#insane with worry thinking what if i missed out.

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 6 masterlist

-

The interior door slides open when Gaz pulls down the lever on his side, fitting into the recesses in the wall until there’s nothing between you. He’s the same and yet entirely different with nothing separating the two of you; more corporeal, undeniably flesh and blood. You can feel it now—the heat of another body in close proximity.

His stare penetrates you to the root, eyes so dark that you can’t look away. It’d be easy to get lost in them, like falling into a black hole, body stretching out into infinity, even the smallest subatomic parts of you torn apart. Expressive eyes, the kind you might look at and think that there’s someone behind them worth knowing. But the sharp angularity of the intelligence there makes your skin crawl. 

Farah finds her voice before you do. “Who are you?”

Gaz breaks his stare to glance at her, his frozen smile suddenly warming. “We haven’t met; I’m Gaz.”

When he holds out his gloved hand, Farah only looks at it instead of taking it, disbelief warring with her common sense. You wish you could hear the thoughts running through her head. 

“You can see him too?” you whisper to her.

Her head snaps in your direction, dark brows already furrowed. “Of course I can. What are you talking about?”

It’s perhaps impossible to explain without making yourself sound insane. More insane, in any case. But with the proof in front of you now, you can’t deny any longer that Gaz is real; that after days spent worrying about the state of your crumbling mental health, the very cause of your concern now stands before you, witnessed by someone else. You’d laugh if you didn’t feel faint. 

Because he is real—all six feet and two inches of him. Close enough to reach out your hand and touch. His skin looks buttery soft; if you were a foot closer, you’d almost be tempted to take his hand if only to see if your fingers would pass through.

Without warning, the intercom suddenly crackles to life again and a familiar voice blares from the speaker. “Panel secure. Headed back now.”

The sound of Nikolai’s voice sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. Even Gaz glances over his shoulder at the door and the vastness of space behind it. There’s nothing there, but his thickly accented voice asks for confirmation and you know it must be him, not a trick of the comms system. You stumble back until you hit the wall behind you.

“Kolya?” you hear Graves respond sharply, his voice still carrying through the ship over the intercom. “Shit, is that you? Do you hear me?”

“Черт побери. Yes, I hear you, mother hen,” Nikolai laughs in response. His laughter is a crisp, hollow sound over the intercom, like crackling blue electricity. “On my way back now. No need to pluck all your feathers out.”

His nonchalance is, frankly, unreasonable for the amount of time elapsed since he last checked in with the crew. 

A whole body comes into view this time, an astronaut waving to you through the window of the exterior door. Even from the other side, you can tell it’s Nikolai, the sheer size of him apparent. 

“Alhamdulillah,” Farah breathes, pulling the lever down for a second time to initiate the return sequence. 

Like deja vu, you watch as the first set of doors open and Nikolai slowly makes his way into the airlock one slow step at a time, the man looking no worse for wear. Beside you, Farah whispers something that you miss. The doors slide shut noiselessly behind him, and again you watch as a man in a spacesuit undergoes repressurization, the tensing of his shoulders making his discomfort with the process apparent. 

He already has his helmet off before the second door even opens. “Like I said, easy peasy. Can someone get me a coffee now?”

It’s almost too much for you to digest in such a short period of time, your emotions slingshotting between losing Nikolai and finding a strange man floating in the middle of space and then hearing the Russian man’s voice again like nothing happened. Lost time, or gained time. 

He must pick up on the way you and Farah simply gape at him in stunned silence.

“Something the matter?” Nikolai asks, a thick caterpillar eyebrow arched. A second later, he registers the other man in the hallway and grins. “Ah, you met Gaz. Nice guy, huh?”

“You know him?” Farah asks, her incredulity apparent.

“We met outside. I sent him in to get warm.”

You’re properly dumbfounded now, staring at Nikolai with abject disbelief for giving someone permission to board the ship without the commander’s permission. 

The footsteps of your commander and his second echo as they race down the hallway from the cockpit, the metal clunking under their boots. Louder and louder until they reach you, coming to a halt just a few feet away.

“Didn’t think I was gone that long,” Nikolai murmurs, stripping out of his spacesuit at the same time. Without a word, Farah helps him tuck it back into the storage locker he originally took it from. 

The two men stalk forward the remaining distance and when you look over at Graves, you can see the worry and relief writ large across his face, his attempts at concealing his emotions only partially successful. 

“What the fuck happened?” Graves barks, his expression stern until his eyes land on Gaz standing peacefully in the middle of the corridor, and then something shifts. A brief uncertainty clouding the pale blue of his eyes. “Who’s this?” 

Gaz lifts a gloved hand in greeting. “Name’s Gaz.”

“Found him outside wandering around,” Nikolai booms, slinging an arm over Gaz’s shoulders in an obvious show of fondness. “Poor bastard couldn’t find his crew.”

“Just wandering around in the middle of nowhere?” Graves asks, cocking a brow, skepticism thick in his words. 

Gaz smiles sheepishly. “It’s my fault. I got a bit turned around.”

Graves hums, mulling over the information. “…Turned around, huh?”

“Yes, sir. Looked away for a second and then my group was gone.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

His deference is second to none. You could almost imagine yourself believing him, swept away by concern for his welfare. 

There’s a difference though. You’ve had the benefit of several days of acclimation. 

“Sir—commander,” you interject, swallowing when Graves turns his attention on you, the microexpression that flits across his face betraying his displeasure at being interrupted. “I’m sorry, but this makes no sense. I don’t see how…well, how he could have survived out on his own. I mean—” Your eyes flick towards Gaz. “I’m sorry, but none of this makes any sense to me.”

Graves’ lip curls up. "What doesn't make any sense?"

"Well, should we have brought him in? This just doesn't seem like protocol—"

“I don’t get your point, doctor. Should we have just left him out there to die? I thought you had that whole Hippocratic oath to uphold.”

None of this makes any sense to you. Apart from Farah, they’re being entirely too cavalier for happening upon a man in the middle of nowhere. There should be talk of heading back to Earth or quarantining him in the brig. 

“It’s not about that,” you croak. 

“I don’t understand you, doctor. You of all people should want to help.”

But he’s the man I’ve been seeing for days, you almost scream, but the blatant disapproval in Graves’ eyes makes you hold your tongue. You know your instincts aren’t wrong. Basic science isn’t wrong. Even if his spacesuit were able to provide basic environmental protection and life support, the longest a human might be able to survive after becoming untethered from their ship would be just under nine hours. 

You don’t know why this isn’t registering as strange to any of them. They act as though there’s nothing at all unusual about a man floating in space without any spacecraft within fifty million miles of him. As if this were just something that happened from time to time, and not an unprecedented anomaly. 

“Well, you could probably do with some shut eye after your trip, I reckon,” Graves says, clamping a hand down on Gaz’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “We have a spare bunk near mine—bit cramped, but I’m sure you’ll make do.”

Gaz tips his head in thanks. “I’d appreciate it.”

“And—sorry, forgot to ask, but are you good? Not feeling faint or sick or anything? I know our doctor’s a little prickly, but whatever you need, she can help with.”

The weight of Gaz’s gaze makes your body feel leaden. 

“All good for now,” he says, still smiling serenely. His stare never wavers, smile never dips. “But don’t worry, love. I’ll come find you when I need you.”

Nikolai’s arm drops from his shoulder and Graves leads him off down the corridor to recuperate in his new room. The scream is buried in your throat; if you try to cough it up, only blood and mucus will come out. 

You can only watch helplessly as they walk away, Farah gone by the time you remember to look for her. 

After that, hours pass by without any sight of the man who recently boarded your ship. You don’t see much of anyone in fact. Hadir eats lunch around the same time as you, but his conversation is oddly circulatory, muddled, like he can’t keep his thoughts straight. He mentions the same thing twice and doesn’t seem concerned when you politely remind him that he already told you. He also doesn’t seem to register your words when you tentatively broach the subject of Gaz’s sudden appearance. 

Hadir shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Better for us anyway. Could be nice to have another warm body around here.”

“Don’t you…don’t you remember what I told you the other day?” you prod, pushing your potatoes around with your fork, your stomach in knots. “When I told you I saw someone outside?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s who I was talking about,” you whisper, as if concerned about being overheard. “I saw Gaz out there. He must have been out there…for days at least.”

“Ah,” he says, mildly contemplative. “Funny, that.”

The conversation feels like a dead end because it is, and you abandon it not long after when you realize that though Hadir is responding to your words, he doesn’t seem to be understanding them. It’s like you’re talking to an automaton, something designed to give you a response but not engage like a human would.

Even that thought seems wrong somehow. You shouldn’t be thinking those kinds of things about your coworkers. 

Back in the medical unit, you pick up the stool that fell to the ground on your way out earlier and take a seat, sipping periodically at the ice cold coffee still sitting on the table. Your mind goes blank for some time. Different than earlier though—not the blankness of concern and paranoia, but the blankness of complete stupefaction. 

It gives you some time to think, but no matter how many times you run through the events of the day in your mind, you keep coming back to the same questions. The same questions with no answers. 

Appetite a no show, you figure it’s better to just retire to your quarters for the evening. 

In bed, you read the same paragraph of your book three times before it sinks in. You can’t concentrate on anything. The same phrase on a loop, your real thoughts swarming like locusts and drowning out the narrator in your head. 

A knock at your door startles you, accidentally making you crinkle a page of your book with your thumb. You bite back a curse, smoothing the page out and calling out a frustrated one second when the person on the other side of your door knocks again. Impatient much. 

You open the door, expecting to find Graves or Nikolai on the other side, only for you to balk when you’re met with the sight of Gaz towering over you, his forearm braced against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” he says after a beat of silence. 

“…Are you lost?” you ask suspiciously. 

“No. Thought I’d stop by before I turn in for the night.”

Something occurs to you the longer you stand so close to him. It’s been lingering in the back of your mind since the interior doors to the airlock slid open and he boarded the ship, a thought hidden under its own afterbirth, placenta and membranous fluid soaking the ground beneath it. A thought that, to this point, has escaped your notice, hiding away like a prey animal. 

And it’s that: Gaz doesn’t have a smell. When you inhale, he doesn’t smell like anything you’ve ever smelt before. No lingering traces of body odour or sweat or soap. You breathe in and it’s like you’re standing in front of an empty doorway staring out into the empty hallway. 

But he does have a scent. 

It doesn’t register to your nose, not a scent that your olfactory senses can detect. Nothing like that. Instead it hits you like a memory, like a feeling blooming in your chest. Palo santo and orange blossom; the sound of a tennis ball hitting a racket; an aerial view of an Olympic pool and someone swimming laps, their body stark against the blue; white florals and a masculine voice laughing. 

His scent is a delicious rush of wonder and elation, a dopamine spike. You crane your neck to meet his eyes and honestly you’d forgotten how beautiful he is. An Adonis; over six foot and body corded with muscle. Lean waist and wide shoulders. The most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, sculpted from something divine, a substance not found on Earth but in a more heavenly realm. 

You rock forward on your heels, pulled like a magnet towards his lips. His lips gently part, anticipating yours before they’ve even met.

Your hand hits the wall and reality comes back to you. Solid metal under your feet and an aluminum composite under your hand. White, sterile walls. In the hallway, the lights dim as the night cycle commences. You have to physically shake your head to rid your mind of any thoughts of Earth. It’s still there though, on the periphery of your senses; a dream world that you might get lost in if you were to look for too long.  

Something is very wrong. 

You rest back on your heels and move your hand until it hovers over the button to close your door. 

“Unless you’re sick, I can’t help you.”

“I’m not sick, love.”

“Then what do you want?” you bite out, overtly hostile now. 

He smiles but he doesn’t blink. Then his eyes flick up, studying the room behind you, his gaze roving over the walls and furniture, scrutinizing your space. Examining the clothes strewn over your bed, the little knick knacks and oddities that make your room yours. 

“Just wanted to see what it looked like from the inside,” Gaz finally says, and your blood goes cold. 

With that, he pulls his forearm off the doorframe and straightens to full height. 

He makes it a few feet away from your door before turning around to look back at you. “Night, love. See you in the morning.”

[sanjisleggy]

the warlord’s wife (mihawk x reader)

req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him

a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee

contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c

wc. 1k

wanna be on my taglist?

—

i. 

standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.

”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”

”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”

your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.

“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.

clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.

of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?

ii.

it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.

”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”

both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.

”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.

”w-well—”

“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”

”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”

”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”

”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”

”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”

”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”

the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”

”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.

mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.

”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.

”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image. 

Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day. 

the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.

”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots

[stvrnioloslvt]

bestfriends? - matt sturniolo [pt.2]

genre: fluff with a tiny bit of angst / t.w.: none / check out all the other ficmas '24 fics in the masterlist / pt.1 here

③

there were a couple events in the past that made you think that matt felt something for you, even just a tiny bit, like that time you were so hungover after their birthday party that he tucked you in in his bed, kissing your forehead goodnight; or like that time he went up to you while you were studying, massaging your tense shoulders and neck; or the countless times he would slap your thigh as a joke while he was driving, giving it a little squeeze after, and the countless times he would feed you his food, or hand you his water bottle to drink out of.

a lot of times you brushed them off as "friendly interactions," like the type of interactions that people who kiss their bestfriend would probably have. then they grew even more intimate, like sharing cutlery, so you assumed that he saw you like a sister. and then they came at a point where it was undeniable, but you were both so scared and in denial. yet you would always find a way to snuck into his arms, fitting snugly in his embrace, and he would always find an excuse to call you pet names such as "sweetheart" and "darling".

but he was your bestfriend, and sometimes bestfriends act like this too, right?

and that's how you found yourself sprawled on your bed, screaming frustrated in your pillow, hoping that no neighbour would knock on your door to check on you or even worse — call the police. yeah, that would be pretty embarrassing. "cause what the actual fuck would i even tell them, 'oh hey officer, sorry for traumatising my neighbours i was just crashing out cause i like my bestfriend, hope you have a nice day!' like... wait, am i fucking talking to myself out loud? nah i'm going insane, there's no other explanation."

you stopped yourself in your tracks, not having even noticed that in the middle of your monologue you had gotten up from your bed and started to walk around on circles like a madman, and watched as the screen of your phone lit up with a new notification from matt.

you felt your stomach twist and turn with guilt as you watched the screen go back to black, knowing that you had been ignoring him for hours at this point — not because you were mad or anything like that, but because for the last 24 hours every time you opened tiktok your fyp was flooded by edits of you two, of your interactions, of that little smile that you hadn't seen in person the other day making your heart jump in your ribcage, threatening you to rip your flesh open just to escape your body.

finally, you decided that it wasn't fair for the boy to get ignored like that, so with shaky hands you unlocked your phone and opened his chat.

❛❛dumbass💙❞ ⑫

⤷ y/n

⤷ y/n

⤷ hellooo

⤷ you dead?

⤷ were you abducted by the ufos?

⤷ nah i'm serious where are you

⤷ i'm getting worried

⤷ sweetheart please, i know you have your phone in hand, is everything alright?

⤷ have i done something?

⤷ are you mad? :(

⤷ mr.wrinkleton says that he misses you

⤷ nah i'm done i'm coming over

your brows furrowed at the last message: surely he wasn't serious, right? right?

just then a soft knock echoed in the house, making you yelp startled.

"ain't no way..." you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the front door, opening it just to find a rather confused and worried matt looking at you from head to toe.

you stood frozen at the door, not knowing what to say or what to do, your face probably paler than ever.

"where the fuck —" he started, sass and annoyance dripping from his tone, "were you, miss?"

"i-i was sleeping i'm sor‐"

"cut the bullshit, you've been ignoring me since you went out last night."

he was annoyed. oh he was so fucking annoyed, like you have never seen him before in more than ten years of friendship and that scared you, your legs shaking under you, the hand that opened the door holding a death grip on the knob even if sweaty.

he must have sensed your uneasiness cause he gave you one last good look before taking a deep breath in and slowly exhaling, moving a step closer to you as his hands grabbed gently your shoulders, lightly nudging you inside so that he could close the door behind him.

tears prickled at your eyes at the thought of having made him angry, but you tried hard to fight them back. however, matt didn't miss the way your eyes turned watery, the way you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

"i- baby, what's wrong?" he cooed, pulling you in a hug, stroking your hair slowly. "what's happening, sweet girl? you can talk to me, you know that." his hand took ahold of you chin, gently moving your head so that he could look at your face. he tenderly caressed your cheek, wiping with his thumb a tear that had managed to escape.

"nothing," you whispered, sniffling faintly and rubbing your eyes in order to conceal those tears. matt's arms unfolded from around you, firmly grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from your eyes.

"don't. i've already seen them, and i want to know what's happening. if that means that you need to cry, then do it, you know that i won't judge."

you choked on a sob, finally breaking down. you buried your face in matt's shirt as you released years of fears, confusion and hurt, knowing that at that point you were at the final stage before ruining everything. matt's arms snuck around you, picking you up and taking you to your room, delicately placing you on your bed. he laid beside you, stroking the strands of hair that fell on your face away from your eyes, wiping away the tear strands that were drying on your cheeks.

"what's wrong pretty girl" he asked softly, his tone laced with care and worry. he placed a loving kiss on your forehead, intertwining your fingers before kissing gently each digit.

you watched silently the scene, your throat burning because of all the things that were bubbling up, ready to come out.

"that's – that's what's wrong," you croaked out, watching as matt gave your pinky finger one last peck. the boy's brows furrowed in confusion, pulling back slightly. "you don't like it?"

"no, no, that's not the point... they are right."

"who's right?"

"everyone!" you snapped, sitting up abruptly on the bed. matt followed your example right after. "your fans, your brothers, your friends, my friends, everyone is right!"

"baby i'm not following you right now-"

"what are we?"

the pressure of the question weighted heavily upon you. everything froze in the moment, even time. there, you finally had done that. you had ruined years and years of friendship in a second. you watched intently as matt's expression fell in one of unease, his mind working overtime to find a good answer.

"i-we- what are you even talking about, y/n?"

"i'm talking about the fact that everyone is seeing something that we are not. i'm talking about the fact that bestfriends do not do what we do. i tried finding answers, but none of them make sense. i'm talking about the fact that even your own family, your own blood and flesh is hinting that there is something more going on. everyone, and i mean everyone that i know does think the same. except us, apparently – except...you."

matt shook his head, a nervous chuckle coming from the back of his throat. "you don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, over and over again, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room, much like you not even an hour before.

"what do you mean 'i don't know what i'm talking about'? everyone sees it! everyone!" you screamed, jumping up to your feet to face your bestfriend who was actively having a major crash out.

your hands were shaking uncontrollably by your side, much like everything else in you. your whole system was running off adrenaline, pure and unadulterated, preparing you to flight off the scene if things got worse.

"no. what you don't see is that you've been the blind one this whole fucking time. i've been trying. all these years, i've been trying and trying and you never once acknowledged it. not a single time."

"wait what‐"

"i love you! i fucking love you! you're right, we do not act like bestfriends do, cause you're not a bestfriend to me. you're more, you're something so much more precious than a friend and you're so fucking stupid and i'm so mad at you cause all these years i've been trying to make a move and each time you act like your other fucking friends treat you the same way and it's pissed me off more times than i can recount but at the same time i didn't wanna be too straightforward cause i had no idea if you felt the same way or not and i didn't wanna risk it." he chocked out the last sentence, his face red from having spoken so fast and so much with little breath in his lungs. he breathed in, relaxing his shoulders. you observed how his whole body relaxed at the confession, how it looked like a real weight was lifted off his shoulders.

you mouth fell open at the sudden confession, your head spinning from all the emotions that were washing over you. you sat back on the bed, grabbing the sheets to ground yourself. you tried to talk multiple times, failing. instead, you looked like a dying fish.

matt dropped to his knees in front of you, cradling your face in his hands. "please," he whispered, his icy eyes silently begging you, "say something."

"i- i fucking hate you. made me crash out multiple times just to find out that you love me? do you know how many times i've lost sleep over this? just cause the uncertainty wouldn't let me live peacefully? fuck you."

a shy smile tugged at matt's lips, clearly amused by your exasperation.

"so you do love me that much, hm?" he teased you, his lips hovering over yours.

your stomach did a flip at the proximity, anticipation building up in you. you watched mesmerised as his gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, then again to you eyes. your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrists, nails digging into his skin.

"tell me that you love me."

"fuck y-"

matt's lips crashed on yours, latching onto you with desperation. your hands found their way in his hair, gently pulling strands of hair as he devoured you. the kiss was anything but gentle, years and years of pent up frustration released like that, lips on lips, hands grabbing soft skin, pushing each other as close as possible.

"matt," you gasped, coming up for air, "fuck. i hate you. but i also love you so so much, it's crazy."

matt smiled, his lips puffy. he intertwined your fingers before asking you:

"can i be you boyfriend?"

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

❃ a.n.: to the anon that asked for a pt.2... thank you🙏 i don't think I've ever written as much before and it's all thanks to you. i hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing and imagining it.

love, bree ☾

taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn 🤍

[starryhyuck]

craving you. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: husband!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 5.1k+

summary: are pregnancy cravings supposed to make you crazy for your husband’s dick?

genre: smut

warnings: jaehyun and reader are children of politicians, mentions of conservative views, pregnancy, public sex, bigdick!jaehyun, fingering, pussy eating, creampies

this fic is exclusive to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

Once you’re on the road, he intertwines his hand with yours over the console. He raises the back of your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Missed you today,” he murmurs, squeezing your palm. “Dad’s been wanting to see you too. Said you should come by the office and hang out. He’d love your input on the new traffic law they’re trying to pass.”

You hum noncommittally, staring out the window with a longing expression. He swallows at your choice to remain non-verbal, worry filling the bottom of his gut.

“Pasta night tonight, hm? I already called ahead and they set aside our favorite table,” he continues, trying to draw a reaction out of you. You chew on your lower lip, but your eyes focus on the passing streetlights. The question leaves his lips before he can stop it. “Have I done something wrong, my love?”

Your head darts over to him for the first time, gaze filled with confusion. “Of course you haven’t.”

“You’ve just been so distant from me,” he sighs. “I’m wondering if you’re upset over something I did.”

“No, no, of course not,” you shake your head, squirming in your seat. “It’s just that- T-The baby- I’m just having a lot of emotions right now.”

“You can talk to me about them, you know? I’d love to understand how you’re feeling.”

A few moments pass in silence, and he peeks over to see you battling internally before you say, “It’s not really appropriate, Jae.”

His brow furrows. “Appropriate? I’m your husband, my love. You can tell me anything.”

The rest of the ride is speechless and when Jaehyun pulls up to the valet of the restaurant, he tells the worker to give you both a moment.

“I don’t want to go in there until you feel comfortable enough sitting across from me and looking me in the eye,” he says sternly, not allowing you to run away from confrontation this time. “If you’re mad at me, tell me now and we can put a pin in it to discuss later.”

“I-I’m not mad!” You exclaim, flustered by the various people standing outside and waiting for you. “Please, Jae. Let’s just enjoy our dinner.”

“I can’t enjoy it if I know my wife is upset.”

“I’m not upset,” you hiss, groaning and running your hands down your face. “It’s not appropriate for me to say! Especially here!”

“What is it? Morning sickness? Swelling? Using the bathroom too often?”

“I want to have sex with you! Does that make you happy? I think about jumping your bones every five seconds and it’s driving me insane. I can’t even look you in the eye because all I’ll think about is riding you until I’m out of breath,” you confess, folding your arms across your chest and pouting like a child. “Now you know your wife is a degenerate who can’t think straight.”

You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Jaehyun doesn’t utter a single word, opening up the car door and signaling for the valet to take the keys. One of the workers helps you step out as Jaehyun walks over, outstretching his arm to you without sparing you a single glance.

You walk into the restaurant with your hand wrapped around his forearm tightly. When the hostess greets you, Jaehyun says, “We’ll take the private room in the back if it’s available. I’ll pay extra if needed.”

The hostess blinks in surprise. “Oh, I apologize, Mr. Jeong. I thought you called in and requested the table by the window.”

He flashes her his signature smile. “I did, but my wife is feeling under the weather and we’d prefer if we had more privacy. I’m sure the restaurant can make a few accommodations.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeong.”

She leads you to the back, opening a sliding door that reveals a dimly lit room for two. Jaehyun nods and takes the menu from her hands. “I’ll call for service when we’re ready,” he instructs. “I ask that those doors remain closed until I say otherwise.”

“No problem, Mr. Jeong. I’ll inform the rest of the staff.”

When she exits, Jaehyun finds his way to his seat. He watches your confused expression, knowing he usually pulls out your seat for you like a proper gentleman. Just as you’re about to take your own spot at the table, he stops you with a gruff “What do you think you’re doing?”

You glance between him and the chair, and on any other occasion, he would coo at how cute you are.

“Um, sitting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your seat’s over here, my love,” he murmurs, patting his thigh. “Have you forgotten how to use your eyes?”

You blink twice. “Uh-”

“Come on. I can’t wait all day.”

want to read the rest? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[justanotherboringwriter]

||It’s Christmas, no longer ‘Almost Christmas’.||

Summary; It’s not ‘almost Christmas’, Phoenix. It is Christmas.

A/N; to go with my fanart of the infamous “Almost Christmas means it wasn’t Christmas” meme. Unfortunately, this is a rushed fic because I wanted to get it out before 12 PM so sorry if it’s bad. Also I accidentally made Miles a bit posh because of his vibes and in this fic, Trucy is 8.

Phoenix sat on the couch, watching TV. He wasn’t exactly focused on the TV, he’d at least remembered that he’d put on a Minecraft–One of those satire fake speed run reaction videos, if he recalled correctly. He always loved the videos for just how ridiculous they were, but that’s the fun of it, wasn’t it?

He lifted his cup of hot cocoa to his lips, taking a sip. Cool whipped cream hit the tip of his nose, surprising him. Somehow, he’d forgotten that he’d added whipped cream to his drink. How did he forget? Everytime Christmas came around, it was the same thing; hot cocoa with whipped cream and marshmallows alongside a plate of cookies; Christmas trees, ornaments, hats, Santa, his reindeer, all that good stuff.

But nowadays, there was a separate cup and plate.

Hot coffee with a plate of chocolate chip settled beside his own, most likely alongside a laptop or a gothic literature or, if he was feeling more playful and adventurous, a book full of stories from Greek mythology.

He wasn’t him.

He was Miles Edgeworth.

Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, former childhood best friend, part–time in–court rival, and current husband.

Padded footsteps approached and–speak of the devil–Miles sat beside him with a huff. “You’re still watching these videos? They’re so childish and unentertaining.” He raised an unimpressed brow. “What’s the point of watching them?” A hand grabbed the warm mug, bringing it to his lips as he sipped coffee while he slightly shook his head in mock disappoinment.

“They are entertaining, you’re just too used to reading your old books. When’s the last time you watched a show instead of burying yourself in a book?” Phoenix raised a brow at his lover. Miles scoffed, looking off as he put his mug down, going for a chocolate chip cookie. “Shut up..” He muttered, taking a bite out of the cookie.

“And your cookies are good, so stop staring because I know you’re staring at me like you’re insane.” Miles looked back, pouting slightly. “Oh, I know my cookies are good, don’t worry.” Phoenix said proudly. “You remind me of that every year under the disguise of me ‘harassing’ you until you say otherwise because someone doesn’t know how to just compliment their own husband.” He added, settling his mug down.

Miles stared at the edge of Phoenix’s nose and raised an inquisitive brow.

Phoenix also raised a brow. “What? Is..Is something on my nose?...” He asked awkwardly and a bit nervously. If there’s someone he didn’t want to be messy or look shitty around, it was the love of his life.

“Yes, there is. Enjoying my hot cocoa and whipped cream, Wright?” Miles smirked as he teased the other man. He always made Phoenix a cup of hot cocoa, whipped cream in a perfect swirl with marshmallows scattered along the swirl–Miles and Miles only could make it so perfectly, especially for his darling husband.

The aforementioned husband’s cheek reddened, warming up at a worryingly quick speed. He immediately wiped his nose, “Don’t get too cocky!” He said, trying to regain at least some of his dignity that was lost over a small bit of whipped cream that he’d accidentally dabbed onto his nose.

Miles chuckled and leaned forward, kissing Phoenix. “Oh, I think I will get a bit cocky. Apparently my drink making skills are just so good that you practically drowned yourself in the mug!” He sat back.

Phoenix sighed. “Fine, I’ll humor you; your cocoa’s good.” “And your cookies are simply stunning, darling. You’ve got to teach me that recipe one day, y’know? It’d be a travesty for our children to miss out on such a meal..” Miles sighed, content.

“‘Our children’? You mean the numerous dogs you’re trying to coax me into getting?” “It’s only six!” Miles said, looking to his husband with puppy–dog eyes. “Six too many! We’re both busy men, baby.” “What about Trucy? She’s happy, so we obviously know how to care for life!” Miles huffed.

“Because Trucy’s a simple girl, Miles. You know this.” Phoenix shuffled closer to Miles, snuggling against his side.

“We could teach her how to care for the dogs..She’d love it–And she’d get assistants for her magic shows! An aspiring magician needs assistants, Phoenix!” Miles replied dramatically, wrapping his arms around his husband and peppering his lips with a few brief kisses.

Phoenix returned the kisses and chuckled. “Don’t get dramatic with me, baby. You and Trucy love those puppy–dog eyes, hm?” He said, sitting up and settling his hand on Miles’s shoulder to kiss him. The hand slid up to cup Miles’s left cheek as they kissed, one of Miles’s hands going to Phoenix’s waist, almost on his hip.

“Dads?” A meek little voice called out.

Phoenix and Miles immediately separated, looking and seeing Trucy standing at the edge of the dark hallway, clutching a plushie of Mr. Hat to her chest–The plushie courtesy of Miles’s excellent sewing and plushie making skills (which came from a source he refuses to elaborate on).

“Trucy, sweetie, hi!” Phoenix said awkwardly, “Why’re you up? ’s late and y’know you’re not supposed to be up this late, especially on Christmas Eve!” He chuckled. Trucy walked around the couch and hopped between her adoptive fathers.

“I was just scared of the dark ’n wanted to be with you two..” The little girl mumbled. Miles pulled Trucy into his arms, kissing her head as she nuzzled into his chest, getting comfortable. “I guess you can stay with us, just make sure to not stay up late, alright? Santa doesn’t like naughty girls who stay up last their bedtime but we’ll tell him you didn’t mean it, m’kay?” Miles cooed paternally. Trucy nodded.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see Santa?” She asked curiously.

“Y’do know that that would make us naughty, right? If we purposefully stayed up late just to see him, we’d get on the naughty list.” Phoenix replied.

“Ah!” Trucy jumped. “I don’t wanna be on the naughty list!” “You won’t!” Miles said, glaring at his husband. “You’ve been good all year, I’m sure if you did accidentally see Santa, he’d let it pass.” He added, wrapping an arm around his adoptive daughter.

Phoenix sighed and crawled over, snuggling against Miles. Miles made room and wrapped an arm around the other man, shuffling to make sure Trucy was also comfortable. “Oh, and now I’m a human pillow! You two have got me trapped!” He said dramatically.

Phoenix rolled his eyes and gave Miles a peck on the lips. “Shut up and watch the damn Minecraft videos.” He shook his head. Miles shook his head. “Fine, I will!”

Trucy giggled, still clutching the Mr. Hat plushie and shifting to look at the TV.

Phoenix looked up to Miles and the other man looked down. Their eyes met and they looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before smiling.

Trucy reached out and took a chocolate chip cookie, taking a bite. Miles let out a gasp, “You thief, my cookie!” Trucy giggled again, taking another bite and almost stuffing her cheeks full of the chocolate and dough. “We’ve got a little criminal in our hands, Phoenix!” Miles added. Phoenix shrugged, “She’s been good all year, I’m sure stealing one little cookie isn’t that bad–Santa will let it pass, right?” Phoenix teased.

Miles shook his head jokingly, “Fine.” He said as he received yet another few pecks on the lips from his beloved husband before the trio fell into silence, watching the TV together as the Christmas tree and it’s festive lights glowed in the corner, presents soon to be resting under the tree, ready to be unwrapped by the adoptive family when they woke up the next morning.

What a merry, merry Christmas.

[sketchehm]

Augh wait, completely non Canon but I just had an idea for like, if the cats were actually kids

_-_-_-_-_-_

'I have an important message for you'

The message is followed by a three minute audio.

Finally, after hours of scrubbing through months and months of massages between Sapnap and his old family, they finally found something about his mission to infiltrate Team Mafia.

(Shadoune swears Sapnap wasn't on his phone this much. How did he find the time to text these two so much? How many times do you need to text someone a reminder to eat in one day??)

The phone is already connected to a speaker so they can all hear everything without having to circle around it, so there's only hesitante stopping them from pressing play.

This is what Sapnap was sent here to do. This spells out exactly the ways he was ordered to betray them.

Shadoune presses play.

"Hi Dad! Hiiiiiiiii" Two children voices come from the speaker, "We miss you lotssss!! I got the tiara you sent me! Me and Patches are matching now, we look like sisters!"

"Of course we do, we are sisters stupid."

Another child's voice sounds out, a little father away and a little deeper

One of the first two kids giggles, and there's a shuffle before the other's voice sounds again

"When are you coming back home? Pops and Papa say we should take down the Christmas decorations, but I like them!! Milo don't steal the phone! I'm asking Dad when he's coming home! Oh yeah... Dad we miss you a lot, will you be done with work soon?"

"You two..."

There's two tiny sad sighs

"We know... Be careful Dad, we love you lots! You need to tell us all the cool work stories when you get home! Yeah, we need like, 5 whole bed time stories when you come back! Love you bye! Byeeeeeeeee-"

The audio ends. There's pure silence in the room, a variation of shell-shocked faces all around. Serpias looks a little teary, and no one is quick enough to grab him before he rushes off, thankfully up to his room instead of to the basement.

"Creo..." Rich starts awkwardly, "Creo que eso es suficiente por hoy."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Honestly Serpias would probably run straight to Sapnap, but if anyone ever brought up his kids while he was in the basement he would murder them with his bare hands and I didnt know how to write that right now so... Serpias! To your room!

Serpias beloved 🥺

He just wants the best for Sapnap always and forever....

Serpias after going through every crisis and still not thinking straight, he makes a quick pitstop, shoving something in his pocket before going down to the basement in the dead of night.

Sapnap is actually awake with Dream this time. And when they see Serpias enter... Eyes bloodshot, sniffling, overall looking terrible.....well. Sapnap is beyond worried. He grabs Dream's arms tightly. He doesn't know what Serpias is gonna say.

"Lo siento."

It's quiet. Could barely hear it over his sniffling.

Sapnap thinks they're going to die.

Dream asks what's wrong. Tone dangerously grave.

"You....have children..."

Dream will tense. But Sapnap will be on his feet. Hands already gripping Serpias' shirt collar and slamming him against the door

"What happened with them?"

Serpias has never heard Sapnap so serious, so frightening. It's actually the first time he's heard Sapnap speak on his own without Dream.

Sapnap will scream in Serpias' face asking what happened. Threatening to make his death and everyone else's in this house slow and painful if they laid a finger on them. His eyes are wild. The kind of insane he's only witnessed watching Sapnap in the ring and taking down an opponent.

This is life or death to Sapnap he realizes.

George is waking up from the noise as Sapnap continues to yell and slam his head against the door. What happened. WHAT HAPPENED!

"NADA! SAPNAP HICIMOS NADA!"

Serpias can barely get it out. He feels dizzy. He might be bleeding.

"Then why are you sorry." Sapnap's cold tone hurts Serpias' more than scares him. Never wanting Sapnap to hate him ever. But he knew this would happen. Expected to be more than half dead by this point.

"For taking you away from them....They are alone..."

It's quiet again.

"Why are you saying this?" It's Dream. His tone is cold and calculating, something Serpias is familiar to. Welcomes it even. Something to focus on that isn't Sapnap's hatred.

"Para escaparé." He produces the keys in his pocket. They're for a car.

And Sapnap let's him go. Serpias feels really dizzy without the support now. The headache so overwhelming, he can't help close his eyes. He's out cold before he falls over.

When he wakes up he's in the infirmary with Farfa at the side of his bed. He can feel the headache of a concussion, the back of his head pounding. He notices the bandages wrapped around his head.

"Se fueron."

Serpias jumps at Farfa's voice. But once the words register, despite the incredible pain, he can't help but be relieved.

[thequeenoffishburrito]

One thing that absolutely drives me insane about recommended posts is that unlike posts from people I follow, if I accidentally leave the site or the page refreshes the post is gone like *poof* and my ass NEEDS to like and or save every post I see so seeing shit recommended to me on ANY platform is hell on earth.

[the-tenth-arcanum]

I can't believe trump is winning the elections...

[todayisafridaynight]

i miss how they used to model teeth

[callixton]

sorry why did i say some of that stuff to him in that letter. i mean i know why i was practicing this thing called vulnerability. but oh my god i really said that out loud (wrote it down)

[ask-artsy-oncie]

Its just like. I just got my drive for animation back today of all days but I've committed to making a bunch of Valentines dolls and I have to finish them early enough so people can order them and have them *arrive* on Valentines Day and AUUUGH.

Just wish my brain worked properly. Yknow?

[trevisos]

normal about this one as well!

[hauntingblue]

Skypiea time part 2

She is a woman..... this is sanji's influence... in whiskey peak his slashes were non gendered

Ace just letting himself get pushed into the river like aight my bad I will take my punishment.... he really is so well mannered (it sounds like I'm talking about a dog)

Conis showing that nami influence.... gfs....

Nami and luffy twins moment look how relieved she is... this whole fight is so theirs...

Also how funny it is that the milk girl gave ace a shirt.... also new pants??? She must think he lost the shirt in the river.... no girl he is just a slut...

Nami: okay ❤️ yay ❤️

Noland just thinking about where karugara is and if he is alright in his EXECUTION!! SICK AND TWISTED

OMG BOUNDMAN INSPO????

NO ACEEE NOOOOOOOO

THE END OF ACES STORY IS THAT THE COFFE IS NO LONGER BITTER BC THEY SERVE IT WITH MILK AND WHY AM I EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT

[nezuscribe]

it's been three weeks since arranged!gojo, your husband, the man you're growing to care deeply for, told you he'd be back.

there was some dispute he needed to oversee with the eastern tribes, something about the land that one was fighting for, but he promised, promised, it wouldn't take over a week to settle.

now it's been nearly a month, and there has not been a single word from him.

your maids told you this was normal, but you didn't miss how they spoke in hushed tones, their brows furrowed nervously whenever the name gojo came up.

you can't sleep in his bed, the smell of him overtaking your senses and making you go insane. you go back to your old room, huffing as you turn around each night, not able to sleep. other times you'd pace the floors, picking at your nails until they bled, wondering about what could've happened, not able to shake off your last moments with him whenever you got to thinking too hard.

"i'll be back," he had murmured in your hair, cradling you close to his chest as he said his goodbyes. his strong arms caged you in, and you had no room to fight him off as you tried to nod.

"bring back some eastern sugar," you said, "i've heard it's good for pies," your words were muffled, trying to cheer up the mood. you heard him laugh, his chest rumbling a little bit, but there was a hint of anxiety laced in it.

"i'll miss you," gojo finally whispered, his men in the background shouting for the others to hurry up.

"i know," you mumbled, craning your head to look up at him, trying to crack a smile that just came out wobbly, "but i won't tell you i missed you till you come back."

he smiled, rolling his eyes as his thumb ran up and down your cheek.

"i promise i will."

well now it's four weeks later and you can't sleep at night, your past words haunting you, wondering if you should've just told him what he wanted to hear in case...

but a couple nights later, when you're sitting at your desk, looking out the window, you hear it.

the clacking of horse hoofs, their scattered neighs.

you almost think you've gone delirious from sleep deprivation, rubbing at your eyes as you stumble closer to the windowsill, squinting your eyes as you look in the dark.

but you see the distant torch, the way it's getting closer and closer to the estate.

you have no care for modesty, pulling a thin robe over your body as you run out of your door, nearly falling down the stairs as you skip every other one, your bare feet hitting the stone with such force that you nearly break it.

the maids and servants around you are bustling to get ready for their return, but you don't care, weaving your way through their bodies as you run out through the entrance. you can feel your feet getting scraped up by the rocks, the cold autumn wind biting at your barely clad skin, but you feel like you're not moving fast enough.

his horse is the first one you see, leading the group of tired and aching men. his black stallion is dark as the night itself, and you doubt he can see you.

but gojo does, and when his eyes find the shadow of your body from across the field he's abandoning formation, his feet kicking the side of the horse to make it go faster.

it's rushed, and the closer he gets the more you can see the damage on his body. the bandages around his arms, the ones that peek out from his tunic on his shoulder. his face is littered with scrapes and bruises, but his smile is blinding.

you run to meet him, watching as he mounts off of the animal, his strong arms throwing themselves around you are nearly crushing and almost makes you stumble backward if not for his support.

there's a heavy silence that follows, and you're glad that his men take the hint to go another way, knowing the dangers of leaving you two out alone on a field.

you can't breathe, your arms so tight around his neck that you're worried you might be choking him. the way he lifts you to get you closer to him would make your body heat up if not for the fact that you know he needs you to be almost one with him.

"i thought you died," you say bluntly, your words said wetly into his neck, your scattered tears wetting his skin.

"i know," gojo murmurs, feeling like he can finally breathe for the first time in a month.

he finds your lips in a messy kiss, biting at your plush skin as you moan, feeling like if he didn't have you near to him he'd probably die. he smells your lavender oil dotted on your neck, the lingering sweetness on your lips from something you probably baked to help with your stress.

his hands lift you up further by your hips, his strength, despite his injuries, still unbridled as you wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers weaving into his snow-white locks as you hear him mumble curses beneath you.

"i missed you," you say against his lips, his feverish kisses driving you to madness. the way you say it with a choked-out sob, your tears mixing with his own.

gojo whines, biting at your neck as he tries to hide his face away, the vulnerability that you bring out of him is something that even his enemies would probably gawk over.

"i promised i'd come back," his voice is nearly gone with the way he says it in between his sloppy kisses on your neck, tugging at the fabric that hides the bareness of your chest with his teeth.

you crane your head to look at him, hitting the back of his head gently with an angered look.

"three weeks late," you reprimand him, almost reveling in the stricken and kicked look he gives you with those eyes.

he goes to say something but stops, shuffling your weight onto one of his arms (he had the right to brag about his strength), and rummages around one of the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a bag as he waves it in front of your face.

you gasp, suddenly climbing off of him as you turn it around with your fingers. he pouts at the fact that you detached from him, trying to wrap his arms around your waist to haul you back up.

"is this...?" you look up at him, new tears sprouting in your eyes as you wail, almost dramatically as your head hits his chest with a thump, pulling him into another hug as you seem to sob louder from when you first saw him.

"you cry more over the sugar than me?" he mutters petulantly, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you just limply stand there.

"don't ever leave again." you bite out, pinching his back as he yelps, but still leaving a searing kiss on the side of your face.

"i won't...my lady," he whispers teasingly, and this time, his promise is undying. he'd be a stupid man if he ever willing left this again.

fuck those state affairs. gojo would rather be home with his wife, watching her bake as she scolds him for eating her batter.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.

“It was not that damn funny.”

You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.

At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.

But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.

You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.

He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?

“Who pissed in your breakfast.”

“What?”

“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”

The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”

It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”

He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.

You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.

It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.

After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”

“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“

You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”

“We know.”

You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”

“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.

It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.

“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”

“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”

You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.

Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.

Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.

But Bakugo missed it the most.

Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

EDIT: read the expanded fic on AO3 :)