#yet in spite of this i feel kinda happy about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ruewritesoccasionally · 4 months ago

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Running Home | Aaron Pierre

pairings: aaron pierre x black reader

about: Aaron’s hectic work schedule has strained his relationship with YN, pushing their bond to the brink. After a close encounter sparks jealousy, anger, and confusion, Aaron is consumed by guilt. In the midst of it all, they seek solace—but is love enough to repair what’s been broken?

warnings: angst, jealousy, heartbreak, emotional conflict, guilt, relationship strain, self-doubt, miscommunication, intense emotions, confrontation, love and reconciliation. (changing POVs between aaron and reader throughout)

author's note: my original idea for this was nowhere near this long, very little angst and plenty of smut but i couldn't stop typing and i kinda like where the story went. definitely different from my usual stuff but a good different, i hope ?

word count: 5.7k ************************************************************************

She stood in the doorway of their bedroom, staring at the space beside the bed that used to feel warm and alive with him. Now it was cold—empty. The spot where he should’ve been, the place where they used to find comfort in each other, felt like a distant memory. She let out a quiet sigh, her fingers brushing over the soft fabric of the pillow he should have been resting on.

Sure, she was happy that Aaron was finally getting the recognition he deserved. She knew better than anyone how hard he worked, how relentless his dedication was. She had seen it all—the long hours, the sweat, the sacrifices. This wasn’t just any man she loved. This was Aaron. The love of her life. Her childhood sweetheart. Her future husband. The father of her children. And yet, in spite of it all, the life she had once dreamed of with him felt more out of reach than ever before.

He wasn’t completely absent, of course. She would get the occasional FaceTime call when his schedule allowed it, or a text when he found a moment to spare. Sometimes, he’d send her a bouquet to make up for missing an arranged call. But none of that was enough. She needed more than a screen to look at him, more than a few hurried words exchanged between his busy days. She needed him here, with her, in the same space, to feel his presence beside her again.

The silence of their home echoed louder than it ever had before. She missed him more than she cared to admit. She missed the way his laugh filled the room; the way his touch grounded her. The warmth of his skin, the way he held her close as if nothing in the world could pull him away. That was the version of him she craved—the one who wasn't lost in a whirlwind of meetings and press tours, the one who remembered how to make time for them.

And now, as she stood there, facing the emptiness once more, she realized it wasn’t just about the physical absence. It was the emotional distance that hurt more. He was out there, conquering the world, but she was here—alone, waiting for the man she loved to come home.

The power of love was indeed frightening, something Y/N had always known but never fully understood until now. This season of her life had thrown her into new territory, teaching her things she never thought she'd have to confront. She tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it wasn’t that deep—just a phase. But the more she sat with the thought, the more she realized it wasn’t something that could be ignored – the growing tension between them, his absence his busy schedule and her silent yearning. Their life together couldn’t be swept under the carpet, not for long. No matter how much dust they let settle over the cracks, something had to give.

“Something has to give,” she murmured softly to herself, her heart heavy with the weight of those words. She wasn’t sure what it was, or how it would unfold, but she knew one thing for sure: something had to change.

************************************************************************

“No. I refuse to sound like this, I refuse to look like this,” she whispered to herself, standing in front of the mirror, eyes meeting her own reflection with a resolute gaze. “I love my man, and I am proud of his accomplishments, but I will not mope and whine. I am not sad or angry or even bitter. I just miss my man, and that’s not unreasonable. But what is unreasonable, is staying in this house, thinking about it, and expecting it to change in an instant. It’s not who I am, have been, or will be. Self-care starts now.”

Her thoughts rang with clarity, like the first breath of fresh air after being suffocated. She wasn’t going to let herself drown in loneliness. She was going to reclaim her power, and she was going to do it the only way she knew how—by looking after herself.

With renewed purpose, she grabbed her gym bag, deciding that a Pilates session would be the first step toward grounding herself again. The studio was quiet, the soft thrum of music and steady breaths filling the air as she worked through each stretch and movement, pushing her body to feel alive and in control. It wasn’t about competition; it wasn’t about impressing anyone—it was about her.

After the session, she was packing up, gathering her water bottle when she noticed the guy who’d been a few spots down from her. He had just finished setting up his phone and was filming a piece of his workout for his social media page. He looked up at her, gave a friendly smile, and then—seemingly hesitant—approached her.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," he said, offering a warm smile. "I’m filming my workout routine for my TikTok, and I was originally thinking of cropping you out, but you’ve got a good flow going. I wanted to ask if you'd be cool with being in the background for a second. I’ll make sure it’s all about the technique and not about you, promise.”

YN looked at him, intrigued. She wasn’t usually one to be filmed, but his demeanour was easy-going, and the thought of seeing herself in action on video made her smile. "Sure, no problem," she replied, stepping forward as he adjusted his phone. "I’m just finishing up my session, so feel free to catch me stretching if you want."

He grinned, clearly pleased with her willingness. "Appreciate it, thanks. Actually, if you're cool with it, I’d love to film a few post-session stretches of you. Just some stuff that really helps with flexibility, you know?"

YN gave a nod, feeling more at ease now, and moved through a few of her favourite stretches. She’d always been comfortable in her body, and today, with her focus on herself and no pressure, it felt even more liberating. As the camera clicked, the guy gave a few encouraging words. She kept her posture steady, breathing deeply and taking it all in.

Once the last stretch was filmed, the guy stopped the camera and gave her a thumbs-up. "Thanks for the content feature, you were great."

YN smiled, adjusting her water bottle. "No worries, glad I could help."

“Do you mind if I tag you in the video once I post it later? I’ll send it your way when it’s up, and I’ll tag you in the caption.”

She thought about it for a second, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

After exchanging social media handles, the guy introduced himself as a personal trainer who regularly posted fitness content. He promised to send her the link once he had everything edited and ready to go. "It’s all about sharing good vibes and helping people get better, you know?" he said with a smile before he packed up his things and headed out of the gym.

YN felt an unexpected spark of positivity, and the small interaction, though brief, reminded her that she could still engage with the world, have fun, and be her own person—even without Aaron always being there. She wasn’t sure if that was the motivation she needed, but it was a start.

Next stop: the massage parlour, where the soothing touch of the therapist’s hands seemed to wash away the tension in her muscles, but it also helped release the weight that had been heavy on her heart. She closed her eyes, letting herself drift, imagining that each stroke of oil and pressure point was bringing her closer to the woman she was trying to reclaim—the one who didn’t wait around for things to change, but made changes for herself.

Afterwards, she treated herself to a visit to the nail salon. She didn’t need much—just a simple refresh to feel a little more polished, a little more put together. As she sat in the chair, she gazed at her hands, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the technician worked her magic. The small things were always enough to remind her that she was worthy of taking up space, of indulging in moments that made her feel good.

Finally, she treated herself to a fresh hairdo. The perm rod set was a game changer—her curls bouncy, defined, full of life. It wasn’t just the hair that felt good; it was the boost it gave her spirit. Her face felt lighter, youthful, her eyes brighter. The woman looking back at her from the mirror was a glimpse of the happier, more vibrant version of herself she’d been striving to be. A version who didn’t sit around waiting for Aaron to come home to feel complete.

As she stepped out of the salon, hair freshly done, nails polished, skin glowing, and a sense of calm in her chest, she couldn’t help but smile at the reflection in the glass door of the salon. She wasn’t the same person who had stood in that bedroom, empty and waiting. She was becoming someone new—someone who could hold her own, who didn’t need to feel like she was waiting for Aaron to come home to feel complete.

No, she wasn’t done yet. But this was a start. And for now, it was enough.

************************************************************************

YN arrived back home, the weight of the world lifting from her shoulders with each step. She took a moment to breathe deeply as she walked into her bedroom. Her sanctuary. It was time to settle into her evening.

She wrapped her freshly styled curls in a silk scarf, knowing that she’d need a long, relaxing shower to finish what had already been a restorative day. She laid out her favourite robe, soft and warm, alongside matching lingerie she’d been saving for a moment just like this. A little treat for herself.

Her lotions, body oils, and scented candles were carefully placed on the vanity, ready to immerse her in an atmosphere that screamed tranquillity. With a click, the lights dimmed, casting a gentle glow across the room, and the candles flickered invitingly in the silence. The mood was perfect, set just the way she liked it.

She filled a glass with wine, setting it on the side of the tub, just within reach. This evening was for her—nothing, and she meant nothing, could ruin it. Not tonight.

She connected her phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the bathroom, sinking into the soft hum of her favourite playlist. The water was the perfect temperature when she stepped under the spray. She let the heat cascade over her, each drop easing the tension in her body and mind. She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, inhaling the calming scents of her body wash as it enveloped her in comfort.

The shower was short but thorough, just long enough to rinse away the remnants of the day, to cleanse not only her skin but her spirit. She emerged feeling refreshed, wrapped in a plush towel, and ready to complete her routine.

After drying off, she slipped into the robe, took a deep breath, and began massaging the body oils and lotions into her skin, taking her time, not rushing. She was indulging in the sensation of self-love and care, feeling more like herself with every stroke of lotion, every touch of oil. She felt beautiful, confident, and... whole.

Once her skin was silky smooth and glowing, she made her way back to the vanity, where her glass of wine awaited. She picked it up and held it in her hand, the rim nearing her lips when, to her surprise, her phone buzzed on the counter.

She froze. The screen lit up—Aaron’s name flashed across it.

She sighed, feeling the tightness in her chest. It had been hours since they'd spoken. They had barely exchanged a word that day, and the mood in his text messages had been distant, curt even. She pressed the answer button, raising the glass to her lips, but she hadn’t even taken a sip before he spoke, his tone off from the very beginning.

************************************************************************

Aaron had been running around all day, caught up in the madness of his press tour. His mind was racing as he made his way through interviews, photoshoots, and calls, but somewhere deep inside, a gnawing feeling was growing. He hadn’t been present for YN in a while—something he knew, but had convinced himself wasn’t a big deal. It was just the nature of his life now, right? But even as he justified it, that sinking feeling remained.

He was sitting in his hotel room when he finally got a break. He pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his feed. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. He hadn’t planned to watch the video at first. But then something caught his eye—the familiar figure in the background. He froze.

His heart skipped a beat when he recognized YN, her hair perfectly styled, the kind of glowing confidence she only had when she took the time for herself. And then he saw it—her lingerie, unmistakable, just as he’d bought for her on their last trip. It was the same set he’d complimented her on, the one he knew she liked, but there it was, on her, in someone else’s video. The man filming—he had his own following. The whole thing felt off, too casual, too intimate.

The more he looked, the more the little pieces began to add up in his head, and the more his anxiety took over. Why had she let herself be filmed like that? Who was this guy? His mind raced, thoughts spiralling into territory he’d never intended to go. He couldn’t help it—he was irate. Jealousy had a hold of him. Before he knew it, he had stepped outside his room, his hands clenched at his sides, breathing in the cool air like it could somehow clear his head.

He could have ignored it. Could have brushed it off. But instead, his fingers trembled as he dialled her number. The tension in his chest only grew, his heart pounding as he waited for her to pick up. Why was he feeling like this? He knew he wasn’t around enough, knew he was neglecting her in more ways than one. But still… this?

The phone rang, and when she picked up, her voice sounded calm, collected, almost too calm. Her indifference made it worse. She hadn’t even said hi yet.

“YN.”

************************************************************************

The way he said her name made something in her stomach churn. His voice held an edge. She took a slow breath, steadying herself. “Hey,” she replied, trying to sound casual, though the unease gnawed at her.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, his words sharp and demanding.

************************************************************************

His voice was rough, low. He couldn’t hold back. His mind was a mess, thoughts disjointed and irrational, and he just had to ask the question, to get some sort of clarity, even if it meant sounding crazy.

Silence. He waited for her to speak, but it didn’t come. He could hear her breathing softly on the other end of the line, and it only made him more frustrated.

“Who is he?” The words tumbled out without thinking. He didn’t even care if they were right or wrong at that point. His thoughts were running too fast. The guy on the video, the way YN looked, the way her hair was done just for someone else—it all made sense to him, and he needed answers now.

He could feel the silence thickening on her end, the weight of his question hanging between them. And then—finally—he heard her voice again, casual, as if she couldn’t believe he was even asking. His stomach twisted at the indifference in her tone.

************************************************************************

The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She almost dropped the wine glass in her shock. She hadn’t even realized that Aaron had seen the video yet. It had been a simple interaction at the gym, nothing that even remotely warranted his reaction. But there it was—his jealousy building, a storm brewing behind his words.

Her stomach twisted as she tried to calm herself. This was what they were doing? She could feel the fire rising in his voice, but she wasn’t about to entertain the absurdity of it.

"Aaron..." she started, her voice measured, though it was a struggle to keep it even. She took a deep breath. "What are you even talking about?"

He was fuming now, she could tell from the way he inhaled sharply, like he was trying to control something boiling over inside him. He didn’t answer her question directly. Instead, he let out a frustrated breath, clearly struggling with something he couldn’t put into words.

YN clenched the wine glass a little tighter, her jaw tightening. This wasn’t about the video. Not really. It was about the space between them, the distance he’d created. The fact that he hadn’t been there—not the way he should have been.

************************************************************************

He paused, feeling his pulse quicken as his mind spiralled. What did this mean? His thoughts raced—was she out here doing things I didn’t know about? He hated himself for even thinking it. He knew better. He knew she wasn’t like that. But still, his mind couldn’t stop itself. It was the first thing on his mind. The first thing he fixated on, despite how irrational it sounded. I should’ve been there for her.

He could feel the weight of his own neglect, the guilt heavy on his chest. He’d been pulled in so many directions—his career, the press, the endless tour—and he told himself it was for the greater good, that it was all part of the plan to build a life for them. A stable future together. That was his justification. If some time away meant he could offer her the life they’d always dreamed of, then it was a sacrifice he’d have to make. For her.

But now? Now everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

His eyes burned as his anger shifted from a place of resentment to one of self-loathing. It wasn’t even about the guy. Not really. It was everything else—the distance between them, the silence he’d allowed to stretch on, the way he couldn’t seem to bridge the gap. It was the hollow realization that he hadn’t been enough for her, not the way she needed him. And now, all of it—the effort, the time away, the fame he’d worked so hard for—seemed empty.

I hate this, he thought, the frustration building. He hated that he had to let himself be swallowed by it all—he hated that he let it go this far. But the video... the sight of her, looking so perfect, so together, like she didn’t need him to complete the picture anymore... It hit him harder than anything else. The image of her, dolled up, glowing with that confidence that he used to be the one to see in person, to witness up close. He used to be the one who was there to hold her when she came back from self-care days like that, to marvel at how lucky he was to have her. Now, that privilege was fading.

He could already feel the guilt eating at him for even letting the jealousy creep in. To tarnish her name like that, he scolded himself. What kind of man was he becoming? This wasn’t her fault. She had every right to look beautiful, to feel beautiful, to be admired by others. She wasn’t the problem. I am. He could have been the one there for her, could have prioritized her above the endless demands of the industry. He should have been there. But he wasn’t.

She was silent on the other end of the line, and he knew the ball was in her court now. She’s disappointed, he thought. And that was worse than anything else. I’ve let her down. And now I’m going to lose her for good. He hadn’t meant for it to go like this—hadn’t meant to let the space between them stretch to the point where she could look so flawless without him even being there to see it firsthand.

His stomach turned as he waited for her to respond. He wanted her to say something, anything that could make him feel like this wasn’t all falling apart. But as the silence stretched, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it already had. He wanted so badly to be the man she deserved, the one who noticed her beauty every day, who put her first, who wasn’t too lost in his own world to care about hers.

But now, as her voice finally broke the quiet, he was almost afraid of what she might say. He already knew what he deserved to hear. And he wasn’t sure he could take it.

************************************************************************

Aaron’s words hung in the air, thick with irrationality and self-doubt, but YN didn’t flinch. She didn’t rise to it. The tension between them had been brewing for days, weeks even, and this phone call was just a catalyst. She’d had enough of the back-and-forth, the unspoken frustration.

“Aaron,” she said, her tone steady, her voice clear. “This is the first time I have seen your face and spoken to you today, and this is the energy you want to come on with? Really?”

She could feel the anger building within him, could almost hear the defense rising in his throat, but she wasn’t interested in that right now. She was tired—tired of the distance, the silence, the passive aggression. She wasn’t going to sit here and play into his insecurities.

“If you want to talk…” she continued, her words firm but measured, “be a man. Come back to this home and speak to me properly.”

Without waiting for a response, YN ended the call, her finger tapping the screen decisively. The silence returned, and with it, the soft hum of the music in the background. She raised her glass of wine to her lips, the cool glass meeting her fingertips as she took a slow, deliberate sip. The weight of the moment settled over her as she simply… relaxed. She wasn’t going to chase him down. It was above her now.

She would wait.

Let him come to her when he was ready to talk like the man, she knew he could be.

************************************************************************

Aaron’s gaze lingered on the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. YN’s calm but resolute demeanour stirred a conflicting mix of emotions within him. It was a sharp contrast to the chaos swirling in his mind, a reminder of the peace they once shared. Her voice had been steady, unwavering, and despite the tension, it was a reminder of the respect they’d always had for each other. In the heat of it all, he felt a flicker of warmth—because he knew, despite everything, they had never raised their voices at each other. But then came the sting of her final words: “Be a man.”

It struck him hard, a reminder he desperately needed. She was right. He hadn’t been the man she needed. He had failed her, lost in the whirlwind of his own success, and now the reality of it all crashed over him. The guilt was suffocating. He had to fix this. He had to make things right before he lost the one thing that truly mattered.

As the call ended, the sound of the line cutting through the air seemed to snap him from his thoughts. Without wasting another moment, he stood, packed his things in a blur of urgency, and made the decision: the flight had to be soon. He didn’t bother notifying his team. The consequences could wait. Some things were too important to delay.

He rushed to the airport, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. A tight knot formed in his chest as he boarded the flight. The seatbelt sign blinked on, and the flight attendants' voices were lost in a distant hum, drowned out by the turbulent thoughts racing through his mind. Each jolt of turbulence mirrored the storm within him, challenging the calm that the flight attendant’s voice tried to impose.

When the plane finally landed, he didn’t waste time. A cab took him swiftly towards the woman he needed to reclaim—YN, the woman who still felt like home. And with every mile closer, his resolve strengthened. He would make things right. This time, he wouldn’t wait any longer.

************************************************************************

YN lay back on the bed, the wine in her hand and the soft hum of the music surrounding her. The evening had settled into a calm, peaceful rhythm, and for the first time in a long while, her mind was quiet. She didn't think about the call, didn't dwell on the tension that had bubbled up between them. What would be, would be. The words lingered in her mind, their weight like a steady pulse beneath her calm exterior. She hadn’t given up on him, but she also wasn't going to hold on any longer than what served her. The push and pull had worn her down, and the wheels of their relationship felt close to falling off—but still, her mind remained clear. Acceptance, she thought, was a beautiful thing. There was no need for stress. Whatever came next would find its place.

The quiet of the moment was interrupted by the sound of the door latch clicking. YN’s eyes shot open, a flicker of panic spreading through her chest as she checked the time. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed, how long it had taken for him to get here. She heard her name, his voice breaking through the silence, and the heat rushed to her cheeks. Suddenly, her voice felt trapped, as if the words were lodged in her throat.

He’s here. He’s really here.

Her thoughts raced, but she didn't speak any louder. She simply let out a soft, meek “In here,” trusting he would follow the sound of her voice into the bedroom. For a moment, the house seemed to hold its breath. The space between them stretched, filled with the anticipation of what would come next. There was a rustling sound from the other side of the house—his movement through the quiet halls—before heavy footsteps echoed through the walls. All she could do now was sit still, her heart beating faster with every step that brought him closer. And wait.

************************************************************************

Aaron leans back against the doorframe, the familiar weight of his frustration creeping up his spine as he watches you from across the room. His gaze is possessive, yet patient, as if he's been holding his breath, waiting for you to make the first move. He knows this dance all too well.

There are good and bad ways to do anything. And right now, he's walking the line between them. He’s the kind of man who wants it all, but he also knows better than to take it without giving you space to breathe. You're free, and he knows you need to feel that. But God, the thought of you with someone else—just the idea—sends a sharp sting through him. He refuses to acknowledge the tightening in his chest as he tells himself he’s being unreasonable.

But what if you're drifting? What if, somewhere between his neglect and your silence, you’ve already started to look elsewhere for that attention, that touch?

He clenches his jaw, the thought rattling around in his head like a damn bell. His love for you isn't a request, it's a demand. He’ll give you space, but only so much. He’ll let you go, if that’s what you want, but he’s the type of man who doesn’t back down when he knows what’s right. And you are what's right for him. If you need to test the waters, fine, but there's a line—one he’s drawing now.

“I give myself to you,” he whispers to himself, his voice low and firm. “I expect the same in return. This isn’t a one-way street.”

He feels the heat rise in his chest as the image of you and that guy at the gym flashes in his mind again. His fingers twitch as he thinks of how quickly he could erase that image from his mind. He’s not a jealous man by nature, but when it comes to you, that’s different. You're his. And if you’re going to be with him, then you belong to him—body and soul.

He’s not naïve. He knows you have your own life, your own choices. But his love, his protection—those aren’t things he offers lightly. “If we get this right,” he murmurs to himself, “if we love one another with everything that we have… then we go for it. All in. No turning back.”

He swallows hard, the thought of loving you completely, without reservation, both excites and terrifies him. But he’s done holding back. The next time he sees you, he’s not letting you slip away. Not again.

And then, as he moves toward the door, the words he’d held back all this time—those words he should have said, needed to say—come to him.

“YN…” He stops for a moment, his voice wavering with raw sincerity. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you. I’ve been selfish, caught up in everything else, thinking it would be enough for us, but I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there the way you needed me to be. I should have put us first.”

He steps forward, his chest tightening with the weight of his regret. “I’m not proud of the way I’ve treated you, of the way I let you slip away while I chased things that, in the end, don’t matter as much as you do. I never meant to hurt you, YN. I never meant to make you feel like you were alone in this. You’ve always been my everything, and I failed you. I’ve taken you for granted, and I hate myself for it.”

The words hang in the air, raw and unrefined, but they are his truth. His voice breaks as he continues, “I need you to know that I love you, with everything I have. And I’m not running anymore. If you’ll have me, I’ll fight for us—for the love we have, for the life we’ve always wanted. I’ll make it right. But I need you. I need us. Please, don’t give up on me.”

As he finishes, he stands there, feeling vulnerable, exposed—like a man who’s finally showing up, but unsure of whether he’ll be enough. The silence is deafening, but he doesn’t look away. He’s finally ready to fight for what’s his, for what he needs. For you.

************************************************************************

YN’s heart pounds in her chest as each of Aaron’s words slices through the quiet air, each step he takes forward tugging at the frays of the binds around her, forcing them to mend themselves. She feels the familiar magnetic pull, stronger now, deepening as he speaks. It’s as if the very core of her is being reeled back toward him, drawn in by the sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability that he rarely let’s slip. The same heat she felt when she first heard him call her name in the house now swells again, but this time, it’s joined by the sting of tears threatening to spill.

The man before her, the one she thought she’d lost, is the same man she has always needed and wanted. She can feel the weight of every moment that has brought them here, the unspoken words, the silence. She could never say no to him, not when he’s standing here, laying himself bare before her. But still, there’s a hesitation in her heart. She knows that as much as she wants to give in to the pull of his presence, things won’t be okay straight away. Not yet. The damage isn’t irreparable, but it’s still there, lingering between them like a shadow.

Her heart swells with love for him, with forgiveness that’s as much for herself as it is for him. The release of the pain she’s been carrying is almost overwhelming, and she feels a quiet gratitude wash over her, as though a burden has been lifted. There’s so much unsaid, but somehow, in the space between them, everything is understood. She wants him—wants to move forward, wants to heal—but she needs to make him see that it will take time. There’s so much they have to rebuild.

Her words fail her as the weight of her emotions rises. She opens her mouth to speak but finds it hard to put her thoughts into any kind of order. Her eyes, though, say the rest. They speak everything she can’t quite find the words for: I forgive you; I need you, I’m scared but I want this too. The tears in her eyes blur her vision, but in that moment, they become the truest thing she’s ever known.

And then, without thinking, without another moment of hesitation, she runs into his embrace. Her body moves instinctively, driven by the need to be close to him, to feel his arms around her. The smell of his skin, familiar and comforting, envelops her like a shield. She sinks into him, her body cradled by his larger frame, his hands locking around her in an unbreakable, protective clasp. It’s a promise, even without words—a promise that she’s not alone, that they are in this together.

His lips press softly to her forehead, the kiss tender and full of quiet assurances. It’s a kiss that carries with it everything that’s been unsaid, everything they both need. Things aren’t fixed, not yet, but the warmth of his embrace, the steadiness of his touch, tells her that they will be better. It may take time, but they’ll heal. Together.

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comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre x black!reader #ruewrites #mochaxmars writes #aaron pierre angst

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luneariaa · 11 months ago

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ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ 'BEST FRIEND.' ✧ KENJI S.

✰ — you and kenji being besties ( depends on how u guys see it ), reader is female based, pet names.

✰ — my first time trying to write for him bc omg the brainrot over this guy is too real,, 😭💜 also kinda bad i deeply apologize aa;;

— ✩ m. list.

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! ⚾

BEING best friends with KENJI SATO for years ever since your high school days, the two of you surely have your own differences in a way, especially in terms of personality. You didn't even know on how you managed to be friends with him still, but you're always grateful for it, nonetheless.

For all the years, you remained by his side; even supporting him in anything he decided to do, and as the star player for the Los Angeles Dodgers in the Major League Baseball team. He won quite innumerable number of awards, thanks to his amazing performance on field, and has gained lots of fans all around the world, notably for some of the ladies who swooned over his mere appearance.

You're well-aware of his current popularity and position, but still— you tried your best to be supportive all the time, even when sometimes your thoughts are trying to drag you back negatively about yourself.

As sweet as you can be, you can still be quite of a reclused person than he is; as he ever told you before.

Kenji is always known to be quite the opposite from you— all confident and sociable to others in the public eye, often recognized to be quite the charmer as well. His overall presence has a major undeniable effect to most others without fail.

Yet, despite of all the fame he has, there surely are certain times where he actually felt lonely, even when surrounded by millions of people who actually adored him.

But knowing about your mere existence staying by his side despite everything; it makes him feel cherished and appreciated. Kenji is glad to have you, no matter on what he's doing and wherever he is at that moment.

WITH the random novel in your hands, you have decided to read for a bit while waiting for him to finish up at your usual secluded spot— not too far from where he currently is, and pretty much a spot where only the two of you knew.

A few minutes have passed by, he finally arrives at the said area and seemingly searching for any signs of you, to which you didn't even notice since you're too engrossed with the book at the moment. Being hounded by countless of paparazzi and fans surely can be so overwhelming— he's just glad to be able to make it out from there.

In spite of his somewhat exhausted appearance, a small smile manages to make its' way to his lips once his eyes landed upon your seated figure nearby.

"Finally," he reaches towards closer as to where you are, immediately getting your attention up from the book you've been reading. "I found you."

"Hey too, star boy."

You eventually closed the book and put it aside, allowing him to sit on the vacant spot properly next to you with a grin on your face. "Yeah, you found me."

Kenji may not admit it every so often, but he honestly could never get enough with the way you called him— chuckling while doing some little stretches here and there before sitting next to you.

"Oh man, it's so tiring to deal with those interviewers and people around almost all the time, y'know." He mutters with a weary-sounding sigh, resting the back of his head against the wall behind him.

"I mean, obviously it makes me happy to know that there's quite a lot of people who supported me and stuff, but they can be a real pain in the ass to deal with." He shakes his head slightly over his own words that held the mere truth, which made you feel genuinely bad for him.

"I get you," you responded, leaning your head against the wall as well. "It sounds super exhausting to handle."

"It sure is."

"I guess that's just the way it is, if anything." He then rests his chin on the palm of his hand, which situated just right atop of his left knee while he stares off at the distance.

The feeling of people swooning and admiring him sure sounds so nice, but it doesn't really get rid of the feeling of loneliness that he has to experience at times.

"They just adored the persona I've shown to the world, not the real me."

You somehow get what he's implying, even when he seemed as if he wanted to sound at least a bit jokey, to which didn't really work on you. You could see right through him.

"Well, if it helps.." Unsure on what to say, but this needed to be done because clearly, he looks like he needs one.

"You have me." You genuinely reassured him, "I just hope that you won't ever forget that."

Your words alone have an instant effect on him— managing to draw out an appreciative smile upon his features instead of his usual cocky look that he presented to others.

"Of course I won't. I'll hold onto your words."

He could tell the truthfulness behind every word you've said to him; suddenly shifting his gaze around to face you, before pulling you into a warm hug— keeping his arms wrapped around your torso and burying his face into the crook of your neck unexpectedly, much to your own surprise.

It's one of the usual gestures that you would do with each other, so you don't know as to why this time, it feels a little different somehow, but you didn't push him away at all.

Instead, you returned the embrace while stroking the back of his hair tenderly, accompanied with a quiet hum. Your actions alone have prompted him to smile against your neck further— finding it all soothing and relaxing, nuzzling into your warmth.

"You give the best hugs, I swear." Kenji audibly murmurs, which made the specific area on your neck to feel more ticklish than usual.

"Oh really?" A giggle escaped from you due to the ticklish sensation, which causes him to merely smirk in pure delight. "I feel honored."

Kenji begin to point out, lifting his head slightly and not entirely just yet. "I almost forgot that you're quite ticklish here."

"Shut up, you tease." You huffed with a playful eyeroll, shoving him off backwards from you a bit. "You know damn well I do."

It's easier to act all carefree when no one else is around you both to interrupt any moment you're having.

He simply laughs it off, still remaining on his seated spot despite your attempts of pushing him away from you. "Your reactions are priceless."

The baseball star player swiftly returns into doing on what he previously did— embracing you even more, holding you so delicately within his strong arms alone.

Kenji doesn't even know on what's driving him to do any of this for much longer than intended. His thoughts are going a bit haywire, yet it made him feel comfortable in a way as well. Confused, but unbothered to figure it out himself for now.

You didn't really mind though. It felt too nice, in all honesty; simply reciprocating his actions without any signs of hesitation.

"You did amazing, by the way."

When the moment those words left from your lips, it managed to pull him out of his own reverie; pulling away slightly just so he can face you with an evident grin upon his sharp features.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

"I was thinking of doing a mini celebration tonight."

"Oh?" You returned the expression that he's currently giving you. "Am I invited, then?"

He nodded almost instantly with a warm chuckle out of him, ruffling your hair despite your possible incoming protests.

"Of course you're invited, silly girl. Always will."

"You'd make everything more fun, and you're the only one who knows how to keep this bad boy in check, after all."

You merely and purposedly snorted out loud upon his words— rolling your eyes comically before pinching his cheeks all of a sudden, which caught him off guard.

"Not so bad when I do it to you like this."

"Okay— hey hey, stop that-!" He begins to sputter out complaints due to your actions, pouting as you didn't even try to stop from doing so. His hands are not helping anything either, which makes the situation more funnier than intended.

Despite everything he did, Kenji almost looked like a whiny puppy within your perspective.

It doesn't take long before the both of you ended up, quite literally, falling off from your seats though.

"Ouch.."

"It's your fault, geez.."

"Well, I love you too."

#aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖#kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x y/n #kenji sato x you #ken sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #ultraman #ultraman rising #sato kenji #ken sato fluff #kenji sato fluff

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inbarfink · 2 years ago

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I have… so many little thoughts about Simon’s shift in the climax of ‘Prismo the Wishmaster’. He’s so ready to give up, to resign to Death By Interdimensional Beetle Cop. And the thing that pulls him out of it, gets him to see a purpose in his life again, is seeing Fionna cry.

And this moment is so important for Fionna and Cake because this is their first moment to really process the Implications and Consequences of their magical adventure. You know, it’s not just a dream you can wake up from - this is actually a matter of life and death and the fate of their entire world.

And it’s actually, also kinda the same from Simon’s perspective? Even if he was already told they are real and have been real all along a while ago - I think seeing Fionna break out in tears is really the moment where he processed her not as a manifestation of Ice King’s madness, not as yet another way the universe is kicking him when he’s down, not as a cruel joke at his expense. But really actually as people, who need his help.

And, I think about this, also in context with this moment?

Simon Petrikov is… a dad at heart. Simon’s first focus episode in F&C starts with a prologue of him and Marceline surviving in the wasteland. Showing that despite being under much more miserable circumstances

he still seemed to hold himself together far better than present-day Simon.

Because the need to protect Marcy and keep her happy was giving him purpose and a motivation to hold himself together.

And this desire to help and nurture and protect is clearly still deep within him. It’s just that now he feels incapable for doing so. In both body-

And spirit -

But now, suddenly, he is once again the Only Person Who Can Help this younger person in distress.

And I think that is a huge part of his motivation to keep on going right now. I mean, just look at how quickly he goes from dismissing Fionna and Cake - into basically declaring that he has to protect them. And fully willing to sacrifice his own identity and sanity to bring magic back to their world because he knows it’ll make Fionna and Cake happy. Because the moment he saw Fionna tear up, he basically decided to Adopt her.

And that’s, you know, technically a step forward - but it is a very very imperfect step.

Like, at the very least he’s not drinking his sorrows away while waiting for death out of pure despair and spite. At least he has a sense of purpose and a reason to open up for others again and bond. And we’ve seen how much this has been a great coping mechanism for pulling himself together through difficult times.

My guess is that after two episodes of only seeing Simon Petrikov at his lowest and very worst - Fionna and Cake are finally going to get an understanding of Simon’s actual positive qualities as his dad-instincts are going to bring them up to the surface again.

Buuuuuuuut….

You know, tying your sense of self-worth and motivation entirely to how well you can Dad is not particularly healthy in the long run either. And it’s going to cause problems both for Simon and for F&C.

Looking at it from what's best of Simon, for the sake of protecting Fionna and Cake and making them happy by bringing magic and wonder back into their world - Simon is willing to throw himself right into the suffering and trauma that he’s been fearing all this time and has been trying so hard to get away from. I mean, it’s also about how Simon has started to miss being Ice King in a weird twisted way and how he resigned himself to being miserable in general. It’s also about that, but the part that he actually says out loud is that he’s doing this to protect Fionna and Cake.

So that’s, you know, still very Not Good. Simon can’t hang his entire ability to properly function on there being Younger People who need his protection. He can't actually move forwards by trying to relive the Better Times of the Horrible Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland. That's not a sustainable coping mechanism. And it’s an incredibly unhealthy amount of self-sacrifice.

And on Fionna’s side… she never said she wanted Simon to protect her.

She might want a useful teammate or a helping hand, she might need a friend. But I don’t think she needs a Dad. Simon is surely old enough to be her father (even just counting his age biologically and not the fact he’s 1058 years old) but Fionna’s not a Literal Child like Marcy was. Fionna Campbell is a grown-ass woman in her early 30’s (Finn is 29 years old right now and there was always kinda the implication that Fionna was a bit older than him).

(And, heck, if she IS the daughter of a gender-flipped Minerva Campbell, she is probably not in the market for a new overprotective dad. She’s fully booked out on that.)

AND while Fionna does not possess full memories of her magical-adventuring-self, she clearly retains some of her fighting and athletic abilities.

Meanwhile Cake is clearly an adult in cat years and is just as much of an insanely powerful shapeshifter as Jake was.

So where does this middle-aged scrawny nerd get off, acting like it’s his job to sacrifice his mind in order to protect them?

And Fionna very much wants to be the hero, she wants to be at the center of the action. It is no coincidence that her own idealized version of Ice King/Simon is a Tuxedo Mask.

Someone who can give her a helping hand and words of encouragement when things get rough -

But still lets her be the main hero of the story.

And you know, right now Fionna and Cake have not fully processed the implications of Simon choosing to become Ice King… but once they see a bit of who Simon really is at his better moments. Yeah, they’re probably gonna have some objections to the idea that he should throw his entire identity away just for their own sake.

Back when Simon allowed the Crown to slowly consume him so he could protect Marcy, it felt like a noble sacrifice. It really seemed like he had no other options. But now he has the entire multiverse on his disposal and two serious badasses on his side. Simon has to learn to see the difference between a codependent senseless self-sacrifice and something that will actually help Fionna and Cake.

So if Simon is really going to lean too hard on his Dad aspect, it’s actually going to cause some really big problems down the line. For his own mental well-being, and for Fionna and Cake. It is in a way, a step in the right direction. And I think it’s going to lead to our main trio finally becoming closer and understanding each other - but unless Simon learns to temper himself, it’s going to cause some serious interpersonal conflicts.

At least this is my thoughts about these interactions right now. I know they’ve been really short but I think they’re really full of Meaning and Emotions. But really, we’ll just have to wait and see.

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foodiegoogie · 9 months ago

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what friends are for

sirius black x fem!reader ✮ 4k summary: you’re an overthinker at its finest; sirius is an overdoer when it comes to saving you from you and your thoughts. cw/tags: no use of y/n, highschool!au, biker!sirius (mentioned), too long for its own good,, nothing too heavy <3 also the teachers r still called professors here bcoz yes !

note: DAMN FINALLY ive finished this 😭 tho its still a little too long for my taste .. i am kinda proud of this :> this was a recycled thoma request, but since i kind of serve to the marauders audience now,, i decided to give it to sirius 🥰 happy reading! 🫶🏼

Having an overly active brain was both a blessing, and a curse. You loved your creativity and intelligence, and they definitely showed in your report cards. What you didn't like was how often you thought about simple, small matters, and then thought about it some more, and then some more after that. You were an overthinker at its finest. Everyone who knew you well enough would agree that you were a non-stop thinking machine, and they all hoped you would cut yourself some slack and give yourself a break.

“That’s easier said than done,” you’d say to them. Oh, what you wouldn't give to stop being a self-sufficient, but also self-pitying brainiac!

But, as they all say, old habits die hard. That is why here you are, in class, watching your teacher collect your test papers and slowly getting into the routine of asking yourself the questions—the what-ifs, did-Is, and the like.

You were bouncing your leg up and down restlessly while chewing on your bottom lip, looking very deep in thought, when you felt something hit your head lightly. A crumpled ball of paper landed in your point of view, breaking you out of the trance from overthinking. Picking it up, you opened it and smoothed it out to see what was written inside.

You look like you just murdered someone and are now burdened by your guilty conscience.

Despite your sour mood, you managed to let out a snort and a soft smile after reading the line. You could recognize the flawlessly cursive handwriting anywhere; it belonged to your good friend, Sirius Black. And knowing him, you knew better than to come up with a snarky reply and retaliate. Getting caught chit chatting with someone like him during class hours could land you in detention, especially now that the teacher inside your classroom was the one and only Physics Terror, Professor McGonagall.

So, you crumple the piece of paper back into its ball shape, and stuff it into your backpack. A few seconds later, you feel something hit your head again. The culprit? Yet another crumpled ball of paper, now sitting on your desk. Letting curiosity get the best of you, you open it up and read what's written.

Ok, rude? Guess you can forget about getting my help cuz I know a good place to bury a body :)

Softly chuckling to yourself, you shook your head and wondered why you were even friends with someone as bizarre as Sirius while you put the crumpled paper in your bag. For a while, you didn’t feel anything light hit your head like you expected. But just as you were about to spiral into another endless stream of self-doubt, you were hit again with a crumpled ball of paper.

Slowly, you turned around in your seat to glare at Sirius. You meet his eyes doing the same thing, and then gesturing impatiently at you to open the piece of paper he just threw at you. You stuck your tongue out at him out of spite before finally opening the piece of paper.

Y R U NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY?!

The sentence was written in bold black letters, underlined a bunch of times, and the punctuation marks at the end were twice the size of the letters. Having read the ridiculous note, you let out what might have been the loudest cackle you have ever let out in your highschool life.

You hear your name called out loudly by Professor McGonagall, in a stern tone that could only mean one thing for you. It felt absolutely mortifying to have your classmates' eyes on you, seeing their pity and amusement appear on their faces.

"You'll be seeing Mr. Filch for detention after class," She said, zeroing in on you with her piercing glare. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead in your seat by now, and Sirius could use his knowledge of good places to bury dead bodies so he could bury yours. "I hope you'll learn your lesson in your time with him."

"I will, Professor," You replied, the embarrassment reflecting in your voice. Great—not only were you unsure about your grade for this class, but now you had one more thing to be worried about, as well as overthink about.

Unable to take on your classmates’ pitying looks on you, you crossed your arms on your desk and laid your head down against them, hiding your face from the prying eyes of your classmates. You could not handle any more humiliations. But you also thought that nothing could possibly be worse than the situation you put yourself in.

Then, you were proven wrong.

All of a sudden, you heard your classmates murmuring around you. Lifting your head up to see what was going on, you saw a paper plane glide smoothly through the air before it landed perfectly on the stack of test papers Professor McGonagall was currently grading.

To some of your classmates, what happened afterward took less than a minute. But to the rest, including yourself, it seemed like eternity with how carefully Professor McGonagall dropped her pen, and took off her glasses. She picked up the paper plane and opened it up, narrowing her eyes at whatever was written inside. Unfortunately, none of you ever knew what was written inside. But you all knew that it wasn't any good, judging by the twitch in her eye and the frown on her face.

"Who does this belong to?" She asked, her displeasure clearly heard in her voice and seen in the glare she gives everyone in the room. A beat passes, and suddenly everyone is pointing fingers to someone sitting at the back of the classroom.

Though you had a hunch on who it was they were pointing at, you hoped that you were wrong; that it turned out to be some other classmate of yours who had rotten luck just like you. Then, you were proven wrong… again.

You turned around in your seat just in time to meet the mischievous eyes of your raven-haired friend. He even took the time to throw you a playful wink before clearing his throat dramatically.

"Good morning, Professor,” Sirius began, his hand closed in a fist like it was holding something near his mouth. “This is your captain speaking. It seems like my aeroplane experienced turbulence and crashed in your area. Terribly sorry, rookie mistake! Rest assured that I'll comply with whatever punishment you subject me to for the matter."

"In that case, good, because you'll be serving detention alongside your classmate here," Professor McGonagall nods in your direction. "I hope you'll both learn something about rudely disrupting the peace and quiet during class hours with unnecessary distractions." She smiled, although anyone could tell it wasn't to be kind. Then, she returned to her previously interrupted task of grading test papers.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. Of course, he'd get himself into trouble, you thought. You turned to look at him, catching his attention, and mouthed the words, "What'd you do that for?"

Sirius shrugged in reply, a cheeky smile on his face before mouthing the word, "You."

—

Genuinely, you have always wondered how you managed to land yourself a place in Sirius’ life as one of his closest friends. It was one of the things you’ve thought about over and over, but have never really gotten to the bottom of. Nevertheless, you will always be grateful for having a friend like him, even if he does give you a headache sometimes.

It turns out that serving detention wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, having been assigned under Mr. Filch’s orders of tending to the flora and fauna stored in the school greenhouses. In fact, you were actually kind of enjoying it, and Sirius being with you totally wasn’t a part of the reason why.

“You know, this actually isn’t so bad,” He remarked, spraying the lavenders with some water, a faint smile on his face. “I thought we’d be somewhere organizing Sprout’s herb collection or something.”

You laugh at his statement, “Not gonna lie, I expected something boring, too. But this is pretty nice.” You beamed at him, looking away from where you’d been adjusting potted plants accordingly where the sunlight was hitting.

“Who knew we’d be so good at gardening?”

“I know, right?”

Sirius chuckled in reply, and you joined in with him, taking the time to look at him before returning to your task. He looked especially handsome whenever he laughed; eyes crinkled by the edges with amusement, his pearly whites on perfect display as he smiled. It also certainly didn’t help that on top of the black leather jacket he wore, he was wearing an apron, and a bandana tied around his hair which pushed it back to act as a headband, revealing his forehead which glistened with a thin layer of sweat.

Sirius Black looked ridiculously handsome, and you didn’t need to think twice about that, because it was a well-known fact.

At that moment, you were so caught up in staring at him that Sirius caught you in action. It was already too late to look away and feign indifference for you as a smirk had started to make its way onto his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” He practically purred, his voice taking on a deeper, more flirtatious tone than usual. Your brain loses its ability to function momentarily before you quickly wracked your mind for a snarky retort.

“How original,” You quipped, trying to hide your momentary lapse in brain function at his unexpected tone. Sirius lets you get away with it, hiding a subtle smile of amusement to himself.

Turning back to a pot of chrysanthemums you’d neglected briefly, you decide to change the topic. “So I was just wondering,” You began, a curious lilt to your voice. “What’d you write on that paper plane you flew to Professor McGonagall?” You queried as you turned to face him again, placing your hand on your hip.

“Oh, psh, that old thing?” Sirius waved it off dismissively as he wrapped up with his task of watering the flowers. “Just a little piece of an opinion I’ve been meaning to tell her.”

“And just what was it you were meaning to tell her?”

Before he answered your question, he took the time to take his bandana off, wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. Then, he fixed his hair - running a hand through it and ruffling it up slightly. Inwardly, you had to admit, you almost forgot what you were talking about as you shamelessly watched him be… hot; and like he knew the effect it had on you—which he most likely did—he smirked at you. Again.

“I told her that dogs were better than cats,” Sirius smiled wickedly.

You gasped in horror. “No, you did not.”

“Oh, yes I did,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know how she feels about cats, Sirius!”

“Precisely the point, darling.”

To some, it would seem like something off of a controversial debate, like if pineapples belong on pizza for example. But to everyone who really knew Professor McGonagall well, saying things like that was just a recipe for disaster—with disaster meaning serving detention, of course.

“No wonder you ended up here,” You shook your head in disbelief at him.

“Buuut, like I said, it’s not so bad here,” Sirius opposed, untying his apron from the back and behind his neck. “Plus, I’ve got good company.” He winked at you before hanging the apron on one of the hooks attached to the wall of the greenhouse.

You didn’t— no, couldn’t reply to him, seeing how you were caught off guard with what he said. But it wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t good company for you, no. There was never a dull moment with him by your side. In fact, if it were someone else you were stuck with in detention, you wouldn’t have agreed with him earlier that serving it wasn’t so bad. And frankly speaking, if serving detention just meant extra time to hang out with Sirius Black, then you wouldn’t mind disrupting the peace and quiet of class hours every now and then.

Though that would certainly look bad on your report cards, so you mentally chastise yourself for even entertaining the thought. But you couldn’t deny that there was some truth behind it, at least. Or more than some.

“Let me walk you home?” Sirius asked as he regarded you with a certain gentleness in his grey eyes. You felt like melting on the spot, right then and there, as he lingered by the doorway to the greenhouse, waiting for your answer.

But you managed to pull yourself together, and smiled at him. “Sure.”

—

On some days, you would have just taken the school bus home, and Sirius would have just gone on his motorbike. Though in the past, he’d asked you countless times if he could give you a ride home, of course, because it was quicker and more cost-efficient than taking the public transport. But with the way your face blanched at his offering, and the way you kept spewing facts upon facts about how motorbike riding was dangerous (Sirius tried to reassure you that it wasn’t for very obvious reasons), he settled for walking you home instead.

While that had quickly become an almost regular occurrence for the both of you, Sirius always made sure to ask you first, despite the fact that he would have to go back for his motorbike parked at the school after. Knowing this, you tried very hard to kindly refuse him at first. But over time, you found yourself saying yes without a second thought.

At the same time, you refrain yourself from giving it much thought. It was simply a kind gesture from a really good friend of yours, and that was that.

A devilishly handsome, fiercely loyal, and incredibly caring… friend of yours.

Walking home with Sirius never fails to make you feel better after a long day at school. The both of you are instantly engaged in meaningful conversation, debriefing the events that occurred during the day. You like to think it’s a mandatory routine by how often you do it, how often it happens, and how natural it feels. It’s definitely one of, or maybe the best way to de-stress and relax after spending a whole day just studying and working.

If only he could keep the teasing to a minimum, though.

“I’m just saying, you know,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked beside you. “You didn’t have to laugh that hard.”

You scoff in disbelief, the sarcastic reply bubbling up in your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked it whenever I laugh at your jokes?”

“Never said I didn’t, love,” He responded, voice softening at the term of endearment used. “But you could’ve been saved from Minnie’s wrath if you hadn’t done that evil cackle of yours that you call a ‘laugh.’” Sirius chuckled slightly as he spoke, reminding you both of your embarrassment.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” You shot him a half-hearted glare, a smile threatening to come alive on your lips. “And second of all, it’s your fault that I accidentally laughed out loud during class.”

Sirius scoffed immediately, taking full offense as he turned away from you. “‘Accidentally,’ she says.”

“What? It’s true!”

“So I suspect you must have ‘accidentally’ found me funny, too?” He air-quoted.

You let out a sigh, feeling exasperated and slightly frustrated by his consistently witty replies. It seemed like Sirius never ran out of energy when it came to your banter, filled with incessant teasing (coming from Sirius himself most of the time, of course) and lighthearted jabs at each other. But even with your patience increasingly wearing thin with him, you found yourself looking forward to the banter every time. In spite of his knack for getting on your nerves more often than not, you liked sharing it with him. It was almost as if it was something only you and Sirius shared - intimate and unique to your dynamic.

“Whatever, Sirius,” You settled for a dismissive response eventually, rolling your eyes as you did so. Though you knew that he would take the piss out of you again for your lack of a snarky retort.

But to your surprise, the boy only chuckled in amusement, kicking a few pebbles and leaves out of the way as the two of you continued to walk. You didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a likely thing for people to do when they walk on sidewalks riddled with objects in the way.

(But little did you know about Sirius’ true intentions, though.)

After a moment of comfortable silence, you decided to speak up again.

“Hey, so I was wondering—”

Sirius interrupts with a snort of laughter. “When are you not?” “Please shut up and let me finish.” “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he said. Though with the ever so present smirk on his face, and the hint of mirth in his eyes, you couldn’t tell if he was truly sorry. “What were you wondering about in that pretty head of yours?” You paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase your question. Sirius gave you a brief glance, curious about what you were thinking of that had you pondering like this.

“Why’d you do it?” You finally blurted out.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that for me, love.”

Sirius earns the sweet sound of your chuckling, and he zeroes in on the slight flush that appeared on your cheeks, betraying your embarrassment.

“I’m talking about earlier, Sirius. During Physics? When you flew that paper plane to McGonagall?”

His lips formed an O shape as he came to the realization of what you were referring to. And as if the reminder was nothing but a lighthearted one, Sirius snickered to himself.

“And? What about that?”

You sigh, internally wondering how on earth he could find such a thing so amusing. Sure, perhaps Professor McGonagall had developed some sort of fondness or a soft spot for Sirius over the years he’d acted against her in his mischief. But the fact still remained that McGonagall was not to be taken lightly to, especially not during her class.

“I was just wondering why you would do such a thing. I mean.. it was certainly unprovoked, don’t you think?”

“‘Unprovoked,’ you say? Is that what you really think?”

There’s a shift in his tone this time around when he spoke, though there still remained the unmistakable, and ever so present hint of a tease in his voice. You studied his face intently as you thought of a response.

“Yeah. I mean, whatever did you do that for?”

Sirius sighed, though you couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration with you or exasperation. “Didn’t I tell you already? I did it for you, you daft woman.”

You resist the urge to scoff at his remark of you being a supposed daft woman. “I thought you were just messing with me there when you said that.”

“‘Messing with you?’ Why would I—“ He cut himself off with another sigh.

Oh, so he’s frustrated, you realized.

“You know, for someone whose mind runs a thousand miles per hour, you can be really clueless sometimes.”

You let yourself scoff by then, feeling indignant. “What are you on about now?”

Sirius almost smirked at your words, and you knew that by the twitch at the corner of his lips. You tear your eyes away from them, focusing on his eyes instead.

“Come on, you’re a smart girl. Surely, you know why I did that, and why I risked detention?”

Deep down, you had an inkling as to what he was telling you. But you refused to acknowledge it aside from the fact that it was downright ridiculous. After all, you firmly believed yourself to be out of Sirius Black’s league. Your dynamic was synonymous to one of those Paramore songs that went, “He was a punk, she did ballet. Can I make it anymore obvious?”

And as if he could read you, and sense your inner thoughts, Sirius sighed for what seemed like the nth time of that moment. Though now it had sounded almost… sad?

“Shall I spell it aloud for you, then?” He broke the silence, his voice deeper and tinged with seriousness.

“Yes.” Please. For my own sake.

He takes a deep breath first, although the both of you didn’t know for what exactly. But it felt like it was necessary for Sirius, and so—

“I did it for you, ‘cause,” He paused, seemingly trying to push the words out of his mouth. Why he was forcing them out, you didn’t know. “What friends are for, right?”

Well, admittedly, that kind of stung you inside. For a moment—a fleeting, hopeful moment—you wanted Sirius to say that he did it for you, and that was that. Just for you. For the sake of keeping you company, and letting it be up for interpretation on whether it was done under platonic intentions or… not.

“Yeah,” You nodded, mentally chastising yourself for ever expecting such a thing. “What friends are for.”

Sirius is looking at you pensively, noticing a hint of your disappointment in the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and in the way you looked away from him as you replied. He wondered why.

But, ever the one to cheer his friends up, Sirius clears his throat to catch your attention, his grey eyes glittering with mirth.

“And besides,” he added. “You would’ve gone mad if you served detention all alone. You’re kind of a danger to yourself here, love.” He ruffled your hair playfully as he said this, eliciting a smile from you.

“Hey! It doesn’t get that bad, you know,” You defend yourself, fixing your hair with your fingers. Sirius helps you out by tucking the wayward strands of hair, covering your face, behind your ear.

He snickered. “Trust me, love. I know how bad it can get.”

In truth, Sirius has always found it endearing—your knack for getting a little lost in your head more often than not. But he was also one of those people who wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you, to tell you to give yourself a damn break. So, he’ll take any chance to distract you from your thoughts. And if that meant angering McGonagall and serving detention, he didn’t mind at all.

The rest of your walk home goes easily after that, the lighthearted atmosphere returning despite the momentary shift to the slightest, almost imperceptible indication to the feelings you harbored for each other—though unacknowledged on both sides of the party in fear of losing the other.

Although, Sirius suspects that he’ll be brave enough for the both of you one day to bring these feelings into light.

In the meantime, he’ll let you get away with your acting aloof and coy about it. He’ll gladly wait until you’re ready to hear what he’s always wanted to tell you.

So, as the two of you bask in the orange hue of the afternoon sun, walking down the path to your home, you don’t realize that it’s only a few steps away until you’ve reached your destination. You were getting carried away (again) with ranting about tomorrow’s quizzes, and Sirius is trying (again) to calm your anxieties, and reassure you.

At the very same time, he realizes the increasing distance between the two of you and your home. He doesn’t make a move to tell you, and you simply don’t notice.

( ♡ )

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black fluff #foodiegoogie writes

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periludic · 1 year ago

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Ahhhh I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you until now I’ve been really sick 😭

But can I basically just request a OLN&F step two crushing scenario with both Tamarack and Qiu(separate), the gist of it is that MC has always been a physically affectionate person as a kid and kept up with that attitude even as a teen, but! is also very unaware of the fact that because they are so physically affectionate with Qiu/Tamarack people all the time think their dating 😭

" AFFECTION "

📌 Pairing: Step 2 Qiu/Tamarack x GN!MC (Separate)

📌 Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took a while :D and I hope you're feeling better <33

Qiu "Autumn" Lin

This jerk is so smug about it.

Whether they're 10 or 14, they love that you're clingy with them!

They're absolutely beaming as you hold onto their arm

And if you're being affectionate in public they'll look at the poor people surrounding the two of you, shit eating grin on their face as if they're saying "See this? They chose me and not you. Lol. Losers"

If there's a rumor going around that the two of you are dating, Qiu wouldn't deny it if someone asks them whether its true or not

"So are you two actually dating or..?" "Maybe, maybe not" "…So are you?" "Are we :]?"

Gosh they're insufferable

Makes those rumors worse by either flirting with you or subtly reciprocating your affection where people can witness the moment (the latter rarely happens)

If people start hating on you because of how affectionate you are towards Autumn, they'll start flirting with you even more just to spite them

And because they find your reactions adorable <3

Oh, and Qiu totally puffs out their chest proudly like a lion whenever someone mentions that you're more affectionate towards them than anybody else

Though they're overly smug and teasing about it, they absolutely melt inside. Especially if you're being affectionate in private

They love your little private moments so much. It makes them feel special that though you could've been with anyone else, you're there being affectionate with them instead

Qiu doesn't put in effort to be physically affectionate with anyone these days, but they're willing to do so if its for you

They got so used to your affection that anytime you're near each other and you don't start getting touchy with them after 2 seconds, they kinda get annoyed

Would always be searching for your warmth, it doesn't have to be much, just your pinkies intertwined or your shoulders brushing against each other is enough

You're their special someone

They'll never admit that out loud though! (Yet)

Tamarack Baumann

Flustered! Very very flustered

But is equally happy that you're being affectionate with them

Tamarack was a very affectionate kid, she hugged you anytime she was given the opportunity!! So even if she's more reserved as a teen, throwing her arms around you feels as natural as breathing

Would get a teeny tiny heart attack if you're really affectionate with her in public

But if you're doing it alone together, in the forest or either one of your houses, she'd be drowning in your affection

I think she's equally clingy in private if you have a good relationship with her to be honest

Now. Tamarack definitely always knows what's going on in town, and in school

So it doesn't take long for her to find out that people think you two are dating

As much as she denies this rumor whenever someone mentions it to her, she's absolutely giddy about the thought of the two of you being together like that

She honestly doesn't want people to stop believing in that rumor, but what would you think??

Tamarack doesn't mind, but what if you don't like the thought of you two dating? What if you grow distant because of it?? What if you're grossed out??? What if-

Okay yeah you get my point but she stresses over it a lot

So unless you confirm that you're okay with it, she'll absolutely deny it

She doesn't want you to be uncomfortable, and she doesn't want to ruin what the two of you have just because of a rumor

You're her safe place, she doesn't want to lose you

Tamarack may be doubting her place in the world but she knows she fits right in your arms perfectly

#our life now and forever #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #qiu lin x mc #qiu lin x reader #tamarack baumann x mc #tamarack baumann x reader #olnf

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pita-vegeta · 4 months ago

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2nd Castlevania Nocturne Rant: Mizrak's Anger

Here's my second observation on Castlevania Nocturne Season 2.

I have one request for the series: that Mizrak apologize to Olrox. Throughout both seasons, we see Mizrak lash out at Olrox when he has yet to do anything to deserve that amount of anger, that amount of hate. Calm conversations turn with hate-filled language and accusations when again, Olrox hasn't done anything. I believe it is all internal on Mizrak's part.

Long before Olrox brought his beautiful ass to Machecoul, Mizrak's faith, self, and sense of security were shattered by the vampires and what he and Abbot were doing.

Then along comes Olrox, whom Mizrak broke his vow of chastity to be with. It's as if Mizrak knew he would die and be punished for his deeds so why not go out with the baddest baddie he has ever seen?

If you listen closely, the lashing out at Olrox speaks volumes. It's directed at Olrox, who Mizrak believes has no soul, so he cannot hurt him (this we know is not true), but the things he gets angry about are his internal struggles and guilt.

In season 1, the iconic moment between Mizrak and Olrox, when Mizrak said some of the most awful things, was because Olrox stopped him from sacrificing himself for the "greater good".

Mizrak is the only non-powered human we really get to see other than the abbot, but he wants to fight and knows he will die and he has kinda accepted this. His raising his sword to Erzsebet is a sure death, but a death he believes will maybe erase some of the sins he has committed.

This happens again in season 2 when Drotla attacks the army. He cries clutching Olrox but then turns on him with spiteful words.

Take Episode 4 (18:54) he begins this interaction with Olrox saddened, worried that Olrox has gone over to Erzsebet's side having been branded; he states that Olrox will fade, but I don't think he was referencing Olrox with this but himself that he (Mizrak) will fade.

Then seconds later he is angry at Olrox about killing Julia Belmont and speaks about dishonor and being a murderer, however, this could be his guilt. He and Abbot are taking human corpses and turning them into night creatures virtually murdering human souls and dishonoring the church and God. He gets called out on this by Maria in Ep 2 (13:55).

Then the one that gets me riled is Ep 5 (13:28); we have Olrox telling Mizrak about his people, his Gods, and about how Spanish Christians came and decimated his home only for Mizrak to state that (Olrox) "...Gods were the problem", you see Olrox flinch when this is said, but Mizrak doesn't see cause he's looking away and I believe once again Mizrak is putting his quilt more specifically his religious guilt on Olrox.

Olrox takes this and even asks Mizrak to leave with him, here's my opinion on Olrox throughout the seasons. He does not want to be alone. 250+ years is a long time to be isolated with his vampirism even Alucard expressed his loneliness in this season. Olrox is willing to take the hits so to speak if it means having a companion.

His last lover was taken from him only to find what he was looking for in Mizrak. Olrox has a type, bleeding heart, fighters, strong-willed with big hearts. He finds that in Mizrak.

Now my view of Mizrak being turned, I believe he accepted it, his fear of death and the awaiting punishment he believed he would receive enough of a reason to not "die"; however, that does not mean he is happy about it and may not be for years to come.

We see that same anger after his turning and we also see that Olrox is ready to take it all to not be alone.

Mizrak has been hurting this whole time we can tell, he is hurt, and scared, feeling angry, and guilty, but that doesn't mean he has to take it out on Olrox.

#castlevania nocturne #castlevania olrox #castlevania mizrak #mizrox #olrox/mizrak

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edenian-gothik · 3 months ago

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People have voted on the "Smoke route" in the last poll, so, in this "new dynamic" if you vote for a Kharacter to represent the general headkanon, you will also get small extra interactions from them (In this case, our beloved Tomas Vrbada!!).

More under the cut!!

---

Smoke route, "Fall for me?":

You were calm and happy, it was a fairly normal day without complications, you were on your way back to deliver something, when you saw Tomas training. He looked so perfect and dreamy, his muscles glistening with sweat…

He sensed you and you were so fixed on him that you didn't see the rocks above you before you tripped and fell on the floor. The monochrome Lin Kuei approached you while laughing.

—So, you fell for me, do you need some help standing up, Y/n? —

You roll your eyes, take his hand and hug him in spite of you being ashamed of yourself for your own clumsiness.

— You love making fun of me, don't you? — you retorted, trying to salvage the awkward moment…

— I could hug you forever, princezna…—

You felt the rush of excitement go to your cheeks, the reddish tint covering your face. Tomas was about to take off his mask until someone interrupted you two.

— Hm– hmmm …— Bi-Han, the older cryomancer in the group, cleared his throat. — Stop fooling around with your woman Smoke! Get back on the training. —

— Yeah, Yeah… — Tomas replied lazily, and placed his forehead on yours — Don't mind Sub-Zero, he’s in a bad mood because he’s jealous. See you in my room. —

You two parted and you giggled a little about how nonchalant your boyfriend was. He was incredibly cheeky and flirty, but had his tender times…

Only for you.

---

Now let's go to the real Headkanons!! Hope you enjoyed the last interaction!!

Mortal Kombat Headkanon | Lin Kuei and Hugs.

"How would they hug their s/o?"

Kuai Liang/Tundra: He gives the longest, most heart warming hugs (ironically). It will feel as if there was nothing that could ever separate you both.

When he holds you in his arms, he feels invincible, you don't know how powerful it makes him feel to have you in his life.

If you look at him with love and adoration, he will give you a kiss on the forehead while embracing you. You look so lovely, he never wants to let go…

Cyrax: He would hug you very, very tightly, then lift you, and spin you around. He’s just so happy to see you! Right? It doesn't matter if he saw you five minutes ago, if he went on a mission, or had just come from training. He will always be very intense when displaying affection and showing love to you, his one and only.

Smoke: His hugs are very manly, he would pat your back. But not because he sees you as “One of the boyz (™)” lol! (Or well, not the only reason, if you're into that kind of thing), it’s because patting is fun for him, actually.

With time though, he will warm up to you, and he will want to linger in that position, holding you in what feels like forever…will gradually get more and more intense as the time goes on.

Sektor: NGL, his hug game is kinda lackluster and low, to be brutally honest with you. At first he doesn't “hug” you per se. It's more like he “holds you in place” with his hands on your arms. He gets better the more you know each other, but he is very distant and hesitant at first.

Bi-Han/Sub-Zero: You go and hug him with all your love and might, but he…doesn’t hug back? He’s so shocked that he lifts his arms, but it feels like he cannot, for the life of him, reciprocate.

Please have patience and be kind to him! He’ll eventually warm up to you! (Yes, pun was very intended, lol.). I promise he will give you the most tender hugs (He will also squeeze you a little on occasion), it's just he is not used to it (yet, the keyword is “yet”.)

Hydro: He will hug you as if he was protecting you from some unknown danger (Very firmly, he will never want to let go of you.) He takes your safety very seriously, and has made it very clear that he would die for you (Yeah, he’s a drama queen to be honest). Not exactly a cryomancer, so he has no chill (yes, pun intended. (?))

---

I hope you guys liked this headkanon as much as I did writing it!! See you all in the next post!!

#mortal kombat #mk9 #lin kuei #mortal kombat 9 #bi-han #selfship #mk #og!bi-han #umk3 #sektor #Cyrax #kuai liang #Tundra #Smoke #Tomas Vrbada #Sub-Zero #Hydro #mk hydro #yumejoshi

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teyamsgrl · 2 years ago

Note

i’m having neteyam brain rot again after like a couple months help me please

angry sex with adult neteyam is making me squeal

ANON I LOVE YOUR MIND ASK AND YOU GET IT 👏🏻

also thanks for being my first request 🫶🏻

make me forget ✧ neteyam

❗️MDNI ❗️

°˖➴ warnings: fem omatikaya reader, agedup!neteyam, dom!neteyam, kinda jealous/possessive!neteyam, ofc angry sex, spanking, sir kink, some hair pulling/choking, dirty talkkkkkkk - yawne: beloved, sevin: pretty

after adding the last bead, you tie off your braid and stand up to head out. tonight there was a special celebration with the entire clan, and you were super excited. you were extremely social and enjoyed gatherings. you were also the mate of neteyam sully, which you thought was the best thing about you. to sum it up, neteyam was your world. his mother had asked for his help earlier which is why you were headed to the celebration without your mate. even after all this time of knowing each other and being mates, your heart still fluttered knowing you would get to see him and kiss him in just minutes.

you arrive to the tree of souls and smile seeing all of your fellow omaticaya people dancing and talking. you scan the crowd, eyes landing on neteyam standing with kiri and lo’ak. you make your way over, slipping through the crowd of people. "yawne" he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist as he hugged you in tightly. you threw your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “hi teyam”. you look over to kiri and lo’ak fake gagging, causing you to giggle and pull away from the hug. "you skxawngs" neteyam says and shakes his head before he pecks your lips. "did you have a good day?" you nod and smile, pecking his lips again. "do you want a drink?" you ask, gesturing to the group of women pouring drinks for everyone and handing them out. "sure, thanks sevin" you smile and head over to the women, asking for two drinks.

"hey there" you turn to spot ät’uk, an omaticaya man who is known for his massive crush on you. neteyam absolutely despised him and honestly you were shocked he has not gotten the hint yet. you step back a bit to add more space between you two, "hey ät’uk". you grab the drinks and thank the women, going to walk back to neteyam before you feel a hand on your shoulder. "y/n, you look really pretty tonight" you have to hold back an eye roll, “thanks, but i have a boyfriend” you smile out of spite and go to turn again. “sure, but you’ve never even given me a chance" ; this time the eye roll happens. "yeah and i’m not going to. i am happy with neteyam and i have no interest in giving you a chance. you’re a nice guy but-" you are cut off by the feeling of a familiar hand on your hip. neteyam. "ät’uk.. are we going to have a problem here?" you lean into neteyam, thankful he has saved you from this uncomfortable and honestly repetitive conversation. "no, not at all" he takes a sip of his drink nervously. "good, but next time a woman tells you she has a boyfriend and isn’t into you, maybe leave her alone" he spits as his tail swishes rapidly, pulling you away. your heart is racing at neteyam’s words. it is not often you see him angry, but it was honestly kinda hot. oops.

you reach kiri and lo'ak and neteyam snatches the drinks from your hands, passing them to his siblings. "here, be safe" he nods at them before pulling you out of the crowd and in the direction of your shared tent. "what's going on?" you ask as he drags you along, his strides very long and fast. once you reach the tent he pulls you in, instantly pressing you against the wall. "neteyam what-" he cuts you off by kissing you deeply, tongue gracefully sliding into your mouth, you hum, dragging your hands down his toned chest and abs. his hands travel to your ass, death grip on the perfectly round cheeks. he moans softly as your hands glide to the waistband of his loincloth, tugging it gently to ask for permission. you were wrapped around his finger and submitted almost immediately, especially since you knew he was angry. he pulls away, hand moving to hold your neck. "no cock sucking tonight, sevin. i need your pussy and i need it fucking now".

he growls, hand moving down and yanking your top off, beads tumbling from it and bouncing on the floor. he licks his lips and pulls your loincloth off, gliding his middle finger through your wetness swiftly. "good. over the table, now" he gestures towards the table on the other side of your tent. "yes sir" you hum and move to the table, bending over and hoisting one leg up on the table, ass basically asking for a spank. neteyam saunters over to you, loincloth being dropped in the process. he hums, a hum you can tell means that he is satisfied by your obedience. his hand drags along your ass before coming down hard, causing you to whimper. "you are mine", he spanks you again. "that fucking skxawng will never have you. ever", and again. "you got it?" he spanks you once more, "yes sir.. i'm yours" you whine out. "mhm.. that's right" you feel his tip kissing your entrance, waiting patiently to push in. "i'm gonna fucking use you in a minute, you're gonna make me forget how fucking pissed off i am" he breathes, thrusting his cock fully into your begging pussy.

"o-oh" you gasp at the full feeling, hands moving to grab the edge of the table before your wrists are snatched up by neteyam's large hand. "uh-uh, you know better" he pulls your hands behind your back, holding them hostage there within his grasp. he moans as he starts to follow a pace, fucking you deeper than ever before. his tip grazes your cervix as you squeal, back arching at the jolt the touch sent through you. "fuck yes... you're my good girl, aren't you? tell me who you belong to. who is fucking you this good?" he continues pounding you like there's no tomorrow as he speaks, moans escaping his mouth. "you, sir. you own me.." you whimper, head raising from the table. "that's right... and i'm the only man who ever gets to take you like this" he brings his free hand to press your head down on the table, holding you down. you whine, lying on the table as your mate destroys your insides. you can barely think straight, you are so unbelievably turned on. he groans behind you, hand gripping your braids and yanking you up so your back is flush with his chest. you gasp, leaning into him as he never stops thrusting; he doesn't miss a beat. "fuck.." he moans into your ear, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder. "you're such a good girl..." he moans again, hand gripping your throat now. "sir! sir!" you whine, pussy tightening on his cock. "cum for me. do it. cum for me and show me who your fucking mate is" he tightens his grip on your throat slightly, your body beginning to shake as your orgasm rushes to it's peak. "fuck fuck fuck!" you scream, coating his cock in cum. he groans and picks up his pace, you still moaning in pure ecstasy despite cumming seconds ago. "you're gonna be so full baby, so fucking full of me" he does one last thrust before his cum spills into your pussy, his moans music to your ears. once he catches his breath, he lets go of your wrists and throat, turning you around and placing you to sit on the table.

"you good, sevin?" he kisses your forehead, brushing the braids out of your face. "of course, nete" you giggle and cup his face with your hands, admiring his features. "did i help you forget how mad you were?" he chuckles and nods, "definitely, thank you. i just couldn't take his shit anymore. and you looked unbelievable so i figured ravaging you was a good idea" he chuckles more and you giggle along with him. you run your thumb over his bottom lip, "you're extra hot when you're angry, makes me think i should get you angry more often honestly". he bites your thumb gently and smirks; "don't test me, baby"

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themissingnumbers · 7 months ago

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[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can't send as an ask bc long and images]

The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.

At this point, really, it's a kind of eeriness he'd come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.

He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He's not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.

He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.

Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.

Either way, it's not like it's his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!

Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn't why he's here.

Nah. He's more interested in something else.

Or, someone, to be more precise.

Having finally found who he'd looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.

"Y'know..." he chides from across the room, "A graveyard's a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don't you think?"

He snorts at his own remark. "Course, I guess it's not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could've picked something a little more outside the box, is all I'm saying. Do you think they'd bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave... Oh, Champion's Road could be pretty morbid!"

He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.

"... Nah, I'm joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways..."

His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.

"I'm more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain't shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold..."

He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.

"Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or... I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh."

He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.

"I've got so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. You're really something special... One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I've seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but... You want out more than anything."

Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn't want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.

"Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that's the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don't have to sit here, alone with your..."

His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody's side.

"... Thoughts. And the like."

He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.

"Here's what I'd like to know, Cody."

His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.

"You have your hacker's memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It's enough. You'd know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds."

"What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?"

"What was it like to be HUMAN?"

He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.

"I want to hear it from you," he finishes cooly, "someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone."

#pokemon monochrome #pkmn monochrome #missing numbers #glitchy red tajiri #trainer cody #mn noncanon #glitching #eyestrain #scopophobia #[cody im so sorry you have to deal with this joker. im so so sorry. this is my apology video #literally whats his problemmm (<- guy who made him like this)#anyways god i hope this is good akndjalns. red got picked for this bc thisll probably have um. interesting. results. probably.#i wanted to draw cody more but i have no clue what their reaction to (gestures) this asshole will be yet #and also im so tired rn...... next time theyll get more face shots this is a promise. theyre so fun to draw #i was planning 2 add more panels with them but. imsdo fucking sleepy n wanted to get this done. gooooodnight]#[ALSO HUGE THANKS AGAIN FOR THE BGS i hate drawing this graveyarddd]

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soupthatistohot · 4 months ago

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Character Study: Chuuya Nakahara's Stubborn Refusal to Give Up

Guys its time for me to get back on my little soapbox... and of course it's gotta be Chuuya that I talk abt after being basically inactive in the BSD fandom since the summer.

I haven't read any of it yet, but I'm aware that a Stormbringer manga is currently releasing chapters, and as such, I felt it appropriate to share my thoughts on Chuuya and the story that takes place in the LN, which was one of the major things that made me fall in love both with BSD and Chuuya as a character. So, needless to say, Stormbringer spoilers ahead!!

I will also preface this by saying that I originally read Stormbringer in April of 2022, so it's been a hot minute! If I get things wrong or leave something important out, please let me know!

Put simply, Stormbringer is Chuuya's personal hell. The people he cares most about gets murdered by this guy claiming to be his brother, his entire identity is brought into question by said guy, he's losing control of his ability (which I'll remind you was what he previously centered his identity around when with the Sheep), and all the while Dazai is being Dazai (AKA really annoying).

And Chuuya is only sixteen years old.

Speaking of Dazai, can we marvel for a second that Chuuya hasn't turned out more like him? Given everything we know about his backstory, it would make perfect sense if Chuuya were cynical in the way that led him down a path of self-destruction. And I'm not saying that he's not above such tendencies, but he's not actively suicidal in the way Dazai is. In fact, he resents Dazai's outlook on things and actively tries to differentiate himself, even if deep-down, he knows there's a part of him that might be a bit... depressed.

I'll bring up here the scene in SB where he hallucinates Dazai teasing him whilst being tortured -- Dazai, in a sense, reflects Chuuya's inner thoughts at that point. Internally, he harbors the insecurity that he and Dazai are similar (inhuman), which he cannot allow himself to truly entertain. But he feels it sometimes, that hopelessness, that depression. Chuuya is certainly a cynic, a kid who has seen the worst of the world, but the main difference between him and Dazai is that he refuses to give in, and that's actually a pretty big difference.

(I will note here that I'm primarily using the description of Dazai as he existed in the Port Mafia. In the present day, things are quite different, as that version Dazai is characterized by his choice at least try to live, if not only to fulfill his promise to Oda. Yet, even in the present, he still regularly attempts to kill himself, so he's not fully on the "continue living in spite of it all" bandwagon, but rather, he's kinda tied to the back of it being, dragged in the dirt, even though he could untie the knot at any moment and plunge into oblivion. (Sorry got carried away with that metaphor.))

But back to Chuuya! As previously stated, he quite frankly has every reason to just not care -- about the people around him, about Yokohama, even about the world -- and yet, he does care, and very deeply, even if he's not always overt about it.

After the Sheep betray him, he effectively has nobody. Rather than join the PM, he could've gone off to die in a ditch, and no one would have really cared all that much. And even when he joins the PM he asked them to protect the Sheep when he could have easily left them to their own devices. He cares about them, even when all logic says he really shouldn't, and there's really something rebellious about that. I will say that this example is the most wishy-washy, as Chuuya was very much manipulated by Dazai and Mori into joining the PM, to the point where he basically had no choice.

But that informs a lot of his decisions in SB, as the story basically kicks off with him acting outside of Mori's jurisdiction. He knows that he shouldn't be looking into his past, and that Mori wouldn't be happy with his attempts to do so. But he's determined to not let the system get the best of him. Despite the odds, he finds a group of friends (arguably, a family) who are willing to help him with this and is determined to go forward with it. He's not really loyal to the PM at this time, either, acting on his own despite the danger.

And yeah, it was dangerous, because then the Flags all die. Even then, he doesn't give up, though. He's tempted by Verlaine on multiple occassions to basically forfeit his reason for being, accept that he's lines of code and not actually a human being. It's enticing, and Chuuya certainly entertains the idea, because wouldn't it just be so easy to just give into futility? If he's not a person, then why have qualms about morality? People? Life? He could become an unstoppable storm, destroy everything in his path, not care.

But that he refuses to do, as well. Even when given the ultimatum by Dazai to find out for sure if he's human or try to stop Verlaine from destroying Yokohama, he confidently chooses the latter. He realizes that the circumstances of his existence don't matter, and what does matter is what he does with this life he's been given. So he chooses to fight.

And he chooses to fight over and over again, even (and especially) when things are at their worst. Things will never be easy for Chuuya -- very often he and others he cares about are put in danger -- but what makes him Chuuya is that he will always push back against the forces that be, even if it means risking his life or partnering up with his god-awful ex-partner. To him, it is better to have tried and failed than to have not tried at all.

And here is where I'll bring up my favorite way of analyzing BSD: absurdism!

Everything I've described about Chuuya fits the absurdist philosophy, which this post provides a more in-depth description of. The long and short of it is that 1) life has no inherent meaning but 2) we must not give in, but instead revolt against absurdity. It is Chuuya's stubborn refusal to give in (whether thru suicide or becoming part of the system) that characterizes him as an absurdist to me.

Anyways, that's what I've got! I think I need to re-read Stormbringer (or keep up with the manga as it releases) because writing this made me realize that I really don't remember it as much as I thought.

Also, please respond with your own thoughts and ideas! I always want my posts to be a space for discussion, as I love engaging in conversation about this type of thing!

#chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd stormbringer #stormbringer #stormbringer manga #absurdism #bsd absurdism analysis

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 24 days ago

Text

what we burn for

one-shot

Pairing: Dean x Viv

Warnings: angst, kissing, dry humping (kinda?)

Word Count: 1,865

a/n: bit different to what i usually do. i made this for @emeraldcrs because she's actually a sweetheart who made me an edit i wasn't expecting at all (and it made me so happy, i cried!!!) and i wanted to show her how much i appreciated the picture AND her. so... i wrote this lil one-shot for her. hope you like it, viv! <3

The spell fizzled out like everything else she touched these days—half-formed, smoke curling in on itself, then gone. No flash of light. No gust of power. Just the dim flicker of candles and her own breath, short and sharp in the dark.

Vivien wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smudging ash and dried blood down her jaw. Her palms were still warm from the magic, but the chill of the stone floor crept into her knees, reminding her how long she'd been kneeling in the circle. Three hours.

Three months. Three months since he'd left. Three months since she told him not to. Three months since he did anyway.

She stood slowly, every joint aching from stillness and spite, and blew out the centre candle with a whisper of breath. The wind outside howled through the eaves, shaking the old academy's bones. The candles flared. Then—

Footsteps.

Her entire body tensed before she even turned. She knew the weight of those steps. The drag of his boots. The hesitation masked in swagger.

She didn't look when the door creaked open. Just said, voice flat, "You're late."

"You always were a shitty host," Dean muttered from behind her.

Vivien exhaled through her nose. "And you always did love making an entrance."

She heard the door click shut. Heard him breathe—tight, shallow. Smelled the dried blood before she saw it. He was hurt. Again. She didn't turn around.

Dean stepped closer, boots echoing on the stone. "You summon something?"

"Nothing worth keeping."

There was silence then. The kind that grew teeth. It stretched between them like a trap, daring either of them to spring it.

Finally, she spoke, low and sharp: "Why are you here?"

"You left pie on my windowsill," he said. A pause. "Three months ago."

Her jaw clenched. "So you came running?"

"I bled on three continents since then, Viv. Don't flatter yourself."

She turned at that.

And there he was.

Bruised cheekbone. New scar at the hinge of his jaw. Flannel half-soaked from the rain. Eyes that wouldn't meet hers, not yet. That same unbearable smell—gunpowder, leather, and everything she couldn't forget.

"You look like shit," she said.

"You still talk too much," he replied.

But his voice cracked a little.

And she saw it—just for a second—the grief buried under his smirk. The loneliness. The ache.

Vivien crossed her arms. "You left without a word."

Dean looked at her, really looked at her, and the candles flickered again.

"I had to," he said.

"No, you didn't."

Another silence.

Then: "I didn't know if I'd make it back."

"You didn't even say goodbye."

"I didn't think you'd want me to."

She flinched. Just a little. But it was enough. She hated the way his voice dropped when he was about to lie to her.

"I didn't think you'd want me to," Dean said again, quieter this time, like if he softened it enough it wouldn't hit so hard.

Vivien let the silence stretch until it hurt.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Pretend you don't know exactly what you mean to me."

His jaw flexed. His hands—cut up and raw—curled into fists at his sides. "I'm not pretending anything."

"Oh please," she snapped. "You disappear for months, come back bloodied to hell, act like nothing happened, and I'm just supposed to what—bake you another pie?"

Dean's mouth opened. Closed. He looked away.

"That's what you do, right?" She kept going, voice sharper now, breath catching. "Come back when you feel like it. Bleed on my doorstep. Take what you want and leave again."

"That's not fair," he bit out.

"Isn't it?"

"No," he growled. "You don't get to stand there and act like I don't think about you every goddamn day I'm gone. Like I don't check your warding sigils from the road. Like I don't go out of my mind thinking about whether some goddamn vamp's gonna sink its teeth into your throat the second I'm not here—"

"Then stay, Dean!" She shouted, the words ricocheting off the stone walls. "Stay, just once. Choose something that doesn't end in blood!"

"I can't!"

The crack in his voice stopped her cold.

"I can't stay, Viv," he repeated, softer now, voice fraying. "Not when I'm the thing that brings the blood."

Vivien stared at him, chest heaving. The magic still hadn't settled—she could feel it fizzing in her palms like carbonation under her skin.

"You think I don't bleed without you here?" She whispered. "You think my world just... stops falling apart because you're not around to see it?"

Dean looked at her like she'd just torn open something inside him. Something he'd locked down tight.

"You left, Dean," she said. "And I waited. Like a goddamn fool, I waited. Every hunt, every spell, every night I woke up choking on air because I thought maybe this time, you weren't coming back—"

"Vivien."

She froze.

Not Viv. Vivien.

He only said it when he was bleeding on the inside. When he meant every word that followed. When he didn't want to.

Dean took one step toward her. Just one. But it hit harder than any blow.

"You think I don't want to stay?" He asked. "You think I don't want to crawl into that bed upstairs and forget every bad thing that's ever touched us? You think I don't dream about it?"

He swallowed hard.

"But I don't get to have nice things, Vivien. I never have. And I sure as hell don't get to have you."

Silence, again.

But this time it wasn't sharp. It was suffocating.

Vivien took a slow, shaking breath.

"You already do."

She said it so quietly, Dean almost didn't hear it. But the words landed like a match in dry grass. And when he looked at her—really looked—he saw it.

The way her chest heaved like she'd just run ten miles. The shimmer of unshed tears in those ever-shifting eyes—stormlight and steel. The faint, trembling pulse in her throat like her body couldn't decide if it wanted to fight him or fall into him.

Dean took another step forward.

She didn't move. Not away.

He reached up, slowly, fingers brushing a streak of soot from her cheek. His hand lingered there, rough knuckles against her skin, warm and shaking.

"You think I don't feel it too?" He whispered.

Vivien's lips parted, but no sound came out.

"You think I haven't tried to bury it?" He said, lower now. Closer. "I've tried to fuck it out. Drink it out. Burn it out. Doesn't work."

She blinked, barely breathing.

"I still taste your name when I bleed."

That broke something.

She surged forward, fingers twisted in his jacket, and kissed him like it was the last thing she'd ever do.

And Dean—Dean grabbed her like he was drowning. One hand at her jaw, the other around her waist, dragging her flush to him as he kissed her back with every ugly, unsaid thing he never had the guts to speak.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was months of longing, of fear, of all those nights they'd spent apart wishing they were braver than this.

His mouth devoured her, their teeth clashing, breath ragged, her fingers tugging hard at his hair until he groaned into her.

And then—then—it changed. She whimpered. Just a tiny, desperate sound against his lips.

Dean froze.

Then pulled back just an inch, just enough to say, voice dark and low against her mouth: "Oh... you like that, huh?"

Her breath hitched.

Dean grinned—sharp, smug, wrecked—and shoved her back against the stone wall behind them. Not hard. But with purpose. Her gasp punched the air between them.

"Wrap your leg around me, Viv."

She did. Instinctively. Magic shivered in the air the second her thigh hooked around his waist.

Dean slid a hand between them, grabbed her thigh—firm—and shifted, pressing her down on the solid line of his own.

She gasped again, forehead falling to his shoulder. "Dean—"

"Shhh." His voice was rough silk against her ear. "Don't talk. Just let me."

He rocked up, slow and steady, dragging her against him like he needed this, needed her, and her nails dug into his back as her hips jerked once, then again.

Dean groaned into her neck. "That's it. C'mon, Vivien."

Another gasp. A choked little sob against his throat.

Her magic crackled—candles exploded in the room, snuffing out in a rush of wind.

He didn't stop. Didn't flinch.

"Let go," he whispered. "I've got you. I've always got you."

And when she came, shuddering against him, Dean held her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

i really, really hope you liked this, viv. i really love the russell aesthetic you made me and i just wanted to give you a lil something in return! <3

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #pfiahc writes #my writing #love my moots <3 #emeraldcrs #viv <3 #dean x viv #dean winchester x vivien

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