#WEDDINGS MAN

[flyingwargle]

sakuatsu week day 1: "i've waited for this."

it’s a simple setup, rows of chairs on either side of a white carpet decorated with flowers that ends at the altar, an arch with curtains on either side, adorned with a beautiful assortment of fauna. the ocean and sky meet in an infinite expanse of blue, the sun giving its blessing onto the couple of the hour. the guests chatter amongst themselves, dressed anywhere from elegant suits, traditional kimono, radiant dresses. the minister awaits on the altar, waiting.

with uniformed footsteps, the couple arrives to walk down the aisle, arm in arm. the crowd jumps to their feet to applaud, whistle, and cheer, throwing flower petals in the air. a few have their phones out to record the moment, taking photos as the couple walks by, clad in matching pink suits and red bowties, smiles wide at the family and friends gathered together.

at the end of the aisle, before the minister, stands their best men. osamu’s smile shines brighter than the stars in the galaxy, motoya subtly wiping away tears with his hand. the couple reaches the altar, turns to face each other before the minister. atsumu’s upper lip wobbles as he tries to hold back his tears; kiyoomi can’t help but look at him fondly, with an adoration that has cultivated for years upon years, and will continue to grow, for as long as he lives.

once the crowd is seated, the minister starts. “it is my pleasure to officiate one of japan’s first same-sex marriages on this lovely day,” he begins. “may the couple find nothing but happiness for the rest of their lives, and may nothing threaten its validity, for as long as i have breath in this body.” he turns to atsumu. “miya atsumu, do you promise to take sakusa kiyoomi as your husband, to be there for him in sickness and health, and stand by his side, no matter what obstacles may come?”

“i do.” despite the tears in his eyes, his voice doesn’t waver.

the minister turns to kiyoomi. “sakusa kiyoomi, do you promise to take miya atsumu as your husband, to be there for him in sickness and health, and stand by his side, no matter what obstacles may come?”

“i do.” it’s a vow that he has made over and over, a vow that is legally recognized at last.

“please exchange rings to show your vows to one another.”

he steps back, and both partners reach into their pockets, where they stowed their wedding band for each other, a slim silver band with the outline of a weasel engraved on the outside, and the outline of a fox on the inside. kiyoomi slides his band over atsumu’s ring finger; atsumu does the same.

“i now declare you husband and husband. you may now kiss.”

kiyoomi cups atsumu’s cheeks, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion that surges through him. atsumu rests a hand on his chest, leaning forward to capture his lips. the crowd roars, throwing the remaining flower petals in the air.

when they break apart, their fingers intwine together to face their audience, witnesses to their union. “congratulations!” hinata shouts. bokuto is bawling beside him, the rest of their teammates whistling.

on the other side, aran has also been reduced to tears, kita gazing fondly at his underclassman. ginjima and kosaku shout at atsumu, suna unwavering as he films the entire ceremony. the husbands step away briefly to hug their respective best man – osamu wraps his brother in the tightest hug possible, and kiyoomi steps into his cousin’s arms. “congrats, kiyo.” motoya is on the brink of tears. “it was so beautiful.”

“thank you for being here, motoya.”

his cousin starts sniffling. “anything for my favorite little cousin!”

kiyoomi rolls his eyes, then turns toward osamu, who is approaching him for a hug. motoya happily embraces atsumu; kiyoomi gets a harsh slap on the back instead. “ya promised ta take care o’ ‘im.” just like his cousin, osamu’s voice is also thick. “i expect ya ta hold onto yer word.”

he thinks of the arguments over the years, the disagreements, the tears and slammed doors. every time it happened, he would always find atsumu at onigiri miya, crying or complaining to his brother. he witnessed their every up and every down, will continue to do so. now, however, kiyoomi has made a promise to only go up from here.

“of course,” he answers. “you can expect nothing less.”

osamu releases him, and kiyoomi finds atsumu’s hand again, whose tears have begun to flow freely. he turns to wipe a teardrop away, and atsumu smiles, overwhelmed by a sob. “i’m not sad, don’t worry. i’m just- i’m so happy, omi. ya have no idea.”

“i do.” even if he remains stoic, his chest feels like it’s about to burst with love, mind filled with endless mornings and nights with his husband, official papers and documents that recognize their marriage, maybe even a future with kids. anything is possible now, and he scarcely know how to start.

instead, he begins with a kiss on his forehead, lacing their fingers together again. atsumu turns, and kiyoomi lowers his head to kiss him again through the roaring applause. before they leave the altar, he pauses to take one last look over his shoulder, husband by his side.

they’ve waited for this, and it’s finally theirs. they turn, ready to celebrate with their loved ones, for tomorrow, they’ll face life as each other’s husbands, united forever.

--

inspiration: fanart of sakuatsu's wedding!! <3

[technically-human]

This happened, it just wasn't relevant to the plot

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

something I do a lot without even meaning to is call people babe, honey, sweetheart, etc, but it's usually in a context that's a joke not like just in passing etc. it's the southern or the whore in me, idk. it's not even flirty, I just do it for the silliness. but when someone does something especially nice for me I occasionally go "you're the love of my life" or "we're getting married." no idea why I chose to express myself this way, but usually it gets a blush or a giggle (very rarely do I do this to a man).

however, I would do it to simon riley.

it's some small task that would only take ten minutes max. he brought you a sandwich from the mess or he finished up a bit of paperwork for you. so you forget yourself in glee and it slips out.

"Riley, we're getting married"

he freezes as you chirp out a "thanks babe!" as an afterthought and munch while filling out a health survey.

he just stares at you, nods, and heads off. you thought that'd be the end of it until he turns up an hour later with a bountonniere and a bouquet. he shoves the later at you.

"heard you say you liked these once" he mumbles as he sits down beside you. you look up confused at him.

"Riley, what are these for?" you say with a little grin. you've never got flowers from anyone before.

"my wife gets what she wants. always." he says, placing a hand on your thigh. "c'mon. not open much longer."

your eyes widen at his words. he tugs you up and out, asking if you have anything you want to wear or should you guys stop somewhere to pick up a dress. he swears he won't look beforehand, he'll just see you at the courthouse in it. he'll pay and he's got a dinner reservation afterward, sorry it's not before! do you want to take his last name?

please, doll, call him simon.

gaz is going to do pictures and price and soap will be witnesses. he's sorry it's rushed bird, but the quicker it's official the quicker he can start his husbandly duties.

[incognitopolls]

If you were in a wedding party as a teenager, choose whichever you feel best fits your age at the time + your role.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[rookanisstuff]

The Dellamortes

[blueskittlesart]

zl wedding (again)

[an-established-butt-dent]

I will never tire of the way he looks at his Vhenan in that last scene.

Solas being an absolute mess of a man, blight stained lips and post battle sweat on his brow and yet he has never been hotter.

We need to collectively thank Bioware for their service.

[ninjasmudge]

he cracks me up i love him

[doctorsiren]

can’t stop thinking about mob growing up 🥺

[until-the-house-shakes]

Sirius: So Prongs.. when are you asking me to be your best man?

James: oh.. uh… about that.

Remus: I’m his best man.

Sirius: HUH???

James:… yeah. I uh

Sirius: IM YOUR BEST MATE! BEEN SO FOR YEARS AND THIS IS HOW I GET TREATED? AM I AT LEAST A GROOMSMAN?

James:.. not mine?

Sirius: What??

Regulus: oh for fucks sake. I want you to walk me down the aisle and be my best man.

Sirius: *tearing up* R-really???

[shirmirart]

kissing and hope they caught us...

[etchif]

Jesus imagine if we confirm the existence of extraterrestrial life the Taxonomy would be insane

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (the tiniest bit), a lot of cussing (typical of bkg), reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg

masterlist | part 1, part 2 (they're all bite-sized, dw), part 4 (this one not so much), part 5 (this one too), part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

You drop your new 0.38 ballpoint pen and it goes tumbling down, down, to the pristine carpeted floor.

Right where your jaw is.

“My what?”

The man of the hour has the audacity to scoff and roll his eyes.

Is it too late to actually follow through with your fantasy of strangling him?

As if he’s daring you to go for it, he tosses you the nth annoyed look of the night. “What did I just fucking say about not making me say things twice?”

You feel yourself flush with what you think is anger and embarrassment. “Bakugou, sir—”

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Smartass.

That’s it.

Before you know it, you’re already on your feet, stalking your way toward the man with the proverbial steam coming out of your nose and ears. His eyes widen in surprise as you get closer and closer before you stop right in front of his desk, towering over him for once.

“My date? Really?” You sound so incredulous, even to yourself, and you can’t help the seed of pride that blossoms over what you think is worry dancing across his features. He’s out of his goddamn mind, and between the two of you, you’re not about to be the only whose feathers are visibly ruffled over this dumb-as-shit idea. He has no business being so cool about it.

Never mind that your heart is hammering in exasperation.

Yes, just that.

Shaking your head, you press on. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re coworkers.”

You gesture to the space between you, and he merely raises his eyebrow in response with his strong arms crossed in front of his chest—snobbish as ever. “You’re my boss and I’m your underling. And I’m the HR head, for crying out loud.”

You pause to debate whether or not to say the next thing before deciding fuck it. “And what makes you think I don’t have—”

“Do you?”

Your face scrunches involuntarily at being cut off, “What?”

He leans forward, not breaking eye contact as if he’s challenging you. “Do you have a boyfriend?” He cocks his head to the side, “Or a date, at the very least?”

Your voice is small when you respond with the pitiful truth.

“…No?”

At that, Bakugou grins. If you didn’t know any better, you would say the fucking behemoth of a man looked pleased. He pushes against the edge of his desk, effectively creating a much more appropriate distance between the two of you. “Well, that settles it then. I’ll be your dashing date, we show up to your shitty ex’s wedding, and I finally teach that dickhead a lesson or two.”

A million questions start racing in your head, like: Why is this his first solution to the problem? Did he even consider whether or not you wanted to go in the first place? What did he mean by finally? And just—why?

But the one you manage to stammer out is: “Dude—what the fuck are you going to do? Are you about to mangle a guy at his wedding?!”

He looks at you like you just unceremoniously bit his ass. “What? No. What do you take me for, a brainless Nomu who just goes apeshit?”

You can only grumble in response. Yes, sometimes.

He sighs for the umpteenth time as if you’re the one who has steered the already unpleasant conversation into this bizarre topic. He stands up from his seat, and you’re back to being the one looking up at him.

The same thing probably registers in his mind because a smug look takes over his features within seconds.

“And, if you must know, I’m going to do so by being the best trophy date ever.”

You fight the reflex to choke at his words. Instead, you squint your eyes and muster your most scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

Bakugou doesn’t respond for a while, choosing to circle his desk and plant himself to your right. Before you can even comprehend what’s going on, let alone jerk back at the proximity, he bends toward you until his mouth is a breadth away from your ear. His minty breath tickles your skin when he finally says: “I’m a hero, remember?”

With that, the “hero” in question sashays to the glass doorway like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you, leaving you slackjawed and unresponsive.

He’s almost out of view by the time you manage to collect yourself and blurt out a reply.

“Hey, where are you going? We still have work to do.”

“Relax,” he calls out from the hallway, his voice receding as he walks farther and farther away from you. “’m just gonna take a piss.”

When you’re sure he’s out of earshot, you slump back in your seat, all the strength that’s left apparently having dissipated after that ludicrous exchange.

How could he throw every caution to the wind just like that? Did he forget he was just one spot away from being number 1? His PR team is going to kill both of you for even thinking this.

As you wait for Bakugou to finish his trip to the comfort room, you can’t help but contemplate the absurd idea. Needless to say, and despite Bakugou’s apparent nonchalance, there’s planning involved.

What are people going to say? If (once) the people from your agency—no, anyone who knows the #2 Prohero, really (which is virtually everyone)—find out, you’re toast. You’re going to be the subject of every tabloid in Musutafu—no, the entirety of Japan and maybe even in some news sites overseas—and you are absolutely not ready for that scrutinization.

And all that over a one-day fake dating stint? You’ve got to be kidding yourself.

But the more you think about it, the less foreign and preposterous the idea becomes. You know you shouldn’t even be considering it, but you can’t help it.

Getting dumped by your boyfriend over the phone only for him to reconnect with his high school sweetheart (did they even ever lose touch?) and get engaged five months later was humbling enough, let alone going to his wedding alone?

The first, obvious answer when you first saw the invite in the mail was to not go. But the more you sat on it, the more you realized how pitiful it would be to be a no-show. Was not going wiser than going alone? Probably. But you’re sick of hiding— avoiding—and you promised yourself this year that you’ll be facing your fears head-on.

Chewing your lip in deep reflection, your brain drifts back to the very person who came up with the proposition.

He seemed sure and determined enough—and it wasn’t like Bakugou to not be calculating and to not have everything mapped out, as similar as he can be to a raging bull. He probably has thought about the consequences to the T, in the few minutes of processing your situation, potentially more than you have.

And damn it, the man is attractive.

If there’s anyone you’d bring to your ex’s wedding to make him regret everything he did to you, it would be Bakugou Katsuki. Although you’d never admit it to the man even if you were held at gunpoint.

“Oi.”

Speak of the devil.

You startle at the sound of his gruff voice, abruptly dragging you out of your reverie.

He’s now standing beside you, hands in his pockets and face studying yours closely as if he’s searching for something.

You stare him back down before you finally decide on what to say.

You can’t believe what you’re about to do.

Gulping, you maintain your gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

“Would I be suggesting it if I wasn’t?”

Fair point.

To your surprise, Bakugou crouches down to regard you and you find yourself directly face-to-face. Despite yourself, you gulp in nervousness at the sudden proximity, and you think he notices because the jackass has the nerve to flash you a smirk.

You furrow your brows in an attempt to regain your composure and any semblance of control over the situation. “And you’re sure you’re gonna succeed as, and I quote, my ‘trophy date?’”

He sneers, although he doesn’t seem to be offended by your challenge. It’s probably because the statement means nothing to him—at this exact moment, the guy is practically oozing with confidence.

Bakugou chuckles, and you find yourself grateful that you’re seated because the next thing he is about to say instantly floors you.

“One thing about me, princess, is that I always win.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii

[pineappical]

cooking lessons

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that tyson thinks percy and annabeth are married. like, he's fully convinced that they're newly weds. and that they just decided to have a private wedding. then one day. percy invites tyson over for dinner with his parents and annabeth. and tyson casually refers to annabeth as percy's wife. and everyone just pauses. but before percy can correct him. annabeth just slyly confirms it and continues setting the table.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]