#pure unadulterated crack

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

Scourge Generations! Featuring:

Patricide

Beating Up Your Friends

Getting Beat Up By Your Friends

That Time You Got Beat Up by Sonic

That Time You Got Beat Up by Sonic

That Time You Got Beat Up by Sonic

That Time You Got Beat Up by Sonic

Juvenile Prison Trauma

[theswampghost]

this poem actually stole my breath away when i first read it like FUCK it’s crazy. david elliott when i GET you

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

in a completely unpredictable turn of events, the crackfic-within-a-crackseries lucky jumbo 7 has developed a plot that involves important series lore

[ellecdc]

Black!reader that is “I don’t smoke” (mitski) because if their parents ‘you need to be mean be mean to her me, she I can take it and put it inside of me’

hi babes, this was my take on Black!reader who was always hurting on behalf of everyone else. this fic is very angsty compared to my usual standards, so please keep that in mind before reading, and mind the warnings. of course, as typical on ellecdc we have a happy/hopeful ending

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader after The Prank™ [4.7k words]

CW: The Prank™, Black family trauma, the Marauders aren't speaking to each other, depressive episodes and self-loathing, siblings get quasi-violent/threats of violence? but for a good cause?, Remus' typical self-loathing, discussion of forgiveness and hatred, breaking up [not pictured] and making up [pictured]

The worst part-

Though, even the thought caused Sirius to scoff humourlessly, because what could possibly be the worst part of this? What could possibly be any ‘more worse’ than the worst thing he’d ever done?

Still, Sirius supposed, wand to his head, the worst thing about all of this would be the fact that Sirius didn’t regret it. Not really.

If anything, he only felt stronger in his conviction that Snape deserved to be mauled violently to death.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t find he felt particularly good about it all; about the way Remus woke up with new, deep, angry scars across his face courtesy of The Wolf who finally had a chance at a meal only to have that stolen before he turned on himself, about the way he looked at Sirius with an expression of pure unadulterated betrayal and then fury when he realised what he had done, about the three well aimed hits he took from James, nor about the way he had to listen through the door as Remus ended your relationship with you, officially giving into all of his deep-seeded self-loathing and beliefs that no one could or should possibly accept him.

And all Sirius managed to do was prove that to be true; that Remus couldn’t trust anyone. And as a result, he robbed you of the only love you had access to save what little you received from Regulus and Sirius.

So perhaps Sirius regretted that, but without access to a Time Turner, there was nothing to be done. 

There was nothing to be done. 

James had told him that “until he made things right with Remus, he wanted nothing to do with him”, and while he didn’t blame James, Sirius knew he was officially on his own because there would be no ‘making things right’. There was nothing right, not with Sirius, at least. 

Everything about Sirius was wrong.

There was nothing to be done. 

He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the sensitive skin at the corner of his mouth cracking painfully as he took a drag. He appreciated the sting as his teeth started to taste like iron; the pain was both a welcome reminder and a distraction of his inner turmoil as he kept his gaze on the grounds below him.

He couldn’t look at the common room; the red and gold that once felt like home had faded into shades of grey. He couldn’t look in a mirror; his permanently downturned lips and angry eyes found him looking more like his father than he did himself. He couldn’t look at his hands; they were blistered and cracked from his tryst in the forest where he emptied his lungs by screaming until he was choking on air and punching uselessly at a tree.

He couldn’t look at any of his friends, because they couldn’t even look at him; they hated him.

He was hated. 

Sirius began to wonder how many more classes he could miss before McGonagall followed through on her threats to write home when the portrait hole opened.

He couldn’t look, though. Because he was hated.

“Aren’t you meant to be in class?” He heard you call to him, listening to your measured steps as you made your way to his spot on a windowsill. 

“I could ask the same of you.” He gruffed; voice cracking from disuse, from chain smoking, and from the perpetual tightness he had felt since That Night. 

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You sighed; you were exhausted. Exhausted of him. 

He was exhausted too.

“I’m minding my business, Y/N.” He spat back, stubbing out his smoke before lighting another one with a snap of his fingers. “You should try it sometime.” 

With a wave of your hand, the smoke was gone.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up.” You ordered simply, and Sirius shook his head at you.

“Go back to the dungeons.”

“No.” 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Great, neither am I.” 

“I don’t want you here.”

“And I don’t want to be here,” You agreed, voice rising at Sirius’ petulance, “but I’ve got a brother who decided to stop functioning a few weeks ago, so here I am.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You smell.”

“Yeah well, you’re ugly.” Sirius sneered, pulling out another cigarette only for you to vanish the entire pack. 

“When was the last time you showered?” You demanded, and Sirius refused to look at you.

“Hm? Or changed? Or ate? When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Sirius kept his gaze pointed at the grounds outside. 

“Sirius. Your hair is greasy, you smell stale, you look gaunt, and…they’re going to write home.”

“Good.” Sirius spat quickly. “As they should.”

“Is that what you want, Sirius? You want more people to be mad at you? More people to punish you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re already doing that enough for the rest of us.” You sighed, attempting to grab him by the arm only for him to shove you away. 

“Get away from me, Y/N, I mean it.” 

“No, get up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now.” You nearly growled, and Sirius turned to see you aiming your wand in his direction, surprising a sarcastic laugh from him.

“What? Gonna hex me? Or are you gonna skip right to the Unforgivables, hm? Maybe an imperio? Or are you going to try some negative reinforcement? A crucio for disobedience? Salope stupide, de plus en plus comme ma mère chérie chaque jour.” (translation: stupid bitch, more and more like mother dearest every day)

Sirius flinched as you quickly raised your hand, prepared for a blow that you never landed. 

He looked back to see you standing there, hand poised like it was ready to hit him as you stared at him defiantly; your cool, piercing eyes so much like his own, but the displeased pinch of your mouth was that of your mother. 

“Is that what you want, Sirius? Huh? You want to be walloped a few more times on the nose so that everyone knows what a bad dog you are? You want to be punished for your misdeeds? Maybe get a few more of these?” And you punctuated your question by roughly grabbing at his jaw, fingers pressing into the painful bruises still colouring his cheeks courtesy of James. “That’s why you haven’t bothered healing them, yeah? So that everyone who sees will know what a right bastard you are."

He smacked your hand away with one arm and shoved you away from him with the other. 

“Or,” you continued - rather unphased by Sirius’ aggression - grabbing his balled up fist and bringing it up to your own face, “is it me you want to hit, hm? You want everyone else to hurt just as badly as you are? The world has been just terrible to you Sirius, you were dealt an awful hand! You just want everyone to suffer for it; to pay for the wrongs done to you.”

“Stop it.” Sirius hissed, trying to yank his hand away from you to no avail. 

“Hit me then, Sirius. Hit me. You wanna give into that Black Darkness? Want to be just as bad as they are? Just as bad as they’ve painted you to be? Go ahead.” 

“Stop.” 

“Then get up.” 

“Y/N…” He warned.

“Get up, Sirius.” 

“I hate you.” He spat, and your jaw tightened but you rolled your eyes as if you found him to be quite tiresome.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you very much right now either.” 

He stood then, giving you no time to get out of his way before he was towering over you. You never faltered, though. He let you grab him by the sleeve of his shirt, he let you drag him up the stairs towards his dormitory - somewhere he hadn’t been since That Night, opting instead to sleep on the couches, a time or two in the room of requirement, and one night in the Shrieking Shack as Padfoot - and he let you bodily shove him into the boys’ bathroom. 

“Get in the shower, Sirius.”

“Sunny, please.”

“I’m not asking.” You said firmly. “Get in the shower.”

“I can’t.” 

You swore under your breath as you dragged him over to the shower stall, said nothing as he went no bones and sunk to the floor, and simply turned the shower on, soaking you both.

“Y/N, stop.” 

“Sirius, if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will. Those are your choices.” You said defiantly, staring down at him as your school uniform became more and more drenched and your hair started sticking to the side of your neck.

Sirius let out a sigh and rested his head against his knees, and you accepted his relenting as the acquiescence it was. 

You pointed the shower head at him and began lathering soap into his hair before doing much the same with the conditioner. 

Sirius let the soap burn his eyes; welcomed it, even. He did nothing to help you with your tasks, though you didn’t ask him to. He did, however, draw the line at you trying to disrobe him.

“These need to come off, Sirius.” You said, pulling at his uniform shirt like something disgusting you found in a gutter.

“And I will take them off once you’re no longer staring at me.” He growled, causing you to scoff a humourless laugh.

“Like hells I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Sirius simply groaned. 

“How are you going to wash your body, Sirius? Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that too.”

Sirius ripped the bar of soap out of your hands and glared at you as he shoved it beneath his clothes, washing himself the best he could under his sopping wet uniform. 

Though he was more than likely still sudsy, you shut the water off and vanished what water you could from both of your beings; each of your heads and uniforms still dripping wet as you flung open the bathroom door and marched across the hall.

Sirius’ mouth ran dry when you knocked on their dormitory door; somewhere between you confronting him in the common room and forcing him to bathe, classes seemed to have ended. 

He should’ve flung himself out of the common room window when he had the chance; he couldn’t see Remus, James, or Peter. They hated him.

He was hated.

Remus wouldn’t talk to any of them, and James and Peter weren’t talking to Sirius. Even though Remus had told them he didn’t want them “taking sides”, he didn’t seem too bothered watching Sirius get iced out. 

Because he hated him.

Sirius was hated. 

“Oh…hi, Y/N…” James offered awkwardly as he opened the door. 

You barely spared him a glance. “Potter.” You greeted simply as you dipped under his arm which had been holding the door open and marched towards Sirius’ bed. 

Remus pulled his head through the hole of his jumper as he watched you start digging through Sirius’ trunk, sharing a quick glance with James and Peter before his gaze moved to Sirius all but cowering in the doorframe. 

“Are you…wet?” Peter asked cautiously then, all three boys staring at you in bemusement as you packed up a duffle. 

“Yeah.” You responded simply, throwing Sirius a towel that he (thankfully) caught as everyone’s eyes fell to him. 

Sirius quickly ran the towel over his person as you let his trunk close with a loud thunk, hiked the bag you packed for him over your shoulder, and stalked out of the dorm room without sparing any of the boys - including your ex boyfriend - a passing glance. 

“Don’t you hate me?” Sirius whispered as he allowed you to lead him to the Slytherin dorms.

“No, Sirius. I hate what you did.” You sighed, never faltering in your steps but strengthening your hold on your brother's wrist. “I love you, that’s why I’m here.” 

Remus had tried telling Peter and James to leave him alone; he wanted to be alone. 

Yet somehow, every morning, the two of them would sit across from him in the Great Hall, say hello, and then talk amongst themselves whilst pretending he wasn’t there. 

That was fine, though. Remus was sort of pretending he wasn’t there, too. 

But while Remus could ignore James and Peter’s existence, Sirius’ existence, and even his own if he really tried hard enough, he couldn’t ignore your existence. 

He’d been more than slightly confused when you stormed into his dorm room last night completely drenched without your eyes ever cutting to him and packed up a bag for your equally drenched brother. 

He’d been more than slightly hurt when you left without sparing him a glance, too. Though he figured perhaps he deserved that. This is what he wanted, right?

Scratch that, actually, what he had wanted was to be safe and loved and protected by the people who promised to do that for him. That was what he had wanted.

It wasn’t until Peter and James paused in their conversation to look at Remus concernedly that he realised he had caused his tea to overflow by means of accidental magic. 

Remus threw a wad of napkins at the mess as he made to stand, but his legs felt wholly incapable of holding him up when he saw you enter the Great Hall, quickly followed by a rather dispirited looking Sirius who nearly bumped into you as you paused at the entrance.

Your gaze automatically fell to the Slytherin table where Regulus was shooting you and Sirius a perturbed look. 

You turned then towards the Gryffindor table when your gaze fell to Remus.

He found himself unable to break your gaze; he wondered if you could see the heartbreak pooling in his eyes, or the longing painted in the space between his brows.

He wondered if you could even manage to see past the new, ferocious scars decorating his face.

He certainly couldn’t. 

Your shoulders fell as you shook your head - so minutely that Remus wondered if he had only imagined it - before you grabbed Sirius’ sleeve and dragged him towards the Ravenclaw table where both Pandora and Benjy accepted the pair of you without issue. 

He was simultaneously grateful that neither of you were sitting over here and furious that the two of you deigned to sit anywhere else. You were his; his friend, and his girlfriend, you were supposed to be here with him. 

But he didn’t want either of you over here, he didn’t want… 

He didn’t…

“Moony?” James asked cautiously.

“Don’t call me that.” Remus spat before he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall. 

He never wanted any of this; sure, he wanted to go to school, but he never wanted friends. He didn’t need friends, he’d never had them before. He met some kind kids on the train who ended up being his roommates, but he was ready and willing to hold them at arm's length. 

And then…

And then he found that he rather liked their company, and that they seemed to enjoy his. And then he found that he cared for them, and that they seemed to care for him. And then they found out, and they were accepting of him. And then they did the impossible and found a way to be there for him like no one else before, they showed up for him in ways no one else had ever tried, in ways he never imagined possible. 

And then he fell in love, and then…

And then. 

And then one of the worst people Remus could imagine to know learned of his darkest secret, his biggest shame, his lifelong curse. 

And he learned that from one of his best friends; Snape learned of Remus’ darkest secret, biggest shame, and lifelong curse from one of his best friends. 

And suddenly, everything everyone had ever said about lycanthropy was true; he was a monster, unloveable, a threat and hazard to everyone around him.

And as he paused in front of a window where he could see his reflection - three violent claw marks stretching from his left eye across the bridge of his nose down over his lips - the monster stared back at him. 

He was a beast. He was a monster playing dress up; cosplaying as a wizard day in and day out when in reality, deep down, he was a vicious, disgusting freak. 

And now everyone knew it; Sirius knew it, you knew it, Snape knew it.

And for those who didn’t know it, they could suspect it; rumours flying around of how Remus managed to be mauled by some creature and survive to tell the tale, because the only thing scarier than a beast among men is a man that can take on a beast and live to tell the tale.

The worst part-

But the thought made Remus snort humourlessly, because really, how could there be a worst part of any of this? What could possibly be ‘more worse’ than the worst thing to ever happen to him, second only to being bitten all those years ago. 

But Remus supposed, wand to his head, that the worst part of all of this was losing you.

Remus let out another humourless chuckle as he let his head fall with a thunk against the windowpane. 

And the absolute fucking kicker was that losing you had been his own doing. 

For the first time in perhaps five days, you were alone. 

You sat in the farthest corner of the library near rows of tomes with enough layers of dust on them to promise you some solitude as you waited for Sirius’ meeting with McGonagall to end. 

You’d convinced him (rather forced him) to start attending his classes again, though you were certain he wasn’t exactly a delight to have in the classroom at the moment. You only hoped it was enough for the school to refrain from writing home.

You dropped your quill and pressed your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars. Sirius was displeased with you for ordering him about. Regulus was displeased with you for babysitting Sirius and ‘cleaning up’ after him. Your parents were displeased with you seemingly because you were born with free will. Your professors were displeased with you for submitting sloppy work because you spent the majority of your time doing Sirius’ for him in order to keep him from being expelled. Your roommates were displeased with you for smuggling a dog into your room for the past week, even though he was very well behaved and slept dutifully on the end of your bed. And Remus…

And Remus. 

He had looked so hollow and… dead when he told you this needed to end, that he couldn’t see you anymore. You didn’t think he was capable of occlusion, but that was the only thing that could possibly explain how he could manage to look at you like you didn’t even matter to him anymore.

Perhaps you didn’t.

You didn’t matter. 

Perhaps you were too much like your brother; he couldn’t forgive him, so you were unforgivable too. Perhaps you were just too much of a Black for him; perhaps he realised the mistake in keeping your kind around. 

You couldn’t blame him, you supposed.

You were a tiresome bunch. You didn’t often want to keep your kind around, either. 

You shook yourself out of your pity party and returned to your notes, only to watch as Remus pulled out a chair opposite of you at your table. 

“The library’s plenty large, Lupin; I’m sure if you looked harder you could find another table.” you offered, hoping for indignation but landing somewhere around disheartened. 

“Is Sirius alright?” He murmured quietly, and you forced your eyes up to meet his. 

He looked dead tired; his eyes were sunken and his skin was missing its warm glow. But in his eyes laid an earnestness that had you remembering just how wholly safe and full you felt whenever you found yourself pinned beneath his gaze. 

You quickly looked away.

“Not really.” You replied honestly. “But I think he deserves that.” 

Remus made a noncommittal sound as he continued staring at the top of your head; you couldn’t see it, mind you, but you could certainly feel it.

“And you?” 

“What about me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” You demanded, and you looked up in time to see Remus finally look down into his lap. 

You stared at him as he wrung his hands in his lap while you catalogued the scars across his face. You wondered if where they landed over his eyes caused him any vision issues. You wondered what the ones over the bridge of his nose would feel like as you traced your fingertip over them. You wondered what the ones on his lips might feel like under your own. 

You hated them, knowing that he did too, knowing how he came to have them. But you loved them because they were his, because it was him. Because you loved him. 

“Are you alright?” You decided to ask then, and he looked up at you as if he was surprised you were still there.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, though you knew not what for. You really hadn’t done anything. 

“How-” Remus started, though he quickly looked back down at his hands as he searched for the words.

You waited for him. 

“How…can you help him?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow, because whatever you thought Remus might’ve been about to ask, it certainly wasn’t that. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“How can you help Sirius? After all that he’s done?” He continued gently.

“I… because, Remus, someone has to.” 

Remus nodded as he considered your response. “There’s a… part of me that feels as though you’re choosing him over me.” 

“Remus. You chose; you made that decision for me. I didn’t choose anyone’s side.”

“So if we were still dating right now, would you have forgiven Sirius?”

“Forgiven?” You repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about forgiveness?” 

Remus simply blinked at you owlishly. 

“Remus, I cannot just sit here and let him whither away into nothing because I’m mad at him. He fucked up - big time - there’s no question about it. And deep down, I know he knows that too; that’s why he’s been torturing himself over it. There is no way in which I could treat him that would be worse than the way he’s treating himself right now. But I-”

You shook your head as you fought off the stinging in your sinuses; you did not want to cry in front of him. 

“There is no one rooting for us, Remus. No one. You’re pissed at him - rightfully so, and completely justified - Potter and Pettigrew are pissed at him too, he’s pissed at himself and I… someone has to, Remus. Someone has to root for him, I can’t…I can’t just abandon him, not when there’s no one else.” 

“I can’t… I can’t feel bad for him, Y/N.” Remus exclaimed helplessly. 

“I’m not asking you to; I’m simply telling you why I do.” 

“I don’t…I don’t know how to forgive him, dove, I don’t know how to not hate him for this.” He nearly sobbed, holding his hands out helplessly as if the grief and torment were tangible things that he could crush in the palm of his hands if only he could catch them. “Why don’t you hate him? Please tell me? Because I genuinely want to know. I need to know - I don’t…I don’t want to hate him.” 

“He’s my brother, Rem.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “I hate what he’s done, I hate the choice he made, I hate the outcome of that choice, I hate what he did to you, I hate what that’s done to me, but… but I don’t hate him. I can't hate him.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while; the only sounds coming from the odd book being magically sent back to its shelf and the odd voices from students downstairs when a study group got a touch too boisterous. 

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered then; your eyes flit up to meet his which were already steady on you. 

“No, Remus.” You whispered back.

He nodded as his gaze fell. “Just what I did?” 

Your lip quirked in the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Yes I…I sort of hated that, I suppose.” 

“I don’t want to hate him.” He repeated.

“I know.” 

“Do you-” Remus paused, turning away and screwing his eyes shut as you realised he was crying. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“Remus…”

“I was scared, and hurt, and angry, and-” he hiccuped, reaching across the table as he nearly begged for your hand. You gave it willingly. “-and I hated him but I mostly hated myself.”

“I know, Rem.”

“Please? Do you…do you think you’d be able to forgive me? For leaving, for running, for abandoning you? You’ve never once given up on the people important to you and one bad thing happens to me and…and I just throw you away, I-” He looked at you as if he was only realising all of this now; hurt, frustration, anger, and betrayal all on your behalf flickered behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus.” You insisted, but he quickly shook his head at you. 

“It’s not; it’s not okay, I- … I’m not as gracious as you, clearly, but I just…I just feel like if you’re strong enough to forgive me then there’s…there’s hope for me, too. That maybe I can be strong enough to forgive Sirius.” 

“You’re forgiven, Remus.” 

His eyes fell shut as more tears fell, but you were sure it was more from relief than it was from pain. 

Both boys - Remus and Sirius - were so good at torturing themselves over choices they’ve made that you were certain no one else would ever have to as long as they both should live. 

And for different reasons, you loved them both beyond measure. 

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Remus whispered.

“Of course you do.” You countered, squeezing his hand in yours and watching as some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated. 

“Does Sirius?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes pointed at where your joined hands sat on the table between you. 

You’re not sure when or how you became the leading expert on conflict resolution and forgiveness; perhaps it was in refereeing Sirius and Regulus’ petty squabbles growing up, perhaps it was in shielding Regulus from your parents fury, perhaps it was in trying to tame Sirius enough to keep him out of trouble, perhaps it was in being the youngest cousin along with Regulus and watching the siblings before you find their own ways to define what was right and good, perhaps…perhaps it came from the many examples of conflict and spite that you had witnessed growing up.

“I don’t know, Rem.” You answered honestly. “I think…I think the only one who can really know that is you.”

If he was displeased by your answer, he didn’t show it.

“But,” you continued cautiously, “I don’t think you have to forgive him for what he’s done. You just have to decide whether you’re going to hate him for it or love him in spite of it.” 

His lips pursed, pulling at scars both new and old in ways you’re not sure you’d ever grow tired of watching, as he nodded. “I don’t want to hate him.”

“I know, Rem.” 

“I don’t want James or Peter to hate him either…I don’t know why they were willing to watch him wither away like that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at that; the first genuine smile since That Night. “They don’t, and they weren’t.” You countered, only moving to explain when he looked at you in bemusement. “They were the ones who told me how bad he was getting…they wanted to make sure someone was looking after him without giving into his pity party.” 

“Always taking care of everyone else, hm?” Remus murmured at you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles. 

You simply hummed noncommittally. 

“Can I return the favour?”

“You can certainly try, but I’m quite high maintenance.” You teased gently. 

“That’s alright.” He agreed quickly. “You’re more than worth the effort.” 

You breathed out a quiet laugh through your nose. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

[adventuringblind]

He Must Be Lucky!

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: fluff and crack

Summary: Max gets wasted and can't remember that the reader is his wife. It's endearing how much he simps bith sober and drunk.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a wild party (at least for Max), Max being down bad

Notes: This one is for @amajixi! I hope you like it! Does anybody wanna send me asks and talk about drivers with me? Give me your most feral thoughts because I'm genuinely curious... please >_< (I even turned my anonymous asks back on please just send me things).

Side note: my fics haven't been getting much traction as they usually do. Is it something on my end? Have y'all disappeared on me? I know I shouldn't care, but y'all are the only ones that validate my writing T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max has a track record of partying hard. It's who he is, and she lives him for it. There isn't any kind of gripe of hang-up, just Max having fun and doing dumb shit that makes her laugh.

Lando is throwing a - well - a party. There was an excuse for it in the invitation, but she's too buzzed to remember it.

The echoing sound of Max's laughter ricochets off the walls. Daniel is with him, probably getting them into more trouble, but she knows Daniel will look after him. At least until he's trashed and can't get off the floor.

Alex brings her another shot glass. She has no idea what's in it, but Alex is letting loose, and she'll be damned if she doesn't partake.

He raises the shot glass in a toast. "To whatever this party is!" He cheers. They clink their glasses together and down the shots. She gags at whatever was in it.

"The fuck was that, Alex?!" She sputters.

He gives her a blank look. Really thinking hard about what he gave her. "I've got no idea."

The hours seem to tick by. The people are slowly dissipating, leaving the safety of this weird little bubble they've created.

She's lightly buzzed still, having danced off the majority of the shots Alex had her doing. The couch is her new best friend, and Lando had brought her a blanket at some point in the last twenty minutes.

A weight on the other end of the sofa catches her attention. Max, with complete adoration in his blue eyes, is staring at her. "Wow," he slurs. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

She laughs at his drunken thoughts. "You're not too bad looking yourself, babe."

The smile on his face is almost childish. It's big enough to almost fall off. His cheeks tinged a darker red with the blush adding to the alcohol flush.

"Go on a date with me? Please?" He tries to pout, but it ends up looking awkward mixed with the grin.

She flashes the ring at him. "Sorry, I'm spoken for." Alex and Lando are giggling from where they are watching this interaction unfold.

Max looks like a wounded puppy. Eye's glossing over like her might cry. "He must be such a lucky guy. You're just so perfect!"

"Awe, love, you wanna know a secret?" She leans in to whisper into Max's ear. "You married me."

If Max could hand you the world on a silver platter, he might have tried in this moment. The Dutch is vibrating in pure, unadulterated joy. Like a child who just got the ice-cream they were so desperately craving.

"Holy shit! I'm the lucky guy!"

Max smothers himself against your body. Eventually falling asleep, mumbling about how she's so amazing, and how he loves her so much. It's endearing to here his drunk affections laid bare for everyone to see.

It's the lullaby that calms her to a restful state. Fingers tangling with the softness of his hair. "You're not the only one who's lucky. I guess I'm pretty lucky, too."

[milf-murdock]

Feels Like Home

Ghost x Soap x Reader // Established relationship

Summary: Your boys come home to you.

Warnings: none, just the fluffiest of fluff

“S’late,” Johnny murmured in the dark as he nudged off his boots beside the door. Simon offered up a small hum in agreement as he slid the locks into place, ensuring each and every one clicked firmly. “Try not to wake her this time, Johnny,” he warned as they made their way through the shared flat and towards the bedroom. “No promises,” Johnny whispered. “Just missed her so fucking much.” Simon rolled his eyes affectionately, but there was no denying that he felt the same way. The deep-seated ache they both felt when they were apart from you, it was damn near debilitating.

The bedroom door let out a quiet squeak as they carefully opened it, and Simon made a mental note to grease it in the morning.

The two men paused in the doorway, their breath momentarily taken away by the sight of your sleeping form. The soft glow of the lamp you’d accidentally left on washed your body in a warm hue. You were in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, the well-worn material draping your frame as you cuddled close to Johnny’s pillow. The soft rise and fall of your chest let them know that you were still peacefully asleep, and for a brief panicked moment, Simon felt his chest constrict as he thought about how easily it would be for someone else, someone with more sinister intent, to sneak in here with you completely unaware. He pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself of all the security measures he and Johnny strategically put into place to assure your safety at all times.

The moment of quiet of short lived as Johnny all but bounded to the bed, unable to curb his enthusiasm for a moment longer. To be fair, he did try his hardest to be quiet and smooth, but he couldn’t stand the look of you curled around his pillow when you clearly needed to be resting against his own body. He lifted the covers back and slid into the warm sheets, carefully untangling you from the pillow and coaxing your head onto his chest, the soft patch of curls gracing his burly form have you instinctively curling inwards, burying your face in the soft warmth.

You let out a contented sigh and for the first time in nearly four weeks, Johnny feels like he can finally breathe, like he is finally whole once more. As he wrapped his strong arms around you, realization slowly pulls you from your slumber as you wiggle against his hard body, your body torn between falling back into sleep and knowing that something has changed.

Simon stepped closer to the bed, looking at you and Johnny with pure unadulterated affection. “Hey love,” his deep voice was soft in the darkness, not wanting to startle you. “We’re home.” A single finger traced the outline of your face, trailing from your temple to your chin, as your eyelashes fluttered open.

“You’re home?” Your voice cracked on the last word, the last dregs of sleep clearing from you as you took in the sight before you.

Johnny pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you even closer. “Aye lass,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kiss after kiss. “We’re home. Missed ya.”

As much as Simon enjoyed watching the sweet moment between you and Johnny, his own exhaustion was slowly overtaking him. He does his best to juggle taking care of you and Johnny, especially looking after Johnny when they’re on missions together—not just as his lieutenant, but as his partner.

Simon slid into the bed from the other side, his large frame coming up behind you and his arm hooking under Johnny’s neck, enabling him to pull you both close to him, your pliant body wedged between the two men. Simon took a deep breath, breathing in the subtle mix of your shampoo and a faint whiff of musk that was distinctly Johnny. Nothing compared to the feeling of being home with his loves, both of you safe in his arms.

The three of you drifted off to sleep just like that, limbs thoroughly entangled, steady breathing soothing every last one of you.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok hear me out- (this is an official request 🥺🙌🏼) can we get a Logan x fem!reader smut but it sparely based on sex pollen? I just love that trope so much that some plant of whatever drives both of them so crazy to the point where they’re just going at it out of pure instinct? Thank you in advanceeeee

im gonna be honest with you, I haven’t got a clue what sex pollen is. no matter how many things I read or how much I try to understand it, it doesn’t go in my brain and for that reason, ive deleted every sex pollen request ive received😭 but I finally had a crack at it. thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

POLLEN.

logan howlett x fem!reader — smut

word count. 321 (soz it's short)

warnings. 18+ only. pinv, exhibitionism, sex pollen. mdni

Desperation. That’s the only word, only way to describe what you’re feeling. Pure, unadulterated lust – mounds of unbridled desire. Maybe it was something you ate, something you smelt, you didn’t know.

All you did know is that you felt empty. Not empty in the sad, hopeless sense, but instead physically unfulfilled. The lack of friction where you wanted it sending your mind further into a tizzy. 

The presence of Logan only adding metaphorical fuel to the fire. Every little, micro, casual thing he does makes it harder and harder to suppress what you so desperately wanted to contain. 

These feelings –urges– were reciprocated, the same substance affecting Logan in the same way it did you. Neither of you knew what it was, knew what had caused it. You only knew what it felt like: deep, primal and repressed. 

Everything about it is urgent, all of it happening as if it were purely instinctual. The hasty unbuttoning of bottoms and lifting of tops following as a result of the substance.

Each of you quiet and close as you cramp yourselves in the cubbyhole of a service station bathroom. The dingy, grimey room like a reflection of the act itself: dirty, secret, forbidden.

The space between you minimal, distance non-existent as he presses you up against the stall door. One of your legs loosely wrapped around his thigh, footing sturdy on the toilet seat lid as you keep yourself balanced. His hands tight on you only aiding your stability. 

His strokes are urgent —everything about it is so urgent— the fucking of his cock into you is hasty and desperate, every wind of his hips coming from a place of deep-rooted need. 

The stuttery, cut-off noises from your mouths only add to the hotness of it all – hushed, muffled moans into the other's skin to avoid the chance of being caught. To avoid the possibility of a patron overhearing it all.

almost blew my load seeing this gif. it’s not mine, found it on pinterest

[amourrs]

so there’s this absolutely filthy thought that’s stuck in my head of miguel with standing missionary… oh to be fucked in the air like a doll… what can i say i love my men big n strong.

thanks for your request lovey!! — one where you and your boyfriend have a quickie in a public bathroom (established relationship, smut 18+, 0.8k)

Your back is pressed to the wall, hands scraping for purchase against it and coming up empty as your legs squeeze firmly around your boyfriend’s thighs. This is kind of disgusting, you think fleetingly, your head turning towards the closed toilet half a foot to your right. You quickly decide not to care about hygiene, though, not with six feet and nine inches of muscle and sex appeal hard and willing in front of you.

“Cariño,” Miguel pants into your mouth, hands coming up to circle your waist. You’re forced to turn back to him as your eyes begin to flutter closed. “Nuh uh- eyes open, honey. Gotta keep your attention on me or I’m gonna get jealous of a toilet and we can’t give Morales that kind of ammunition against me, not when he caught me stroking that cat last week.”

Your eyes snap open at once. “That cat has a name, Miguel, and it’s Monty—” A gasp cuts you off and it takes you a second to realise that it came from your own throat. Miguel’s hips snap into yours a second time as a smug smile saunters across his lips, twisting them into a condescending expression.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t give a fuck what the cat was called, sweetheart. How could I when I have you right here? Fuck, you’re dripping for me, angel, gonna feel so good when you cum around my cock,” he groans, hands sliding down to cup your thighs as he massages them in his grip. Heat rises to your face and you promptly bury yourself in his neck, peppering kisses to the junction where it meets his jawline as he chuckles at you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, corazón. Actin’ like this wasn’t your idea in the first place,” Miguel teases, his voice cracking slightly as his cock drags against your velvety walls and you let out a broken moan.

“Shut up,” you whine, head still firmly planted against your boyfriend’s hot skin. “Didn’t— fuck— ask, did I?”

Something about the pettiness of your statement is far harder to take seriously when Miguel has your legs shaking around him and so he decides to let it slide, opting to laugh at you rather than torturing you further. “Okay, okay, mi— shit, squeezin’ me so tight. You close, honey? Gonna cum for me? God, please cum for me, you look so pretty when you do—” It’s not long before the huge man’s babbling has your head tilting back to hit the wall of the stall as your cunt clenches around him, your orgasm washing over you as Miguel’s thumb comes up to brush against your clit. You jolt slightly at the stimulation, whining at the slight pain that’s beginning to creep in as Miguel’s thrusts speed up. He’s pounding into you with no reprieve now, arm up above you as he clutches at the top of the stall’s wall to steady himself. “I know, mi vida, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so close, I swear— fuck— taking me so well, cariño, I’m gonna— shit”, he swears, pulling out at the last moment so that he can paint your thigh with his release. It’s so hot when his head slides back to moan as he cums and you have to resist the urge to bite him, instead deciding to whine as you turn on shaky legs to sit on top of the closed lid of the toilet. Miguel turns to you a second later, pulling toilet roll out of the dispenser to his left as he leans over and begins to clean himself off of the soft skin of your thigh, leaving a sweet kiss behind on the spot as he does so.

“So,” he starts as soon as you’re both fully dressed again, your breath finally beginning to return to your lungs. He’s bending down to retie your shoelace for you as he squares his shoulders and looks up into your eyes, an expression of pure, unadulterated (and rather sappy) love evident on his face. “I have a really important question to ask you, and it’s been on my mind for so long—”

You roll your eyes at him, incredulous. “Miguel O’Hara, I swear to God. If you dare propose to me in a public bathroom—”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in mock surprise and he rises to his feet. “Propose? To you? In a bathroom?! Mi vida, what are you on about? Clearly I was about to ask if you wanted falafel or sushi for dinner,” he rebukes, barely holding in a peal of laughter as it shakes his broadened shoulders.

“Oh, fuck off, O’Hara. Obviously I want sushi.”

Miguel grins at your irritated expression before leaning down to smear an affectionate kiss across your forehead. “Sushi it is then, cariño.”

[sirhamburrger]

and some roommates (don't worry, we're cool!)

a/n: thinking silly thoughts today... having sae itoshi and ryusei shidou as roommates while getting involved with rin itoshi… (unrealistic since they'd both probably be really rich by the end of bllk, whenever that is, or adulthood) for the purpose of this drabble please pretend they are two broke boys 🙏

wc: 739 || tags: all characters are 18+, gn!reader, reader is in uni, situationship ryusae once again putting the bl in blue lock, background rin x reader, 700 words of domestic crack and more || header from bllk manga

(continued here in my christmas miniseries, more rin x reader centric)

it all begins when you're looking for an apartment in downtown tokyo. but since you can't afford one of your own at the moment, you're looking to see if anyone could use another roommate to split rent with.

and after days of scouring the internet, you find a promising place. clean, well-furnished, spacious - but there's already a couple living together in it...

oh well. the more the better. 

so you show up at their door after a couple of text messages exchanged with one of the very enthusiastic co-tenants, hoping to get a better look at the place. you ring the bell. no response. you try again. and again. maybe they're out -

“shidou, will you just get the damn door already?”

oh. okay.

the door finally swings open, and you're greeted by a tall, tan-skinned and vaguely familiar-looking man with a terrifying grin. you take a step back, a little shocked, but he just beams at you.

“you're the one who's been messaging me about the apartment, aren’tcha? come on in!”

he loops an arm around your shoulder, introducing himself as he walks you in. he's ryusei shidou, a member of the national football team who played in an exhibition match a few years back (which explains why you find him so familiar).

“so, uh…” you shudder slightly when shidou fixes his gaze on you. “where's your girlfriend? or, uh, boyfriend, i guess. partner. i should probably meet them.”

and it's at this moment that you abandon your inital thoughts of finding another place because sae freaking itoshi steps into the kitchen??

you think you might just faint. 

“o-oh my gosh, sae,” you stammer,  “it's an honour to meet you –”

he stares at you blankly, then at shidou with murderous intent in his eyes.

“who is this?”

“i'm not, like, a side chick or anything,” you quickly clarify, but shidou simply grins.

“we need someone to split rent with, and-”

“and i thought i would just check your place out, seeing as i'm in the same boat,” you finish. “but you two, as a couple, should probably discuss this. you know what? i can wait outside-"

“wait,” sae says slowly, pure, unadulterated disgust in his eyes. “he told you we're a couple?”

shidou's face falls. "we're not?"

and that's the story of how you move in with two men around your age who have some weird dynamic going on that you don't question.

japan's talented young midfielder is a great roommate (then again, you did go into this with no expectations whatsoever). he does the dishes when he's supposed to, takes the heavier bags off your hands during grocery runs with you, stays quiet after ten pm. he makes breakfast for you and shidou in the mornings, and teaches you about football.

ryusei shidou, though... oh, you get why sae's so sick of him now.

he takes the most massive dumps in the bathroom and doesn't flush. or put the seat back up after he's done. or turn the tap off properly. (he's flooded the sink before.) speaking of sinks, he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink. sometimes you want to tear his diabolical dye job off his scalp. sae informs you he has has tried just that and failed to do so.

but he does make you laugh a lot with his jokes and antics.

"one thing you should know about genius sae-chan is that he loves back hugs." "please don't speak for me."

and the two of you absolutely love making fun of sae's attempts to properly reconcile with his brother. you'll be peering over at his phone screen, ryusei on his right and you on his left, as he types out something about lunch plans tomorrow.

"you spelled 'restaurant' wrong for a second there."

ryusei dodges the pillow that comes flying at his face.

they've known each other for longer than you've known them, but they tell you things they wouldn't ever tell the other. like when ryusei quietly admitted to you one night, that despite all his careless flirting, he does really want to be with sae, in a more-than-friends kind of way. or like when sae told you in confidence that he secretly likes ryusei's back hugs.

and when against all odds, a certain green-haired boy in your lectures starts talking to you, you shudder to think that you now have something in common with ryusei - being deeply obsessed with an itoshi sibling.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

“In order to date me, you gotta beat my seven evil exes.”

[laine-is-pomegranted]

YAYYY JIMMY X READER pls :3

I love that horrible man so muxh

Baby, Can You See Through The Tears? (Mature)

jimmy x gn!reader

c/w - jimmy being jimmy (misogyny, verbal and physical abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, cursing, ect..)

synopsis - you, jimmy's s/o, go to comfort him after curly gives the crew the news that they'll all lose their jobs after they return to earth. he's... not taking it well.

a/n - ahhhh! i love evil men so so much.... NOT excusing or validating his actions btw, you can enjoy things in fiction and not agree w or support them irl. and yes, the title is a lana del ray reference.

wc - 1240

(image not mine)

jimmy had snapped after hearing the news of how, upon returning to earth, pony express would be terminating the employment of your crew. he had stood from his seat at the dining table and yelled, berating curly for allegedly having hoped for this and being a horrible friend, then stormed off. you, being the doting s/o that you are, excused yourself from the table and nervously chased after him.

"jimmy...?" you call out, your voice is soft and low as you slowly step into the tulpar's sleeping quarters. jimmy is stood at the foot of his bed, head in his hands and his fingers tangled tightly in his long locks of brown hair.

he turns, eyes almost crazed as his neck snaps around to look at you. "jesus FUCKING christ!" he yells, kicking the leg of his bed. you hear the wood splinter and crack at the impact. "what? what could you POSSIBLY fucking want?" he asks, venom dripping from his angrily slurred words as he takes an imposing step towards you.

you stumble back, frightened. it wasn't uncommon for jimmy to yell, especially at you and especially when he was stressed or angry, but this scared you. jimmy gets angry, sure. and yeah, sometimes he'll even get a little violent, but this was different. you've never seen him so belligerently angry and the sight of it sends a knee-weakening chill through your spine.

"i-" your breath catches in your throat as you fumble to find your words, arms bracing yourself against the doorframe on instinct. "i just... i wanted to make sure you were alright." you mutter, trying your hardest to seem unbothered, unafraid. jimmy is a scary, scary man when he's angry, but you'd learned over the years not to show him that.

it always made him angrier, the sight of you cowering in fear below him as he'd scream at you, spit flying from his mouth and occasionally peppering your face as your eyes would fill with tears and your knees would buckle below you. "weak" he'd call you. a weak, insignificant, coward that couldn't even handle words. "i'll fucking give you something to be scared of." he'd always say, raising his hand to bring it down across your face.

despite you efforts, he notices. he steps closer, grabbing you by the collar of your uniform shirt and pulling you away from the doorframe, his eyes wide with blind fury. "what do you think?" he spits, pulling you closer to him, your faces barely inches apart. "seriously, how fucking oblivious can you be?" he asks in an angry, condescending tone. "no. no obviously i'm not fucking okay."

you shutter as his breath hits your face, eyes frantically darting across his features as sweat gathers on your brow. "i'm sorry, jim. i just-" your voice is shaky as you try to explain yourself before being cut off.

"just what?" he taunted, pushing you up against the wall behind you, hitting your head off of it. "just came to rub it in my face?" he asks, his voice growing louder as he looks down at you, pure unadulterated rage painting his face "just came to rub it in my face that i'm losing everything?"

you shake your head vigorously, ignoring the throbbing pain emanating from the back of your skull. "no! no, of course not.." you stutter, eyes welling with tears as he stares down at you with an expression more frightening than pure hate. "i- everything's gonna be alright jimmy." you speak softly, your voice cracking as you try to comfort him, to bring him down from this enormously high point of rage. "it'll... it'll be tough, but we'll have each other, won't we?'

"that's what you think, huh?" he scoffs a mean-hearted laugh before bringing his hand down against your cheek with a booming clap. "that everything is going to be just-fucking-fine because 'we have eachother'? i hate to break it to you, dollface, but in the real world everything doesn't just magically work out because of togetherness."

your lips quiver as a few stray tears fall down your cheeks, swallowing a sob before you attempt to speak again. "that's... that's not what i meant." you whimper, voice shaky and cracking.

he grips you by the jaw, squeezing it just tightly enough to hurt without bruising. "then what?" he speaks with flat anger. "what did you mean?"

more tears fall down your cheeks as you crumple. you don't know why you're trying to 'argue' back to him, it never works. "i just.." you mumble. "i just meant..." your voice breaks again as a quiet sob pushes out of your throat. "that- that i'd be here for you no matter what happens, that you'll have my support regardless of how things go when we get back to earth."

his face almost softens and a pang of slight guilt thrums through his chest, unbeknownst to you. his grip moves from your jaw to your hair as he balls it in his fist. "yeah, of course you would." he scoffs again, the venom in his words not quite reaching his eyes this time. "thats your fucking job, you're my partner."

he feels bad. he'd never express that, never let you know that, but he feels bad. his chest throbs with guilt every single time that he does this. he doesn't really know why he does it in the first place, but he does. he's never not felt bad for treating you this way, he knows you love him with every fiber of your being, that you'd never hurt him or leave him for the things he does to you and, in his own sick, perverted, twisted way he loves you too. but he can't stop being this way. if he never admits that he's wrong for this, that he's hurting you just for the sake of it then, in his mind, he's not. if he verbalizes it, makes it real, it gives you a reason to buck back, to leave, to put yourself first. he cannot handle the thought of that. not to mention the fact that there were... others that he'd been treating much, much worse as of late. he knows you wouldn't forgive him if you knew what he'd done to anya.

you let out several more weak sobs, trembling as he holds you pinned in place. "i'm sorry!" you cry, staring up at him with bleary eyes. "you're right, i'm sorry..." you concede. you just want the pain to stop as you crumble.

he moves his hands from your hair and wraps them around your waist and lets you bury your face in his chest as you cry, rubbing circles on your back. "i know you're sorry." he says, the poisonous, vitriolic tone he'd had moments earlier seemly vanished, leaving behind a low, comforting hum. he gently lifts your head by the chin, making your teary eyes meet his distant ones as he presses his chapped lips to yours.

you melt as you wrap your arms around his neck, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you press against him, the comforting warmth of his body washing away every fear you'd felt since the beginning of your altercation. you knew he didn't mean to. he's just stressed. besides, you were out of line.

he pulls back from your lips, gently pushing your hair from your forehead as he planted a soft kiss against it. "I forgive you."

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

...maybe second place isn't so bad.

{{ L }} He's Buddha.

Probably smart NOT to fight a literal deity for the sake of being the strongest.

[zelcii]

Can i have Tom riddle X Hufflepuffreader angst

anyway I love your writing so muchh 💗🫶🏻

unnatural | tom riddle

she knew she was playing with fire when they met, so she couldn’t blame him when she got burned.

it was always there, that dark allure about him, the way he moved like he knew secrets about the world no one else could fathom. 

tom riddle wasn’t supposed to be loved, and yet, she loved him. she couldn’t help herself—couldn’t help the way her heart quickened when he was near, the way she melted under his gaze, the way she lost herself in his cold touch. she was never like him; in more ways than one. she was a hufflepuff, kind-hearted and warm, everything that he was not. tom was distant, calculating, and colder than the stone walls of hogwarts, but he was magnetic. no one could deny that.

they started as a secret, a quiet whisper amongst stolen glances.

tom never promised her anything, and she never expected more than what he gave. but you have to understand when i say he gave her his all.

tom was supposed to be a fighter. a man with no weakness. but as he watched her get sorted, feelings started brewing, though he supposed he should’ve expected it.

he tends to want the things he can’t have.

so for months—for mere months was all he needed—he spent his every day pining for the hufflepuff girl in a very calculated manner. and once he had her, there was no way he’d risk throwing away the only chance he had at love. true love.

he tracked the routes she took to every class to increase his chances in initiating conversation. he observed her eating patterns, reserving her favourite desserts so he could be the one to serve them to her. he even tracked her cycle to act accordingly.

she once thought she was prepared for the inevitable. early into their relationship, she was nothing but cautious, never putting in enough effort to regret it once he would obviously eventually break her heart.

after all, tom was born for something far greater than a fleeting romance. 

tom riddle was perfect, composed, and intelligent beyond measure, but the cracks were there—if you knew where to look.

she could see it every time he read a letter from his mother, the hint of disdain mixed with nothing but sadness towards her desperate words. she could see it when he held his breath, awaiting a grade for his exams, the way he both expected nothing but perfect yet continued to dread over the possibility of something lower (although it was a chance slim to none).

tom riddle was a puzzle of fractured pieces, all sharp edges and hollow spaces. there was an emptiness in him, something so profound it made her ache. and yet, in the quiet moments, when he let his guard slip—just for a breath—she could see something else.

he loved her. both of them knew it. there was something different about the way he looked at her. there was something raw and fragile churning in his merciless heart that he feared, and it held him back from ever truly keeping her.

he wanted her out of his life because it couldn’t have been natural. tom had fully convinced himself that he was utterly unloveable and that he himself, a product of a blatant breach in all magical and natural laws, shouldn't have been able to love someone so much. yet he knew that what he felt for the girl was pure, unadulterated love. 

at sixteen, tom killed his father. 

he never felt more free.

it was clear then that the longer he held onto the notion of love, the harder it would be to achieve the very things he believed he was born to do. 

so he pushed the girl away. his girl.

it broke him how she held on to every string that tied the two of them together. she held on because love was meant to be messy, wasn’t it? love was supposed to hurt. but oh, how it hurt.

he left after two short years—no words, no explanation—at the ripe age of seventeen. he had said that he had plans for a greater future. plans for a life worth living. and after all is done and every prophecy is fulfilled, he would come back to her, his only love. 

then tom had simply walked away, leaving nothing but the cold space where he’d once stood and an empty promise of “one day.” 

she cried. but not because she was surprised. no, this was very much expected if not inevitable. 

she cried because, in that moment, she realised just how far gone tom was. she cried because he had lost himself in the heat of what he believed to be his destiny. 

in the dumbledore’s office, harry stood idly by the pensieve watching as the old wizard spoke to him, explaining to him to find the one memory that recalled the very moment in which the dark lord decided to devote his life to his violent cause.

“it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information,” albus mumbled as he stirred the magical liquid, beams light dancing above.

“whose memories will these be?” the boy asked, watching the light dance around the bottom of the basin.

“a hufflepuff’s,” the professor answered curtly.

harry stood with his hands on either side of the stone basin, before dunking his head into the liquid light.

the first thing he recognized was the astronomy tower, stars dancing just outside the large arched windows of the building.

the next thing is tom marvolo riddle. he looks young, a little younger then he’s used to seeing him, though familiar. his eyes droop, heavy but his jaw is clenched tightly, a subtle anger that he rarely wore on display.

but then a girl, no older than tom, entered the room from the long, precarious staircase. harry had never seen her before.

“tom,” she uttered breathlessly.

“love, i told you, we cannot meet like this,” he whispered firmly, his tone reprimanding. but harry could see the way his eyes softened at the sight of her. he saw the way the tension in his jaw faded, the way his brows knitted ever so slightly in concern, and the drowse in his eyes melting away in an instant.

not to mention the warmth in the way he called her love with such ease.

after all, the hufflepuff was still tom’s love; he was simply setting her aside to focus on things he found far more important.

"but i need you," she said, frustration creeping into her tone. "i know there are… other things you care about, but i can’t shake the feeling you don’t want anything to do with me anymore—"

"now, i never said that," tom replied, placing his hands on either side of her face, eyes calm. "i only ask for time, my love."

it took her a moment, searching his eyes for a meaning that went on deeper than his words. 

"your love?"

"my only," he confirmed with a steady nod.

she took a breath, but her brow stayed furrowed.  

"your only?" she repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation slipping through. 

before tom could answer, she shook her head, letting out a frustrated huff. she knew there was always something else that held his heart just a little more tightly.

“hey, no. what was that?” tom asked firmly, his hands moving from her face down to her squared shoulders. he was referring to the way her eyebrows knitted together, tempting him to lift his hand up to smooth out the creases.

harry watched, feeling a strange pang in his chest as he witnessed the tenderness in tom's touch—something he never could have imagined coming from voldemort. 

the girl, however, wasn’t easily soothed.  

“tom, i hate this," she admitted, her voice quieter now, laced with something close to desperation but grounded in stubborn strength. "i hate that i have to compete with your... obsession. am i even enough for you? really?"

tom hesitated, his gaze flickering, and for a moment, harry thought he saw a hint of doubt cross the future dark lord’s face. tom’s fingers tightened slightly on her shoulders. harry could tell the girl noticed it, too. all three of them knew tom wanted more.

"you are, my love," he replied, though there was a rare, unsteady note in his voice. "i promise you—no matter what happens, i will make it out of this alive. i’ll come back to you, and then we’ll have everything. together.”

she held his gaze, a glimmer of belief in her eyes, but there was a lingering sadness, too, one harry could feel even through the distance of a memory. her fingers slid down his forearm, clasping his hand tightly, almost as if she were grounding herself in his touch.

harry’s heart sank as the memory faded, his mind already piecing together what it all meant, feeling an inevitable, dark realisation set in. 

for tom to get her back, harry would need to be removed from the equation. tom’s only way to keep his promise, to return to his “only love” was by ending harry’s life.

[lesservillain]

eddie munson x best friend!reader

summary: a previous request I had to write eddie and a weird girl!reader. edited just a tad for better flow.

cw: none

Eddie watched as you picked up another rock, examining it carefully in your hand before tossing it towards the lake. The two of you had been out here at Lover’s Lake for close to 2 hours now, skipping the rest of the school day after you'd asked him to bring you here during lunch.

The boys laughed at him for how easy it was for you to get him to do anything. But Eddie only gave them the finger as he trailed behind you out of the school. You never asked him for much, so who was he to deny you?

You and Eddie had known each other since he moved to the trailer park to live with Wayne. The two of you fell in and out of friendship over the years as you both went through the motions of life that got you to where you were today.

Sometimes you two were inseparable, and other times you kept to yourself. Choosing to be alone for weeks or months on end until you would knock on his trailer door like you'd just seen him yesterday. Many deemed you weird for your antisocial behaviors, including your own mother. But, Eddie knew you would come back around eventually, and he always welcomed you back with open arms.

With his legs dangling out the back door of his van, he brought a newly lit cigarette in his mouth to chase the joint he had just finished as he watched you do…whatever thing you needed to get out of your system today. He should have known you were going to want to spend the day outside with the overcast that had been looming. You hated the heat from the sun, preferring the shield of the clouds to cover you while you look for different bug or flowers or whatever you deemed worthy to be picked from the ground. 

“Oh, Eddie!” Your excited voice had him jolting straight up, greeted by the site of your bright smile before him. “Look! This one’s got a fossil in it!”

Eddie opens his hand for you to place the rock in it. Your discovery stays hidden until you pull your hand away from his. And, sure as shit, there’s a print of some old ass plant or something on the side of the little rock. 

“Woah, that's fucking cool,” he says, matching your energy for your find. He hands it back to you and you hold it in both hands, face beaming at your discovery. Eddie likes it when you get like this. The pure, unadulterated bliss that beams from you feels like it could cheer him up on his deathbed.

But after a moment, your expression falters. A crack in the joy of the moment that Eddie clocks right away. 

“What?” He asks, looking at you even though he knows you wont give him eye contact back. 

“Eddie, why do you hang out with me?”

Eddie reels back. It’s not the first time you’ve dropped heavy questions on him before, but he wasn’t expecting you to hit him with that one. 

It was one he wasn't sure how to answer. Mostly because the answer was complicated.

Why was he your friend? Why did he like having you around? Why did it kill him when you distance yourself from him?

Okay, maybe the answer wasn't really that complicated. Rather, admitting it was. 

Because the truth is that Eddie is completely head over heels for you.

Ever since he’s known you he knew you were it for him. You never thought that he was a freak for having a dead mom and a jail bird dad. Never judged him for being poor even for trailer park standards. Certainly never made any remarks about his music tastes.

He hadn't always been subtle about his feelings, telling you when you were younger that he would marry you someday. He still gets a kick when he thinks about the way your nose scrunched up at the suggestion.

He would pester you any chance he could, and Wayne had to tell him to not be so forward or else he was going to scare you off. Little did Wayne know that it would take a hell of a lot more than Eddie’s strong personally to push you away. He eventually realized how well you could meet Eddie’s energy, calling the two of you a match made for trouble.

Because Eddie loves when you would barge into his room without knocking to show him a painting you’ve finished. Or when you would tap on his window at 3 am because you couldn’t sleep, knowing he was probably still awake too.

He loved when you would join the Hellfire Club at lunch, telling Grant to move so you could sit next to Eddie’s spot at the end of the table. He loved that you wanted to be around him, and he wanted to be around you just as much. 

“Because we’re friends,” he says casually. Your eyes lift to meet his. He can’t tell you how he feels. He can’t risk giving you a reason to run away from him. “It’s been like, what, 10 years now since we started hanging out? Why do you want to know now?”

Your eyes shift down, avoiding eye contact with him once again. You must be worried about something he thinks. He wishes he could read minds just to see what you’re thinking. 

“I was just wondering," you say in a tone that tells Eddie you were not just wondering. "Don’t want you to think you’re obligated to hang out with me or anything.”

“What?” He shakes his head incredulously, laughing at the absurdity of your assumption. “I don’t feel obligated. I like hanging out with you. Promise.”

He sticks his pinky out for you to twist with yours, something you’ve been doing since he pinky-promised to be your friend when the other kids said you were too weird. 

But you don’t accept it, crossing your arms over your chest and curling in on yourself. Your boot shifts as you nervously roll a rock under your heel. It’s quiet for a moment, and Eddie drops his hand slowly, not liking the way the air is shifting around the two of you.

Something feels off. Final. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to hang out anymore, Eddie,” you say matter of factually.

Forced. He can tell you’re putting on a front, like the one you put on for your mom. He wonders if she’s got something to do with this. 

Eddie’s throat feels dry, breathing in through his nose to keep himself together. 

“I don’t know why you would think that. Did I do something—”

“No,” you cut him off, looking at him in the eyes for a few seconds before averting your gaze again. “It’s not you Eddie. I just…”

Eddie stares at you with his big brown eyes hoping you’ll give him something, anything to try and fix whatever has you feeling this way. 

“Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

Well that was the last thing he expected you to say. 

“I’m sorry, what?” He blinks up at you, confused at where this conversation is going. You take a sharp breath through your nose, and huff, brows pinching as you become visibly upset. 

“Well you and Jeff and Gareth were talking about how hot the cheerleaders uniforms are, and — and you said that if you had a chance you’d like to see what's under their skirts—“

“Okay, hold on, I didn’t say that,” he says defensively, but you give him a look that makes him back track. “Or, even if I did, I only said it because it was Gareth and Jeff. I didn’t really mean it.”

“I’m not mad that you said it, Eddie. I just," you breath in, a slight hitch in your throat as you do. "…I hear what those girls say about me…about us and…I just feel like…I—I,” you sniffle, “I don’t want to be the reason you can’t get a girlfriend.”

Eddie tries so, so hard not to laugh. Like, he’s really trying to hold it in because you’re clearly very upset. But he can’t suppress wide grin that slowly creeps across his face.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, “You don’t really think that do you?”

Your only response is a silent nod and Eddie’s heart only grows more for you. 

“Trust me, you’re not why I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says with a tone of self-deprecation. It’s not the full truth, because technically you are the reason, just not in the way you think. “Those cheerleaders wouldn’t want me whether you’re around me or not. And it’s not like there’s a line of girls dying to date me or whatever.”

He twists his rings around his fingers, waiting for your response. When he looks up, you’re looking at him like he’s got three heads.

“What?” He laughs. 

“Are you joking?” You ask him very seriously.

“Joking about what…?”

“That you don’t have girls trying to, you know, get with you…”

“Oh, no, definitely not.” 

A smile finally cracks on your face at his words, and an immediate relief washes over him. The tension in your body visibly washes away and you take a step closer to him. 

“Okay,” you say with a soft smile. 

“Can I ask why you’re so worried about me getting a girlfriend anyway?”

“Well, my mom said—“

He raises his hand, stopping you mid sentence, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

It warms his heart when you laugh, melting all the worries away. Though, he still can’t help feeling like he could lose you forever at any given moment. It would gut him if you really did decide that he couldn’t be in your life anymore. He already gets sick at the thought of you meeting someone else, someone other than him, and moving on to leave him in the dust. 

“Why do you hang out with me?”

He likes the way your eyebrows shoot up when he turns your question back on you. He thinks that he’s got you just as flustered as you had him, but you look at him with a shake of the head as you speak very matter of factly. 

“Because I love you.”

Eddie has to catch himself before he can get too excited. This is you that he’s dealing with here. And you could mean that in so many ways; as a friend, a brother, a lover.  And, god, did he hope you mean the ladder. 

“Love me how?” He asks carefully, trying his best not to sound to excited. 

“Like…well, sometimes, when you do stuff that’s, like, really cute or makes me happy, I just want to—“ You bring your hands to his face, something you’ve done many times over the years when he’s going on about D&D or music or even just when he’s reading. He always assumed it was your way of expressing that he was being a bother or overstimulating you, so he would usually stop or change the subject. “—just grab you and kiss you.”

Eddie knows his face has to be as red as a tomato. His heart is going a million miles a minute and he can barely keep his breathing steady. 

Holy shit is this happening?

“You want to kiss me?” 

You nod, “Yeah, like, a lot.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Your eyes practically bug out of your head, dumbstruck at his words. 

“I can do that?”

“Please?” It comes out breathy, meant to be a joke, but almost as a beg.

And so you do. Your soft, mint chapstick covered lips hastily meet his, head tilted ever so slightly so your noses don’t bump as if you’ve done this before. Have you done this before? Certainly not with him. It makes his blood boil thinking that someone other than him has ever gotten a chance to do this with you.

The feeling of your fingers gliding across his scalp, nails skimming in a way that sends goosebumps down his arms. He takes the opportunity to bring his own hands to your hips, pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss. 

When you finally pull away, Eddie leans in to chase after you. And when he finally opens his eyes, he feels sick—lovesick at the sight of your pleased smile. The way you’re looking at him with a sparkle in your eye makes him feel like he could do anything. 

“Wow,” you say between the two of you. 

“Likewise,” he says with an airy chuckle. 

“Can I do it again?” You ask shyly. 

“Sweetheart, you can kiss me whenever you want,” he says dreamily. 

“Really?”

He hums in response, cut off with a hmph as your lips meet his again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

thank you for reading.

[sttoru]

STEP ON ME !

ෆ sypnosis. satoru decides to surprise you by making breakfast in bed since you weren’t feeling well. he leaves the kitchen a complete mess, which only stresses you out more and it eventually turns into a small argument.

ෆ note. had to make some satoru angst (+ comfort at the end).. based on a thought i had of satoru holding back tears & failinf t_t not proofread !

ෆ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, reverse comfort, bits of fluff, satoru holdin back tears because he isn’t used to u raising ur voice.. ehem. that’s all ima say.

satoru’s tongue stuck out between his lips as he was deeply focused on cracking an egg open without making too much noise. he had planned this surprise breakfast for you in secrecy ever since he spotted the stress and fatigue in your demeanour. it was written all over your face: you needed a break from life itself and as soon as it was possible.

the least your lover could do was make things easier for you by doing the simplest of tasks. that’s the reason behind satoru’s motivation this morning. he was determined to make you your favourite food just to be able to see that smile on your face again.

‘then, add 200ml of milk,’ the voice of a woman explaining the recipe on a youtube video sounded from somewhere in the kitchen. satoru couldn’t even spot his phone throughout the entire mess he made; he just followed what the voice said.

there was flour everywhere on the counter along with broken egg shells, spilled milk, ripped open packages of seasoning, some other pans on the stove which got toasts in them (already halfway burning). all in all, it was utter chaos, though it seemed like satoru’s been used to it.

“okay.. now we mix it.” satoru mumbles to himself and grabs a whisk to mix the ingredients in the bowl. he had a joyful expression on his face, dimples showing near the corners of his mouth, blue eyes glimmering with anticipation at what your reaction could be.

‘she’s gonna be so surprised—can’t wait,’ your lover was already imagining just what your face would look like once he surprises you. it fills his heart with pure and unadulterated love.

little did he knew that you were already awake due to the distant noises of destruction in your kitchen. you had awoken with a headache and were already in a bad mood because of whoever interrupted your (already) poor sleeping schedule. satoru was most likely the culprit since he wasn’t in bed with you right this moment.

you lift yourself up with a groan, mumbling some complaints once you realised that you had been awoken at 9 in the morning. today was the first and last day in so many weeks that you could sleep in, yet was instantly ruined. this only fuelled your stress for the day ahead.

what you didn’t expect, however, was to find the kitchen in such a disastrous condition. you freeze on spot and stare at the mess with wide eyes. the only thing you could hope for in that instant, was that this was all part of a very long and realistic nightmare.

satoru wiped some flour from his face as he was too engrossed on perfectly cutting up some of your favourite fruit. he had a proud expression on his face once the last pieces were sliced up and stepped back to admire his work, “absolute masterpiece. bet she’ll be happy about it.”

a long sigh coming from behind the sorcerer made him turn around. his face lit up at the sight of you. especially because he loves how adorable you look in the mornings; a bit grumpy, tired eyes, pouty lips— although there was no denying it; you seemed even grumpier today which didn’t surprise him. you were going through a hard time after all.

“hi, baby!” satoru greets you with a bright smile in hopes to erase whatever was bothering you, “i made you your favourite breakfast combo. i thought i’d surprise you today, but heh, guess you found out before i could.”

you didn’t even pay any mind to what was said nor did you look up at your lover even once. all your eyes were seeing was the complete mess all around the kitchen, on the tiles, counter and walls.

“satoru,” another deep sighs leaves your lips in attempt to calm your nerves and not lose your temper, “what’s all this?”

satoru hesitates a little to speak up once he senses the slight discomfort—no—irritation building up in you. he’s always been attentive to any changes in your mood and that’s how he easily comes to know when you’re upset. this moment was no different.

“hm? what?” satoru slowly asks, voice lower than it was previously. he really was trying not to accidentally strike a nerve, all the while keeping that big smile on his lips. there was a quiet voice in the back of his mind which was telling him that you were at the verge of breaking down. you’ve been on the edge since yesterday. it was only a matter of time for you to lose your temper.

thus, satoru decides to tread carefully, doing that by trying to change topics and feigning innocence. of course, he knew you meant the disaster in the kitchen, however he figured it’d be the right choice to make you forget about it;

“you mean this? it’s your favourite pancakes and—uhh— your favourite fruits and stuff. y’know what i realised this morning? cookin’ is really har—”

“don’t act dumb. you know damn well what i meant, gojo.”

the harsh words pierce through satoru’s soul. the tone of voice used by you sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. it was noticeable, the physical changes satoru went through in under two seconds: his smile dropped, lips slightly parting in mild shock, body freezing and eyes shaky as they looked back at yours.

the last thing he had expected was for you to be so stone cold to him. satoru never has heard you be this hostile against him throughout the entirety of your relationship, hence his reaction.

and the cherry on top? you using his family’s name to refer to satoru as an individual. the only ones using ‘gojo’ to refer to him were his students and strangers. it felt like your long, loving and strong relationship was shattered in that split second.

“b-baby, i..” he stumbles over his own words. what was there left to say, anyway? you clearly felt angry with him to the point your eyes were glaring at him like he was an enemy of yours. not a lover whom had only shown care and love for you all this time.

all satoru wanted was to make you happy. he didn’t want to upset you in any way, but you were too stressed out by everything to even notice his pure intentions. after all, a negative mindset drives you to hyper focus on all the negativity going on in your life.

“just get out.” you sigh as you walk past your lover, slightly bumping against the tall man which-surprisingly-makes him budge and stumble a step back, “i’ll clean this up.”

satoru didn’t even look at you anymore as his gaze was fixed on the cold tiles underneath his feet. there were a thousand questions going through his head. he didn’t want an answer to all of them. he only needed an answer to one:

“are you mad at me?”

satoru’s voice hadn’t sounded this weak and fragile in ages. in fact, satoru hadn’t felt his heart ache this bad in decades. he knows; he knows he messes up sometimes. the mistakes made in the past, which led to disappointment and even breaks of long lasting relationships, haunted him every night. he never blames others for leaving him since the only outcome of staying with him was disadvantageous.

you don’t answer that question, being too focused on cleaning the food and ingredients cluttered everywhere. the fact that you didn’t answer made satoru panic. even if he tried his best not to show his weakness in the moment.

if only he hadn’t made a mess, if only he didn’t try to do something he knew he wasn’t good at, if only.. he never stepped foot in this kitchen today; none of this would have happened. he wouldn’t have hurt another person who was dear to him.

satoru clenches his fists, white locks covering his eyes to hide the pain, panic and despair in them. there was a lump in the back of his throat, one which he had grown to get used to whenever things go wrong.

but, he can handle it; he can just push those feelings away and act like everything was okay. like he wasn’t hurt by your words. he should just go and help you clean up silently; with a smile on his face regardless. maybe it’d cheer you up— it’s always worth a try.

whilst being in hurtful moments like these, gojo satoru couldn’t help but be the most selfless person on earth.

“sorry. i’m sorry.” his voice breaks the uneasy silence between the two of you. without facing him, you could sense the devastation in his tone. satoru clenches his fists so hard that he could feel his nails making a small wound on the palm. he was trying his utter best not to break down in front of you, because that would be unlike him; unlike the strongest.

“please don’t be mad at me.” what he actually meant by that sentence was ‘please don’t leave me’. satoru’s eye twitches a little as tears begin to blur his vision. he turns his back at you so that you couldn’t notice them— or rather— can’t notice his vulnerability in general.

your movements come to an abrupt halt as your ears pick up on a small hitch of his breath. you knew it well; the little gasp of air before somebody starts crying. that’s when you snapped out of your angry trance, your whole demeanour mellowing instantly.

you turned your body sideways and bit your lip once you saw how satoru had his back turned to you—his shoulders trembling a bit from your point of view. you hesitantly took a few steps towards your lover and when you spoke, your voice was a complete opposite to its earlier used tone, “hey, satoru.”

silence.

you felt your heart break as you realised what you’ve said earlier and how bad it could’ve came across to satoru. your gaze falls on the plates he filled with your all time favourite dishes. the mess surrounding it was just evidence of his hard work— his love for you.

“baby.” you try again, placing a careful hand on satoru’s back. he’s never shown you a vulnerable side of his. you were always met with silly smiles or jokes, despite him being at his lowest.

satoru tensed up a bit as your hand came in contact with his body. it was not out of fear for you, but rather for the consequences of that touch. it was like he forgot all about your irritation from earlier and just set his attention on how you tried to comfort him.

a sigh leaves your lips before you step around satoru’s body to face him properly. his head was still held low and his snowy bangs kept covering his beautiful eyes, though there was no doubt about it: he was silently crying.

you reach out for him, pulling his head to rest on your chest, your other arm draped around his shoulders. soft pecks were placed all over his soft hair while his face was buried in your chest.

in a fraction of just a second, satoru’s entire body melts into your embrace. his arms wrap around your waist while his face was squished against your chest. your scent filled his nostrils which bought him a sense of safety and comfort since it meant that you were still with him. satoru sniffles quietly and squeezes you tightly like he doesn’t want to ever let go of you.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m the one who should be sorry. not you. please forgive me for snapping at you.” you mumble, feeling the guilt hit you in big waves when you took note of the way satoru clung onto you.

quiet sobs, ones that left you devastated, filled the silence in the kitchen. the vibrations of satoru’s soft cries could be felt against your chest and it caused you to hug him tighter than before. you nuzzle your nose into his white, fluffy hair and plant a couple more kisses on his scalp which were meant for comfort.

constant apologies spill from your lips as you realise how bad you must’ve hurt the guy to get him to cry; if anyone else saw satoru straight up sob like this, they’d be baffled yet curious as to what could’ve made such an all time upbeat man finally break down.

all it actually took was you. the most dearest person in his life at the moment, to show a small amount of disappointment in him and satoru felt like his entire future was done for. because, what would a successful future be without you present? it’d all be meaningless, that’s for sure.

“it’s okay.” satoru finally manages to say, his voice hoarse from silently crying in your arms. he slowly pulls his head back to look at you. his blue eyes were glistening with tears, the corners a red hue from all the emotions flowing through him, “i should’ve been more careful.”

your heart sinks at the sight of your lover whom was still insisting on it being his fault. satoru was always like that, no matter the circumstances.

“no, it’s not your fault.” your fingers brushed away the crystal clear drops on satoru’s pale skin, “all you wanted to do was surprise me and make me happy. i shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

satoru looked up at you and then down at your fingers as they gently wiped off his tears. you treated him so delicately in this moment and he loved every second of it. a small smile crept on his face and he eventually nodded,

“thank you.” the two words were simple ones, however you could feel the gratitude radiating off satoru as he slowly regains his usual form. his white eyelashes were wet with tears, cheeks flushed and areas surrounding his eyes gaining a subtly red colour.

it didn’t take much for your lover to calm down. as long as he has you, he can have the entire world and its population against him and he’d still feel the best he ever was. as long as you stayed by his side and didn’t ignore him nor hate him, he’ll live his best life.

no one else mattered to the strongest except for you. and your validation.

“you’re beautiful.” you mutter as you take a good look at satoru’s face from up close. you’ve never seen him properly cry before, so this sight was a first. and oh, what was it an ethereal one.

satoru’s eyes widen in response and he raises his eyebrows at the comment you dropped out of nowhere. all the pain, frustrations and stress were sucked out of his system. from yours as well.

“aht aht, don’t start now, babe”. he playfully scolds while poking your cheek. satoru straightens his back and gazed down at you with that signature grin of his, “we both know you’re more beautiful.”

you giggle and shake your head. you know it’s coming up next; the compliment war. the only battle which satoru hadn’t won just yet. it always ends up with a draw since neither of you want to give up when it comes to showing your love to each orher.

its what strengthens your bond and made it to what it is today. small arguments or misunderstandings, such as the one from earlier, are no match to the purest form of love that lingers between the two of you.

neither satoru nor you will ever give up on your relationship. you both only have each other left in this world after all.

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

"Wow, is that why you killed Cosmo?"

"Why is every green person I meet a total bitch."