#i’m officially an adult as of today

[small-gremlin-thing]

i have arisen from the dead to make an announcement:

birthday :)

[cheekydogs]

I was gonna take some pics of Sunny in my graduation stuff, but…

I think it’s all a little big for him, and that’s not even accounting for the cords and robe!

[curesforwritersblock]

i don’t know about you but i’m feeling 22 23

[deus-ex-mona]

a body has been discovered!

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[cosmicanakin]

Picking Up The Pieces.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

Pairing. Dean Winchester x Female Reader.

Outline. A heated argument with Dean leads to a vulnerable confession of your long-held feelings.

Word Count. 1546.

Warning(s). Angst, Arguments, Implied Sexual Tension, Mild Language, Season 1 Dean, Mature Themes (nothing too explicit).

Authors Note. back with a new fic whaaaat?! i recently started rewatching supernatural to mend my broken heart after the season 15 finale… they deserved so much better & just thinking about it pisses me tf off. anyway i was listening to stairway to heaven for hours on end while writing this (that song is my childhood.) enjoooooy!

You stared out the window of the Impala, watching the roads and scenery fly by as Led Zeppelin played softly in the background. The familiar rumble of the engine and the comfort of the leather seats usually provided a sense of peace, but today all you could feel was tension.

You and Dean had gotten into a nasty argument earlier, one that had been brewing for a while now. It was about his careless flirtation with other women, even when you two weren’t officially exclusive. You couldn’t help the feelings you had harbored for him over the years, feelings that only seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together on the road. And it hurt to see him so freely give his attention and affection to anyone but you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the music and the drive. But it was impossible to ignore the way Dean kept stealing glances in your direction, the way his hand would occasionally graze your thigh in a move that had become comfortable and familiar between the two of you. Each subtle touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a painful reminder of what you couldn’t have.

As the familiar chords of the song played on, you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, to escape this tense situation, even if just for a little while. But just as you felt yourself starting to drift off, Dean’s hand suddenly landed firmly on your inner thigh, sending your eyes flying open as your heart raced.

Without a word, Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, putting the car in park before turning to face you. The intensity in his green eyes made your breath catch in your throat, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and serious.

You swallowed hard, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to avoid this conversation at all costs. But you knew it was inevitable, that the tension between the two of you had been building for too long to ignore any longer.

“Okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean studied you for a moment, his gaze searching your face for something you couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair.

“Look, I know things have been...tense between us lately,” he began, his eyes never leaving yours. “And I know a lot of that is my fault.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt, to argue that it was his fault, that his reckless flirting had hurt you more than you cared to admit. But he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Please, just let me say this,” he pleaded. “I’m not good at this whole...feelings thing. You know that. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened earlier, and I...” He paused, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice sincere. “I never meant to hurt you, I swear. It’s just...old habits die hard, you know? And I...” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were fidgeting nervously in his lap. “I guess I was...afraid.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession, and you couldn’t help but lean forward slightly, your curiosity piqued.

“Afraid of what, Dean?” you asked softly.

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Afraid of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Afraid of...of letting myself feel something real, something that could actually last.”

Your heart ached at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting you deeper than any of his careless flirtations ever could. You knew, deep down, that Dean had been through more than his fair share of pain and loss in his life, and the thought of him being afraid to open himself up to you only made you love him more.

“Dean...” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I...I had no idea.”

He looked up then, his green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the raw emotion you saw there. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s my fault. I...I’ve been pushing you away, because I’m scared of what this could be. Of what we could be.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, hope and fear warring within you. “What are you saying, Dean?”you asked, fiddling with your thumbs.

He reached out then, his calloused hand coming to rest on your thigh again, his thumb brushing against it in a gentle caress. “I’m saying that...I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your eyes flooding with tears as the weight of his words settled over you. “Dean, I...I care about you, too. So much,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

A small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he reached up to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek. “I know,” he murmured. “And that’s what scares me the most.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “Because you’re afraid of losing me, too,” you said softly.

He nodded, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’ve already lost so much in my life, Y/N. I don’t think I could handle losing you, too.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort of his hand on your skin. “You won't lose me, Dean,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He studied your face for a long moment, his green eyes boring into yours, before slowly leaning in. Your heart raced as his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a passionate kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. “I love you, Y/N,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible but you heard him clear as day.

“I love you, too, Dean,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair.

For a long moment, the two of you simply sat there, lost in each other’s embrace, the tension and pain of earlier melting away. But then, a thought occurred to you, and you pulled back slightly, your brow furrowing.

“What about Sam?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern. “I mean, we’re on our way to pick him up from Stanford, and I don’t want him to feel...I don’t know, awkward or anything.”

Dean chuckled softly, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Don’t worry about Sammy,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “He’s been rooting for us to get our heads out of our asses for years.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the tension in your shoulders finally starting to ease. “I should have known,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

Dean grinned, pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless again, your hearts racing.

“So, what does this mean for us?” you asked, your voice soft and uncertain.

Dean's expression turned serious, his hand moving to intertwine with yours. “It means that I’m all in, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “No more flirting with other women, no more pushing you away. I want this, us, more than anything.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion, tears of joy threatening to spill over. “Me too, Dean,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m in, too.”

He smiled then, a genuine, warm smile that lit up his entire face, and you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him again, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours.

As you pulled apart, Dean’s expression turned mischievous once more. “So, what do you say we give Sammy another day and find us a nice, secluded spot to...celebrate?" he asked wiggling his brows, a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you were hearing, playfully swatting his arm. “Dean Winchester, you are such a hornball,” you teased.

He grinned, his grip on your hand tightening. “Maybe so, but you love me anyway,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that made your heart flutter.

“That I do,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him once more.

As the Impala rumbled back to life and Dean guided the car back onto the open road, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. The tension and hurt of earlier had been replaced by a deep, abiding love and trust, and you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Dean would face them together.

You nestled closer to Dean as he drove, your hand still intertwined with his, and Stairway to Heaven filling the air, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to bask in the feeling of pure, unadulterated happiness.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。HANDS — ITOSHI SAE.

sae doesn’t understand the purpose of holding hands. it’s a bit annoying to try and move around while you’re practically chained to someone else, it feels a bit odd to have someone’s hand lace with yours and keep it occupied, and it just draws this unwarranted attention that he doesn’t like.

he doesn’t hold hands, and you don’t seem to mind, so it’s never really been a concern of his.

not until today at least.

“are you nervous?” you ask, standing next to him as you stare out at the field. it’s a large stadium—there’s a bigger audience here than you’ve ever seen at any of the last few games you’ve been to.

it makes sense, you suppose. you’ve really only been to a handful of sae’s games—and even if you haven’t dated long, you’re well accustomed now to the occasional mic in your face as they as you how you feel about your boyfriend’s win. but now that he officially doesn’t play for a youth team anymore, now that he’s in the big shots with the adults, there’s bound to be more people, right? it makes you a bit nervous, all the eyes on you, but it doesn’t keep you from standing next to him as he waits with his team just minutes before starting the game.

sae only raises a brow at you, looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, “what do you take me for? they’re lucky to even play against me,” he mutters.

from a distance, you can hear a few amused chuckles and a few scoffs of disbelief from his older teammates. for the youngest on the team, sae has the largest presence. he’s already the talk of the hour—you can hear reporters buzzing for an interview and fans chanting his name already.

but he’s unbothered, sipping on his water bottle like it’s child’s play he’s preparing for.

“i know, baby,” you mumble, “you’ll crush them but…there’s just so many people,” you mumble. “what if you trip and fall? that’ll be so many people seeing.”

“i’m not gonna trip and fall,” he grumbles, lips twitching into a small frown that’s almost—almost—a pout, like the fact that you think he’d do something like that is an insult to his pride.

“oh my gosh,” you gasp, “i think someone just took a picture of us,” you ramble, not even paying attention to him. “what if i looked ugly?”

he wants to tell you there are a lot of people taking pictures, and that it’s a dumb thing to say—since when have you ever looked ugly? even your bad angles are better than the average person’s best, but before he can even say anything, your hand tightly grasps his.

he looks down, furrows his brows, opens his mouth to say something when you cut in.

“don’t be nervous, sae,” you babble away, “you got this, okay? there’s not even that many people here, they look like ants from down here anyway. you won’t even notice them.”

and then your hand squeezes his tightly, like it’s for reassurance, like it’s to tell him it’s okay, i’m here. except, he’s sure you’re doing it more for yourself than him—since he’s quite literally fine, quite literally standing here with as bored of an expression as always.

“i’m not nervous, idiot,” he mumbles.

and sae doesn’t like holding hands. your hands are a bit clammy and cold and they’re squeezing a bit too tight for his liking and he can’t move around as freely now. but your thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his hand and…it’s nice. for some reason, it’s kind of nice and he likes it.

he gives your hand an experimental squeeze, and when you squeeze right back, he finds that oddly enough, it’s kind of comforting to be able to communicate with you like this without actually saying words.

it’s okay. i’m here. you’ve got this. i’m not going anywhere. i’m proud of you. you’re all i need. you make me happiest. did you see that? i think that was another camera flash. i’m scared. i believe in you. it’s almost time for you to go. play your best. i love you.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

every tightening of your hand and every small squeeze tells him something that he finds he can understand for some reason—even without words. even without looking at your eyes or your face or seeing your expression. it’s so simple—so easy and…and he likes it.

why does he like it?

“good luck, baby,” you whisper, turning to face him, giving him a look that’s so nervous, yet so filled with conviction, he almost feels that to not play better than his best is of a disservice to you.

“thanks,” he murmurs, tugging you a bit closer by your hand. he finds that’s also a nice added perk of holding your hand—being able to pull your body impossibly closer whenever he wants. “but i won’t need it.”

“no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “because you’re mister itoshi-sae-the-best-ever-who-never-gets-nervous. my bad.”

he huffs a small chuckle, gives your hand a squeeze and lets out a small sigh of content when he realizes the circles you’re rubbing over his knuckles have turned into hearts.

“don’t be nervous,” he says quietly, “‘s just us. everyone else’s background noise.”

“i know, but—”

“and don’t answer any reporters till i come back, okay? don’t need you having a breakdown on national television.”

“sae!” you whine, “that doesn’t help.”

“see you after my win,” he grins ever so slightly. it’s the biggest smile any of his teammates have ever seen from him—a few of them even gape in shock, but he pays no mind. he contemplates for a small moment before he decides—brings up your laced fingers and presses a small, short kiss to the back of your hand.

“see you after your win,” you agree, giving one more squeeze to his hand.

i love you.

he squeezes back. i love you too.

and then he’s off, and he almost hesitates before he lets his hand leave your grasp while he runs onto the field. he glances back at you, sees the way your hands are clutched tightly together to your chest as you stare at him with hope in your eyes and awe in your expression.

itoshi sae has never liked holding hands—but then your hands hold out his entire universe, and how could he not change his mind?

hi everyone. pls take this very self indulgent and very me coded reader as they overthink sae’s entire game more than he even thinks about it 💀

[foreverdolly]

dolly announcement:

i just want to thank each and every person that has checked on me over the last eleven days. life has been crazy and i’m still very much in denial over everything. the loss of my father has changed me fundamentally… however i have never felt more motivated to make a life for myself that he would he proud of. with that being said i would like to gain back some semblance of my former life. writing has always been my passion, my escape and a way for me to connect with others! so my blog will go back to normal as of today!

i will also be updating/posting some fics very soon:

“savage bonds”: update will be on thursday at ten o’clock est. adult themes will be included in this chapter, so please read the special warnings before delving in.

“i just ride”: update will be saturday at ten o’clock est. adult themes and minor angst will be included in this chapter so please check the special warnings (the smut is sweet and loving though… unlike the fic above)

i will be introducing a new knight!austin butler x princess!reader mini series next saturday at ten o’clock est. it will comprise of four full length chapters. teasers for the first chapter will be posted up until the official day to get you all excited.

i am also working on a paul atreides oneshot that will be posted the saturday after next.

if i make any tweaks or additions to this fic schedule then i will let you all know before hand!

love love love you all.

-xoxo dolly

[hqbaby]

three — have to be

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.5k content. profanity, college kids being stupid, some angsty feels

Contrary to popular belief, college isn’t that different from high school. No one magically matures overnight and goes from being a snot-nosed brat to a sophisticated adult. Try as you might, it just isn’t the way things go.

College is essentially just high school on steroids. The cliques are more exclusive, padded with unwritten rules and covert acts of initiation. Bullies are more subtle, if not more vicious. And the gossip? Well, the gossip is just as venomous, and news spreads just as fast.

Today’s item of interest is one for the books: The big breakup between the campus crush and the golden boy who bagged her. How they ended things rather abruptly. And how they’re both already dating different people only three weeks later.

“Apparently, you cheated on him,” Nobara tells you, pulling out the lollipop she has in her mouth. “Or you cheated on him. It depends on who you ask.”

“I heard that you were sleeping with a professor,” Maki says.

You frown at her, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Yaga?”

“No.” She grins. “Gakuganji.”

You gag at the thought. Which sicko came up with that? Probably Kento, you think. The prick.

The three of you are on your way to a meeting for a pre-law society you joined back in your first year. You’re not quite sure you want to be a lawyer and Maki’s made it clear that she’s just in it for the parties, but as Nobara says, it’s for the connections.

A lot of college has felt like a complete scam to you, if you’re being honest. The classes are fine enough and you occasionally meet interesting people, but for the most part, you’re well-aware that everyone here’s either just coasting or trying to one-up one another. You can’t complain though. In the end, you’re a part of it all.

“I heard something interesting though,” Nobara says, and there’s a dangerous tone in her voice that has you crawling out of your skin. “More than a few people are saying that you’re dating someone new.”

Maki nods, looking at you with a raised brow. “I heard that too.”

“Someone from the business department apparently,” Nobara adds. “Someone you’re incredibly close with.”

You swallow as your two friends turn to you for an answer to their accusations. You and Sukuna made your sham relationship “official” just a few days ago and you haven’t had the time to tell either of them about it. If you’re being honest, you’ve been avoiding the topic for as long as humanly possible because you already know what they’re going to say about the whole thing.

It’s one thing for you to be friends with him despite their clear dislike of him, it’s an entirely different thing to be dating him. To the public’s knowledge at least.

“I was going to tell you guys about that,” you say quietly.

Nobara gapes, dropping her lollipop on the ground. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Before you say anything—”

“Holy shit!” Maki exclaims. She stops in her tracks and grabs your shoulders, shaking you as if to shock some sense into your system. “No. You’re not doing this.”

“I know Satoru fucked you up, but this is not the way to deal,” Nobara tells you. Her arms are flailing around as she tries to get her point across. She probably thinks you’re in too deep, madly in love with the asshole she’s done nothing but warn you about. “Where’s your phone? You’re breaking up with him right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at your friends’ hysterics. Much to their horror.

Maki’s grip on your tightens. “This is serious, babe. It’s not happening.”

“Will you just let me speak?” you say, the laughter shaking your voice. “I’m not dating Sukuna.”

They both let out a sigh of relief.

“But I am pretending to.”

“What kind of fucked up game are you playing?” Maki demands. She’s let go of you now at least. That’s something. “Explain, bitch.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking straight ahead, forcing the two of them to hurry along after you. “It’s just a thing we’re doing,” you say. “It’s basically a joke.”

Nobara groans. “Well, it’s not funny,” she says. “Why are you doing this?”

“I dunno,” you tell her. “I’m petty, I guess.”

They’re clearly displeased with your non-answer. You realize that it was more than ridiculous trying to hide it from them in the first place. There’s really nothing to hide.

“We went to a party over the weekend,” you say. “And Satoru was there… with Kimi.”

Maki purses her lips, but you can tell that she understands. She understands you more than she wants to. She was there with you before the breakup, she saw how much the whole thing had been weighing on you, and she was there immediately after it happened. She saw just how badly the whole thing wrecked you. She knows that you’re being stupid, but she also knows you.

It’s Nobara who scowls and shakes her head. It’ll take more than that to convince her.

“So?” she says. “Then date one of the many guys who throw themselves at your feet. Or get a girl! You’re due for a girl. Pick literally anyone else but him.”

You chuckle at her insistence, draping your arm over her shoulder and squeezing her against you. “I don’t want anything real right now,” you tell her. “All those people want a real relationship that I’m just not ready for, and they don’t deserve to be led on. Besides, Sukuna’s the only one I trust to do something this stupid with.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re fucked in the head,” she says. “You cannot trust a guy like Sukuna. He’s an ass.”

“He’s also my best friend.”

Nobara hangs her head at that. “You know, I wish I’d met you sooner,” she tells you. “Then, I would’ve gotten you away from that asshole before he got his fangs in.”

“I know him,” you say, leaning your head against her. “You gotta trust me on this.”

She wraps her arm around your waist and holds you tight for a moment, then sighs. “If he tries anything stupid though, I will kill him.”

“I’ll help,” Maki says. She goes in front of you, walking backwards so she can keep her eyes on yours. “You’re sure about this?”

You nod, reaching your hand out to grab hers. “I’m sure,” you say. “And it’s only for a month. I’ll probably be ready to move onto something real by then.”

The meeting has been going on for hours. They’re not usually this bad when all you have to talk about is a fundraiser or a seminar or a statement against the school administration or something menial like that. But the agenda today is loaded.

The trip.

The big trip that everyone in the society always gets worked up over. It’s the big event of the year, a weekend where the whole group goes somewhere new and gets completely wasted. 

It isn’t enough that you do charity work or contribute to the campus life like any other club would. It isn’t enough that you all see each other on a weekly basis to party at someone’s house or head to a bar together. To truly make the “connections” that Nobara speaks of, you have to relocate everyone to a beach or camp in the mountains or get locked together in a cabin in the woods.

It’s for bonding, they say. But with how everyone’s arguing right now, you’re almost worried that the whole group is just going to end up hating each other. Just another part of the college experience as they say.

“We are not going to an active volcano for our trip,” Utahime says. “It’s stupid and, honestly, not fun at all.”

Mahito huffs at that. “What’s more fun than knowing that we could die at any moment?” he asks like it’s a completely normal thing to say. “You guys just want to go to the beach again and that’s boring.”

“Where would we even sleep?” Aoi points out.

Utahime nods and looks at Mahito with venom in her eyes. “Exactly.”

“As if anyone sleeps on these trips anyway.”

You raise your hand. “I vote against the volcano.”

“So where would you have us go?” Mahito asks. “Kento’s house?”

The man in question scoffs. “As if I would ever let you in my house.”

“I think the beach is fine,” Nobara says. “We always have fun there anyway.”

“We went there last year though,” you say against your better judgment. When Nobara looks at you like, How are you not siding with me on this? You mouth a quick “sorry.” Then, “Camping’s fun.”

“Bugs,” Mahito.

“Oh, and you think there isn’t anything gross on a volcano?” Utahime.

“What about Aoi’s cabin?” Kento.

“My dad just sold it.” Aoi.

“I vote beach.” Maki.

“Thank you!” Nobara.

The conversation goes round and round. Everyone has an opinion, everyone has something to say, everyone has something they don’t like or don’t want to do. It seems like the whole thing will never end.

“Ski trip,” you say suddenly. The room goes silent. “We’ve never been before, and it’s doable. The budget’s pretty good this year. I think we could swing it.”

Everyone looks at Kento, the keeper of the books, as he turns to his laptop to crunch the numbers. After a moment of typing, he looks up and nods.

“It’ll have to be after the children’s rights fundraiser though,” he says. “We have to make sure we can make the downpayment on the hall for the kids, but after that…”

Everyone looks at Utahime now, the club president who has the final word on everything. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Ski trip it is.”

There’s a round of “finally”s and “fuck yeah”s and patting each other on the back for a job well-done.

“Now, about the children’s rights fundraiser,” Utahime says. “We should really start planning that.”

Everyone groans and there’s eventually a call for a five-minute break.

“We should really kick Mahito out at this point,” Nobara whispers to you as she rests her head on the table. “He doesn’t even do his job half of the time.”

You pat her head and laugh. “He’s harmless,” you tell her, getting up from your seat. “I’m gonna go pee.”

“I’ll come,” Maki says, following you out the door.

The two of you link your hands together and swing them wildly as you make your way to the restroom, a habit you two formed in freshman year when you refused to be suffocated by the crowds of people going from classroom to classroom. Despite seeming like two completely different kinds of people on the surface, the two of you are just menaces at heart. It’s why you’re such good friends.

As you approach the restroom, you can hear a group of girls talking loudly inside.

“Locker room talk,” Maki says, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk on her lips.

You snort, the voices becoming clearer now.

“You’re so lucky.”

“Is he good in bed?”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“You guys are so embarrassing.”

You stop in your tracks. The last voice is so familiar, terrifyingly so. It’s a voice you’ve heard from a few feet away. In front of you in a line. In the back of a classroom. On the court, counting out the timing for the next steps of the cheerdance.

“He’s really sweet though,” the voice says. “Just this morning, he showed up at my dorm with a bunch of flowers. He said he got them ‘just because.’”

Maki is watching you with concern, confused by why you’ve suddenly stopped moving, why your breath has seemed to hitch in your throat.

Just because.

A bouquet of now-wilted flowers on your kitchen counter. A teddy bear from a carnival tucked beneath your bed. A tennis racket you made him swear not to buy that showed up in your locker one morning before practice. Just because.

The restroom door swings open and four girls walk out. One of them—

“Kimi.”

The name slips from your mouth before you even realize it. You want the earth to swallow you whole at this moment. For the current to drag you under. For the heavens to crack open.

The girl looks at you with wide eyes. Guilt, you can tell. Pity.

She says your name this time. “Hi,” she says a little nervously. “How are you?”

Just like Maki, her friends watch the situation unfold from a careful distance. Will one of you lunge at the other? Will you pretend to be the best of friends? Should they come closer? Should they stay back?

“I’m doing well,” you tell her. The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like your own. You only realize now that you’re smiling. There’s a hint of smugness to it, a hint of callousness, cruelty. “I take it you and Satoru are going strong.”

She seems to catch your tone. Unintentional of course, but she doesn’t know that. All trepidation seems to leave her body, replaced by a similar coldness. “Yeah, we are,” she says. “I hear you and Sukuna are an item now.”

You try not to cringe at the implication. You’ve traded Satoru, the golden boy, for Sukuna, the bad idea. No point regretting it now.

“Yeah,” you say. End this now, you think. “Well, Maki and I have a meeting to get back to.”

“Oh, sure,” she says sweetly, stepping out of your way. Her friends follow suit. “See you around.”

You take Maki’s hand and wave at the girl as she passes by. “See you.”

The two of you walk into the restroom and let the door close behind you. You’re looking at each other now, breathing deeply as you hear the girls outside walk away.

“That was fucking insane,” Maki finally says.

“Tell me about it.”

You both burst out laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. It’s not a big deal, if you’re thinking logically, seeing your ex’s new girlfriend in a restroom. You all go to the same school, it’s not like you can avoid each other. Still, the whole thing brings out a viciousness in you that you can’t quite control, one that’s always ridiculous in hindsight.

You go into the bathroom stalls, still laughing.

“You were so cold,” Maki tells you from the stall beside you. “I was so proud, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I was mean!” you exclaim. You groan as you reach for the toilet paper. “She’s so telling him about that.”

“No way. It’d be embarrassing.”

You pull your pants up and head out to wash your hands in the sink, waiting for Maki to finish. “She knows about Sukuna.”

“Yeah,” she says. “How do you feel about that?”

“Humiliated.”

She steps out of the stall and washes her hands in the sink beside yours. “You still think the whole pretend-dating thing is worth it?”

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s done is done,” you tell her. “Sunk cost, baby.”

Maki dries her hand and looks at you seriously now. “Are you okay?”

Just because.

The words echo in your head. Words that have only ever been spoken to you now tainted by her voice.

“No,” you tell her. When she looks at you with furrowed brows, all you can do is shrug. “But I’ll have to be.”

notes. a little insight into reader's student life and bit of her bitchy side 👀 these chapters are getting longer than i'm used to lmao i fear the plot is getting away from me and just dragging me along for the ride at this point

[hobisstar]

So delicate| jjk x fem!reader

summary: Love isn’t fun when your young lover is caught cheating.

Warning: JUNGKOOK IS A PIECE IN SHIT IN THIS OMG, 8 year age gap, dom! Jk, sub! Reader, mentions of smut, toxic relationships, cheating, after math of cheating, and that’s all I could think of. Oh and maybe a little bit of yandere.

Crash.

Was what yn felt when she got home. Oh she couldn’t wait to just crash and go to sleep after a nice hot shower. But of course, that’s not what happened.

No you see yn came home to her boyfriend, cheating. It’s not like she was surprised no she has felt this was coming since a few months ago. Just how dare he bring into their home? How could he? The he in question is none other Jeon Jungkook.

According to jungkook they were falling apart after her late night working hours and his chilling at home hours. And because not to mention yn is a little older than Jungkook. Yn being freshly 34 and Jungkook being 26, they bumped heads with that 8 year age gap.

Yn frowned upon it so so much, but for some reason Jungkook insisted that they be together and forget about the age gap. They were adults in love and that’s all that mattered to him.

Recently, it hasn’t been so much love though. Yes, it’s still there but after this, is it?

One day Jungkook was nitpicking. Everything yn did that day, he just didn’t like it.

Going to work, didn’t like.

Walking around in clothes, didn’t like.

Not holding him tightly enough when she left for work, didn’t like.

Not riding his cock until he was begging to breed her with his then limp leaking cock, didn’t like.

The last one, cause an argument. Can you imagine having an argument while being onto of your lover? After he basically cummed in you more than once? Same. I couldn’t!

But yn being yn, she tried. Truly she tried to understand so much of his recent actions but what he said the day after? Was heart breaking.

“It’s not my fault that you decided to date a 26 year old at your old age. Should’ve dated someone your own age..”

It didn’t hurt yn because she knows it was true. So her rebuttal was

“ your right. And since you are so fucking right I’m done with you. You don’t want to be with my old ass anyways so I might as well find someone who will.”

Soon, that argument turned into angry sex. Yn saying she hates him while Jungkook replies I love you and your mine.

A whole lot that honestly needed to end anyways.

But this time, you were serious.

As soon as yn heard the moans coming from what once was their shared home, she quietly walked to the room, opened the door, packed a bag, and went downstairs. She completed drained out Jungkooks yelling and the woman’s panic voice trying to call Jungkook down when all she got was a get the hell out, to that she did.

“Baby… I thought you had to work late today?” He mumbled walking up behind her.

Yn did one swift turn toward him and looked him in the eyes and smacked him. “ You… you dare do this behind my back but you got some hefty balls to do this in my fucking home? I’m not surprised. Jungkook you’ve been hinting at this since 5 months ago. I was just dumb enough to ignore them. So you know what? Stay with her. Stay with whoever. I’m done and you don’t have to worry about my grown ass any longer… I’m done. Officially.”

Yn grabbed her bag and walked passed a stunned Jungkook making sure she shoulder bumped him on her way out.

He didn’t even attempt to stop because he knew. He knew that if he did she’d never have a chance of leaving of again. She wins this time. He told himself.

Oh let chaos begin…

[reverie-starlight]

I miss knb and I wanted to write something for aomine :’) I’ve never written for him and it’s been a while since I’ve watched the show, so forgive me if you feel that his characterization is a bit off. hello from late january cause that’s when I’m queuing this 👋🏻

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. lots and lots and lots of fluffy pet names bc that’s the focus of the drabble. he calls you shnookums once just to annoy you bc he’s a little shit. that’s a warning in itself tbh. mentions of alcohol/drunk character. characters written as adults, not high schoolers.

aomine has specific nicknames for you depending on the situation you find yourselves in.

he reserves “babe” or some shortened variation of your name for when you’re in public.

it’s quick, it’s casual, and it doesn’t get him a lecture on why it’s not funny to very loudly address you as “shnookums” when you get separated at the grocery store.

(though in his defence, he thought it worked wonders. you were back at his side within seconds after straying too far on accident with a half embarrassed, half pissed off look on your face. he thought it was hilarious.)

~~~

he calls you “baby” when he greets you after a long day at work. when he’s picking you up from your classes. normally only in your presence, because he doesn’t need the teasing remarks about how soft he’s become from his teammates.

not that he really cares at the end of the day- he’ll call you what he wants to call you (provided you also like it, of course) but there’s something less casual about it that makes him want to keep it just for you.

that “something” being the time you got drunk and offhandedly mentioned loving the way it sounds in his voice. he now gets to enjoy the small, barely noticeable uptick of your lips whenever he opts for it. no one else gets to see that.

he’ll help you with your coat and press a kiss to your hairline, murmuring a soft “hey baby, missed you today”.

it’s probably the most common of the names he uses on you out of all the available options.

~~~

he saves the saccharine pet names for when he knows you’re not feeling your best. whether you’re mentally drained, physically exhausted or sick to any degree, there’s never not a time when hearing him be sickeningly sweet with you doesn’t ease the pain.

“need anything else, sweetheart?”

“how are you feeling, gorgeous?”

“yeah, we can cuddle, doll, c’mere.”

these are also the times he plays up the compliments (more than usual).

“even when you’re sick, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. don’t let it get to your head, though. or do- I know how to deal with that just fine, too.”

~~~

he doesn’t have one set nickname for you when you visit him at practice, but when you watch him play in an official game?

as long as you’ve known him, he’s never believed in luck- he got himself to where he is with his skills, luck had nothing to do with it.

so it surprises you the first time he refers to you as his good luck charm. it’s not said in some grand gesture, not brought up in those fluff promotional interviews when reporters ask him if he has one.

it’s whispered quietly into your ear before he jogs onto the court.

a murmured thank you against your lips as soon as he’s running off again, high on a win, straight to you.

you ask him about it one day and he just shrugs. “everything is different now. I play better when I know you’re watching, it’s energizing in a way I’ve never felt before. you’re right, I still don’t believe in luck, but somehow I was able to find you. and I don’t know if I would call that luck, either, but until I find a better way to explain it you’re just gonna have to put up with that title a bit longer.”

so you do, without complaints, because it’s cute trying to watch him convey his feelings honestly and still in a very aomine way.

~~~

your absolute favourite nickname that he’s given you, though? angel.

you’re his angel.

the title is first appointed when you pick him up one night from a bar after celebrating with his team. his usually brooding expression visibly lights up when he sees you and he makes his way over. it’s been a while since he’s been this drunk, so it makes you laugh when he stumbles over and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“what a sweetheart, you really came to pick me up?”

you scoff and try to get him into the car, waving at his teammates who were staying with him until you got there. “what, baby, you thought I wouldn’t?”

he shrugs with an absentminded grin. “it’s just nice to have a… battle angel or whatever that term is. I dunno what it is.”

you can’t help but laugh. “you mean a guardian angel?”

“same thing, you knew what I meant!” his words are slurred and he’s now leaning his entire body weight against you.

“oh you are so wasted, daiki, let’s get you home.”

and it’s whispered again at home as he’s falling asleep, “my angel… thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

your heart squeezes.

now it’s reserved for only the most intimate of moments with him- he doesn’t want to overuse the name and risk it losing its meaning.

because it does hold a deeper, unspoken meaning between the two of you.

after a long time apart because of his away games? after he wins an important match? loses a match and he’s thankful you’re there with him? you get a promotion at work? you pass a difficult class with flying colours? all situations where he’d call you angel.

he has a full arsenal of names for you, clearly, and you love every single one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this feels a bit messy. even after editing, I feel like the quality went down a bit, so we’ll see if I end up posting it. but I love him a lot and I’ve been rewatching knb, so I needed to do something for him to keep the brainrot at bay.

tagging: @dira333

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

A Wedding To Remember And A Proposal To Come

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 3k words 

summary: You’re Penny’s maid of honour. Bradley is Mav’s best man. And after planning this perfect wedding, you’re thinking about your future with him. 

top gun masterlist

You had spent the last two months dedicating every minute of your free time - after work, five minutes before work, 2am when you’d been supposed to be sleeping but there’s only one catalogue left and just go back to bed if you’re tired, Bradley - to this very moment. Standing next to Penny in her stunning white dress, watching Maverick in his tux smiling the broadest smile you’d ever seen, listening to the officiant say those magical words: “You may now kiss the bride.” 

And hell, if it hadn’t been worth it. 

All that time on white couches sipping champagne with Amelia and your mother (Amelia drinking orange juice, of course, you were responsible adults) as Penny tried on one dress after another; all that time calling venues, bakeries, photographers; all that time assembling flowers and napkins and deciding on the dress code (it was kind of a military wedding after all, but you’d be damned if you let anyone turn up in fucking uniforms or something); all that time planning the bachelor and bachelorette parties. It had all been worth it. 

Especially now, as Mav leaned in, as they kissed, as you caught Bradley’s gaze and smiled. He was standing there next to Maverick in his tux and tie, eyes twinkling as they landed on yours, his lips tugging upwards in a way that said “We really did it”. You dabbed at your eyes to keep the tears at bay. You’d done that too many times to count today. 

He looked perfect like this. He looked perfect sleep-deprived at 5 in the morning in the dim light of the kitchen lamp too, bleary-eyed and yawning, mindlessly tapping photos of napkins in the catalogue on the table as you scolded him - ”That’s pink, Bradley, are you kidding me? Penny wants to keep it classy.” “Does she really or do you?” (You’d slapped him for that). But right now... You could very well imagine yourself in Penny’s place, him in Mav’s. You could very well imagine kissing him right here, right now, rolling the word “husband” around in your mind. And sure, you’d pictured marrying him before, but this, this was different. 

When the newly-wed couple pulled back, the guests went wild with applause. You included. Penny was grinning, laughing, fingers intertwined with Mav’s as she turned to the guests, then to you, and you let out a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh as you threw your arms around her. 

“Congrats, Pen”, you whispered. “I’m unbelievably happy for you. Mav is one lucky man.” 

“He is, isn’t he?”, she laughed, pulling you close, swaying you for a second before she let go. You couldn’t do anything but grin at her. Never in a million years would you have thought that it would come to this - her happy in Mav’s arms, in her husband’s arms. And you had to admit, you were pretty proud of the role you’d played in this wedding. Until now, everything had gone down perfectly, just like you’d planned, just like you’d wished for, and you were positive that it wouldn’t change now - you were done with the most stressful part after all. 

“He better treat you like a goddess or I’ll make sure he regrets it”, you promised. Tears shone in her eyes as well. “You deserve so much, Pen.” 

She pulled you close again, tightening her arms around you for another moment, then she really released you, embracing Amelia before you’d as much as stepped away. You turned to the freshly baked husband to watch him let go of Bradley, throwing yourself at him too, arms around his neck, knocking him back a little. 

“Congrats”, you whispered. You pulled back to look at him as you grinned. “She’s a very special woman. Don’t let go of her.” 

“Not planning on it, Ma’am”, he chuckled and you laughed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Very glad to have you in my family, Maverick. Officially now”, you said, then stepped aside so the other guests could come say their congratulations as well.

Your elbow hit something. Before you could turn to see what it was, two hands sneaked around your waist, tugging you back. You didn’t have to look up to know just whose hands that were, especially not when you felt that familiar breath ghost over your ear. 

“Hey”, you muttered, stumbling a few steps into the background, blindly following him as he led you. His hands roaming over your sides, a quick kiss pressed to the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Hey”, he chuckled. 

“We really outdid ourselves”, you smiled. It was the truth. 

“No, you outdid yourself. I barely helped.” 

You laughed as you let your fingertips trail up and down his arms, just watching the newlyweds get congratulated and enjoying the little private moment with your boyfriend. You’d hardly got any of those over the past few weeks. 

“Don’t downplay your help like that”, you grinned. “You’re the only reason Mav has a tux on today. And you actually managed to pull off the bachelor party without anyone ending up in the ER, which I thought was really admirable.” 

His laugh tickled the back of your neck. 

“We lost Bob for like two hours”, he hummed. You shook your head. 

“You didn’t lose Bob. He fell asleep and none of you guys realised that he hadn’t moved an inch. We made a really good decision not having both parties the same night - I don’t want to imagine what chaos you would have ended up in if I hadn’t been there to pick you up.” 

He spun you around so you were facing him, your palms coming to rest on his chest, and you had to tilt your head back a bit to look at him. A smile seemed to just be etched into your features tonight. You didn’t know if you’d be able to get rid of it until you fell asleep - or if you even wanted to. You felt like you were floating and you weren’t even the one getting married. If you already felt like this just sharing someone else’s joy, god, what mess would you be when you got married one day? (’One day’ sounded so far away too. It didn’t even have to be so far away. You’d been with Bradley for a bit over three years now and neither of you had been shying away from the topic of marriage, especially with planning this one, and you were well aware that it was on the table. Bradley knew that you’d say yes any day - you knew that Bradley would say yes any day. But Penny and Mav were coming first, at least for another few hours.) 

“What would I do without you?”, he hummed, grin playing on his lips, as he leaned down just enough for his breath to graze your lips. 

“Die”, you deadpanned and shrugged, breaking when he laughed. You couldn’t not laugh when he did. 

“Probably”, he muttered, not even denying it - no matter that you’d meant it as a joke - and finally connected your lips, soft and sweet, and your fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt as you pulled him closer, pushed up against him, sighed into his mouth. You’d had way too few of his kisses. You were deprived.

If you weren’t so in love with him, maybe you’d be embarrassed about that. 

When he pulled back, you wanted to groan. But you knew that, for the rest of the night, you’d have to put the wedding first. You’d done it for weeks, you’d last until sunrise. 

“Duty calls”, you mumbled, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth. His mustache tickled. “We need to get Amelia, get the rose petals and get the car ready.”

His smile was infectious. He pulled you in for another quick kiss (just a quick one, really) and then he let you take his hand and lead him out of the venue, grinning like a school girl dragging her boyfriend through the crowd. 

...

Three hours later you were leaning against Bradley’s torso, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, your shoulder bumping into his chest as you rested your head against his shoulder and groaned. 

“They’re all dancing in there”, you pouted. “And we’ve had to carry presents out ever since dinner.”

It had been going so well until now: Bradley had driven Penny and Mav (and you, in the passenger seat) to the second venue you’d booked (this one for everything after the ceremony), all traditional with flowers on the hood and stuff, dinner had gone wonderfully, speeches had gone even better (you totally hadn’t cried when it had been your turn and you definitely hadn’t cried when it had been Bradley’s) and after dessert they had slow-danced (and you hadn’t cried again, of course). 

But since then you’d been carrying all the gifts people had got them out of the venue and into your car and it was the first thing to go wrong all evening. Because there were so many gifts that they didn’t fit. You’d had to improvise: Bradley hadn’t yet drunk too much to drive so you’d driven to their house and stacked everything in their living room. Now, nearly an hour later, you were done packing the second (and last) portion and to be honest, you were dying to get back inside. 

Yes, you were tired, worn out, close to exhausted - but you’d worked so hard for this, had worked so hard on this, that you didn’t particularly feel like missing out on any more of it. Especially because your parents had not only offered to take in Amelia for the night (which otherwise you would have done) and the honeymoon, but also because they had offered to stay sober and drive you back to your apartment later. So you were looking forward to a night of drinking and dancing with no worries on how to get home. You’d only had one dance with Bradley so far and that was something you desperately wanted to change. 

“We can dance as long as you want to”, he hummed, pressing his face into your hair. You took a deep breath. The scent of his perfume was ever-present, always dancing around the edges of your perception, but when he held you in his arms like this, it was multiplied by a thousand. It was so very him that anything similar to it always reminded you of him, even though he only wore it on special occasions.

“Think I’d like that”, you muttered. His hands wandered from your waist down to your hips, starting to gently rock you back and forth, finding a slow rhythm that had you smiling. Your fingers drew down the sleeves of his tux, intertwining with his, your fingertips grazing the dress you were wearing. 

It was beautiful like this. The silence of the night, the stars in the skies above, the gentle swaying, the heat of his body seeping into yours. You let out a sigh. For the first time in weeks, you felt relaxed. Truly relaxed. 

Even when Bradley had helped you unwind before, there had always been a part of you dead-set on not forgetting about the wedding, about the planning, about the nervousness. But now? Now what could go wrong? You’d made it through the ceremony, through reception, through dinner. You’d made it through the first dance. You’d fulfilled your duties as best man and maid of honour, had done an amazing job no less. You deserved this. You deserved to melt into him like butter, to finally, fully relax. 

“I love you”, he muttered, lips ghosting over your ear. 

“I love you too”, you whispered back, turning your face so that you could kiss him - gentle and slow. There was no rush, no urgency, only utter adoration. 

“Wanna go inside?”, he asked. You hummed against his lips. 

“In a minute.” 

...

It was 12:34 when you were standing breathlessly next to Phoenix, leaning on her shoulder a little, and your mother came up to you with a smile. 

“I’ll take Amelia home now. You and Bradley just tell your father when you want to go, alright? He’s been talking to Henry the whole night, I doubt he’ll want to leave earlier.” 

You reached for her and pulled her into a quick hug, a smile on your lips as well. Okay, maybe you were just a little drunk. But hey, you had every right to be. 

“Thanks, mum. But we’ll stay until this whole thing’s over, duties and all.” 

“Alright”, she said, a critical edge to her voice. “But if you’re tired or anything, you go home, yes? You know Penny wouldn’t want you to stay just for her.” 

“Yes, mum” - you rolled your eyes at her - “I think I’m old enough to make that decision.” 

Bradley came back then, two glasses in his hands, handing one to you as he slipped an arm around your waist and looked at your mother. You leaned back against him. He’d stripped off his jacket and his tie some time between ten and now, popped the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. 

“Leaving already?”, he asked your mother. She smiled at him and nodded. 

“I think it’s been enough for Amelia”, she shrugged. “She’s almost fallen asleep on my shoulder twice.”

“She was dancing with us like half an hour ago”, you recalled, resting your head on Bradley’s shoulder. He tugged you closer into him. 

“Teenagers”, your mother laughed. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. I’ll go say bye to Penny and then we’re off.”

You leaned forward a bit to hug her close again for a second. You’d hugged many, many people today. 

“Goodnight, mum. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“Night, hun. And you” - she pointed at Bradley with a grin - “Take care of her for me.”

“Always do, Ma’am”, he chuckled. Your mother laughed and shook her head. 

“I know you do, Bradley. You’re a good man. Have fun, you two, don’t worry about Penny and Mav too much. Your father was blackout drunk when he was her best man and she still managed everything.”

She made her way through the crowd to get to Penny, who was sitting, hand in hand with Maverick, at a table, chatting and laughing with friends. You rested your head back against Bradley’s shoulder as you watched her say goodbye and then grab Amelia, who’d been dozing off next to your father. You couldn’t help but smile. 

They were all here, all of your friends and family. The squad, your parents, your grandparents, Amelia. Tons of other people Penny and Maverick knew, some of them military, some of them not. You felt like you belonged here. In that dim light, with all the people you loved, in Bradley’s arms. Shit, this could’ve been your own wedding and you probably wouldn’t have been any happier. 

“Bradshaw”, you muttered, reaching for his hand on your hip to trail your fingertips up his skin. Soft, warm. He hummed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“That we should have another dance?”, he asked, and you could hear the grin on his lips. He was playing. 

“Not quite”, you mumbled, turning around in his arms and putting your drink down on the nearest table. Phoenix wasn’t next to you anymore. You didn’t know where she’d gone. You didn’t really care. All that mattered was Bradley. Here with you right now, eyes locked on yours, hands intertwined. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

“Tell me, baby”, he muttered. You felt your breath catch. 

“I thought... I thought-” 

You broke off with a sigh and frowned, annoyed at your own inability to get the words out right. 

“Take your time”, he soothed, kissing your knuckles again, guiding your hands to rest on his chest as he put his arms around you and pulled you close, fingers dancing across your lower back. 

“I keep imagining if this was ours”, you admitted, a little breathless. “You know, our wedding. Our ceremony, our reception, our party. Everything.” 

You didn’t know why you felt shy admitting it. Really, it wasn’t like it was some fantasy - you’d not talked about the details, but you’d both said before that you felt ready for marriage. It probably came natural to think about it when you were planning a wedding. But saying it out loud still made your heart skip a beat, your pulse quicken, your cheeks heat up. 

Bradley smiled. As if on cue, your insecurities were washed away, no words needed to tell you that there was nothing to be nervous about. 

“I’d marry you on the spot”, he admitted, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Anywhere, anytime.”

When he kissed you, really kissed you, you were on cloud nine - safe and sound in his arms, allowing every struggle, every strain, every thought to melt away. If you could stay in his arms forever, you would. He was a god, your god, perfect in every way imaginable and the only man you would ever want to spend the rest of your life with. Or any other day of your life. Or minute. Or second. He was the one, you were so very sure of that. And apparently, whatever almighty force up there was responsible for it, he felt the same about you. 

“Was that a proposal?”, you teased, knowing well enough that drama queen Bradley Bradshaw would certainly not let this be the way he popped the question. 

“No”, he chuckled. “That was the truth. You’ll know when I propose to you.” 

You pulled him in for another quick kiss, grinning against his lips as you broke away, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers to tug him back towards the dance floor. You still had a few hours to kill after all - before Penny and Mav were home, you weren’t done here. 

“So that’s planned already?”, you asked with a laugh. 

He twirled you once and let you rest your head against his chest, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “Since the day I met you, baby.” 

[goldenstudyhour]

2.10.23

today is so beautiful 🌿☁️ I finally got my taxes done!! I’m officially an adult now 🥲

[steviesbicrisis]

Seeing a lot of Step dads being asked to adopt officially their step kids today on Tiktok and it made me think of Eddie doing something like that with Wayne.

We don’t know if Wayne officially adopted him, maybe he’s just in temporary care and now Eddie is old enough to not need an adult to look after him but when anyone asks him about his parents he always talks about Wayne so he might as well make it official, right?

Steve helps him prepare the papers in time for Christmas and he even asks Jonathan for his camera so he can capture the moment.

Despite being sure, Eddie feels a little nervous. He knows that Wayne loves him like a son, but he also knows that taking care of him wasn’t something he chose, more like the right thing to do when your brother is a fuckup and goes to prison leaving his kid to fend for himself.

Steve cheers him up by threatening him that if he doesn’t ask Wayne to adopt him, he will. Somehow that’s the weirdest and sweetest threat Eddie has ever received.

Eddie gives the papers to Wayne on Christmas, carefully folded inside a box, under a very ugly mug he knows Wayne will love in case the adoption papers aren’t well received.

Wayne opens the box and huffs looking at the dog-shaped mug “you’ve outdone yourself son, might be my new favorite one”.

He notices the way Eddie flinches at the word “son” but he shrugs it off and turns to Steve, gesturing at the camera in his hands “is this all? Wanted to take a picture of this ugly ass mug?”

Steve tries to use a neutral tone, but it comes out fond nonetheless “I think there’s something else”.

Wayne frowns, turns to Eddie who’s bouncing on his place “look at the bottom of the box” Eddie points at it.

He picks the piece of paper, unfolds it and, after giving a suspicious look to the both of them, he reads quietly.

If they didn’t know Wayne, they probably wouldn’t have noticed his eyes getting a little watery and his hands lightly trembling.

Eddie and Steve exchange a knowing look and a big smile, Steve takes it as his cue to snap the first picture.

The second depicts Eddie putting his hand on Wayne’s shoulder and his uncle -or better, his dad- looking up to hold back the tears.

The third one, everyone’s favorite, has Wayne enveloping Eddie in a bone-crushing hug and Eddie’s surprised face.

A while later, when everyone has calmed down and Wayne has signed everything he needed to, he asks “so, what about Steve?”

The boys give him a surprised look “what about me?” Steve wonders.

“Either you two get married or I adopt you too” he says simply, sipping his coffee from his new favorite dog mug.

Both Eddie and Steve get red and ramble about how it is way too soon and that gay marriage being illegal anyways.

“Im just saying, son” Wayne dwells a second on the word, as it has taken a new meaning for him “that Steve is part of the family too, and if you don’t make it official then I will.”

Eddie doesn’t give Steve any time to react “No fucking way, man” he jumps out of his seat and points at his boyfriend without looking at him “I’m asking him as soon as marriages are legal!”

“We’ll see” replies Wayne, just to rile him up, which works perfectly.

“Are you challenging me?” He turns to Steve, scandalized “don’t you dare become my step brother Steve!”

Steve winces just at the thought of it “of course-“

“How do you expect Steve to say yes to marring you if you’re this controlling?” Wayne interrupts him.

“Me?? I would be a great husband! The best!” Eddie replies, looking outraged.

Steve covers his face in his hands and mutters “oh my God” as Wayne keeps poking at Eddie and the latter takes every bait.

It takes Eddie approximately 45 minutes to realize he had been talking about being Steve’s husband in front of him the whole time despite never having that conversation between them first.

His embarrassed expression once he realizes is Wayne second’s favorite Christmas present that year.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Inspiration Saturday

do I want to end my royal fic? yes. was i inspired for a little more in the tuck fwb and buddie endgame fic? yes. how i see Buck here. so you can see why Eddie is jealous

Buck feels Eddie’s eyes staying on him all the time he laughs with Tommy. 

When an older man offers to go get them something to drink, he carefully walks to his best friend, seeing how the gaze of brown eyes gets darker because of his pretty clear limping. 

“I thought you wanted to bring Marisol today? What changed?” Buck sits near his best friend and closes his eyes for a few seconds from the too-fast contact of his ass and the chair.

When he opens them again he sees how Eddie holds his beer bottle so tight that his knuckles are white.

“Yeah, it would be strange to bring the woman with whom you break up, because it wasn’t working,” Eddie says only this, with his eyes continuing to watch how Tommy laughs with Bobby near the grill, making them cocktails.

“You said everything was good with her?” Buck asks sheepishly.

He feels stupid and like he is missing something, but Eddie refuses to elaborate. 

Just two days ago Eddie was almost singing how good he felt with Marisol and how he would bring her to the barbecue today. And now they have broken up.

“It was. It was a pretty friendly breakup. As friendly as it can be when a woman you asked to get official told you it would not work between two of you,” Eddie takes a sip of the beer, finally looking at him. Or better say on his neck.

“Looks like your night was way better than mine. What happened with “it is just two men playing basketball, nothing more”?” Eddie almost mocks him, throwing his words he said to the team when they were teasing him about Tommy.

Buck feels like he is scolded for something he did wrong, but he can’t understand what. He is an adult who has the right to date or sleep with anyone he wants.

“It was just a game,” Buck says and Eddie makes a face he always had when Buck dated Taylor and Natalia. 

It makes Buck’s blood boil. So his next words are way more harsh.

“But then the hot man asked me if I wanted to sleep with him and I said yes, because why not?”

“So you date him now? And what about the words for looking for someone special after Natalia said goodbye? About not rushing anything new?”

Eddie’s words almost accusing him in the crime he never knew he did and Buck wants to fight back.

“I’m not rushing. Tommy and I friends who fucked once. Big deal,” Buck rolls his eyes. “I needed sex and I had sex with a hot man who doesn’t want something more from me. And I am still waiting for this special someone, or I was, I’m trying to stop waiting for them, because I doubt there will ever be a chance for me. Yesterday I was sure that I would never have a chance again when I went to play with Tommy. So I decided to have fun.”

-

tagging @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @icecreampotluck @puppyboybuckley @pirrusstuff @aspecbuddie @devirnis @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @spaceprincessem @sherlockcrossing @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @gaydiaz @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @honestlyeddie @hoodie-buck @housewifebuck @hippolotamus @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @barbiediaz @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @nmcggg @the-likesofus @steadfastsaturnsrings @gibuckaroo

[sturniozo]

In The Shadows I

masterlist

Most people that work for their father’s company have no choice, they’re thrown into it against their will. I was no different. Ever since I learned what my father really did for a living he had decided it would be what I do to. And I do it well. I’ve been training since I was 16. Now, 6 years later I’m the greatest assassin his company has ever produced.

My father runs a business, a hit man business. Some people are rich enough to hire people like us, people like me. We don’t just kill, we erase. We make people suffer and we make them silenced. Some people hire us just to investigate, gather information on an enemy.

You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that have wanted others dead. Exes wanting revenge, spouses wanting to collect life insurance, adult children sick of their parents. Some of their reasoning isn’t even good, but hey, moneys money right?

The cash isn’t even why I do it. It’s the thrill. Being undercover, being sneaky, solving things people had made difficult because they thought they were smart enough to hide them.

Everything I do, I do for the thrill. That rush of adrenaline that I’ve yet to let anyone who cares about me know about. Most assassins are like me though. No one really does it for the money. That’s just a bonus.

My father’s the only one who knows what I do. He made me what I am today. A killer. Not even my boyfriend of two years knows. He thinks I’m a planner at a company that sells stocks. That’s my cover. Thats my lie.

My eyes snap open as I hear my alarm go off. I dig under my pillow for my phone and shut off the alarm. I set my phone down on the night stand and rub my eyes. 5 am. I look over to my side and see my sleeping boyfriend, Luke. No doubt he went to bed not even an hour ago. He spends most nights staying up all night playing video games.

I sit up in bed and yawn. I get up and make my way to my bathroom. I take a quick shower before leaving to my usual coffee shop for breakfast.

The barista hands me my usual order with a smile. I’m used to seeing her here almost every day. Her usual days off are Wednesday and Friday. I sip on my coffee as I head back to my car. The clock on the console reads 6:53 am. I set the coffee down in the cup holder and drive off to the building I spend so many days in during my childhood, before I knew what it held.

I park in my usual spot, right next to my father’s car. I get out the car with my purse and my coffee, heading to the building entrance. I nod at Bobbie, the security girl, as I swipe my access card. It grants me access to the building and I head straight to my father’s office as I do every morning.

“Ah, good morning my dear.” My dad says as he gets out of his chair and walks to me for a hug.

“Good morning, Dad.” I say as I hug him back tightly.

He pulls away and smiles at me. “What do you have for me today?” He asks.

I dig through my purse and find a little paper bag. I hand it to him. “Open it.” I say while biting my lip to contain my excitement.

My father smiles at me and opens the little paper bag, letting a ring fall out onto his hand. “24 karat diamond?” He asks as he examines it.

“Yep. Fresh off the finger of a very unlucky divorcé.” I tell him.

“Ah, so this is the proof of contract completion for that Mrs. Aubrey then?”

“Ms. Aubrey.” I correct. “And yes, her ex husband won’t be bothering her or her children anymore.”

“That’s a good girl, I knew I could count on you.” My father smiles and puts the ring back in its paper bag. “I’ll have it delivered to her tonight, expect your payment in full my tomorrow morning dear.” He sits back down in his chair.

I sit down in the seat in front of his desk. “That’s my last contract, I’m officially out of running orders.” I say with a laugh.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve got something for you.” My dad smiles as he begins typing away at his computer.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning in.

“I’ll tell you in a bit, go on back to your office dear.”

“Why wait?”

“There’s more than just you and I for this contract, it’s a big one.”

I smile brightly. My father’s finally giving me a big important contract for my own. “All right. Just call my office when you’re ready for me, Dad.” I say with a smile as I get up from the seat.

“I’ll see you in a bit, dear.” He says as he waves me off.

I walk out of his office and to the elevator. My father’s office is on the top floor, while mine is about seven floors below that, a bit more than 2/3 of the way up the whole building. I walk out of the elevator and see the cubicles. I’m glad I got to skip that part.

I walk down the cleared walkway to my office, but am stopped when someone waves me over.

Casey. She started here as an information analyst just over a year ago. Now she profiles the subjects of our contracts. She’s the one who decides which assassin does what job.

“Hey, Casey.” I rest my arms over her cubicle.

“So, your new contact.” She smiles at me.

“I take it you chose me?” I laugh.

“No, this one came straight from the big man, your dad.” She says.

“Ah, okay. So you have no idea what it is then?” I ask.

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

“Then what did you call me over for?” I ask with a laugh.

“To gossip, duh! What else?” She laughs.

“I’m not one to gossip, Casey, you know that.” I say as I begin to walk away.

“I just wondered if you heard anything about the new guy.” She shrugs.

I turn back to her. “New guy?” I ask.

“He’s on loan from another industry. Apparently he’s their best assassin. Might even be right up there with your skill.” She chuckles.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Well, I didn’t get a name, but he’s handsome. I snuck a peak at his photo in his file when I was in your dad’s office yesterday.” She smirks. “He’s gorgeous, like a god!” She whispers.

I laugh. “He’s a trained killer?”

She nods. “His file was definitely an assassin file.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be spreading this around. Idle gossip isn’t what people come here for.” I say before walking into my office.

I shut the door behind me and let out a breath. I walk to my desk and set down my now half drunk coffee and my purse. I rub my temple and check the time on my phone. 8:14 am.

I groan and lay my head down in my arms on my desk. No contracts, no one to research or study. Nothing. I sigh and start scrolling aimlessly on my phone.

I get bored fast and see my phone down on my desk. I run my fingers over my face and bounce my knee up and down. The agony and boredom is killing me.

I shake my head and begin searching through my drawers, taking everything out and organizing everything. Within an hour I have everything in my office rearranged. I step back and look at it all, smiling.

I turn around and look out the glass wall of my office. Anyone who looked in here would think I was crazy. I just tore apart my entire office and rearranged it all in an hour, just out of boredom.

Staring out the glass I see someone who makes my breath hitch. Matt Sturniolo. Matt worked at this company years ago. He was one of my father’s greatest assassins. He even taught me most of my tricks. But that all changed when Matt betrayed me.

The call finally comes. My father telling me it’s time to go back up to his office. I have a weird feeling in my stomach, a feeling Matt has something to do with it.

I make my way to the elevator and go back up to my father’s office. I walk out of the elevator and stop when I see him. Matt standing in my father’s office. Just talking with him.

I gather my courage and walk into his office, ignoring Matt completely. “Got the call,” I say to my dad. “What’s the contract?”

“Y/n, you know Matt Sturniolo.” My dad gestures to Matt. I side eye him before looking back at my dad.

“Yes, I remember him.” I mumble.

“He’s your partner for this contract.”

My jaw drops. “He- what?” Matt laughs and I turn to glare at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask him.

“Just you.” Matt says. “You’re like a high school girl with a grudge.”

I glare at him before turning back to my dad. “There’s got to be someone else, or I could just do it myself!” I tell him.

“No, you two are the best assassins I’ve ever met, the best trained killers, the best investigators, the best of the best. I need both of you for this.” My father says in a demanding tone.

“What’s the contract?” Matt asks.

“Finley Wilson.” My father stands up and hands both Matt and me a folder. “Collector of rare curios. He’s not the target though, your job is to befriend him. Pose as a couple in search of useless art and befriend Wilson. Find out who he cares about the most.”

I stare at my father. “Us? A couple?” I point between Matt and myself.

“I won’t hear any of your complaining.” My dad says. “This is an important contact, I want reports every night. Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon, I suggest you be ready then, understand?” My father says sternly.

I nod and keep my mouth closed.

“Good. Don’t worry, I’ll have your things for your cover sent with you. You’ll need to make a believable couple, and Wilson will have to believe you’re a rich couple looking to buy his curios. That is important. You need him to believe this cover. He’s paranoid, it won’t be easy.”

Matt closer the folder and holds it under his arm. “Where are we going?” He asks.

“Switzerland.”

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