic and emblematic of katara's power and the culmination of her arc as a girl whose culture and identity was nearly stripped away from her to being a master waterbender, is also framed as katara defeating azula so she can get to zuko. she would have done it anyways, yes, but in this context, right now, she is fighting azula so she can get to zuko to heal him.

here, in the narrative culmination of their arcs together, it shows not just that they trust each other, but asks the audience to not doubt the development of the dynamic that’s been built, to trust that they will take care of each other. and they do.

#will never be over it ! tbh!#atla rewatch ‘24 #zutara #sozin’s comet #zuko #katara

308 notes · View notes

reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 3 months ago

Text

Are You Sure?! Episode 4 observations

8.5/10 ☆

When will Army cancel Jimin and Jungkook? When will ot7 jikookers and vminers and vminkookers make call out posts for them? Jimin and Jungkook should express that all encompassing love for the entire members of their group all the time. Pointing out throughout the entire first day that Tedros is their guest or that they he should leave if he doesn't like it, that he's looking for attention or that AYS is their show, not for other people, was giving mean girls behavior. How is that nice? They love their guest but they're shading him. I think we should totally cancel Jikook!

But how the tables have turned once the kid that tagged along went to bed and the adults could play. Oh, we were back to Connecticut vibes once again. Which are basically the usual jikook vibes in where every little game needs to have a hint of flirtation (I wonder what Jimin would have done if Jungkook wouldn't have warned him about the glass part in the pool? Jimin was in slytherin mode the minute he took off his clothes).

From enganging in intricate rituals to touch each other (as always) to go through a long negotation over eating ramyeon or not (what's ppeuriri got to do with everything? I love their inside jokes and hate them at the same time. Let me in!!!! I was waiting for the bj brothers and when they deliver even some innuendos, it riles me up).

I'm not a BL fan of regular watcher, but this looks like the beginning of one of those steamy scenes where they show them fuck on some balcony or in the pool. Just sayin'.

Say yes and eat the damn ramyeon, Jungkook!

I like Jikook's nighttime routines. Although so far they have been quite tame, no drinking or other shenanigans. They do teeth brushing yoga or they cuddle up and talk about work and their schedules before bed. And there's no bed without Jimin's legs all over Jungkook (I'm sure he must be dreaming of those thighs at this point).

Can it get more domestic than Jungkook talking to his mother and her already knowing about their schedule?

I have a feeling she and Jimin text each other regularly. Oh, if only they had filmed just a bit during their Chuseok weekend in Busan (I do assume Jimin went too, but 🤷‍♀️). I need to see Jimin with Jungkook's mother. She would dot on him and Jimin would be so respectful but shy and oh, I get all giddy just thinking about him. Busan boys, please visit your home town one day and share that with the world!

I refuse to accept the existence of Jimkook, sounds ugly, forced, it doesn't roll off the tongue. But Jikook? Yeah, that works. And they were in full jikook mode on the boat. That embarrassing CPR manouver by Jimin is yet another sign that they will remain that cringe couple. How did Tedros survive on that boat? No wonder he took a step back from all that up until the end.

The entire afternoon on the boat really gave us a glimpse into their original plans and how once again, they just click. They never push it, they want to do the same things and they have fun. And we still got the cuddle and drawing whales out of clouds without that moment turning into something else.

When Jimin is in top shape, without any other illness looming over their vacation, then we know we're in for some entertainment. He's much more engaging and laughs at everything while Jungkook is right there next to him, ready to joint whatever Jimin wants to do.

(Who would have thought that Tedros headbanging the first day would make him take a step back and allow them to do their own thing how they originally planned? I have lots to say about him, but for another post, there's too many nice things that happened and I focus on that at first)

And now, a few more highlights:

What is this? Cutie Jiminie who can also get angry while stuffing his face with rice and noodles and chicken all at the same time? You are what you eat. Or whom 🤭

Jungkook has always been an expert at such lines, how can Jimin still be surprised after a decade? That's what you get. You have the tattoed guy who's really into bikes and Jimin who is clearly into all that, but he's gotta take the lame lines too.

#m thoughts #jikook #jikook travel show #jikook are you sure

191 notes · View notes

notakugelblitz · 3 months ago

Text

DELORES PART 1 • Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

something sweet to soothe your anger dearest brellies 🥰 takes place during season 4 episode 1, no warning all safe. enjoy !

Y/N had worked with Five at the Commission. She was with him on the day of JFK's assassination, and when he mentioned the possibility of escaping the company, she thought, why not? The Handler still hadn't given her the promotion she'd been promised 15 years ago, and the health insurance was worthless by then ...

Y/N followed Five through three apocalypses, becoming a teenager again. At least she no longer had the beginnings of arthritis, which she was more grateful for than her colleague. The Hargreeves quickly took Y/N under their wing, appreciating her a lot, especially since she had the gift of shutting Five up.

Y/N and Five became very good friends. Once the umbrella Academy lost their powers in this new timeline, Y/N chose to open a bookstore, while Five became a CIA agent. They met from time to time, enjoying each other's company over a black coffee on a terrace. In six years, nothing ambiguous had happened between them. Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted it to or not—it was a strange feeling. But now, with her new life started, she had time. If Five was interested, he would make a move; if not, so be it. But this was the calm before the storm...

Five entered the secret meeting set in an apartment with a classy, dimly lit atmosphere. The place was spacious, hosting about thirty people. Five smoothed his mustache, grabbed a glass of champagne from the buffet, and scanned the room. Just as he thought he recognized Lila, another young woman caught his attention. She was leaning against the balcony, her face hidden as she stood with her back to him. She had long, straight auburn hair, styled with a yellow beret. She was wearing a white shirt with black polka dots, neatly tucked into her pencil skirt.

Five felt a drop of sweat trickle down his temple and took a deep breath before joining her. He also leaned on the balcony, just like she did, barely daring to look at her.

"Beautiful night, isn’t it?" Y/N murmured, a simple smile on her lips.

She didn’t meet his gaze either, which slightly irritated Five. He finally turned his head and recognized Y/N.

"What the hell are you doing ..."

The words escaped his mouth when he noticed the name on her nametag : Delores. Five almost choked on his champagne.

"Yeah, the champagne is disgusting, I agree. But the hors d'oeuvres are delicious though. You should try them!" "What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re part of this ridiculous support group ..."

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head.

"Oh no, no ... I came with "Nancy" so Diego wouldn’t ask too many questions. But this wig is seriously itching. It's awful." Y/N explained, amused, scratching her scalp.

She then turned her attention to Five and looked at his nametag.

"Jerome? That doesn’t suit you very well. I wonder where you got that name..." "It wasn’t my choice. And where did you get yours?" he retorted, frowning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden cold and somewhat aggressive tone.

"I like that name." Y/N simply said. "And that shirt—do you like it too? It’s hideous." "I found it in a thrift shop—it seemed nice... hey! What’s gotten into you?" Y/N finally exclaimed. "Bullshit." "Five what the hell!"

Y/N seemed sincere. She had no idea what her cover name meant to him. After all these years, he had never told her about Delores. Instead of apologizing, he downed his glass of champagne.

"So, those hors d'oeuvres?" Five asked.

Y/N laughed lightly, understanding it was his awkward way of apologizing. Just as she was about to praise the treats, Jean and Gene appeared, announcing the start of the meeting.

What followed was a very eventful evening. The Umbrella Effect, interacting with Jean and Gene, dining with Lila and Five, Viktor's kidnapping... it felt like the old days! And throughout it all, Five kept giving Y/N odd looks. Why had fate embedded the love of his life so clearly in his friend and colleague? Five didn’t believe in coincidences; he never had.

Y/N had noticed those supposedly discreet glances, which intrigued her a lot. Especially since she could feel her cheeks flush like a 16-year-old girl.

Despite everything, the Hargreeves ended their evening at an Asian restaurant to debrief. Having retrieved the Marigold thanks to Sy, most of them decided not to take it. This surprised Y/N a lot. Powers... that was the dream, wasn’t it?

While Ben was in the bathroom, Y/N leaned toward Five.

"Imagine what you could do for the CIA with your teleportation..." she whispered. "Shut up, Y/N." Five murmured. "No, but seriously! I don’t know what I’d give to be special like you guys were! If it were up to me, I’d drink that jar dry!"

Five chuckled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"If you think this is one of those stupid Marvel movies, think again. Having powers comes with great responsibilities, sure—the responsibility to control them and not cause an apocalypse." "Killjoy..." Y/N sighed. "And for your information..." Five hesitated before continuing in a lower voice, leaning a bit closer to her. "You don’t need that to be... special."

Coming from his mouth, it sounded weird. Reaching her ears, it sounded weird. Y/N sat up straight and silently thanked some higher force when Ben arrived with a tray of eight shots. While everyone found an excuse to leave, Ben convinced them to drink. "For old time's sake," he said.

Everyone gave in, and when Y/N realized she didn’t have a glass, she felt disheartened.

"Can’t I celebrate our reunion?" she asked. "You're not part of the family." Ben snapped. "Wow, Ben, that’s rude!" Luther exclaimed. "Y/N is more family than you ever were." Five groaned, pointing a threatening finger at him. "No, it's fine, let it go, Five." Y/N sighed, though Five’s words had touched her.

She stepped aside, letting them toast. Just as everyone raised their glasses to their lips, Klaus nudged Y/N and handed her his glass.

"OnJanuary 15th, it'll be 3 years that I am sober. Tonight’s not the night I’ll mess that up, and certainly not for old time's sake." Klaus whispered. "I can’t accept that ..." Y/N politely refused. "Oh, come on, down it or I’ll tell everyone you slept with Five at Luther’s wedding."

Y/N gasped, grabbed the glass, drank it down in record time, and handed it back to Klaus. No one seemed to notice the trick, and that was just as well.

Y/N still had that awful taste in her mouth. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that glass. After all, Klaus was lying. Wasn’t he? It was true she had a total blackout that night, but... her and Five? No... right?

Once outside, everyone said their goodbyes. As Y/N tried to figure out where Klaus had gone so she could question him, a car pulled up next to her. The passenger window rolled down, and she bent down to see the driver. It was Five.

"I’ll give you a ride." "No, it’s okay, I’m not far..." "That wasn’t a question," Five said, leaning over to open the passenger door.

Y/N sighed but couldn’t help smiling. She got in, buckled up, and Five started the car.

"Be honest with me, Y/N." he said seriously, focusing on the road. "Mmh?" "Why Delores? And why that damn polka dot shirt?"

Y/N widened her eyes.

"You're still hung up on that!" she exclaimed. "I’ve changed since then..." "Stop it right now, Y/N. This isn’t funny," he growled. "Look, Five, I don’t understand! You’re completely crazy!" "Why Delores?" "I don’t know, okay?" she yelled back. "I don’t know."

She repeated the sentence silently to herself.

"The name just came to me, and the shirt was the cheapest... I swear, Five, I’ve never been more honest with you..."

Five finally looked at her and realized she was telling the truth. When they arrived at the bookstore, he parked on the side of the road.

"I’m sorry, Y/N... it’s just that... I knew a Delores a long time ago, and... she looked just like you."

Y/N, surprised, met his gaze and tilted her head to the side.

"I never thought the famous Five Hargreeves had a romance," she breathed.

Five nodded , locking eyes with her sparkling ones. He had always loved that color, though he would never admit it. He looked away, eyes fixed on the steering-wheel. Fortunately Y/N didn't know Delores was a mannequin. Five kept silent, thinking about this damn coincidence and its probable meaning.

Y/N didn’t know what to say so she got out of the car, feeling unsettled. As she headed towards the bookstore, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and walked back to the car, leaning against the window on Five’s side.

“Be honest with me, Five.” she said seriously.

Five chuckled softly, amused by this ongoing joke, and nodded, signaling her to continue.

“What happened at Luther’s wedding?” she asked suddenly.

Five frowned. Why was she asking about that now?

“They got married,” he said simply. “Haha, very funny. No, seriously, between us... did something happen?”

Five discreetly swallowed and started the car.

“You should go home, it’s getting late.”

Y/N groaned and walked around the front of the car again so that he couldn't leave, suddenly opening the passenger door and sitting down.

“What are you doing…?” “You agreed to be honest with me. And you’re not. So I won’t move until…” “Fine.” "Oh, that was quick."

Five immediately started driving and continued in silence.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” “No.” “So, is this a kidnapping?” “Call it whatever you want. You learned how to jump out of a moving car at the Commission, so if your ass is still in that seat, it means you don’t really want to leave.”

Point for him. The silence was fine at the beginning, but it grew heavier and heavier minutes after minutes. Y/N was relieved when she recognized the streets as they were arriving at the parking lot of Five's apartment. He turned off the car and slumped further into his seat. Y/N could tell he was hiding something.

“So. Did we sleep together that night?” she asked bluntly.

Five’s eyes widened.

“What! Who told you that nonsense?” he exclaimed with an amused tone. “Klaus… he…” “You know Klaus always exaggerates, Y/N…”

Y/N lowered her eyes, embarrassed for having believed it so easily. Five noticed her distress and sighed. He rummaged through an inner pocket of his jacket, hesitating before pulling out a Polaroid photo. He handed it to Y/N nonchalantly. She looked at him, then at the photo, which she took with apprehension. It was taken at Luther’s wedding. Y/N and Five were on stage. A microphone stand separated them, only a few centimeters from each other's face. They looked completely drunk, which explained why they were singing so close and why Y/N had no memory of it.

“Just imagine eyes like moon rise, a voice like music, lips like wine.” Five muttered, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/N looked up at him. Those were the lyrics to a love song by Frank Sinatra, yet it sounded oddly different coming from his mouth.

“Please, tell me…” she whispered.

Five sighed, knowing full well he had reached a point of no return.

“We overdid it on the alcohol that night. And with the apocalypse looming... it makes you do things you wouldn’t normally be capable of.”

He paused, but Y/N smiled, encouraging him to continue.

“You seemed different that night. You had no filter. You never had one when it came to annoying me, but for saying nice things, well... and you were really beautiful. And without thinking, I grabbed that mic and sang that stupid Sinatra song. And you looked at me with those eyes. They sparkled like… like the Kugelblitz. Almost more. And you joined me, and we made quite the duo, I must say. I can't fucking remember the name of the song as we were only babbling incomprehensible lyrics.”

Y/N was speechless.

“So…” “No sex. Pure fluff, even though it’s a disgusting word to say.”

Y/N chuckled.

“And you kissed me,” Five finally said, emotionless.

Everything seemed so unreal, yet he looked sincere.

“Why didn’t you tell me for six years?” she asked, shocked. “I… I chickened out. You didn’t remember, so it gave you the chance to start fresh.”

Suddenly, Y/N slapped him across the face, the sound of the slap echoing through Dallas. Five didn't blink, feeling like it was deserved somehow.

“You’re such an idiot.” “I know.”

They remained silent for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. If any member of the Umbrella Academy had the power to read minds, they would’ve run away, given the turmoil that stirred within them.

Y/N thought back to all those moments spent with Five, and of course, they had a different flavor than those shared with an actual colleague. Despite their constant teasing, Five had always been there for Y/N, and vice versa. They understood each other, given their age and experience. Everything suddenly became clear.

And then, in perfect synchronization, they kissed passionately, Y/N placing her hands on Five’s cheeks while he firmly gripped her waist. It was a fiery kiss, making up for all the lost time due to misplaced pride. Out of breath, Y/N pulled back slightly to look at him, a smirk on her lips.

“What? Don’t make me regret what just happened…” Five chuckled. “Firsy things first, secretly keeping a picture of me is weird. Secondly, the song by Sinatra ... It is named Dolores. Just saying…” Y/N laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear that had fallen over his bright eyes.

"Shut it." he groaned, pecking your lips to make you silent. But then , he approaches his lips to your ear, whispering.

“It seems that no matter the timeline, I’m destined to have a Delores getting in my way.”

Y/N burst out laughing, and Five couldn’t help but smile sincerely. It felt good to come out of his shell, especially for Y/N. Five invited Y/N to spend the night at his place. This sudden happiness seemed surreal, yet it was very real. The idea of a normal life together seemed so pleasant. If only they knew ...

here it is, i really hope you liked it ! sorry if you spotted some mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

would you be interested in a part 2 now that Y/N swallowed up a shot of marigold ? just sayin’ … 😏

#five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #five x y/n #five hargreeves fanfic #five x reader #the umbrella academy season 4 #five hargreeves season 4 #delores #Spotify

244 notes · View notes