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xvazx · 2 days ago

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The Beauty of Our Chaos

WEDDING DAY - TIL DEATH DO US PART

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A couple of hours had passed. The energy in the living room was thick—nervous, restless.

Was it canceled?

Was Missy okay?

Were we about to stop a very expensive, very pink party?

We were nervously fidgeting—twirling our hair, bouncing knees, refreshing Bella’s location every five seconds like we were tracking an Amazon order.

To kill time, the group devolved into chaotic hypothetical questions.

“Okay,” Mariel said, flopping onto the couch with a sigh. “Would you rather be a famous porn star or an escort—if the pay was the same and you didn’t have retouch?”

“Porn star, hands down,” Kaylee added before anyone else could answer. “At least in porn, the actors are required to be super hygienic and you get a glam team.”

Several girls nodded in agreement.

The boys looked mildly confused.

Then Damien, sitting on the armrest of a loveseat like a chaos gremlin, broke in. “Okay but real question—best Power Rangers intro theme?”

Most of the girls blinked like he’d spoken Latin.

“I didn’t really watch it,” one admitted.

“I only liked the pink one,” another said.

But some of the boys immediately joined in.

“Time Force,” Mark said.

“Nah, Dino Thunder, easy.”

But then, like some cruel cosmic joke, Luigi and I both said it at the same time:

“SPD.”

Our eyes locked. Oh no. Stop. You’re mad at him, remember?

Then Georgina’s phone started vibrating. Bella’s name lit up the screen.

We all gathered like moths to flame. She put it on speaker.

Bella’s voice came through, frazzled but clear. “Okay, quick update—Missy’s stable, but she’s being kept under observation to find the cause.”

A collective breath. Relief, even if it was laced with a little dread.

“Apparently,” Bella continued, “they think it’s food poisoning. But she swears she hasn’t eaten solids since yesterday.”

Oh, but she did drink something.

“The matcha,” I whispered to Georgina.

I sprinted to the fridge and yanked open the door. There it was: the glass pitcher. I poured it into the sink—and saw it.

Stuck to the bottom of the pitcher. White clumps. Floaters. The top had this thin film of gray-green fuzz.

“Oh —mold,” I gagged.

Mariel turned pale. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“I think her nut milk fermented into something,” Georgina told Bella. Then she stepped away to speak privately, voice hushed, back turned.

A minute later, she came back, eyes wide.

“She’s got a bacterial infection from spoiled nut milk,” Georgina said. “They’re doing a gastric lavage. She’s not coming back.”

Everyone went silent

“She’s not coming back.” I repeated.

“Karma,” Mariel muttered under her breath.

Luigi looked around, trying to mask his panic. “What are we supposed to do? People will start showing up in, like, a few hours.”

Georgina straightened, flicking her ponytail like she was announcing a game show twist. “Bella said someone can replace Missy.”

There was a pause.

“Great!” I said, too focused on the logistics. “Let’s get you dressed and—”

Then I felt it. The glares. Every set of eyes turning toward me like I had just volunteered myself for human sacrifice.

“What?” I asked.

“You could do it,” Georgina said sweetly.

“Yo?” I asked on a stereotypical loud tone “No.” (Me?)

“There is no better option.” Georgina looked around at the very confused and slightly offended group of girls.

“I’m suspended, remember?”

“She said anyone,” Georgina insisted. “The rules don’t matter anymore. We are against the clock.”

“I don’t even rank in Delta Nu hierarchy,” I argued. “In that case, you should do it or a senior.”

“You planned everything. You know the steps, the order, the cues,” Georgina explained, getting closer. “Please?”

The group looked at me. Half pleading, half daring.

Then my eyes found Luigi’s.

“I mean…” Kaylee looked at the boys. “Unless y’all aren’t on board?”

“This is gonna be awesome,” Damien grinned.

Luigi shrugged, pretending to be unfazed.

Then the chanting started.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!”

I sighed, deeply and dramatically, and raised a hand like a reluctant martyr.

“Fine.”

A cheer erupted like I’d just announced a new music festival.

I took a step forward, and barked: “All right, everyone! Get in your positions! I want this whole shit ready before 8PM! Go go go!”

Luigi smirked. “The fake wedding is back on!”

People clapped. Someone popped a can of beer in celebration.

I turned to leave, but not before he called out, “Hey!”

I turned around, and there he was again holding that stinkingly cute yellow flower. Trying again to give it as a peace offering.

I sighed and took it from his hand.

He smiled, “See you at the altar.”

“Whatever,” I muttered.

The girls dragged me upstairs like a prize-winning sheep. Suddenly, I was surrounded by sorority sisters who treated me like a mannequin. Hair, lashes, bronzer, blush, chest shimmer—yes, that’s a thing—lip plumper, and glitter in places I didn’t know could be glittered.

“I didn’t sign up for this when I applied to UPenn,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Don’t move.” Kaylee said while pinning the little veil.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door.

Minutes later, a senior girl walked in holding the dress.

Missy’s dress.

I blinked. “Where’s the bottom half?”

“That is it,” she said, holding it like it was made of gold.

I stepped into the slip of fabric and someone yanked the corset strings hard enough to compress a lung.

“Ya se les hizo costumbre,” I hissed. “I’m gonna pass out.’” (This turned into a common habit)

Once it was on, I stood in front of the mirror.

Short. A little slutty. Like the Bride of Chucky…

“You could wear bike shorts,” Kaylee offered.

“I could wear a hazmat suit and it still wouldn’t cover this.”

“You are taller than Missy,” Mariel said. “That’s why it looks tiny.”

“And I’m about to be even taller in these stilettos,” I added.

I glanced at myself in the mirror again.

“Delta Nu should make me a legend after this,” I joked.

And then we heard footsteps downstairs. Guests were arriving. The DJ had finally set up. Music was playing. Lights were being tested.

It was happening.

I wasn’t ready.

I was freaking out.

But there was no turning back now.

Ten minutes before showtime, I met Georgina near the stairs.

She looked flustered, half-sprinting in her little kitten heels.

“Guess what—the officiant is here,” she announced breathlessly, eyes wide. “And he asked for Missy. I told him about the switch.”

I blinked. “Wait, he’s real?”

“Apparently. And he asked if the ‘clients’ have IDs since the name of the bride changed.”

“Why would he need IDs for a fake wedding?” I asked, confused and slightly panicked. “I’m not American.”

Georgina just shrugged like this wasn’t exactly her jurisdiction. “He said it’s policy.”

I turned toward the stairs. “Then I’ll talk to him—”

Georgina grabbed my arm. “Not before the cue! Remember, you’re entering from the side path through the backyard. Big reveal and all that.”

Right. I forgot.

Suddenly, a stampede of girls in fake bridesmaid in tiny dresses swarmed in. Their excitement was so intense it bordered on violent.

“What do I do about the officiant?!” Georgina asked as the mob carried me away.

“Convince him to do it without the IDs!” I called back.

Downstairs was chaos. Who would’ve thought all UPenn alumni would come for a fake wedding and booze.

I crouched, waiting with the fake bridesmaids and frat bros with energy drinks.

This was what my full scholarship paid for.

From inside, I heard the first cue: “Bottoms Up” by Trey Songz.

I peered around the corner just in time to hear, “It’s Mr. Steal Your Girl…”

The song was the groom’s entrance.

Georgina jogged back to us, breathless.

“He agreed to go along with it and he’ll ‘talk to you later,’” she panted giving me the little pink bouquet and moving to her position.

Then the second song started:

“24K Magic” by Bruno Mars. The bridesmaids and groomsmen began their little runway walk, hyping up the crowd. People clapped. A few screamed.

Joshua, the frat house dad and my makeshift escort, straightened his bow tie over his Nirvana shirt. He turned to me and offered his arm. I hesitated, then looped mine through his.

He nodded. “You can do this.”

Then came my cue.

“Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls.

My heels clicked against the stone path as I walked out to “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?” I could feel everyone watching. The music, the lights, the drama—it was absurd. And yet, somehow, my body just did it. Stilettos nearly betrayed me halfway down the aisle, but I recovered like a runway professional.

And there he was. He wore a backwards cap, and a simple blazer over a tshirt. Waiting at the altar with a goofy grin, hands in his blazer pockets, looking both smug and dumb enough to be cute.

Then I noticed the officiant.

He was dressed like… Elvis. Or a deranged impersonation of him. The hair was plastic. The jumpsuit had glitter.

Where had Missy found this man?

I swallowed hard.

I was about to have a fake wedding with my situationship, who I may or may not hate, officiated by a man impersonating a dead rock star, in front of a group of sorority girls and frat bros… oh and a shit ton of people who paid to watch this.

LUIGI’S POV

I stood up at the altar, trying to act chill even though my palms were sweaty and my mind was racing. I gotta hand it to the girls—when Delta Nu throws a theme party, they succeed. The backyard was transformed into some kind of chaotic, glittery fever dream: lights, ridiculous floral arches, heart-shaped everything.

I watched as the “bridal squad” began making their entrance, strutting down the aisle to 24K Magic. I was half-laughing, half-impressed. We didn’t even rehearse and they were nailing it.

But I knew who was next.

And suddenly, I wasn’t laughing anymore.

Thank God—or fate or karma or whatever—for Missy’s bad milk. I wasn’t thrilled she got sick, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. Because now, I was standing up here with her. The girl I’ve been trying to forget but can’t. The one who ghosts my texts —willingly crushing my ego—and lives rent-free in my head anyway.

And then it hit—the next track.

“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me…” blasted through the speakers.

And then she appeared, turning the corner on Joshua’s arm.

And holy hell.

She looked like she’d stepped out of a music video—and not one of those soft-focus wedding ones. No, more like the steamy kind you watch on mute when your parents are home. The tiny corset dress, the mile-high heels, the way her hair was perfectly messed up…

“Did you break up with the blonde one?” the fake Elvis asked, leaning in close.

“She got sick,” I whispered.

“Aren’t ya glad,” he grinned, winking at me like we were friends. Then he held up his fist. I bumped it without thinking.

“Gotcha, bro.”

She reached the altar and stood beside me, eyes flicking everywhere but mine.

Fake Elvis launched into some ridiculous opening monologue, grinning like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of…”

He paused trying to read our names

“Wow, these are some international names.”

We both corrected his pronunciation.

“It’s Man- gi-oh-ni” I separated the syllables phonetically.

“It’s not that hard, is (Y/L/N), work that tongue.” (Y/N) clapped back.

“Right, right,” he said, waving his hand like we were nitpicking. “Representing Phi Kappa Psi, we have Mr. Italian Stallion himself—Luigi Nicholas Mangione!”

The crowd went wild. Someone from Phi shouted “That’s my boy!”

I sighed. This was going to be a long five minutes.

“And representing the Bunny House, the señorita herself—Mrs. Hot Stuff (Y/Full N)!”

She visibly cringed. I almost laughed. Her sorority sisters screamed her name.

Fake Elvis cracked a joke about Greek life feeling like summer camp and then—God help us—started asking which of our ethnic backgrounds was more hairy. We exchanged a glance that said, Is this really happening?

“It’s you, isn’t it Eyebrows?!” Elvis pointed at me.

(Y/N) snorted, then covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. I shrugged defeated.

Then came the “vows.”

Fake Elvis stepped forward, motioning for us to hold hands.

We hesitated, then did.

“Repeat after me,” he said, turning to me. “I, Luigi, take you, (Y/N), as my wife…”

I repeated, feeling weirdly formal about it.

“And pledge to keep our fights messy and our sex dirty.”

I paused, blinking. Laughed. Turned to her—her face was red and she was biting her lip to suppress a scream. I repeated it anyway, smirking.

The crowd erupted with laughter. Fake Elvis winked again.

Then it was her turn.

“I, (Y/N), take you, Luigi, as my husband…” she said, voice shaky but still somehow bossy.

“And solemnly promise to use your body as I please. Within reason.”

She rolled her eyes, then repeated it without the last part. “And I solemnly promise to use your body as I please.” she declared.

We waited for the last part but it never came.

The crowd whooped. Elvis clapped. “Wow, okay. You go girl!”

He asked for the rings and Damien swaggered forward with two ring pops like they were family heirlooms.

We opened the wrapping. She looked at both and quickly switched them.

“It’s candy,” I said, confused.

“I want to receive the green one,” she said without even looking up.

Fake Elvis wiggled his eyebrows. “Now I see who is in charge.”

The crowd roared.

We exchanged ring pops with ridiculous solemnity. Mine was blue raspberry. Cool.

Then came the signing. Elvis presented a hot pink certificate that looked like it had been made on a Canva template. We both signed. My handwriting looked like chicken scratch.

“I thought you were engineers,” Fake Elvis said. “You write like doctors.”

Our “witnesses”—Damien and Kaylee—stepped up and added their scribbles to the certificate.

Then came the moment of tension. "Whoever has any objections, speak now or shut the fuck up."

We both scanned the crowd. She even did that classic side-eye glare. No one moved. Just the sound of someone opening a beer.

“Then, by the power vested in me—by no one—I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Elvis declared.

The crowd lost it.

“You may suck your faces off!”

They started clapping their thighs in a drumroll. Cups clinked. Someone yelled “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

I turned to her. She looked flustered but trying to act cool.

“You forgive me?” I asked quietly, leaning close.

She raised a brow. “Try harder.”

So I did.

I grabbed her, dipped her like I was in a telenovela, and kissed her.

She yelped on the way back up. “¡Esa mano!” (Watch that hand!)

I had no clue what it meant—but I didn’t care.

BACK TO (Y/N)

It was done.

We had just pulled off the most ridiculous, over-the-top fake wedding in Greek Row history—for a crowd of half-drunk college students who were really just here for the free booze.

After the kiss—yes, a kiss—it was photo op time.

While we were posing, he leaned in close, his breath warm by my ear.

“Is that a newlywed glow,” he murmured.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s glitter.”

As the flashes died down and the crowd lost interest, the real party kicked off. I hadn’t eaten all day—my last meal had been a string cheese at 10 a.m.—and I was starving. I made a beeline for the snack table like a woman possessed and found a sad collection of off-brand chips and a lonely bowl of guac that had definitely seen better hours. I grabbed a bag of chips anyway and ripped it open.

Luigi appeared beside me, again. He was like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“Could we talk?” he asked, quiet.

I groaned internally. “Five minutes, just five, I need food, please.” I didn’t have the energy. Not yet.

That’s when Damien bounded up to us, grinning ear to ear, holding a bright Tupperware container.

“Are those brownies?” I asked, eyes lighting up like a cartoon character.

“They are, but—” he started to explain.

“Don’t care.” I yanked the lid off and grabbed one like I was looting. One bite in and my soul left my body.

“This is magical,” I said, licking my fingers and reaching for another. “You should try them.”

I held one out to Luigi and he took it without question, popping it into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said mid-chew. “Okay, that is good.”

Damien looked mildly alarmed. “Okay, enough, enough.” He snatched the Tupperware from me and left. “You guys should be careful.”

“What?”

Damien left and I was left with Luigi, alone, again.

He was still chewing. “So we’re fake married now.”

“Yeah, crazy,” I mumbled, savoring the last crumbs of the brownie like they were gold dust.

He hesitated, then said, “If there’s any way I could prove how sorry I am—”

But the conversation was cut short when a wave of screaming drunkards descended on us like we’d just been crowned prom king and queen. Before I could protest, hands were under my arms, lifting me into the air. Luigi was hoisted beside me. The crowd was chanting something like, “Union of the houses! Union of the houses!”

“Watch the skirt!” I screamed, clutching the hem like it was my last line of defense.

Once safely back on solid ground, a group of frat guys presented what could only be described as a portable drink dispenser with two attached tubes. It looked like it had been built in a garage by someone who failed chemistry. They handed one tube to me and one to him, the crowd counting down like we were about to bungee jump.

“Three, two, one—!”

We turned the spigots and chugged.

I don’t know what the liquid was—maybe jungle juice, maybe motor oil—but it burned all the way down and tasted like regret.

“That was disgusting,” I coughed, wiping my mouth. I dropped the tube and walked away, reeling.

Mariel, Kaylee, and Georgina found me by the edge of the dance floor, all of them already giggly and slightly buzzed.

“Oh my god, Fake Elvis was so weird,” Kaylee said.

“Like uncomfortably weird,” Georgina added.

Mariel snorted. “And this party is actually insane. I’m not convinced the DJ isn’t a high schooler.”

“You just drank like six shots at once with that tube thing,” Mariel pointed out.

I groaned. “Ugh. So gnarly. I might throw up.”

“Okay, important things first,” Kaylee said, shifting her tone like a news anchor. “Has Luigi tried talking to you?”

“Oh boy, has he,” Georgina cut in before I could answer. “The yellow flower was him. And he’s been following her around like a very confused golden retriever.”

“Have you talked to him?” Kaylee pressed.

“No,” I said flatly. All three of them stared at me like I was the most frustrating protagonist in a rom-com.

“What? Should I?”

“Yeah, why not?” Kaylee asked. “He’s clearly trying.”

“There’s a lot going on,” I deflected weakly, glancing around.

“She’s going to fold,” Mariel sang under her breath.

I shoved her lightly. “Wey.” (Dude)

“I think you should,” Georgina said, more seriously.

The others nodded in agreement. I looked away, heart thumping. I wasn’t ready to admit I still thought about him. About that text he sent. About how he looked when he said “If there’s any way I could prove how sorry I am.”

“Maybe after some Bacardi,” I said, giving a shrug and leading the way to the drinks table.

The house was pure chaos now. Music was blasting, someone was dancing on a coffee table, and people were jumping into the pool in full outfits.

I poured some Bacardi into a red solo cup and added diet coke. Took a sip. Refreshing

I scanned the crowd.

And there he was. Luigi. Leaning against the wall with a solo cup in hand, surrounded by his friends but clearly not listening to them. He was watching me.

Lets get this over with.

I moved through the crowd, dodging tipsy dancers and balancing my drink like it was sacred cargo. A couple of girls I didn’t know paused to compliment me.

“You look so pretty, girl!”

I smiled and thanked them, brushing imaginary dust off my dress even though I knew it was just layers of highlighter and alcohol courage.

Eventually, I stood in front of the group of guys.

“Think I owe you a chat,” I said simply.

He gave me that crooked half-smile. The one I hated. The one I liked.

“Can we talk in private?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He motioned for me to follow, and I did without hesitation.

“Be careful with the honeymoon phase, guys!” Damien called out behind us, lifting his drink like a toast.

I flipped him off without looking back.

We walked past the DJ booth, past the couples making out against walls, until we reached the quieter front part of the house. The porch lights were softer here. There was a streetlamp nearby casting a pale yellow circle onto the sidewalk.

We sat down on the curb, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. Just two college kids, dressed like Vegas elopers, under the stars.

“A promotion,” I blurted.

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“My dad. He got a promotion. They offered him a work visa,” I started, finally letting the words come out. “After the divorce, I lived with my mom until 9th grade. But my dad convinced me to apply for a student visa to study in California. His boss’s daughter went to St. Trinity. That’s how I got in. Through contacts.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Then, in a low voice, “I feel like a jerk.”

“You should,” I said, not even meanly, just… fact. “But still. Maybe I was a little overdramatic. Me and my big mouth.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, glancing sideways at me. “At least not in that context.” He gave me a wink.

I gasped and shoved him. “Cabrón, bien chillón que estabas.” (Asshole, you were a whiny bitch.)

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he laughed, raising both hands.

I shook my head and sighed. “I think the best thing would be to leave it behind. Start over.”

“Or maybe,” he said, shifting closer, “take it from where we left off?”

I looked at him, really looked at him. For once, he didn’t have a smug expression or a half-hidden joke. He looked… hopeful.

“Maybe it’d be too pressured,” I said softly. “Now we know we can talk through our differences. Let’s just… give it a try.”

“Cool,” he said, the relief almost audible.

“Cool,” I echoed.

Who was I kidding? I was already halfway into it again.

I smiled, leaned in, and kissed him. Just a small peck. Just enough.

Then I stood and tugged his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

He was still smiling when we walked back to the backyard.

“Done already?” Damien said as we re-entered the chaos, raising an eyebrow. “That was only, like, a minute, my guy.”

“If I remember correctly,” Luigi shot back, “you sprained your foot in this pool, didn’t you?”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Damien replied, feigning amnesia.

Kaylee appeared with a bottle in one hand. “We were about to start Never Have I Ever. You in?”

“Sure,” I said, sliding down next to her.

The game began in classic fashion: reckless, inappropriate, and increasingly loud.

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping,” Mark started.

A few people drank. Not me.

“Never have I ever had sex in my parents’ house,” someone else said.

Most people drank. I stayed dry.

Then came: “Never have I ever had a crush on a friend’s family member.”

Oh boy.

I sipped.

Mariel turned toward me instantly. “Who?”

“Your cousin from Florida,” I said nonchalantly, then turned to gauge Luigi ’s reaction.

He was pouting. That involuntary gesture he did when something annoyed him.

Is that jealousy? Huh nice.

Then I turned to Mariel. “Wait… who’s your crush?”

“Your dad,” she said with a completely straight face.

The crowd exploded with gasps and screams of laughter.

“Wey nooo,” I cried, throwing myself backward dramatically. (Dude, no!)

“Not like that!” she said quickly. “I’m just saying, he passed you some very elite genes.”

“I’m going to bleach my ears,”

“Alright, moving on,” one of the sisters cut in. “Never have I ever swallowed. Men included.”

A collective “yikes” went through the circle. I drank. So did most of the girls—and two boys from Phi.

Then Damien chimed in. “Never have I ever gotten involved with someone in this circle.”

Really?

I glanced at Luigi and saw him raise his cup and sip slowly. So did I.

I waited for the typical chorus of “OHHHHHHH”—but I noticed something else. Damien. Mark. Kaylee. Georgina. All of them sipped.

My jaw dropped.

“Wow,” Mariel whispered.

I had so many questions. But before I could get into the gossip, a sudden chill ran down my spine, like someone poured ice water down the back of my dress. My heart started pounding, and I became hyper-aware of every sound, every flash of light, every tiny noise.

“You okay, dude?” Kaylee asked, concerned.

“I think…” I said slowly, blinking at my hands, “I can hear my blood.”

“Ohhhh yeah,” Damien said, laughing too hard. “That usually happens after you eat space brownies.”

“What?” Luigi’s voice broke slightly. He was blinking more than usual too.

Clearly not sober.

“You didn’t tell me,” I mumbled, staring at Damien.

“I tried,” he said, grinning nervously.

“You want to go lie down or something?” Mariel asked gently.

“Nahhh,”. I swayed a little, then grinned. “I think I feel great.”

(Here was supposed to go a gif but I have way too many visuals 🙄)

I was woken up by the sun stabbing directly into my eyelids and the obnoxiously cheerful chirping of birds, like they were putting on a concert just to mock me.

God, why were they so loud?

Everything ached. My head, especially. My mouth felt like I had licked a chalkboard. Classic hangover. Killer grade. I groaned, tried to roll over—and then froze.

Someone was breathing beside me.

I cracked one eye open.

Luigi was right there. Shirt half-off, curls flattened awkwardly on one side, face buried into what I now realized was my almost dead arm

What. The. Hell.

I jolted, accidentally shifting the balance of whatever we were on. Suddenly, there was a sharp wobble, then a whoosh—and before I could even register what was happening, we were upside down and soaking wet.

“AH—” I shrieked mid-flip before plunging into cold water.

“Shit!” I heard him curse as he splashed in next to me.

We came up at the same time, sputtering and blinking in confusion. My hair was plastered to my face. He rubbed his eyes and coughed, water dripping from his lashes. We looked at each other like two stray cats caught in a carwash.

I spun around, trying to figure out where the hell we were.

The backyard. The pool.

Apparently, we’d been asleep on an small inflatable pool in the middle of the pool.

The sun was high in the sky now, lighting up the scene like a crime documentary. The whole yard looked like the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse frat edition. Empty red cups floated like lilies. Someone’s pants were draped over the diving board. Three people I didn’t recognize were passed out on the tanning chairs, one snoring so loudly it sounded like a motorbike.

“What even…” I muttered, lifting a hand to wipe mascara off my cheek. “F— those brownies.”

We both just stared at each other.

“Okay. We need to get out.” he made a move toward the pool stairs.

I gave him a look, water dripping off my hair. “Ya think?”

@nosebeers @mrs-cactus69 @iinfinitelimits

hi i’m Vaz, this was just a product of my active imagination, free time and the need for a better outcome. Hope u enjoy xxx

That was fun. I’ve worked on this part for sooo long.

Next chapters would be the repercussions…dun dun dun.

#luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x latina reader #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione x yn

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sweetestberryofthebunch · 6 months ago

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Guess who‘s about to restart Act 2 because Mizora and Wyll were bitching and then Shadowheart had some feelings and AND THEN FUCKING GALE cockblocked my Karlach Romance scene so long that it glitched into non existence and she basically friendzoned me in the process :/ I literally finished everything when i realised and decided to look at the Wiki lmao. At least it’s kind of a common thing that happens so it wasn’t my fault. Bye bye five hours of pretty good gameplay, I‘ll see you again when i rush through this a second time…

#like all my romantic options with Karlach are GONE and we never even got to kiss !????#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #my friend was like you are absolutely not starting over that would be ridiculous #he underestimates my devotion to my beautiful wife #this is a dating sim first and a combat game second to me.#i also really shouldn’t have fucked around this hard in character creation because now im really invested and genuinely playing the gam #and then I remember my characters are Meryl Streep and Cher #and it’s very silly again #also this is my first playthrough ever and im really bad and know nothing pls dont spoil me!#i will die mad that i cannot woo jaheira though that’s literally my DREAM WOMAN WTF #karlach #the things i do for you girl

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bunniegloom · 3 months ago

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im upset bc,,,, all the tabs i had open of epubs i was gonna get disappeared when safari reset one time ,,, T-T

#all the ebooks i was gnna get when i finally free up storage on my ipad </3333 #esp now when i've had to start looking into moving to another city...#ummmm. im actually worried fr....#bc i live in a big city with 30!!!!!! libraries all in all. so we have SO many books. like im spoiled #the biggest worry for me abt moving really is the small selection of books smaller towns have #like... the city im looking at as an option only have ONE library 🤣🤣 i cant do this #so yeah i wanna have as many epubs saved as possible #but now all the tabs are goneeeeee rip fml #(and i know i can restire tabs buuuuut this happened weeks ago and i didnt even register the loss until now 🙃)#i mean like ok just find new books but still like i save tabs bc i wanna look back on them!!! now i cant fck my stupid baka life

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dilsdoes · 1 month ago

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my pet peeve is when an social media poll has an option winning the plurality and people will be like 'how do a majority of people do this unusual thing' cmon man weve been talking about the flaws of first past the post voting for like 10 years at this point. did you learn nothing.

#dils declares #i try to avoid doing votes with more than 2 options for this reason #unless the third option is a 'dont spoil the data to see the outcome' option #also thats my other pet peeve: when people act like a plurality or majority of folks choosing that option ruins the data #sure we dont have that much precision but all you need to do is subtract that percentage and find the ratios of whats left #of course needing that option at all is a pain. you should be able to see the outcome withot voting or at least unvote on internet polls

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lostandbackagain · 1 year ago

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I do not understand the mindset of "the co//smere eventually being so interconnected that you have to read older books before you can read newer ones is bad" because like cmiiw is that not how series usually work

#like i do personally think reading sla last of the main cosmere series is the most fun route #bc characters from other books love fucking around with roshar more than any other planet and the easter eggs are so much fun #and it has more easter eggs than any other #but not understanding the cosmere-wide significance of the thaidakar reveal nor recognizing vasher and vivenna under their pseudonyms #does not make the series unenjoyable. you know #like other fantasy series love dropping hints of some spectulative people like the iriali in scadrial #or theyll reference ancient or distant wars and then never follow up on it #why is it bad that you CAN follow up on these things by reading other books #i dont think it's bad that you kind of have to read the mistborn eras in order so that they make sense #i dont see a problem with sunlit being completely unintelligible if you dont read stormlight first #you can read stormlight all the way through and never touch another cosmere book and still get the full experience of the story yk!#fantasy just usually doesnt give you the option of finding all the answers to made up worlds if you read enough #are we spoiled that we do have that option? idk idk!#fantasy books will say some shit like 'the king over the sea did X and Y thousands of years ago #mistborn says 'the lord mistborn did X and Y hundreds of years ago'#but with mb you can just go read about that it's not a problem to me #says kenna

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theladygazingatemptiness · 7 months ago

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#wak #negative /#tag vent /#man.. why is everything so draining #like.. fr it seems like I can't do Anything for an extended amount of time without burning out and wanting to quit #like. when I was little it was my absolute dream to be able to do nothing but draw all day every day but #now as an adult the thought of it stresses me out and makes me sick to my stomach #I used to get so excited about getting commissions but #now every time I see that someone's commissioned me I just dread doing it as if it's something I'm getting graded for in two days #(note that this isn't a slight against people who've commed me by any means. if you've commed me you're a saint)#(but. that's just how I feel and I wish it wasn't)#which is why comms are closed rn and idk when I'm opening them back up #rn I'm doing commission-based editing/proofreading work for a small publishing comp #something that I Also once aspired to do full-time #but.. I'm already kinda getting tired of it? probably bc my current project is 140+ pages that I have to get done in two weeks #like.. it's not Bad and I'm not quitting (I don't have a choice anyway. this is the closest thing I have rn to a consistent-ish job)#but it.. just gets less fun w every manuscript and I hate that #and like... whenever I go out no matter where I am I just want to go back home #I have no 'dream job' anymore. I have no goals. I don't want to go places or do things I just want to be home sleeping #but. as we all know that's not an option in the capitalist hellscape we live in #hell... even if we Didn't live in the hellscape it probably still wouldn't be an option lol #and of course my mom will not hear any of it and just thinks I'm being spoiled and lazy and 'using my aut as an excuse'#and most people including supposed '''''leftists'''' would probably agree with her too #bc 95% of '''"radical communists''''' on here are Adults Aren't Allowed To Exist Outside Of Working And That's How Things Should Be truther #who vocally treat unemployment as a moral failing and as a Bad Person Trait™ inbetween making Capitalism Bad posts #but I'm getting offtopic. Maybe I Am Useless And Lazy And A Leech Or Etc #but what I'm trying to say is I feel like I'm going to be miserable and feel like just a machine no matter what I do #and like I'm never going to have a happy or fulfilling life #and that my only option is to go to sleep never wake up and hope I'm reborn with no mental illnesses or trauma and into a rich family #but.. fat chance.

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lambilegs · 5 months ago

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best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons

contains: modern!au, mentions of smoking weed and cigarettes, nsfw content (so minors dni), not proofread, mentions of porn, clitplay and fingering, cunnilingus, degradation (word "slut" is used), sevika being a jackass and teasing the reader about their clothes + possible inexperience, reader's body is referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "clit," "cunt" and "tits," kinda imagined a younger version of sevika here, maybe late twenties

pt. 2

best friend's older sister!sevika who is always cooped up in her bedroom, whirring noises entering the halls from the mechanics she's working with. if you walk past her room, your body immediately gets blanketed with goosebumps from the cold air streaming in from her window, which is always cracked open so that she can blow the smoke from her weed and cigarettes out of there.

sometimes you run into her in the hall outside of her bedroom, cigarette hanging out of her lips, loud music blasting from the speakers she has in there. if you guys are both heading to the bathroom, she'll quietly nod, leaning back into the doorframe to let you go first.

there have been a few occasions where through the open door, you can see a girl laid out on her bed or sneaking out of her window. all you can do is ignore it and try to resist having wandering thoughts about exactly how good she must be in bed to have different girls over all the time.

best friend's older sister!sevika who doesn't really talk to any of you guys, just ruffling your best friend's hair or teasing her before heading back to her room, leaving the rest of you without a word from her. whenever she walks into the kitchen while your friend group is eating or making late night instant ramen, you feel your face heat up at the sight of her in a tight tank top, leaving nothing to the imagination, from her sculpted arms and the grooves of her stomach's abs. she's so tall, so effortlessly handsome, and you can't help but sneak in glances at her back when she bends to the fridge to get some gatorade.

best friend's older sister!sevika who talks to you for the first time when your best friend leaves you alone in the living room to go shower, and sevika enters through the front door, short, black hair tied back. just the sight of her neck is enough to get you tensing up, suddenly acutely aware of the patterned pajamas you have on and how childish they must look to her.

when she spots you, she raises her hand, mumbling an apology, but you insist that the two of you of two can sit together, you were only about to put something on. the truth is, you really don't want to miss the opportunity to get to know her more.

she hesitates, but gives in, sitting on the opposite end of the couch with you, twisting off the cap of her beer bottle and taking a swing from it, grey eyes focused on the television as you scroll through the options.

when you linger on gilmore girls, she scoffs. and not subtly. oh, no, she scoffs loudly, and you turn to find her lips twisted up into a smirk.

embarrassment and defensiveness make for an ugly combination, immediately arousing an irritated, "yes?" from you.

"are we seriously going to watch this crap?"

your mouth drops open. it's the first time she's properly spoken to you one-and-one, except for the brief interactions during your run-ins in the hall, and this is what she says? for a second, you're just stunned at her blunt rudeness, and you need a second to formulate a response before saying, "crap?"

"yes, crap." she tosses her hand at the television. "just a bunch of privileged little shits."

"the show literally deals with money issues!"

she snickers, and you try to ignore the bulge of her arms as they fold over her chest. "which sure aren't that stressful when you have two blue-blooded parents always there to save your ass."

"yes, but on conditions, though!"

she squints at you, lips turned down into a disbelieving frown. "friday night dinner? you're either just as spoiled as them or really naive, because trust me, weekly dinners don't mean shit."

your eyes sharpen into a hard glare, bitterness spilling through at her assumption. "you don't know anything about me!" with an indignant toss of your head, you mutter, "not that you've ever even tried to."

she suddenly bellows with a loud laugh, the edges of it rough and irritatingly pleasing to your ear. "awe, is someone sad over that?"

you roll your eyes. yes, but you weren't about to tell her that, of all people. "no, don't flatter yourself."

"you're not that good of a liar, you know that, right?"

with a twitching eye, you turn on the show, drowning out the noise of her chuckle with an immediate escalation of the volume.

best friend's older sister!sevika who doesn't stop teasing you after that night. now, when you're in the kitchen and she saunters in, she flashes you a smile that's nothing short of complete and utter self-satisfaction. when your best friend leaves you alone in her room, sevika knocks and steps inside, leaning on the wall and asking you how you are, how's work or school, sometimes teasingly tossing in, "you haven't been here in a while -- I didn't make you nervous, did I?"

you always fight back. partially because your attraction to her makes you feel so exposed and flustered that you want to try to hide it through challenging her back rather than being reduced to a blushing, spluttering mess. you know arguing back might be counterproductive, though, since it seems to only amuse even more. but, that leads you to the second reason you keep doing it. because, as on-the-spot and vulnerable it makes you feel, her prodding comments and mischievous attention makes you giddy. sevika, the allusive older sister of your best friend, is actually bantering with you, maybe even flirting with you. and seeing how easily she bounces off your words, how sharp her wit is, makes you only more excited. unnerving as it is, this little thing you guys have going spikes your excitement everytime you come over.

best friend's older sister!sevika who gets bolder and bolder. when she comes into the bathroom as you're brushing your teeth, looking for a hair tie to get her hair out of her face, you catch her in the mirror's reflection glancing at you, eyes quickly flicking up and down. the double take nearly makes you tighten your thighs together, mind whirling with thoughts, speculating over what she might be thinking.

you get your answer when she suddenly snaps the band of your tank top, which causes you to leap on the spot. when your eyebrows furrow into what you hope is a stare strict enough to hide just how turned on you are, she laughs, the noise low and velvety. "cute," she muses, eyes raking over you shamelessly before she reaches to the hairtie on your wrist, snapping it off and tying her hair back with it.

best friend's older sister!sevika who starts working out very intentionally in front of you. doing pull-ups in the kitchen when your friend group is there, lips curling up as her eyes seek you out. usually, by the time she looks in your direction, you've already been staring at her unabashedly for minutes as her arms flex and roll under her ministrations.

you want to crawl into a hole when your best friend smacks your arm, her face squeezed into a sour cringe. "dude, gross."

of course, sevika totally hears the reprimand, and she wiggles a scolding finger in your direction from her corner in the room.

best friend's older sister!sevika who can't stop laughing at the way you gasp and cover your mouth when you catch sight of the lesbian porn opened up on her laptop, which rests amongst her bunched up purple blanket. it only leaves you wondering about what she was doing moments before, if that happy trail you sometimes spot in her loose, muscle-shaped crop tops leads to a curl of hair between her thighs.

"oh, c'mon, have you never seen porn before?"

despite the fact that you can barely keep a straight face in light of this revelation, you manage to bristle. "of course I have."

"oh, yeah?" she leans on her doorframe, tilting her head down to watch you carefully. "got any recs?"

"if I did, I wouldn't share them with you."

"why not?"

"you would just--" you manage to squeeze out before trailing off into silence. the truth is, the idea of you and her watching the same porn, fucking yourselves to the same video, has your clit aching with desire. but, you don't wanna give in that easily, and just do as she requests. something tells you she's too used to getting her way. "you would just corrupt it!"

she raises an eyebrow. "corrupt the porn? by watching it?"

god, you're an idiot. "yes."

"that's quite a feat to manage."

"... yes."

"this wouldn't at all be because you're lying, right? and you really haven't watched porn?"

you grit your teeth, narrowing your eyes at her. god, she's so fucking irritating, talking to you like you're completely sexually oblivious.

at your silence, she ducks her head lower, and you suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of one of her dark locks tickling your cheek. "maybe you're more inexperienced than you let on. maybe you're looking to get corrupted."

fuck, she has no idea. at this point, the rest of your thoughts are practically zapped into silence from the mental image of sevika laying you on her bed, your back to her chest, with her big hands shoved down your panties and massaging your pussy, using your slick to circle your clit into a swollen little bud. her soft lips planting wet, sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek as she coaxes you to watch the filthy video, laughing darkly when you gush at the two women in it eating each other out. biting your ear, whispering how she wants to do this thing or that thing to you, how she'd fuck you better than anyone in these videos could. her thick fingers plunging into your hole, other hand covering your mouth as she makes you come over and over again in her cramped up bedroom.

jesus, this is going too far. you force your body to stiffen, lest her attentive gaze catches any telltale signs of your arousal. "well, maybe you're delusional."

she's unfazed, eyes darting to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "I'm sure I am."

best friend's older sister!sevika who tells your best friend she'll pick you up when she finds out you need a ride home from your part-time job. she insists this is because she doesn't trust your best friend with her car, so she should be the only one to drive it.

when you climb into the passenger seat, you can't help but feel self-conscious, sweaty and exhausted after the long shift. matters are only worsened by being in such a cramped space with her, the very act of being picked up way too date-like for comfort. you can smell her coconut shampoo from here, mixed in with the cologne she wears. her hands on the wheel captivate you, fingers long and thick, veins begging for your tongue to trace them. her hair, which is still bound by your hairtie, is damp and soft.

she takes you out for food, insisting you "get something in you after a long day" (you're certain she's aware of the innuendo, shit-eating grin present when she speaks). when she takes her car into a drive through, she hands you her phone, muttering that you can turn on whatever music you want.

she proceeds to make fun of every song you play.

ignoring your protests, and using her strong arms to shove you aside when you try to lurch over her, she pays. when you thank her profusely, her nose twitches and she nods quietly. you can't help but smile at her modesty.

instead of driving you guys back to hers and your best friend's home, she parks outside the store. you guys continue to listen to music, sharing the meal and talking. her usual snark is present, yes, but she actually listens to you, earnestly so, as you ramble about your shift. she asks you questions, and listens patiently. her answers, on the other hand, are short and to-the-point, but after some nudges to her shoulder and whining, she relents with a sigh and shares some more details.

as the sky darkens, the conversation becomes a bit more personal, and you see a side to her you've never bore witness to before. eyes soft, gaze downcast, voice low, she shows a side to you that's vulnerable. a side that has the layers of responsibility shed.

best friend's older sister!sevika who you can't help but smirk at when her jaw drops upon seeing you in the lacey, skimpy pajamas you recently bought. it costed enough, that's for sure, but you feel immensely successful. after all, you only bought them after seeing them in the porn video she had been watching weeks ago.

"what-- what is that?" her voice is low, hushed.

you touch the back of your neck, suddenly plagued with acute self-awareness over how you look. "just-- it's just pajamas."

that breaks her out of her trance, face breaking into a bout of laughter. "pajamas? you're kidding me, right? you look like you're about to seduce me."

you swallow hard. well, not exactly. all you had wanted was a reaction out of her. actual sex felt like too far-fetched a daydream to get excited over. you try to brush her off, self-doubt gripping you too tightly to allow yourself to be direct. "please, you wish."

"oh? someone's gotten bold." her eyes wander over your body languidly, as though you already belong to her and it's just a matter of time before you admit it. she leans back in the seat at her desk, mouth curving into a playful grin. "besides, who knows if you even have it in you?"

"have it in me to what?"

she snorts. "seduce me, bonehead."

"well, yeah, wouldn't wanna risk disappointing you after all the girls that have been in here."

you wince as soon as the words leave your mouth. god, how pathetic are you? you already sound like a jealous girlfriend, and you haven't even confessed to her.

luckily, sevika chooses not to tease. instead, her mouth presses into a firm line and she says, "you don't need to worry about that."

you gulp at the earnest words. what the hell is that supposed to mean? does she know just how serious your words are? because it sure does sound like that. the thrill of her maybe knowing, maybe even returning, your feelings has your stomach flipping. "why?"

she fiddles with some diagrams on her desk, flicking a thumb on the corner, before her shoulders heave with a sigh. "for the same reason I haven't had any girl over for months."

you nearly flinch at the words, the sheer vulnerability in them yanking you into an intense fixation on her words. is she implying she hasn't had any girl over for months because of you? because, well, what reason could explain both that and why you needn't be afraid of dissatisfying her?

you can only think of one.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pulls away from her desk, spreading her thick thighs over the seat, and nods you over. "come here."

when your trembling body reaches her, she hesitates before spreading her hand along your thighs. you immediately clutch onto her shoulders, shivering at the feeling of her rough, warm palm scraping along your skin.

the gap between her teeth flashes as she laughs. "liked that?"

your nails dig into her shoulders. you don't wanna give up the game just yet. "no."

"no?" she mumbles, leaning in and grazing her teeth right where the lace trimming of your silk shorts meets your skin. "that's too bad. because if you had confirmed my suspicions, I would've rewarded you." her head leans back, eyes shining under the lamp of her bedroom. "you're lucky I'm nice and will give you one last chance."

fuck. you can't resist, not when you're this tantalizingly close to getting what you want. "fine. I--I liked it, okay?"

she presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. "finally."

twenty minutes later, she's on her back in her bed, arms hooked around your thighs while you practically hump her face. your fingers ache with how hard they're grasping onto her headboard, forehead pressed to it as she helps you move your hips on her face. your pussy is making all kinds of squelching noises as she tongues at it, the slippery muscle making a mess of spit and juices as she licks you up so messily, no direction, no rhythm, just raw instinct. her hands have your top shoved up, large hands groping your tits and tweaking your nipples. and god, she just slurps you up, drinking down the thick, sticky arousal coating your folds, wrapping her lips around them to run the tip of her tongue along their shape.

"yeah, fuck my face," she grunts into your pussy. "such a little slut, wandering into my bedroom dressed like that."

a choked out moan leaves you, and she digs her nails hard into your ass as a warning. it makes you jerk harder on her face, her nose bumping against your clit just right and making you cover your mouth in panic. of course sevika takes notice of this reaction, and just a moment later, she's rubbing the point of her nose into your stiff clit, shaking her head side to side so that you get flicked with it.

you think nothing can get better than this -- a notion immediately disproved when sevika's lips round your clit and start sucking it in, her tongue darting out to stroke roughly at it.

and that's how you come, legs shaking as you sag against her headboard and fully sit on her face, unable to stay upright. not that sevika minds, groans of pleasure lost into wetness of your cunt.

best friend's older sister!sevika who actually got her sister's blessing weeks ago and was now just waiting on you.

#sevika #sevika smut #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika arcane #arcane x reader #s.writing

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itsrlymine · 7 months ago

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a few “crazy” things i've manifested for myself and others

nothing is actually crazy. everything is the same and nothing is impossible. I Am Possible.

An all expenses paid trip to Dubai (twice now) with $0 in my bank account by simply deciding that my only option is to go and be sexy in Dubai (respectfully ofc). I left my wallet in the States on purpose bc I am spoiled and everyone pays for me. That’s exactly what happened.

I revised my best friend’s pregnancy bc we don’t do baby mamaism around here. Commit to a baby when that man commits to you. Sorry not sorry. She literally took three pregnancy tests and they all told her she was pregnant. I said no, not my girl. She was no longer pregnant. No medical procedure or any pain was experienced or necessary on her end.

Accepted in to the university I wanted to go to bc I thought it was pretty. Super low acceptance rate and I definitely didn’t have the criteria. I didn’t even have to do the college essay just bc I didn’t feel like writing (but ofc I would write fan fiction in a heart beat).

Every single job I’ve ever had bc ofc you’re gonna hire me I’m the best employee you’ve ever come across.

Becoming besties with manifestation YouTubers I used to watch bc why not??

My current remote job that pays me $120/hour and I barely have to do actual work. I genuinely just scroll on Pinterest and Tumblr most of the time and when i do work, it's blissful. Love my boss tho

Apartments for my friends, family members and myself that’s everything we wanted in our individual spaces and more.

My Porsche Boxster that has super low milage and given to me for free like girl byeee.

Tons of new friends and opportunities falling into my lap

I ordered new glasses and they came in fast asf. “Usually” takes at least two maybe three weeks but I said nope, I’m wearing them right now. I am wearing them right now.

My favorite musicians releasing new music every time I decide I want new music from them. Like if you don’t get in that studio!

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fakebwitch · 5 months ago

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rafe and kook!reader instagram posts…

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

princess treatment. that’s all.

when you first meet him, he had his eyes on you the whole time and of course tried to impress you with his charisma and flirty jokes. he knew you were a kook and came from a wealthy family so trying to impress you with his money wasn’t an option. “lookin pretty lonely here all by yourself uh? think you need some good company” he would say with his usually smirk, his blue eyes admiring your pretty face, approaching you with a beer in his big hands, you would roll your eyes avoiding his gaze, knowing too well how he loved flirting with girls and have an hook-up with them.

he would be so attentive to you, with big gifts (even though you could get them by yourself, he loved to spoil you and see the smile on you face every time he would come to you with something in his hands) and also paying attention to every details, whenever you needed something he would get it or do it for you. if you needed some massages he would work his hands on you shoulders, his skilled fingers dissolved all the knots, or preparing you an hot bat, helping you wash yourself as he moved his hands on your body.

arguments would be very heated, he’s short-tempered — like we all know — and of course you didn’t help at all. sometimes he would get blinded by the anger, and he could hit a wall or the first object that appears in front of him, realizing what he has just accomplished he would take a few seconds to calm down, breathing deeply. once back to himself you would resume the reason that triggered the discussion, this time both more reasonable and relaxed. he hated when you saw his violent and aggressive side, he would apologize to you in any possible form, reiterating that he would never and never lie an hand on you in a malicious way.

he couldn’t be angry with you for more than 10 minutes (or maybe even 5), you could have done anything that he would have forgiven you. yes, of course, he would scold at you trying to look threatening, but seeing the look in your eyes and the slight pout all his walls collapsed, and within 3 seconds he was at your feet. as much as he loved you, he hated the fact that he couldn’t resist you, many times, despite the gravity of what you had done, you managed to get rid of it just by looking him in the eyes.

your relationship was pretty famous among the kooks, boys and girls envied what you had. every time you showed up hand in hand at some event or party, murmurs rose among those present, exchanging ideas about how your relationship was, how your sex was, how he treated you, how rafe seemed calmer since you had become part of his life and many other rumors. everyone noticed the way rafe looked at you and they certainly couldn’t deny that he was completely in love with you. as much as he didn’t like to put on a show in public, he still felt the need to feel you close to him, his hand would be intertwined in yours, tight around your side or better placed on the low of your back, making sure you were under his control. the kook boys could seem rich, polite, kind and any other nonsense, but rafe knew the dark side well — he himself had been part of it — and there was no idea that you were moving away from him, if not with him by your side. he couldn’t risk something happening.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

a/n: sorry for the inactivity, hope you still enjoy it!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #x reader

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xoxojisu · 18 days ago

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"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!"

synopsis: you're pregnant with osamu's baby! you need to break the news to atsumu, but he somehow spoils it.. for himself?

notes: afab reader if that wasn't obvious

you and osamu had rehearsed this like three times on the drive over.

well, you rehearsed it. osamu just kept nodding and saying, “he’s gonna be loud either way,” which… yeah, fair. but this was a big deal! atsumu may have been chaos incarnate, but he was still osamu's twin brother, and you both wanted him to be one of the first to know!

so here you were, sitting in a booth at a quiet ramen place, the twins across from each other like always, bickering over toppings like they weren’t in their thirties.

“who the hell puts corn in ramen?” atsumu griped, making a face.

“people with good taste,” osamu muttered, not bothering to even look up from his bowl in favor of continuing eating. "corn in ramen's tasty. it's sweet and crunchy and buttery. yer just not refined enough to get it. got the taste buds of a toddler."

"it's actually pretty good! osamu put me on." you chimed in.

“he look like he is the corn in ramen,” atsumu grumbled. “fuckin' fatass. what, ya pregnant?”

you froze.

osamu froze.

atsumu… kept eating.

you and osamu turned to each other in perfect sync, wide-eyed, identical expressions of did he just..? before you could even stop yourself, you blurted:

“how’d you know?!”

atsumu blinked. “huh?”

osamu reached over to hit atsumu on the head with his chopsticks, not saying anything, just staring at him in disbelief.

"wait, what?" atsumu said, "hold on-"

"is twin telepathy actually real?! holy shit! samu, why didn't you tell me that he could fucking read your mind?"

“i- huh? what? wait,” atsumu stuttered, eyes darting between you two, hands raised in shock. “you thought i meant you-” he pointed at you. “you’re pregnant?!”

you nodded slowly, still stunned. “we were literally about to tell you.”

atsumu opened his mouth. closed it. opened it again. “what the hell, i.. i was callin’ him fat!”

“i’m not fat,” osamu hissed. “i’m-”

“i was makin’ fun of him! i didn’t think i had mind-readin’ powers! holy shit!”

“well clearly you do!” you exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “you just predicted a whole pregnancy announcement! twin telepathy is real!”

atsumu leaned back in the booth, looking like he just got hit with a volleyball straight to the face.

“yer seriously- like, for real- like- like, actually pregnant?”

you nodded again, this time with a soft smile. “yeah. just a couple months.”

atsumu stared for another beat before his face completely split into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.

“no freakin’ way! i’m gonna be a uncle?!” he launched halfway across the table, practically knocking over a bowl in the process. “holy shit, i was jokin’! samu, ya really did it, ya old sap!”

osamu groaned as atsumu pulled him into a squeeze. “let go of me.”

“never! i’m gonna tell everyone!”

“you’re not.”

you laughed, the moment finally settling into the warm, chaotic joy you’d expected from the start.

atsumu finally let go, eyes still sparkling. “i can’t believe i called it. like—psychic level. maybe i should open a side hustle. chicks would pay big money for a hot guy to read their fortune.”

osamu looked at you. “i told ya he’d be loud.”

you grinned. “he was also kinda perfect.”

“damn right i was,” atsumu said, already pulling out his phone. “now what’s the name gonna be? ‘tsumu’ is a gender-neutral option, just sayin’-”

osamu reached across the table and finally flicked him on the forehead.

later, after the chaos had simmered down and the three of you stepped out into the evening air, atsumu was quiet in that rare way that made you glance over to make sure he was okay.

you were halfway to your cars when he slowed beside you. “so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you, uh… got any pictures yet? like, baby ones?”

you smiled and pulled out your phone. “only one so far. first ultrasound.”

you handed it over and he took it a little too carefully, like he was afraid to drop it. the black-and-white image flickered faintly on the screen, and he just… stared.

he didn’t smile. didn’t joke. he looked at that tiny shape like it was the most real thing in the world. like it had just hit him, really hit him what this meant.

“that’s… them?” he asked, voice quiet.

you nodded. “yeah. that’s your niece or nephew.”

atsumu blinked. “they’re so small.”

you and osamu glanced at each other—your heart a little full, his eyes a little softer than usual.

then atsumu looked up, meeting your gaze. “thanks for tellin’ me. first, i mean. that you wanted me to know first.” he cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. “i’m… real happy for you guys. both of ya.”

“you’re gonna be an amazing uncle,” you said, nudging him gently.

he gave a little laugh. “yeah? little corn junior?”

“no,” osamu said flatly. “absolutely not.”

but you were smiling, and so was atsumu, and osamu had that small, quiet look he only ever got when he was really, truly happy.

atsumu looked back at the photo one more time. then, without a word, he stepped forward and hugged you. not a joking one. not a one-arm squeeze. a real one.

“i’m proud of you,” he mumbled. "this is crazy."

you hugged him back. “we love you, ‘tsumu.”

osamu snorted beside you. “gettin’ soft in your old age.”

“shut it, old man. i’m still prettier.”

they started bickering again as you all walked down the street—arguing over who had better genes and whether the baby would inherit osamu’s cooking or atsumu’s hair.

you stayed a step behind for just a moment. hand resting over your stomach. heart full.

this little one was already so loved.

..and also so doomed to a life of chaos.

but mostly? so, so loved.

masterlist

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captainjonnitkessler · 2 years ago

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The thing that I adore about the Disco Elysium fandom is that, despite not blocking or avoiding spoilers in any way, I have never once been spoiled on a single plot point of the game. I still have no idea who committed the central murder of the game, or even if we ever solve it.

I do, however, have a vast second-hand knowledge of Kim, his interests, his hobbies, his responses to Harry's shenanigans, and what dialogue options will produce which reactions. This game is not about solving a murder it is about becoming best friends with Kim Kitsuragi and that's how it should be.

#disco elysium

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divagrace · 3 months ago

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Spoiling her

SoftRafexSweetPoguePrincess

Summary: Sweet Pogue princess is too poor to afford stuff like a phone. So Rafe takes her out and buys her one. And maybe some other stuff

Warnings: None! Just fluff

Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊ *ੈ

“Ready to go?” Rafe asks Y/N.

“Yup!”

They both climb into his truck. He starts driving them over to the non-touristy section of OBX. There is a mall, stores, and a couple restaurants.

Rafe pulls into the mall parking lot. Y/N looks over at him confused.

“What are we doing here?” She asks him.

“We need to get a few things.” He says before getting out of his truck and quickly walking over to open her door. He stretches out his hand to her and she grabs it. They walk hand in hand into the mall.

Y/N has only ever been here a few times. And it was mainly because Kiara had money and wanted to buy some stuff and invited Y/N. But she didn't buy anything, just tagged along.

Rafe leads her through the mall before she finally sees where he must be heading. The Apple Store. Becoming more confused, she turns her head to Rafe’s. They walk in together.

“What are we doing here?” She asks him again.

“We’re buying you a phone.” Rafe says it's no big deal. Y/N’s mouth drops open.

“What! Rafe you can’t do this. We barely even know each other! This is our first date.” She tries to argue but Rafe is having nothing of it.

“Look I’m going to need a way to contact you that isn’t driving to your house all the time. This is the only option I could think of.” He says.

“But Rafe. These phones are so expensive! Why do you think I have never had one? And I can’t afford a phone bill every month!” Y/N keeps pressing as they walk around the store. Rafe doesn’t seem to be listening to her, just looking at the different colors and options.

“I will pay for it all. It won’t even make a scratch in my bank account sweetheart. Now please stop worrying. Look at this one, it’s your favorite color.” He points to a phone on display. It’s a baby pink. Absolutely gorgeous.

Y/N can feel herself cave when she sees the look in his eyes. He will not hear her say no. And this color is so beautiful.

“Alright, well that’s settled.” He calls over a sales person.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” The associate asks.

“Hi. I’ll take this iPhone, at its best value. I’ll also take an iPad Air, in pink please. And to go with that, an Apple Pencil.” Rafe says. The associate nods along and disappears to grab the items.

“Why did you ask for a pink iPad?” Y/N asks.

“Because once you get your phone, watching streaming services and playing games are so much more fun on a bigger screen.” He says like it’s obvious.

Y/N gasps. “Rafe. Are you kidding me? The phone is already way more than needed.” She scolds him.

“I do not care. You are my girl. I’m going to spoil you. And a phone is necessary so you can call or text me whenever. The iPad is just for fun.” He shoots me a wink and the sales associate comes back with all the things in a bag.

We walk over to the counter and Rafe takes out his black Amex card to pay. I can’t even look at how much he’s spending right now, or else it will make me throw up.

Rafe thanks the associate and then grabs the bag along with my hand. Hut by the look on his face he isn’t done yet.

“Rafe please. This is more than enough for today. Thank you so much. But I don’t need you spending any more money on me.”

“Okay.” He says with a small pout on his lips.

We go home and helps me set everything up. Let’s just say I’m addicted to temple run now.

#rafe obx #⋆˚࿔ rafe 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#rafe cameron #outer banks #money #old money #rich life #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic

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maspers · 1 year ago

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Imagine Thomas and Martha Wayne getting resurrected via whatever the bullcrap of the week is, and it NOT getting undone once the conflict is over. Bruce and the kids are experiencing All The Emotions but Thomas and Martha are just happy to be there and are wholeheartedly rolling with it.

"The Waynes are a superhero family now? That's amazing! Martha, isn't it amazing?"

"Yes, dear. So much better than the organized crime we used to do. Oh, don't worry Bruce, we really only did it out of obligation, we would have jumped to vigilantism long ago had we known it was an option."

"Martha, we have grandchildren! They're adorable!"

"Thomas you've already met most of them."

"Yes but now I can appreciate them! And spoil them!"

"Thomas, honey, if you actually act as an enabler for our grandbabies I think you'll end up giving our poor Bruce a heart attack."

"Damian has a sword Martha! A sword! We have swords in the family! This is wonderful!"

"I know, Thomas."

Thomas has to be physically restrained from learning how to be a vigilante. He's too old, and Bruce and the rest don't want him to die *again*. He can help Alfred. Doesn't stop him from badgering his grandchildren about their hobbies. Ostensibly it's because he wants to get to know them better, but they all know he just really wants to learn how to do the cool things they all do. He's banned from using the Batcomputer at least thrice.

Martha at first seems content to just sit in the house and play the role of old-fashioned housewife but one day she inexplicably appears in Jason's apartment, supposedly to return one of his guns after he dropped it. He could have sworn it was fully loaded when he lost it, and now it's empty. Martha's fingerprints are the only ones on the gun. He decides to not ask questions.

They both neglect to inform the high society of Gotham that they're alive, and it takes a while for them to realize this. Gradually every rich person in Gotham takes their turn having a breakdown over having to deal with even more Wayne bullcrap. How come the Waynes are the only ones that seem to be immune to death???

#bruce wayne #thomas wayne #martha wayne #batman #idk how to tag this #resurrected thomas and martha #wayne family #batfam #au

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xichilie · 2 months ago

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Phainon x (fem)reader x Mydei

Phainon’s Purr-dicament

This was not how today was supposed to go.

One minute, Phainon had been grinning like usual, confidently leading their little trio through the ruins as he boasted about how clearly he was the most capable one here. The next? A blinding flash from the relic they were investigating—then darkness.

And now?

Now he was a tiny, fluffy, white cat.

He sat there, tail flicking in irritation, staring up at Mydei and Y/N in absolute disbelief.

“…You have got to be kidding me,” Mydei muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Wait—” Y/N gasped, kneeling down. “Where’s Phainon?”

I’M RIGHT HERE! Phainon tried to shout. But all that came out was—

"Meow."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Mydei sighed. Deeply.

Phainon quickly realized two things.

One: He couldn’t talk, which meant he couldn’t properly yell at Mydei or brag about how technically this wasn’t his fault.

Two: Y/N was obsessed with him like this.

“Oh, look at you,” she gushed, scooping him up into her arms. “You’re adorable!”

Phainon froze.

This… this was nice. Very nice. Y/N was cradling him close, her hands stroking through his fur, her voice soft and affectionate. He was practically melting. And the best part?

Mydei looked annoyed.

“Ugh.” Mydei crossed his arms. “Are we seriously stopping everything because Phainon turned into a walking puffball?”

Y/N ignored him, holding Phainon up so they were eye-to-eye. “Don’t listen to him. You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

If Phainon could smirk, he would. Instead, he smugly flicked his tail.

Mydei glared. “Oh, you are way too happy about this.”

Phainon, completely unbothered, stretched lazily in Y/N’s arms, his fluffy little paws resting against her chest.

“Oh, and he’s so soft,” Y/N continued, now scratching gently under his chin.

Phainon had never been this close to her before. And it was glorious.

Mydei was officially done. “Okay. That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not,” Y/N argued, still completely absorbed in Phainon. “Look at him. He’s purring!”

Indeed, Phainon was purring like his life depended on it.

Mydei exhaled sharply. “Unbelievable.”

Phainon flicked an ear, sending Mydei a look that very clearly said: Sucks to be you, huh?

Mydei twitched. “You better hope we don’t figure out how to turn you back too fast, because the moment you have hands again, I will make you regret this.”

Phainon just yawned. Dramatically.

Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry, Phai, we’ll fix this soon.”

Take your time, Phainon thought, settling comfortably in her arms.

He could get used to this.

After what felt like an eternity of Y/N showering Phainon with affection (not that he was complaining), Mydei finally groaned. “Alright, we do have an actual mission, remember?”

Y/N, still holding Phainon close, tilted her head. “Right… but we also have a tiny problem.” She glanced down at the fluffy cat in her arms, who blinked up at her innocently. “We can’t just leave Phai like this.”

Phainon gave her a slow blink—something he had learned cats did when they liked someone.

Y/N’s heart melted. “Aww, Mydei, did you see that? He trusts me.”

Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose. “He is him but smaller and with fur. Don’t fall for his act.”

Phainon stretched, his little paws pressing against Y/N’s chest again as he nestled in closer.

Mydei’s eye twitched. “Oh, he is enjoying this.”

Y/N giggled. “Of course he is! He’s getting spoiled.”

Phainon was getting spoiled, and he absolutely loved it. Not only was Y/N practically glued to him, but Mydei’s growing frustration was delicious.

“Alright,” Mydei sighed, crossing his arms. “How do we fix him?”

Y/N hummed. “We could go back to Okhama and ask the scholars. Maybe they know something about this relic.”

Phainon flicked his tail. That… sounded like a lot of effort. And possibly a lot of boring lectures.

Mydei nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably the best option. Unless you’d rather stay a house cat for the rest of your life.”

Phainon’s tail lashed. Don’t test me.

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Oh, but imagine if we can’t fix him! I’d have to keep him as a pet.”

Phainon’s ears perked up. That doesn’t sound so bad…

“I’d have to take him everywhere with me,” Y/N continued, clearly enjoying the idea. “I’d get him a little collar, maybe a tiny cape—”

Phainon beamed internally. Yes. Yes, tell me more.

Mydei looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N pouted. “Why not? He’d be so cute.”

“Because the moment he’s human again, we’d never hear the end of it!” Mydei pointed accusingly at the cat in question. “He’d bring it up every day!”

Phainon simply curled up smugly in Y/N’s arms, tail wrapping around himself like a little prince.

Y/N giggled. “Okay, okay. Let’s get going.”

Back at Okhema…

By the time they arrived, word had already spread that Y/N was carrying around an unusually friendly, fluffy white cat. People kept stopping her, cooing over “such a beautiful little thing.”

Phainon, of course, lapped up every ounce of attention.

Y/N, beaming, let a group of kids pet him while Mydei stood nearby looking deeply unimpressed.

“Look at him,” Mydei muttered. “He’s supposed to be suffering, and instead he’s being pampered like some divine beast.”

Y/N giggled as Phainon purred louder, snuggling against her. “Oh, don’t be jealous.”

Mydei scoffed. “I am not jealous.”

At that moment, an older merchant lady stopped to admire Phainon. “Such a sweet little kitty!” She gave him a few head scritches before glancing at Y/N. “Is he yours?”

Y/N hesitated. “Oh, well, not exactly—”

“No,” Mydei interrupted flatly. “No, he’s a stray from the dumpster.”

Phainon glared.

The merchant chuckled. “He’s clearly attached to you.”

Phainon smugly flicked his tail. That’s right. I am.

Y/N smiled. “He really is.”

Mydei groaned.

After a long and extremely smug walk through the city, they finally arrived at the scholar’s hall. An elder scholar examined the relic, nodding sagely.

“Ah, this is a transformation artifact. Ancient magic, quite powerful. Thankfully, the effect is temporary.”

Phainon’s ears perked up. Oh?

“How temporary?” Mydei asked.

“A day, at most,” the scholar said. “Possibly a few more hours.”

Y/N pouted. “Oh. I was starting to like having him as a little cat.”

Phainon was about to agree—until he noticed Mydei smirking.

“Oh, fantastic,” Mydei said, tone dripping with satisfaction. “Because the moment you’re back to normal, Phainon, you and I are having a very long conversation about this entire day.”

Phainon suddenly wasn’t in such a hurry to be human again.

True to the scholar’s word, Phainon eventually started glowing.

Y/N placed him gently on the ground, stepping back as the golden light enveloped him.

When it faded—there he was. Back in his full, human glory.

Grinning, Phainon stretched. “Oh, it’s so good to have hands again.”

Y/N chuckled. “Welcome back.”

And then—before he could do anything else—Mydei grabbed the collar of his coat.

Phainon barely had time to react before Mydei dragged him outside.

“Alright,” Mydei said, voice too calm. “You had way too much fun today.”

Phainon smirked. “Oh, did I?”

Mydei’s eye twitched. “You purring? Absolutely disgusting.”

Phainon grinned wider. “Jealous?”

Mydei groaned.

Y/N, still inside, watched them go with an amused smile.

Honestly? She had kind of enjoyed Phainon’s Purr-dicament.

And something told her he had too.

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