#She’s like why is everyone so interested in this!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animamii · 3 days ago

Text

Angels Get Their [Chicken] Wings | Toji Fushiguro

another au origin story of lockedup!toji x sweetheart!reader

︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡

The air is thick with smoke and cheap perfume, the low hum of music vibrating through the dimly lit club. Toji slouches in a worn leather chair, one arm draped over the back, the other nursing a glass of bourbon. Swirling it absentmindedly. His dark eyes flick lazily over the girls twirling on stage, their slow, sultry movements barely holding his attention. He’s seen it all before.

Then he notices her.

Perched on one of the high chairs near the bar, she sticks out like a sore thumb—like a goddamn angel who took a wrong turn and ended up in hell. A cute little outfit hugs her figure, sweet but entirely out of place. She’s not here for the show; she’s not vying for attention or throwing cash. No, she’s eating. Picking at a plate of food like she’s sitting at a cozy diner instead of a dingy strip club.

Toji furrows his brows, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "The hell is a girl like that doin’ in a place like this?"

Curiosity burns through the haze of bourbon, and before he even registers it, he’s on his feet. Moving like a predator with no real prey, he saunters over, his heavy boots making little noise against the sticky floor. He leans against the table she's sat at, tilting his head as he takes her in up close.

"You lost, sweetheart?" His voice is low, rough with amusement. "Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone eat a damn meal in a place like this."

She looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes, lips still wrapped around a forkful of food, and Toji suddenly wonders if he just found the most interesting thing in this whole damn club. She blinks up at him, chewing slowly, as if genuinely processing his words. Toji watches as she swallows, then dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin before answering.

“Well,” she starts, her voice light and sweet—too sweet for a place like this. “The food here is actually really good.”

Toji’s brows lift. He wasn’t expecting that. He expected nervousness, maybe even fear. But this girl? She just smiles at him, unbothered, like he’s not some imposing stranger who’s way too interested in her presence.

“You eat at strip clubs often?” he asks, leaning a little closer, forearm resting on the table. The scene is oh so contrasting, Toji facing the shadows, face barely visible in the dimness. Whereas her face seemed to glow under the slowly strobing-colored lights that shined towards her. Toji swears he can see a halo floating above her head.

She shrugs, taking another bite. “Not all of them. But this place? Their wings are top tier. Plus, the make the best fried pickles in town.” A dimply smile appears on her face as she pops a fried pickle chip into her mouth.

Toji lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Cute.” He watches her, amused by the way she swings her legs absentmindedly, so damn comfortable in a setting that should have chewed her up and spit her out.

“You come here alone?” he asks, scanning the room out of habit. He doesn’t see anyone watching her, no jealous boyfriend or overprotective friend lurking in the shadows.

She nods, cheeks full from another bite of food. “Mhm.”

He scoffs amusedly, lip tugging to one side with a smirk. “You got a death wish or somethin’?”

She tilts her head, expression still impossibly sweet. “Why? You gonna kill me?”

Toji grins, sharp and wolfish. “Nah, sweetheart. But not everyone in a place like this is as nice as me.” She giggles at that, and Toji swears it’s the most out-of-place sound he’s ever heard in this dingy club. Like a damn bell ringing in a haunted house.

“Nice?” she teases. “That’s not the vibe you give off.”

Toji smirks, amused by her boldness. Most people knew better than to poke at him like that. But here she was, all soft edges and sweet smiles, like she had no idea who she was talking to. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care.

“That so?” he muses, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “Then what kinda vibe do I give off, sweetheart?”

She hums in thought, tapping a finger against her chin. “Hmm… dangerous.”

Toji grins. Smart girl.

“And yet, here you are, sittin’ all nice and comfy next to me.”

She shrugs again, unfazed. “I dunno. You don’t scare me.” Something dark and intrigued flickers in Toji’s eyes. She doesn’t scare easy, huh?

“You probably should be,” he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear.

She just smiles, takes another bite of her food, and looks at him with those wide, innocent eyes. “But then we wouldn’t be having this fun conversation, would we?” Toji huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Yeah, this girl? She’s trouble. Trouble wrapped up with a pretty pink bow.

Toji watches her, lips curling around the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip of bourbon. She doesn’t squirm under his gaze. Doesn’t shy away like most would. Instead, she just keeps eating, twirling a fry between her fingers before popping it into her mouth. The damn audacity.

He sets his drink down with a heavy clink. “You always this bold, sweetheart?”

She grins, tilting her head slightly. “Only when I meet someone who piques my interest. There's something inter”

Toji chuckles, low and deep. Interesting. That’s a new one. He’s been called a lot of things—dangerous, terrifying, a goddamn nightmare—but never interesting.

“You got a name?” he asks, drumming his fingers against the bar.

She hums, lifting her drink to her lips, it's not even alcoholic, just a shirley temple with too much syrup. “Maybe.”

His smirk widens. Oh, she’s playing with him now.

“You’re a little tease, huh?” He leans in, just enough to make his presence impossible to ignore. She smells sweet—like strawberries and something warm, maybe sugar or dulce de leche. It’s all wrong for a place like this, too soft, too damn inviting.

She doesn’t move away. Just meets his gaze with those wide, curious eyes. “Would it kill you to be a gentleman and introduce yourself first?” Her pink lips turn into a small, almost teasing smile.

Toji lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, sweetheart. Name’s Toji.”

She perks up, finally setting her fork down. “Toji… That’s a cool name.” For a second she looks him over, repeating his name in her mind. Toji, Toji, Toji... It has a nice ring to it.

“I know,” he drawls, a little cocky. “And you?”

She presses her lips together, as if debating whether to answer. Then, finally, she sighs dramatically. “I guess it’s only fair. I’m—”

A crash echoes from the back of the club, cutting her off.

Toji’s body tenses on instinct. He doesn’t even think—his hand goes to his waistband, brushing against the familiar weight of his weapon. Old habits die hard. With vigilant eyes he glances toward the noise, spotting some idiot getting shoved against a table, drinks spilling everywhere.

Just a bar fight. Nothing he needs to worry about.

But when Toji turns back, sweetheart is watching him with an unreadable expression. Not scared, not startled. Just… observing. Like she caught something interesting in that split second.

“You always this jumpy?” she asks, resting her chin on her hand.

Toji snorts, letting his shoulders relax. “Tch. Habit.”

She hums like she’s not fully convinced but doesn’t push. Instead, she picks up her plate again, casually continuing her meal.

Toji leans back, eyeing her with something akin to amusement and curiosity. “You’re real calm for a girl sittin’ next to a guy like me.”

She giggles. That sound again. Soft, light, so fucking out of place. “Maybe I just trust my gut,” she says simply, the prettiest smile on her face.

Toji raises a brow. “And what’s it tellin’ you?” In all honesty he's so confused by her. The soft, seemingly innocent way she looks, she's sweet and tender but isn't fazed by any of the maliciousness that radiates off of him. It freaks him out a bit.

She pops another fry into her mouth, then smiles at him like she’s got him all figured out. “That you’re dangerous, but not to me.”

Toji stares at her, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. Then, after a beat, he lets out a low, rumbling laugh. “Sweetheart, you got no idea what kinda trouble you’re askin’ for.”

"Ohhh I think I know exactly what kind of trouble you are, Toji." Her voice is like sugar to him, and he's waiting for the next time he gets to hear his name roll of her tongue in that candied drawl.

Toji watches her, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. This girl is something else. Most people—smart people—would have taken one look at him and kept their distance. But here she is, sipping her sugary drink like she’s not sitting next to a man who could snap her in half without breaking a sweat.

He leans in just slightly, elbows resting on the bar, voice dropping into something lower, something meant to dig under her skin.

“You got a thing for danger, sweetheart?” She must have if she's in a shady place like this, even if it's for their damn good lemon pepper and parmesan wings.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shrink back. Instead, she taps her fingers against her glass, girly acrylics making soft sounds against the cup. Long lashes fluttering, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe,” she muses. “Or maybe I’m just good at knowing who’s worth being scared of.”

Toji huffs out a laugh. Cocky little thing. “And you decided I ain’t?”

"Yup, my intuition is telling me that I'm safe. Don't gotta thing to worry about when it comes to ya, I feel it in my heart," she places her dainty hand over her chest.

"That so?" Something inside of Toji softens as she says that.

She nods, completely sure of herself.

Toji leans back, his smirk slowly fading into a more genuine, intrigued expression. Her confidence in trusting him—of all people—was both surprising and... refreshing. It was rare for anyone, especially someone like her, to feel that way in his presence. Most people would’ve sensed the danger, the raw unpredictability that lingered around him. But not her. She was too calm, too sure of herself, and he couldn't quite figure out if that was a foolish move or the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

His gaze softens ever so slightly as he watches her, the flickering lights casting a warm glow on her face, making her seem almost untouchable. The contrast between them—the dangerous aura he exuded, and the sweetness she carried—was something he couldn't look away from.

"You sure about that?" he asks quietly, eyes locking onto hers.

She smiles that little, too-sweet smile of hers, the one that seems to carry a secret she’s not sharing, and nods again. “I trust my gut. It’s never wrong.”

Before he can press her further, the bartender swings by, wiping down the counter. “You botherin’ my best customer, Fushiguro?”

Toji barely spares the guy a glance, eyes still fixated on her. “Tch. She don’t seem too bothered.”

The bartender shakes his head, chuckling. “She’s here every week. Sits right there, eats her food, minds her business.” He glances at her, amused. “But looks like she made a friend tonight.”

Toji hums, rolling his glass between his fingers. “That right?”

She just smiles, unfazed. “Maybe.”

The bartender chortles, moving away, and Toji lets the silence stretch between them for a moment. Then he rests his chin in his palm, watching her with something between curiosity and amusement.

“You really come here for the food, huh?” Toji looks down to see her little feast, a bunch of appetizers. Wings and fried pickles, mozzarella sticks and fries.

She nods. “Mhm.”

He chuckles. “Not the entertainment?”

She glances toward the stage, where a girl is languidly spinning around the pole. “That too,” she admits, shrugging. “They work hard. It’s kinda nice to just sit and watch.”

"I don't think I've ever heard someone admire strippers in that kind of way," Toji chuckles again, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his drink. He’s starting to see her in a new light. Most people came to places like this to get lost in the chaos, to escape. But her? She seemed like she was here for the simplicity of it all, for the food and the show, without all the mess that came with it.

"It takes a lot of skill and strength to do something like pole dancing and stripping. Both physical and mental. Plus they dress really pretty," a small, admiring smile sits on her lips and she watches the girls dance on stage.

“You got a good head on your shoulders,” he remarks, watching her with a newfound softness. “You're too kind. Not many people like you would last long in a place like this, especially not alone. You don't seem like you belong here.” Toji's eyes flicker over her again. She looks fresh as a daisy, perfect in this place full of weeds.

She meets his gaze, her expression soft but unwavering. “Maybe I don’t,” she agrees. “But I like to think everyone belongs somewhere, even if it’s somewhere unexpected.”

Toji tilts his head, intrigued by her answer. Most people would be rattled by the place, maybe even scared, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t scared of him either. That was... new. “You really not worried about me?” he asks, leaning in just slightly.

She just smiles, a little mischievous now. “You don’t scare me, Toji. I told you. I trust my gut.” Something stirs in him at her words. A strange warmth mixed with a flicker of respect. Her confidence—it wasn’t arrogance, it wasn’t naive—there was something genuine about it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He leans back again, eyes never leaving her. “You're somethin' else, sweetheart.”

She grins, dipping a fried pickle into ranch, “Guess we both are.”

The night drags on, the club’s atmosphere shifting into something hazier, maybe even a little shadier. The lights dim further, the music slows, and the crowd thins to the usual stragglers—lonely men nursing cheap drinks, exhausted dancers collecting tips, sniffers going to do lines in the bathroom, and the occasional drunk stumbling toward the exit.

But she is still here. Sweetheart. Sitting pretty, sipping her drink, looking like she belongs in a cozy café rather than this rundown joint.

And Toji? He’s still watching her.

He isn’t sure why he hasn’t walked away yet. Maybe it’s the way she’s completely unbothered by him. Maybe it’s the way her voice lingers in the air, light and teasing, a stark contrast to everything he’s used to. Or maybe he just likes the idea of something soft sitting so close to something dangerous.

“So,” he muses, resting his forearm on the tabletop as he angles himself toward her. “What’s a sweetheart like you do when you’re not sittin’ in a place like this?” Toji had never cared to get to know people—hated it honestly—but he was oh so curious about what this pretty little thing does when she's not in an ugly place like this.

She hums, tapping her nails against her glass. “You mean, when I’m not eating overpriced wings in a strip club?”

Toji smirks. “Somethin’ like that.”

Leaning back slightly, her doe eyes flicker to the stage where one of the last dancers of the night is finishing up. “I work, go to school. I read. I go out sometimes.” She glances at him, lips quirking. “Nothing as exciting as whatever you do though.”

Toji's eyes widen for a split second before he chuckles, low and deep. “You say that like you know what I do.”

She tilts her head, playful but observant. “I have a pretty good guess.” Plump, pink lips wrap around her straw as she takes a long sip of the drink that's just as sweet as her.

“Oh yeah?” Shifting closer, Toji rests his chin in his palm. “Let’s hear it, then.”

A slow exhale leaves her lungs, watching him like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “You carry yourself like someone who’s always watching his back. You sit where you can see the whole room. You don’t like people sneakin’ up on you.” She twirls the straw in her drink. “You’re dangerous but controlled. Not reckless. So… I’d say you’re either in some very shady business, or you used to be.”

Toji just stares at her for a moment. Then, a slow grin stretches across his lips.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, letting out a short laugh. “Ain’t you a sharp little thing?”

She returns his grin, taking another sip of her drink. “So I was right?”

Leaning in, Toji's voice dips low. “Maybe.”

A satisfied hum vibrates through her chest. “Figured.”

The bartender passes by again, wiping down the counter, and Toji takes the opportunity to order another drink—for her this time. She blinks when the fresh glass is slid in front of her, tilting her head in question. It looks just like the shirley temple she was sipping on earlier, but lingers with the scent of vodka.

Toji just smirks. “On me, sweetheart.”

She raises a brow, but there’s amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh? And what do I owe you in return?”

Toji taps his fingers against the wooden table, watching her with something unreadable. “Just keep talkin’ to me.” Her lips curl, and Toji swears it’s the most dangerous thing he’s seen all night.

“Deal.”

The drink sits between her fingers, untouched for a moment as she studies him. The club hums around them, but Toji barely notices anymore. The distant bass, the murmured conversations, the occasional clink of glass—it all fades into the background. All he sees is her.

“So,” she starts, picking the vodka-soaked maraschino cherry out of the glass. “You gonna tell me one of those stories now?” Dangling it a bit, she takes a bite, the syrup and vodka dripping from her lip, which she quickly licks with a swipe of her tongue.

Toji smirks, resting his chin in his palm. It almost looks adoring, really. “That eager to know my business, sweetheart?”

Leaning in slightly, she mirrors his posture, her expression playful but steady. “You offered.”

Damn. She got him there.

He exhales through his nose, debating how much he wants to give away. He could make something up, spin a little tale, see if she’d buy it. But for some damn reason, he doesn’t feel like lying to her.

“Hm.” He rolls his glass between his fingers. “Alright. I’ll give you somethin’ light.”

She perks up, smiling as she props her elbow on the bar. “I’m listening.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he swirls the remaining bourbon in his glass. The amber liquid catches the dim light of the club, casting warm reflections against his fingers. “There was this job once,” he starts, his voice slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring the memory. “Some rich asshole wanted a guy handled. Nothing fancy, just in and out. Easy money.”

She hums, propping her elbow on the table as she watches him with interest. “And?”

Toji lifts his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a deliberate clink. His eyes gleam with amusement. “And it was easy… until the guy’s wife walked in.”

Chin resting in her palms, her brows lift, interest sparking in her expression. “Oh?”

Toji huffs out another chuckle, rubbing his jaw as if he can still feel the impact of what happened next. “Yeah. She was holdin’ a fuckin’ frying pan. Came swingin’ at me like she was in a damn action movie.”

Her reaction is instant—she gasps, covering her mouth with her fingers, but it does nothing to muffle the laughter spilling out. “No way.”

“Toji’s honor,” he says with a lazy smirk, lifting a hand like he’s swearing on it. “Damn near cracked my skull open. Had to duck real quick.”

She’s still laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “Hey, love makes people do crazy shit.”

She tilts her head, resting her chin against her palm, still grinning. “And what happened after that?”

Toji snickers, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his drink again. “Left the guy tied up, made my exit, and let the missus deal with him.” He takes another sip, savoring the heat before adding, “Never took a job on a married man again. Too much trouble.”

She’s still grinning, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s actually kinda funny. You know, that kinda reminds me of this movie.”

"You talkin' bout Tangled, sweetheart?"

She blinks, caught completely off guard. “Wait—you’ve seen Tangled?” There’s a tinge of surprise in her voice, like she can’t quite picture him—a towering, scarred, broad-shouldered hitman—sitting through a Disney movie.

Toji shrugs like it’s no big deal. “’Course I did.” He glances down at his drink before muttering, “Really like that green fella, the lizard.”

Her lips part before a laugh bubbles up. “The chameleon?”

“Yeah, whatever the fuck he is.” He waves a hand dismissively before taking another drink. “I like ‘em.”

She shakes her head, still giggling. “I just… I can’t believe you sat through an entire Disney movie.”

Toji smirks, looking her over with a lazy kind of amusement. “What, big bad Toji can’t enjoy a damn cartoon?”

She grins, tilting her head playfully. “I dunno. Just figured you’d be more of a Godfather or Scarface kinda guy.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, even a guy like me needs somethin’ lighthearted every now and then.” He gives her a pointed look. “Not like I got a lotta folks sittin’ me down for movie night.”

Her smile softens just a little, something unreadable flickering in her expression. Then, she perks up, grinning again. “Well, since we’re already on Disney movies, I’m dying to know—what’s your opinion on The Lion King?”

Toji exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Ain’t even gonna start with that one. That movie’s got more family trauma than me.”

She bursts out laughing again, and for a second, Toji just watches her, something warm curling in his chest. He likes the way she laughs—soft but full, like she’s not just being polite. Most people look at him and see something to fear. Something sharp and dangerous. But her? She's over here talking Disney movies with him.

“So,” he finally drawls, stretching his long legs out. “My turn.”

Her laughter fades into a curious hum as she blinks, tilting her head slightly. “Your turn?”

Toji straightens just a bit, his elbows still resting on the table as his scarred lip curls up. “Yeah. Told you a story. Now you owe me one.”

She hesitates for the first time all night, lips parting slightly before pressing together. Toji catches it—the flicker of uncertainty, like she’s debating whether she should play along.

Then, after a beat, she sighs dramatically. “Fine. But I don’t have any stories about frying pans and hit jobs.”

Toji chuckles, low and rough, shifting slightly in his seat. “I’ll take what I can get, sweetheart.”

She hums in thought, tapping her nails lightly against her glass before her gaze flicks back to his. There’s something playful there, something challenging. Then, after a moment, she leans in, lowering her voice like she’s about to tell him a secret. “Okay… how about this?” Her lips quirk. “Once, I walked into a bar, and this really dangerous man bought me a drink.”

Toji snorts, shaking his head. “Real funny.”

She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “It’s still happening, so I haven’t figured out how it ends yet.”

There’s something about the way she says it—something light, teasing, but with just enough truth underneath to make him pause. He watches her carefully, studying the way she tilts her head, the way her fingers absentmindedly trace the condensation on her glass. There’s no fear in her eyes, no hesitation, just that same quiet curiosity that’s been there since the moment he first spotted her in this place.

“That so?” he murmurs amused, voice dipping lower.

She nods, slow and deliberate, lifting her glass slightly in a silent toast. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and see.”

Toji huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leans back in his seat. Trouble. This girl is pure trouble.

The club is quieter now, the air thick with the lingering scent of alcohol and now faded perfume. The neon lights overhead flicker intermittently, casting an uneven glow over the bar. Most of the patrons have trickled out, leaving only the stragglers—some finishing their drinks, others too lost in inebriated conversations to notice the late hour.

Toji stretches, rolling his shoulders before settling back into his seat. He’s still watching her, the pretty little thing sitting across from him, grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she isn’t sitting next to someone most people would cross the street to avoid.

He taps his empty glass against the counter once before looking at her. “Guess it’s gettin’ late, huh?”

Following his gaze to the clock on the far wall, her doe eyes slightly widen as she makes a soft noise of surprise. “Damn. I didn’t even notice.”

“Too busy enjoyin’ my company, sweetheart?” Toji can't help but smirk for the umpteenth time that night.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. “You’re entertaining, I’ll give you that.”

He chuckles, running a hand through his dark hair. “Flatter me any more, and I might start thinkin’ you like me.”

Tilting her head, she watches him with that same mischievous glint she’s had all night. “And if I did?”

Toji holds her gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He could play it off, tease her right back, but for some reason, he doesn’t. Instead, he lets the moment settle, the air between them thick with something unspoken.

Then, finally, he exhales, grabbing a few bills from his pocket and tossing them onto the counter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you out.”

She raises a brow. “What, afraid I can’t make it to the door on my own?”

“Nah,” Toji says, standing up and stretching lazily. “Just wanna make sure no one else tries to scoop up my company before I’m done with ‘em.”

An airy laugh leaves her lips as she shakes her head, but she slides off the stool anyway. As they make their way toward the exit, Toji’s hand naturally finds its place at the small of her back—not pushing, not pulling, just there. A quiet kind of possessiveness, the kind that says he’s keeping an eye on her, whether she needs it or not.

Outside, the night air is cool against her skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the club. The street is nearly empty, the distant hum of traffic the only real sound cutting through the quiet.

She takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky. “You know,” she muses, “I don’t usually stay out this late.”

Toji hums, lighting up a cigarette and taking a slow drag. “Yeah? What made tonight different?” He finally gets a good look at her. How tiny she looks compared to him, her arms wrapping around herself as she shields herself from the soft breeze of the late night.

She glances at him, something playful yet sincere in her expression. “Guess I just wanted to see how this story ends.”

Toji exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching her through half-lidded eyes. “And?”

She smiles. “Still figuring it out.”

Toji shakes his head, smirking as he flicks ash from the end of his cigarette. “You’re trouble, sweetheart.”

She grins, and Toji finds it fucking adorable. “Yeah, well… I think you like trouble.”

He chuckles, low and rough, before nudging her forward. “Go on, get home before you really start testing that theory.”

She takes a step back, watching him like she’s committing him to memory. Then, with a playful little salute, she turns on her heel and walks off into the night.

Toji watches her go, taking one last slow drag of his cigarette before huffing out a laugh. He realizes he didn't get her name, but he knew he wanted to get into just a little more trouble with his little sweetheart.

︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡ ︶︶ ͡ ۫ ˓꒰ ʚᄋɞ ꒱˒ ۫ ͡

another meet cute but I triedddd to make reader more softer. keyword 'tried' bc I always love when she keeps up with Toji. oh whaleeee!

250 notes · View notes

omgfangirlland · 3 days ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long. You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn’t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

#dc crossover #dc x invincible #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #bruce wayne #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #platonic yandere

276 notes · View notes

uniasus · 2 days ago

Text

Bruce doesn't like meeting members from JLD as Bruce instead of Batman, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Doesn't have much to contribute to the fight either.

Jasmine Nightingale original attack had been devastating, a cat five hurricane released on the Hall of Justice whose concentrated power pulverized stone. Heroes died, some quick, some not. Only Zatanna had seen it coming, seconds before the lightening strike.

J'onn had responded with a blast from the Watchtower.

The energy beam had made the Ghost Queen stumble, but ultimately she had absorbed the blast and turned it back on the Justice League, lightening downing flyers from the sky. Clark had dropped quickly, denting part of the collapsed roof.

The Ghost Queen wielded magic, more than anyone else on Earth. Worse, when Diana had tried to get a hit in, Zatanna had stepped up to protect Jasmine.

That fight had been the first of three, each one devastating to the League and people of Earth. Jasmine Nightingale did not care about her civilians and some of her ghostly allies took glee in attacking them. Few people in the League could stand up to the Realms forces. None could win a fight.

And JLD fights for the ghosts.

Hence, Bruce Wayne and John Constantine planning a meet in a dive bar in Kansas. It's too removed from population centers for Jasmine to target, and Bruce and John can blend in well enough.

Bruce watches John slink in, collar up. He looks more wan than usual, and he unexpectedly has a kid with him. Bruce does his best to not look at Jason and Dick, not talking in a booth across the bar. Something about the ghost army calls to Jason, and he's developed a sixth sense to tell if they're near. Bruce wonders if the kid with John is the same.

Bruce pulls on his wrist in an overhead stretch, and John sees him. He marches over, nervous in a way that's unfamiliar. Bruce doesn't like it.

John sits across from him, kid on the outside edge of the booth. Before he can ask, the waiter is there. Bruce orders around of water for the table, and the kid pips up asking for a milkshake. Bruce let's him.

As soon as he can, Bruce leans forward to hide their conversation. "I need you to explain right now why JLD is not fighting for Earth."

"We are. Sorta," John insists.

"There's at least a dozen photos of Zatanna fighting side by side with the Ghost Zone. I've seen you summon at least two demons. Captain Marvel seems to be her rear guard -" the boy coughs. Bruce eyes him before continuing. "So please, explain."

John runs a hand through his hair. "My personal situation aside...a few things you should know. First, having Dark's help? Wouldn't win this war. Jasmine Nightingale is Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms and Earth? Part of her realms. The only reason we're not cooked is because she's looking for someone."

"Her younger brother."

"Right. Zatanna figured it'd be in Earth's best interest, long term, for the Realms to know not everyone is against them and to separate us from the League. Because the second thing you should know? The League does have her brother."

Bruce frowns.

The kid pulls out a file from his hoodie pocket. It's bent, but Bruce recognizes the file. He blanches.

It's one of the first prisoners files the League has. Someone near Chicago had called in a glowing boy causing trouble, and the League had captured him. He'd been a mystery, hard to contain and hard to capture on film. J'onn couldn't understand his mind, and he'd been difficult to communicate with. Bruce remembers hours trying to understand him, only to come to the conclusion that he'd been something mimicking a teen. It's been years since he thought about him, but the blurry prisoner photo has the same quality as those in the news featuring Jasmine Nightingale.

The file states he's still a prisoner, ten years after his first capture. The log records says no one has visited him in three years.

He's still locked in a cell, twenty feet below the Hall of Justice in a prison block that's been abandoned.

"Jazz," the kid says, "came to Earth and followed a sense to find him at the Hall. That sense disappeared when she destroyed it."

"There's lock down protocols to prevent escape. I bet they activated as soon as she attacked, blocking her ability to find him."

"You think he's still there?" John asks. "She thinks you're hiding him, purposefully keeping him trapped."

"I," Bruce swallows. He'd thought the poltergeist a human mimic, a devious being unwilling to talk and stubborn enough to resist interrogation. Now, he realizes the prisoner was most likely scared and lost.

"I forgot about him," Bruce whisperer. "We never keep prisoners very long unless they're dangerous."

"He is," the kid says. "Once crowned, he'll have more power than Jazz."

"But he never displayed that when we captured him. We..."

John leans forward. "You wanna know Zatanna's plan to win this war before it stretches out any further? The League digs up Prince Daniel and hands him over. You surrender."

"We're the scapegoat," Bruce whisperers. Because JLD could have noticed Daniel and free him early. They could have negotiated. They could have fought against the ghosts. Zatanna could have stood in the way of Jasmine's first storm.

"She sees you as the enemy and JLD as allies," the kid says. "And her control over the Realms limits what some of us can do," he looks over at John and Bruce wonders if one of his soul contacts is with the Queen of Ghosts.

"She could destroy Earth in a day," the kid rubs a hand down his face and Bruce stares, trying to place it, "destroying the Justice League is less damage."

"Plus," John adds, "You do have her brother."

Bruce knows part of being Batman means putting his life on the line, but this is so much bigger.

"Can we negotiate terms of surrender?"

The kid nods. "Captain Marvel is willing. John can't and Zatanna is too close to Jazz. We don't want her to feel betrayed or that we've been hiding things from her."

Bruce nods. If Jasmine wants the entire League as recomputence, than JLD will be Earth's only defense.

Minimizing damage has never been this difficult. "I'll talk to the others."

"Send a bird to Fawcett with your terms."

The "Prisoner" of the Justice League

DP x DC Prompt

Near the beginning of the Justice League's time, they had acquired a 'prisoner' of sorts. The 'prisoner' is an entity that Mimics a human teenage boy. They have snow white hair that flows as if in the wind or underwater, and they wear a mostly black and white hazmat suit with a stylized D on their chest.

Batman was the only one who had interrogation skills, so he was the go-to for interrogation for their 'prisoner'. Batman had remained in the underground cell block in the Hall of Justice for hours before returning, the sounds of the 'prisoner' banging against his cell continues, with Batman saying he couldn't get anything out of their 'prisoner'.

Things get really busy for the Justice League after Batman attempts to interrogate their 'prisoner' a few more times. It gets so busy that everyone slowly forget that they have a 'prisoner' since his banging had stopped after half a year in their cell. Even Batman, who has become a 'Tired Dad,' forgot about the prisoner under the Hall of Justice.

When JLD is formed, they are told that they can't help out much, as the entirety of JLD is searching for the missing Prince of the Infinite Realms, which causes them to not be near the Hall of Justice.

A couple of years after the emergence of the newest Robin and Superman's son is when the Justice League is reminded of their 'Prisoner'.

Jasmine Nightingale, the Ghostly Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms, had come to their world in search of her brother, the Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms. She followed the faint bond she had with her brother, and the League members were baffled that it led them to the Hall of Justice, specifically, the cell block where their 'Prisoner' is, who still looks like a teenage boy, despite how many years past.

#dp x dc #ghost queen jazz #JLD #justice league dark #bruce wayne #john constantine #billy batson #jazz will happily crisp the earth #but not at risk of danny #my fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

aninipanin1 · 1 day ago

Note

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

#aninipanin1 #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x manager!reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bluelockxreader #various x reader #Don lorenzo x reader #don lorenzo #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei #karasu tabito #karasu x reader #hiori x reader #hiori yo

182 notes · View notes

cherry-coffees · 2 days ago

Text

Marriage of Convenience!Caitlyn headcanons

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who does not want to get married - much less to someone she doesn’t know or have feelings for. so when Cassandra introduces you to her for the first time, all she knows is that you’re from some noble house in Noxus and she resents you. It’s not your fault, she knows, but it’s so much easier to have someone to blame for her unhappiness.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who watches Cassandra talk to your mother in silent rage, who watches you smile politely and just go along with this. this just makes her resent you even more because why are you so okay with it?

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who (very reluctantly) attends the ball in celebration of your engagement. no one know it’s arranged - everyone in Piltover thinks that a Piltovian and Noxian fell in love and oh how wonderful it is that these star-crossed lovers will bring peace and an alliance between the two regions! Caitlyn wants to scream the truth at them all until her lungs burn. but her mother would kill her, so she just stands there with a fake smile, blue gaze icy.

marriage of convenience!Caitlyn who eventually ducks out of the main ballroom and onto a secluded balcony, seeking some relief from the constant attention of the crowd, only to find that you’re already there. frustration runs through her veins, a scowl automatically gracing her sharp features because why can’t she just have a single moment alone? but her expression morphs into one of surprise when she takes in your posture: leaning against the balcony railing in your gown, your head low and your body almost crumpled — defeated.

Caitlyn can’t help but hesitate, straightening out her Commander uniform she had insisted upon wearing. She doesn’t know whether to intrude or leave you be. But, she supposes, you will be married soon.

So she breaks the silence, stepping forward to lean on the railing beside you. “Why aren’t you in the ballroom?”

“Why aren’t you?” You counter, not bothering to meet her eyes. You stare ahead, looking out at all of Piltover all lit up at night.

Caitlyn can’t stop the scoff that escapes her. “Too much attention for something I don’t want.”

You bob your head once, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Makes two of us.”

“Are you kidding?” Caitlyn’s eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing and turning her body to fully face you. “You seem to be quite content going along with everything your parents want.”

“Yeah, well,” you exhale, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold night air. Caitlyn notices this, gaze darting to the gooseflesh that prickles on your bare arms. “There’s nothing either of us can do about it. It’s better to go along and make the best of it. If I’m going to be married to you, I don’t want to hate each other.”

Caitlyn blinks, slightly taken aback. “I-“ she pauses, considering your words. “I don’t hate you.”

“Seems like it.”

“I don't,” she insists, and you finally turn your head so your eyes lock with hers. “Look-“ Caitlyn holds your gaze, a twinge of respect stirring within her. “If my parents had to marry me off to someone, I’m glad it’s you. I know we just met, but you’re very respectful, and you seem kind. I like that.” She hesitates again, eyes flicking down over your body for a split-second. “And you’re undeniably pretty.”

“Uh- thank you." You blink, wide-eyed at the unexpected compliment, a pink hue dusting your cheeks. You can't deny that being called pretty in that posh accent of hers makes you a little flustered. But you push past it, shaking your head to clear your mind and continuing. "You’re right: we don’t know each other. But since we’re getting married, I’d like to, if you’ll allow it.”

And for the first time since Cassandra broke the news to her about this marriage, Caitlyn lets herself give you a half-smile. “Yeah,” she nods, a hint of interest in her eyes. “I’d like that.”

I have loose plans to write a full fic of this so!!! Stay tuned and lmk if you have any ideas/things you'd like to see with this <333

Reminder that my asks are open!

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #arcane #cherry writes 🍒#caitlyn kirraman x reader #caitlyn arcane #arcane caitlyn #lesbian #kiramman #cassandra kiramman #fanfic #fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane fandom #arranged marriage #marriage of convenience #AHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA #full fic coming soon???

194 notes · View notes

bestalbertcamuslover · 2 days ago

Text

"if the sex was half as good as the conversation was, soon they'd be pushin' strollers"

↳ Masterlist

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

She knew this moment would eventually come. He had suggested going back to his place for a drink after yet another wonderful date, and it was clear what that implied. Under different circumstances, she would have been more than eager—but instead, she felt terrified. Not of the act itself, but of whether she was any good at it.

Only a few months ago, she had been dating a friend of a friend. He was smart, handsome, and, more importantly, interesting—very interesting. Their dates were filled with amazing conversations, but when it came to the intimate part, he thought otherwise—and he was very vocal about it. That became the dealbreaker, and it planted a deep seed of insecurity in her.

Her chest rose and fell in sync with her breath, still catching up to reality, still trying to piece together the sensations coursing through her body. She felt warm, her skin sensitive, her limbs pleasantly heavy. And yet, beneath all of it, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts she had tried so hard to ignore.

Sebastian lay beside her, his arm lazily draped over her waist, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her bare hip. He looked utterly at ease—relaxed, content, and maybe just a little smug in that effortless way he had.

She turned her head toward him, studying him in the dim light. The mess of his hair, the slope of his nose, the way his lips still looked slightly swollen—it was all so effortless, so natural. He looked like someone who had absolutely no doubts. Meanwhile, she felt like she was buzzing with them.

Sebastian must have sensed her gaze because, after a moment, his hand stilled, and he cracked one eye open. “What’s that look for?” His voice was low, laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

She blinked, feigning innocence. “What look?”

His lips twitched. “The one you’re giving me right now.” He chuckled lightly, shifting slightly so that he could look at her more directly. “Like you're looking for something,” he replied, his fingers still tracing light patterns against her skin. “Or like you're expecting something.”

“Maybe some comments on what just happened,” she grinned, trying to sound as if she was joking, but she really wanted to hear what he thought about it.

Sebastian's expression softened, and he shifted so that he was propped up on one elbow, facing her. “Comments?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of comments?” His fingers were still moving over her skin, gently tracing the curves of her waist and hips. “You want me to rate the experience on a scale of one to ten or something?” he teased, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

She chuckled slightly. “Perhaps.”

Sebastian's smirk widened slightly at her response, and he chuckled as well. “Well, in that case,” he said, his free hand coming up to trail lightly up her arm, “I'd give it a solid nine. Maybe even a nine-point-five.” He paused for a moment before adding, “But I do have one complaint.”

“What is it?” She asked, expecting the worst.

He leaned in closer as he replied, “I think you should have said my name louder.” He winked, a wicked grin plastered on his face. “I mean, I know I was pretty great, but I want everyone on the entire top floor to know it too.”

Her soft chuckle in response to his words made him smile. Yet, she still looked unconvinced—doubtful and worried, as if someone were whispering contradictions into her ear through a hidden earpiece.

Sebastian's expression turned slightly more serious, and he gently cupped her face in his hand, his thumb rubbing over her cheek. “Why do you seem so... uncertain about this?” he asked, his voice gentle. “It's like you're waiting for me to tell you that it wasn't good, or that you weren't good.”

“It's literally nothing, I was just wondering whether, um, you liked it,” she replied as lightly as possible, “since it is our first time.”

Sebastian paused, his hand stilling on her waist as he processed your words. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at her face, hoping to glean some hint of your true feelings.

“Of course I liked it,” he said, his voice soft. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

“I don't know,” she said again with feigned casualness, “some couples just don't have bed chem” she explained, and despite the pretended nonchalance, it was clear that there was some sort of personal experience, insecurity, and vulnerability behind it.

Sebastian caught the not-so-subtle note of vulnerability, the hint of dread behind her words, and it broke his heart a little. He could tell there was more to this than just a casual, passing comment. And he knew her well enough to know that when she was hurt—really hurt—she tended to try and downplay it, brush it off like it was nothing.

He moved closer to her, his arm resting possessively over her waist. His next words were quiet, sincere. “Did… someone ever say that to you?”

“I said some couples, not that it had happened to me,” she replied softly, avoiding his gaze more than once.

He moved even closer, his body pressing against hers. His touch was light, his fingers tracing the outline of her jawline. “I know you’re lying,” he murmured, his voice filled with a soft mixture of concern and gentle reproach. “Don’t try to pull that with me.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe is based on a personal experience,” she admitted softly.

He let out a slow exhalation, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, could feel the weight of those experiences hanging over her.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” he said softly. “I want you to be able to talk to me about things. Especially hard things.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, maybe I’m a little insecure about it because my ex said—and I’m quoting word for word—‘if the sex was half as good as the conversation, we’d soon be pushin’ strollers.’ But, yeah, then, it was over,” she admitted, trying to say it as lightly as possible, as if it didn’t affect her much.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

His hand slid to her cheek, tilting her face toward him, his eyes scanning hers like he needed to confirm that she was really being serious.

“Well,” he said, voice firm but teasing, “either your ex had absolutely no idea what he was doing, or he was just trying to make himself feel better.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Seb—”

“No, really,” he insisted, shaking his head, his lips curving into a slow, incredulous grin. “Because if that was you being bad at it, then I’m terrified of what happens when you decide to be good at it.”

She laughed slightly then, genuinely, and his grip on her tightened as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You were incredible,” he murmured, his lips moving down to her jaw, then her neck. “And if you ever need more proof…” He smirked against her skin. “I’d be happy to demonstrate again.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: This is very random lol

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

100 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 24 hours ago

Text

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie events #steddielovemonth #steve harrington x eddie munson #prom #slow dancing #flirting #high school

135 notes · View notes

mizgnomer · 19 hours ago

Text

Behind the Scenes of the Thirteenth-to-Fourteenth Doctor Regeneration in Power of the Doctor - Part One

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's article in DWM #584:

Across the studio, executive producer Phil Collinson, director Rachel Talalay, and a growing number of crew members are huddled around a laptop. What are they watching? Rachel motions for David and DWM to join them. “I want to show you Jodie’s half of the regen,” she says. “Ooh yes, please,” says David. “This is exciting, isn’t it?” But secrecy is paramount. “What I also wanted to show you, David, is the few minutes leading up to it –” “But I’m not allowed to see?” David finds this very funny. Rachel presses play. We watch the Thirteenth Doctor’s final 45 seconds. “There she is!” exclaims David, as Jodie steps out of the TARDIS onto a rocky peak – the sea ahead of her, the sun starting to rise. “On a clifftop??” Phil looks on approvingly. “This is unusual,” he says. “Blimmin’ hell.” “It’s beautiful,” adds David. [...] Rachel’s last work on the series was the Twelfth Doctor’s 2017 swansong, Twice Upon a Time – which ended with Jodie’s very first scene. Having midwifed the Thirteenth, Rachel has returned to see in the Fourteenth, directing today’s regeneration and the first 2023 Special. “I am so lucky I get to do this,” she says. “That I get to re-regenerate David Tennant is phenomenal. I was already incredibly interested in returning. Just the fact that Russell was coming back was enough. When I was told it was David too, that took me to a whole other level.” In studio, on Rachel’s laptop, Jodie has finished regenerating. (David: “That’s all we’re getting? I want to know what happens next!”) Cut to black and an on-screen caption: “Over to you, Russell!” Rachel runs David through her camera moves. “We don’t want to pull out on Jodie, then keep pulling out on you. We want to push in on Jodie, so we want to reverse this shot, push in as the morph starts, your clothes disintegrate –” David: “Uh huh.” Rachel: “– and by the time we get into the final position, it’ll be fully you. Everyone will be like, ‘Holy wow! I thought this would be Ncuti Gatwa.’ And then, David, it’s over to you. Tell us what you want to do.” “Exactly the same as I did last time?” “Sure. Why not.” [...] On set, David is taking a selfie with the TARDIS. “I’ve got to send Jodie this,” he says, gleefully. “I’m texting her and sending her pictures, because obviously she isn’t here, but she’s my mate, and we’ve got her on a screen to line me up…”

Future posts this set will be available in the #whoBtsPower tag. The full episode behind-the-scenes list is [ here ]

#doctor who #david tennant #jodie whittaker #the power of the doctor #whoBtsPower #rtdedit #rachel talalay #I know losing a doctor is always sad #but something about david's joy in sharing it with her #and the fact that they are mates #makes me happy #stuff i posted #whoBts #dwm #doctor who magazine #benjamin cook

105 notes · View notes

felassan · 2 days ago

Text

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 6. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four, Post Five]

User: "after [Emmrich and Rook's] argument they don’t really bring it up again, is it pretty much the case that Rook being lost in the fade made them both realise what was important so that conversation wasn’t really needed? or did they have it off-screen?" // Sylvia Feketekuty: ""is it pretty much the case that Rook being lost in the fade made them both realise what was important so that conversation wasn’t really needed? or did they have it off-screen?" I think either one is valid. There's some time skips, so I figured if you imagined your Rook and Emmrich talking about the argument, it could've happened while, say, they're traveling to the Necropolis. Flow-wise it seemed best to rely on that passage of time to smooth that part over, and get to the point where we enter the talk by the coffin. Or perhaps they're so in-sync that, like you said, Rook and Emmrich feel they can just move on. (If you bring Emmrich to Isle of the Gods he's apologetic there, and Rook picks up on it, so maybe that was enough short as it was.) (To my mind it's not a huge thing to declare one way or another, but I'd prefer this one to be player's choice)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "had a question about emmrich's last name. i know there is a banter with harding that confirms it is a commoner name, but i was interested in what his surname breaks down into meaning? I assumed volk=folk perhaps, but is there any other meaning/significance? thank you!" // Sylvia: "You pretty much have it right with "volk" = people. I liked the idea that Volkarin would sound fancy to someone speaking English (well Harding's not speaking English per se, but you know), but have its roots in something that plain. So yeah basically I got a kick out of the thought that in Nevarra, Emmrich's last name is the equivalent of Smith, or Jones, or Wilson. (The "arin" part is just because I thought together it paired well with "volk")" [source, two]

User: "With Hezenkoss, as a romanced rook, it feels like she's a bit jealous and was stuck in a one sided crush with her "friend" Was this intended? Or was she just competitive and annoyed at his popularity with everyone?" // Sylvia: "I always pictured Hezenkoss as annoyed that as they grew up, Emmrich become popular and effortlessly well-liked, while she, with her sheer brilliance, was clearly resented by jealous fools. Fools!!! (I pictured Johanna needling Emmrich over his romance mostly her going 'now there's some nice sore-spots I can press' because she has correctly anticipated his insecurities.) "become popular" Arg I meant to write BECAME. Cripes." [source, two, three] // Sylvia: "TBC I also don't want to invalidate any head-canons! My general rule is that if it's not stated outright in game, it's up for interpretation, regardless of my thoughts. La mort de l'auteur, etc." [source]

User: "I recently made an appreciation post on reddit how relatable he is for me and how it helped me with my anxiety. There were also other users agreeing and sharing their love for the character." // Sylvia: "I read your post and the others, and I'm glad meeting Emmrich touched people like that. His story was a team effort, and everyone making him knew we needed to hit this theme right. (His actor Nick Boraine deserves especial praise for nailing those lines.) I have indeed experienced what Emmrich does, and from the thread and other fan interactions, it's not an uncommon thing. If I can offer something I read a long time ago: you have the right to think about death without being in a state of absolute fear. I don't know why, but that thought helped me focus when things were rough. Maybe because it was correct: we DO have that right. Even if life and our own psyches conspire against us, it's ours." [source, two, three] // User: "I felt seen in a way I never have when Emmrich said he is terrified of dying. I've had panic attacks about it since I was old enough to understand what death is. Thank you for making so many feel seen and helping people realize its not just *them.*" // Sylvia: "I'm really glad it helped, because the conclusion I've come to is this is more common than we think, it's just not something people talk about." [source]

Sylvia: "(Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on [re: Emmrich], he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source] // Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made him so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

Sylvia: ""who came up with Davrin's "hand-to-bone combat" line?? 🤣" Haha that was Davrin's writer, John Dombrow! I'll let him know you (and other people) got a chuckle out of it!" [source]

User, on Manfred: ""I'm so curious -what about the almonds caught his fancy, and why so many?" Some things are a mystery even to me when it comes to Manfred. (Whatever his reason, I thought as a vegetarian Emmrich would probably have a lot of nuts handy which was the germ of the idea.)" // Sylvia: "Some things are a mystery even to me when it comes to Manfred. (Whatever his reason, I thought as a vegetarian Emmrich would probably have a lot of nuts handy which was the germ of the idea.)" [source]

User: "When Rook romances Emmrich, through banter we can see that Emmrich is surprised that the other companions know about the relationship, and also h says to Johanna that it's a private matter. Is it because he wants to keep things private only, is it because he is worried that Rook may not be the one true love, or is he worried about the age gap, or all these reasons and/or others?" // Sylvia: "In this particular case, I think Emmrich just wanted to be discrete because he didn't want to assume it was a serious thing, and for people to think HE thought it was serious. (Though his line to Hezenkoss is snappish specifically because he knows she's needling him, haha.)" [source]

Sylvia: Down Among the Dead Men and Luck in the Gardens "mean a lot to me, being my first published stories in a book.)" [source]

User: "Are there any other areas of Thedas that you think young Altus mages would tour? Poor Dorian looked like a fish out of water in Ferelden." // Sylvia: "Completely talking off the cuff here, but Orlais and Antiva, certainly, and some of the "better" Free Marcher states seem like good candidates. (Poor Ferelden! Always forgotten by the north.)" [source]

User: "I know you said previously that emmrich doesn't really vibe with cats or dogs But like if rook already has a dog or something (that someone is like pet sitting for them while they're kicked out of their faction and traveling with varric) would that be a deal breaker" // Sylvia: "Nah that'd be fine, they're not his favorites but he'll put up with them for Rook." [source]

Sylvia: "I have indeed seen Cushing's version of Hound of the Baskervilles, for some reason that part where he whirls around and throws the knife is embedded into my brain. What a great Holmes he made." [source]

User: "1. Where did Emmrich live in Nevarar when he was a child? 2. When do you think his birthday is? 👀 3. How did Johanna know him?" // Sylvia: "1. He lived inside the bounds of Nevarra City itself. He's always been a city boy. 2. For some reason, he feels like a January/February birthday to me. 3. They met as young students in the Mourn Watch." [source]

User: "if Emmrich didn't think it was serious when he'd always wanted one true love -apparently-, why did he embark on this relationship, especially with so much passion?" // Sylvia: "I think he thought it wouldn't be so serious at first, but then things progressed. And people want conflicting things, sometimes." [source]

User: "I really love Strife being a love interest for Emmrich! What lead to him as the choice if he isn't romanced?" // Sylvia: "The writing team discussed who felt right, and I liked that Strife was from one of the factions because it gives the feeling of your followers interacting with the wider world. And I felt Strife would provide a nice contrast with the romance with Rook. Unlike them, he's more established in his place in the world, like Emmrich is. Just felt like a different dynamic." [source, two] // User: "Strife balances Emmrich well since they are both interested in study but have gone about it differently." // Sylvia: "Agreed! (I wish I had thought to put it like that.)" [source]

User: "how are pets and animals honoured in the Necropolis and by the Mourn Watchers? The same as any other being?" // Sylvia: "Beloved animals are absolutely permitted to be buried with families. Mild Necropolis exploration spoiler: inside the passage you unlock after finding all the wisps in the belfry area, there's actually some caskets for faithful hounds interred in the crypt." [source]

User: "My question is do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" // Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "how long has Manfred been under Emmrich's care?" // Sylvia: "That's a good question, yet another thing I left a little vague in case I needed to define it concretely in the future. And since I've left, the answer is very much in my head only. But I feel it's likely to have at least been a decade. (Hezenkoss acts like she knows about Manfred, I figure she could've met him during an earlier clash. But I don't think Manfred was around when she and Emmrich were young students.)" [source, two]

User: "if Emmrich had tattoos, on what theme would they be?" // Sylvia: "Something anatomical/surgical, patterned on the MW's mystic theories of the body and death, feels appropriate to me." [source]

Sylvia: "BioWare put out an infographic about choices a few weeks ago, and "lich" was winning out. 1) When Emmrich says how he feels will change did he just mean his senses or is it on an emotional level?" He's definitely talking about his senses in that scene. On an emotional level: unknown. (I imagine it WOULD change someone because it's such a big shift, but exactly what does it do, mystically, if anything, is something I'd like to leave alone since I didn't really cover that in the game, and it feels like it'd been bigger consideration if that makes sense.) I kind of want how the lich-romance proceeds to live in players' imaginations, purely so people can tailor it to their own story. I'm afraid any writer-declaration would narrow the possibilities instead of expanding them, if that makes sense." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia: ""I've been waiting for Nevarra for years and it was everything i could have dreamed of and MORE!" I'm very glad to hear it. The rest of the Necropolis team and I were very excited to finally get to portray even a small portion of the ancient and hallowed graves of Nevarra." [source]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm so glad you liked meeting and getting to know our necromancer. (Huge props to our cinematic and audio team on that garden scene, it was incredible seeing it come in finished for the first time.)" [source]

Allegra Clark: "I just wanted to say that I miss you so much and I’m so excited for whatever comes next in your career. Josephine means so much to me and I’ve fallen utterly in love with Emmrich (how dare you, he’s perfect). Thank you for trusting me with your child over a decade ago ❤️" [source] // Sylvia: "Allegra! Thank you so much! I'm so excited you've been digging our gentleman necromancer. I hope you've been seeing people ping me about their love of Josephine. I heard someone very good did her voice.. Thank YOU for embodying her so quickly and completely!" [source, two]

User: "how was Emmrich doing when Rook was trapped in the Fade?" // Sylvia: "Probably very poorly! Poor man would've been incredibly anxious and working all hours towards a solution." [source]

User: "So i asked you before what music emmrich does like but um is there any music he hates I feel like he'd die if someone took him to a death metal concert XD" // Sylvia: "I think that's a good one to pick, lol. "It's all just noise!"" [source]

User: "Did Emmrich teach (or at least attempt to teach) Manfred how to read?" // Sylvia: "I think that was beyond his skillset, beforehand; Manfred could be taught to recognize objects, but the abstraction of reading was one step too much at that point." [source]

User: "Do Mourn Watchers undergo a Harrowing?" // Sylvia: "They do! You may've missed it but there's a MWer in the Necropolis who mentions MW Harrowings if you go by them. (The MW has had to suspend theirs because chaos in the Fade.) But that's a temporary suspension, probably resolved by the time the credits roll. In general: I figure that if you're a mage who underwent a harrowing in some other circle, that stands, but that the MW would also perform harrowings for students they took in early. Also: not a silly question! It doesn't really come up with the MW except that one ambient line, and it's very easy to miss." [source, two, three]

User: "Doing a 3rd MW playthrough after not playing one for a couple of months feels like coming home again" // Sylvia: "That's some commitment to the dead! The Mourn Watch approve." [source]

User: "if two mourn watchers were to share a piece of grave dowry between them, that's grounds for a serious relationship?" // Sylvia: "You mean like each one having the half of a necklace, or having the same bit of gold made into matching rings? Or swapping jewelry? Either way, what a nice idea. It could be!" [source]

Sylvia: "Emmrichwas very much the work of the team, including some very good feedback early on from the other writers and editors." [source]

Sylvia: "The team and I were also super excited to get to explore the Necropolis. It was an honour to open up the tombs to everyone." [source]

User: "Emmerich's particular respect for trans characters was extremely enticing to me." // Sylvia: "Thanks, I'm glad he resonated. (Some trans colleagues kindly spent the time to give me some feedback on the wording of the lines, which I think made them way better.)" [source]

User: "Emmrich is so amazing" // Sylvia: "Thank you again, that is incredible to hear. (And I want to mention, only possible with the team; they helped improve the story every step.)" [source]

Sylvia: Tevinter Nights "was a fun collection to work on" [source]

User: "Does lich Emmrich feel anything when Rook kisses him or touches him?" // Sylvia: "yeah, I don't think he's "numb" so to speak, he can sense a touch (with his new powers from beyond the graaaaaave 🪦💀🌹)" [source]

User: "about Emmrich so i know he's into flowers and botany but is he into plant meanings and symbolism" // Sylvia: "I think he is - Emmrich mentions some flowers that are "famed in verse and song", I think he'd enjoy reading up on the cultural importance and symbolism layered on to them." [source]

User: "Obv the game mechanics require Rook to make the choice but would a romanced Emmrich choose to become a Lich if the choice was in his hands? Would he abandon his dream for love?" // Sylvia: "I must refuse to answer on the grounds that it's too melancholy to contemplate. ;_;" [source]

User: "On the dinner date in the Necropolis I loved how Emmrich felt philosophical, it was so relatable, especially when he talked about the connection to something finer than we are. It was magical!" // Sylvia: "I'm really pleased that last part of the dinner date, resonated with you, I was trying really hard to get a certain feeling across." [source]

User: "What month do you think Emmrich was born in? I really wanna know what my guy's zodiac sign is" // Sylvia: "I don't know anything about zodiac stuff but weirdly, I do have a range, for some reason I always thought it'd be January or February." [source]

User: "1. How does Emmrich feel about children, both in general and possibly having them? 2. Would Emmrich be into gift-giving?" // Sylvia: "1. In general, he likes kids okay, and tries to be kind, but his students are mostly older so he doesn't really chat with many. Regarding having them, if circumstances aligned so that was the case, I think he'd be excited if maybe a little overwhelmed by the thought. 2. I think so! Not overbearing about it, but he would like to show some tokens of affection at appropriate times. (There's no way he's not delighted to get gifts.)" [source, two]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #dragon age: tevinter nights #strife #lgbtq #“Please archive away” :D

81 notes · View notes

joocomics · 2 days ago

Text

1k followers celebration event — ⌞⌗ xdh drabble⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 jiseok x fem!reader x jooyeon

genre: smut — 18+ wc: 0.7

request: threesome w/ gaon and jooyeon + “we both really like you” + dry humping

contains: threesome, sub!reader, dry humping, dirty talk, pet names, light choking (f!rec), implied overstimulation, friends to ???

[ event masterlist | xdinary heroes masterlist ]

Jiseok’s hands are beneath your skirt, grasping your ass. His strong appetite for you grows every time your hips respond to his domineering touch by swaying forward.

“You know…” He sighs, staring back down at where you’re straddling his lap, gaining friction from his bulge that’s twitching inside his gray sweatpants. His brows knit together as if he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. “We both really like you.”

The weight of his words make the air around you feel heavier, but then he looks up at you again and his face lights up. His boyish laugh, an alluring familiar tune, breaks the tension, and you can’t help but smile back.

He doesn’t see this as a problem, but rather as an opportunity that promises to make the night much more interesting, unforgettable; for everyone involved.

You hold your curious gaze on his face for a moment before shifting it to Jooyeon who’s sitting relaxed beside him. He's been watching you and Jiseok with an unreadable expression - unreadable to you, because you've only known him for a few weeks.

“I like both of you too,” you say, and your mouth remains open in awe from the greedy grip of Jiseok’s bold palms. His fingertips sink deeper in your flesh as he guides you back and forth simultaneously lifting his hips up for even better friction.

Or maybe he’s just trying to get a better idea of what it would be like to thrust his cock inside you.

“Well then,” Jooyeon murmurs with voice laced in amusement that sends a shiver down your spine. “We should figure out what to do about that. Have you ever had two guys play with you before?” He cocks his head to the side, keeping one hand over his crotch. “At the same time?”

His gaze on you is intense, but inviting; the longer you maintain eye contact with him, the stronger the warmth in your core becomes.

You wish he would’ve touched you by now. You wonder why he hasn’t made a move yet when he’s clearly interested just as much as you and Jiseok are. Is he waiting for something?

You catch Jiseok biting his lip with anticipation.

“No, never.” You admit quietly, moaning softly right after. Every next move you do against his boner pleases you undeniably more than all the previous ones, tempting you to rub your sweet spot through your panties even harder.

The two boys glance at each other; there’s excitement glimmering in their eyes, a sense of understanding and agreement too. They’re already plotting what to do to you without needing words; the mischievous smiles forming on their lips expose the dirty intentions they’ve had for you all along.

“She's a good girl, she'll tell us what she wants,” Jiseok grins; his gaze flickering between you and his friend who's finally moving closer, kneeling behind your back.

Jooyeon doesn’t do anything to interrupt the unrestful grinding between you and Jiseok. What he does is invite his hands beneath your shirt and attach his tongue to your neck.

Your head falls to the side, giving him perfect exposure to explore you through his salivating mouth. As his slim fingertips sneak into your bra, catching your nipples, Jiseok focuses on supporting your rhythm that makes his cock throb.

“Fuck, baby—“ He groans loudly, smacking your cheeks before squeezing them again as the stimulation overpowers his senses. He would've never imagined that the view of you melting in Jooyeon’s arms would turn him on so much. “Got me so fuckin’ hard for you. You feel it, doll?”

“Mhmm…” A single small sound is all you manage to give as an answer. You can feel the rush that's resulting from the mutual euphoria distracting you by pulsing low in your tummy.

A firm hand crawls up your chest and wraps around your throat. The next second, you feel Jooyeon’s hot breath escape his lips.

“I want you soaked, do you understand? I’m not gonna do anything for this pussy if it’s not dripping for me.”

You can sense the devilish smirk without having to look at him; its impact is lingering in the air, arousing and demanding as he speaks, just like the light pressure around your neck.

“Go on,” he signals you to keep up with Jiseok’s hips pushing against you. “Don't make me wait.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#— writing: xdinary heroes #dinna’s 1k followers celebration #xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader #gaon x reader #jiseok x reader #jooyeon x reader #gaon smut #jooyeon smut

67 notes · View notes

flowery-mess · 2 days ago

Text

healing touches

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / feeling sick / throwing up / let me know if anything else should be mentioned

Words: 1,8k

Author's note: I missed frat Noah❤️‍🩹 I have more interesting one shots for you, but I didn't want to push it when I'm not in the mood for it, so at least some fluff Noah for you

frat Noah masterlist

You and Noah don’t text on a daily basis, so when you didn’t send him any new messages for three days, he didn’t think much of it.

He got ready for another party at his fraternity’s house, dressing himself in black loose jeans and black oversized t-shirt. Before leaving his apartment he put on two silver bracelets around his right arm, his fancy watch on left hand and also new ring. Throwing black jacket over his shoulders, he checked his phone to see his uber driver will be at his place in 3 minutes, giving him time to put shoes on and leave.

Noah is not the type to drink every week, but tonight he planned on getting loose a bit. That’s why he decided to leave his black car parked in front of the main building and take an uber.

The drive to the campus where the party was held was short, but he managed to text you ‘Are you coming tonight?’ text.

He knew you didn’t come every week, but tonight he really felt like having drinks and leaving with you.

15 minutes passed by and still no reply from you. Maybe you’re getting ready with your friends or already on the way, he thought.

“Hey man!” Matt pulled Noah in their bro hug, handing him cold beer fresh from the fridge.

“Hey, where’s the rest of the guys?” Noah asked, looking around the living room. Looking for the rest of his friends, but also for you.

Matt led him outside where the rest of their friend group was hanging out. Noah took spot next to Nick, listening to the conversation so he could join them.

----------

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Clara asked you for like the 10th time today.

“Yes, I will. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.” you replied, feeling guilty for the attitude when Clara was just being nice.

For three days straight you’ve been sick. It started on Wednesday when you threw up at the school bathroom, not knowing where it came from, but you still didn’t get rid of it. Along with it came fever and weakness.

Clara and Molly were getting ready for yet another party and you secretly wished they’ll both find someone to spend the night with, so you could have the dorm for yourself and don’t feel bad about occupying the bathroom most of the night.

“We’re leaving, Ella. If you need anything just text or call and we’ll be back, okay?” Molly assured you with a kiss on your forehead. Since you became sick she got into this ‘mom mode’ which you appreciated, but also needed a break from.

When you heard the door close, you picked yourself from the bathroom floor, crossing the room as quick as you could and throwing yourself in your bed.

-----------------

One thing about Clara is that she’s a loud person, so whenever she arrives somewhere, everyone knows it. When her and Molly arrived at the frat house, they didn’t bother to walk through the living room full of sweaty people, they went for the backyard straight away. They were scanning the people that were already hanging out there and when Clara saw group from her class she yelled at them from the other side of the big garden.

Noah knew her voice so instinctively his head turned around, but his face turned into a frown when he saw only Molly and Clara. That was weird, because you always came together.

He texted you again ‘Hey, I saw Molly and Clara, you here too?’ and put his phone away, waiting for your answer.

One hour later still with no answer from you, Noah got a bit worried. His plans of getting drunk no longer happening, but he couldn’t say the same about your two friends.

He was walking towards the group of people Molly and Clara were hanging out with, pretty visible that they already consumed enough alcohol to be at least tipsy.

“Hi Noah.” Clara was first to notice him.

“Hi,” Noah cleared his throat, not sure what to say as he didn’t think this through, “where’s Ella?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, huh?” Molly smirked at him, her eyes giving her drunken state away.

“Yes, that’s why I asked.” he didn’t like talking with Molly, feeling her disgust in every word she said to him. He turned to face Clara again, but Molly was quicker to speak up.

“She’s on a date.” came out of her mouth before she could realise what she said.

“On a date?” Noah repeated.

“Yep, with a guy that’s not you.” Molly continued to tease Noah, who didn’t know if she was serious or not. He looked at Clara hoping she would tell him the truth, but she was too drunk to stop giggling. At Molly’s joke? At his confused face? He didn’t know.

“Amazing, thanks for your help.” Noah said without any emotion in his voice, turning around and leaving. He didn’t even stop to tell the guys he’s leaving, he just left.

He started walking in the direction to your dorms, thankful for the few minute walk to get a hold of himself. He was angry, because either Molly made fun of him or you were actually on a date and broke your deal.

He sneaked into the building you three were living in and had to stop himself in front of your door to take a deep breath, calming himself down that there’s a possibility that you won’t open your door and actually be having a dinner with some guy.

He knocked on your door and waited, nothing. He knocked again, nothing. He repeated that move few more times, his knocking more and more loud each time. Then he tried to call you and he heard your phone ring inside. Did you have the guy over at your place? With that thought he made himself even angrier and started knocking like a crazy person.

Meanwhile you laid in bed, your head hurting from all the noises. First you thought someone was here for Molly or Clara, then your phone started ringing and then the knocking got louder.

It took all of your strength to get up from your bed and open the door with very annoyed “What?”

You saw Noah in all black, his face confused and phone in his hand ready to call you again.

“Hi?” he suddenly didn’t know what to say.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him without any form of greeting.

“Are you okay?” Noah noticed your tangled hair and your pale face.

“Do I look like I’m okay?” you spat back at him, wanting whatever this was to be over so you could go lay in your bed again.

“Molly said you were on a date.” he finally said, his cheeks turning a bit red as he realised how does it look.

You managed short laugh out of yourself before saying “On a date? She really doesn’t like you.”

“Well, now that I know you didn’t break our deal… are you okay? Because you look terrible.” Noah made one step towards you and put his hand on your forehead.

“I’m sick.” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling the relief of Noah’s cold hand against your hot skin.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” Noah said and closed the door behind him. After he took his shoes off he led you to your bed.

“You don’t have to stay Noah.” you told him as he laid you down and put the blanket over your body.

“Well I’m here already, so.” he shrugged his shoulders as if taking care of sick your wasn’t any bother. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I have a high fever, my head hurts and I throw up.”

“Did you take any medicine?” Noah’s face looked concerned as he tucked you in, because you were shivering from the fever.

“Yes mom.” he was glad that you were joking, it was a good sign.

“I’m gonna make you some black tea that should help with the sickness, okay?” and with that he left your room to make some tea for you.

He brought some dry biscuits along with the tea, making you eat at least one and drink some tea.

“Move.” he said and stood up to take his jacket off.

“What?”

“Move a little so I can lay down too.”

“You’re not laying in my bed in your dirty jeans.”

“God.” he sighed, but took off his jeans and made you move so he could somehow lay next to you in your small bed.

“What are you doing?” was he cuddling you? Holding you? Why?

“Shut up, you’re cuddling me every night you stay at my place.” he put his arm around you so you could lay your head on his chest. You knew you did, because every morning you woke up earlier than Noah and found yourself in his arms, on his chest or him on yours.

“Maybe if Molly would see this, she’d hate you less.”

“This doesn’t make us boyfriend and girlfriend, I’m just being a helpful friend.”

“I know.”

“The sooner you get better, the sooner we can have sex.”

“You shut up now.” you smacked his chest, knowing he was joking.

He took your laptop and opened some random show on Netflix.

You couldn’t help yourself, so you asked him “Did you really think I’d break our deal?”

“No, but you didn’t reply to any of my messages for the last few days and I didn’t now if Molly was joking or not.”

“Sorry, I was busy throwing up.” Noah laughed, but you still wanted him to know that you wouldn’t betray him like that. “Don’t worry Noah, I’ll tell you when I’m interested in someone and want to stop this between us. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And with that you slowly felt your eyes closing, before fully falling asleep on Noah’s chest.

---------

When you woke up hours later, the left side of your bed was empty and Noah was nowhere to be seen.

Your laptop was back on your table and your mug was full of fresh tea. Next to it was note from Noah, it said “Drink the tea and get better so next week I don’t have to sleep in this small bed again.”

You appreciated that Molly and Clara didn’t come back, they wouldn’t stop with teasing you if they saw you and Noah cuddled in your bed.

You didn’t mind that Noah left when you were asleep, you were happy to see someone else than the girls at least for a while.

You reached for your phone, seeing it was 4 in the morning. You had few messages from Molly asking if you’re okay, then you saw Noah’s messages and clicked on them. You quickly sent him ‘thank you for stopping by' text, finishing the mug of still warm tea and falling back asleep.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Tag list: @lacy1986 @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel

Click here if you want to be on my taglist

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens x reader #bad omens fanfic

71 notes · View notes

cherryxbooo · 22 hours ago

Note

Helloooo hehe 🍒

Could you write a pedri fic where perdito and reader are both in college but he’s the popular kind and reader is quiet and almost invisible.

How at first she doesn’t wanna get involved but slowly warms up to him and start dating and her getting welcomed by his family.

Make it angst to fluff like real angst tho.

Whether you write this or not im grateful 💚

You make sense to me

Summary: Being introverted and choosing the background over the spotlight is already hard enough, let alone when the popular guy suddenly takes an interest in you.

Note: Thank you so much for your request! I decided to switch it up a bit and go from fluff to angst and obviously ending in fluff. Hope you like it! 🫶

Reader x Pedri

Genre: fluff/angst

University is a strange place.

It’s a world where people reinvent themselves, the loud get louder, and the quiet, like me, learn to live in the spaces between.

That’s how I’ve survived my first year at university, blending into the background.

I’m not a recluse, but I keep to myself.

I study, I go to class, I read in the corner of the library, and I go home.

No unnecessary interactions. No unnecessary attention.

That is, until he noticed me.

Pedri.

Everyone in our uni knows who he is. He’s that guy, the one with effortless charm, always surrounded by people.

Popular, not just because he’s good at football, but because he’s him. He moves through life with a kind of ease I can’t even imagine.

And yet, for some reason, he keeps looking at me.

I don’t get it. I don’t know what he sees.

At first, I ignore it. I convince myself I’m imagining things. But then, it happens again.

And again.

Until one day, he does more than just look.

It started off small.

"Hey," a voice says, casual but confident.

My highlighter sits on the page.

A thick streak of neon yellow bleeds over a sentence I was trying to mark, but my brain suddenly forgets how to function because someone is talking to me.

Slowly, very slowly, I turn my head.

He’s already sitting beside me, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A dark hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a grin that’s just a little too amused.

His presence feels loud, even though he’s not making any actual noise.

My first instinct? Escape.

My second? Stare.

I do both in rapid succession, my eyes flicking toward the exit, then warily back at him, as if assessing how much of a threat he poses.

He doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care.

"...Hi?" I say, but it comes out more like a question than a greeting.

His grin widens, like this is completely normal.

Like we talk all the time.

“You’re in my psychology class, right?”

I blink at him. That’s what this is about?

I nod once, not trusting my voice, because I don’t know why he’s here, or what he wants, and I hate not knowing things.

He leans back in his chair, completely at ease.

His dark eyes scan the open book in front of me, then flick back up to my face.

“You’re quiet.”

I exhale slowly through my nose. No shit.

I don’t reply.

I just wait. People like him, people who talk first and think later, usually get bored when they don’t get the response they want.

Any second now, he’ll lose interest. Any second now—

"Like, really quiet," he continues, undeterred.

His chin rests on his palm, elbow propped on the table, as if he’s studying me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a full sentence.”

I resist the urge to sigh. Or groan. Or bang my head against the table.

Instead, I press my lips together and attempt to salvage my poor, over-highlighted page.

"Maybe because I don’t have anything to say."

He chuckles, low and warm, like I’ve just told some inside joke we both share.

Except we don’t.

“I don’t buy that,” he says.

I glance at him again, this time with actual irritation.

"Why do you care?"

His shoulders lift in an easy shrug, like he hasn’t even considered the question before.

“I don’t know. You’re interesting.”

I actually laugh. A small, startled sound that slips out before I can stop it.

Not because he’s right, but because that has to be the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.

"I’m not interesting," I say, shaking my head.

"You just don’t know me well enough to be bored yet."

His smirk deepens. "See? That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile."

I roll my eyes and refocus on my book.

"Congratulations. You’ve unlocked a new achievement."

He leans forward slightly, like I’ve just confirmed something for him. "So you can be sarcastic. Good to know."

I bite back another sigh. He’s not leaving. He’s settling in.

For a moment, I consider my options.

I could:

A) Ignore him until he gets the hint. B) Pack up my stuff and relocate to another part of the library. C) Say something so cold and blunt that he’ll regret ever sitting here.

I’m still debating when he speaks again.

"You always sit here," he muses.

I glance at him. "What?"

"In the library. Right here. This exact table." He tilts his head, thinking.

"You come in, you pull out your books, you highlight the hell out of your pages, and you don’t talk to anyone."

I stare at him, my pulse kicking up a notch.

"Have you been watching me?"

He shrugs, completely unapologetic. "More like... noticing."

"That’s the same thing."

"Not really," he counters, that lazy smirk still in place.

"Watching is weird. Noticing is just, paying attention."

I frown, my grip tightening on my highlighter.

"Why are you paying attention to me?"

He tilts his head, considering. "I don’t know. Maybe I like mysteries."

I scoff. "I’m not a mystery."

"Debatable."

I shake my head and focus very intently on my book.

But the problem is, I can still feel him there, his gaze lingering, his presence impossible to ignore.

And for the first time in forever, I feel seen.

I hate it.

Pedri doesn’t leave me alone after that.

At first, I tell myself it’s a coincidence.

A fluke.

That first conversation in the library? A one-time thing.

A moment of fleeting curiosity on his part.

But then it happens again. And again. And again.

It starts small.

A casual wave when he spots me across campus.

At first, I ignore it, assuming he’s greeting someone behind me.

But when I glance over my shoulder and see no one there, I realize, he’s waving at me.

I don’t wave back.

But that doesn’t stop him.

The next time, he adds a grin to it. The time after that, he calls my name, loud enough that people turn to look.

(Which, obviously, mortifies me.)

Then, there’s class.

He used to sit on the other side of the room.

I know this because I used to specifically sit where I wouldn’t have to be around too many people.

But one day, Pedri is suddenly there, dropping into the seat next to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like he’s always been there.

I glance at him, suspicious. He just shrugs, pulling out his notebook.

"Better view from here."

I don’t buy that for a second, but I also don’t argue.

And then there are the conversations.

Or, more accurately, the ones he forces me into.

"So, what’s your verdict on our professor? Secretly a vampire, or just really hates sunlight?"

"If you had to survive on only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? And if you say something boring like ‘salad,’ I might actually cry."

"I bet you secretly have a list of people you’d commit crimes for. I respect it."

Some days, I ignore him completely.

Other days, his persistence wears me down, and I give in with a sigh.

"Pasta," I mumble one afternoon.

He blinks. "Huh?"

"If I had to survive on one food. Pasta."

His entire face lights up like I’ve just gifted him something.

"Yes! Solid answer. Now, important follow-up question: are we talking plain pasta, or are you a sauce person?"

I sigh again, but this time, it’s less annoying. Maybe even a little amused.

Just a little.

And that’s how it starts.

I don’t even realize it’s happening at first.

How, little by little, I stop avoiding him.

How my replies stretch from one-word answers to full sentences.

How my body relaxes when he shows up, instead of tensing like I used to.

How I catch myself looking for him in class before he even arrives.

I try to convince myself that it means nothing.

That it’s just habit. That he’s just there, and I’ve gotten used to it.

But habits don’t make my heart skip when I see him across the quad.

Habits don’t make me bite back a smile when he says something stupid.

Habits don’t make my chest ache in ways I don’t know how to handle.

And somehow—without me fully understanding how or when or why, we become friends.

Or something dangerously close to it.

And it terrifies me.

Because Pedri is warmth, and I am used to distance.

Because he is effortless, and I have spent my whole life trying to be untouchable.

Because the more time I spend with him, the more I feel.

And feelings?

Feelings are dangerous.

Then it started with an invitation,

A casual one. Like it’s no big deal.

"Hey, wanna grab lunch with me?"

I glance up from my book, blinking at Pedri like he just asked me to rob a bank with him.

"What?"

"Lunch," he repeats, standing beside my table with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

"You know, that thing people eat in the middle of the day?"

I roll my eyes. "I know what lunch is."

"Great. Then let’s go." He gestures toward the door like this is already decided.

I hesitate. "Why?"

"Because we both have to eat, and food is better with company," he says simply.

"And don’t say you weren’t planning to eat, because that would be tragic."

I chew on my bottom lip, searching for an excuse, any excuse, but nothing comes to mind.

Pedri doesn’t give me time to think too hard about it.

He reaches for my bag, lifting it from the table before I can protest.

"Come on," he says, grinning. "I promise not to bite."

I sigh, knowing I’ve already lost.

"Fine," I mumble. "But if this place is loud and crowded, I’m leaving."

He smirks. "Noted."

The restaurant he takes me to is small and tucked away, a quiet little place that somehow doesn’t feel overwhelming.

It’s warm inside, the air rich with the scent of fresh bread and spices.

There’s soft music playing in the background, and to my relief, no overwhelming crowd.

"See?" Pedri says as we step in. "Not too bad, right?"

I nod slowly. "It’s... nice."

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Told you I’d pick a good place."

We find a booth by the window, and for the first time, I feel oddly at ease.

We order our food, and somehow, Pedri keeps me engaged in conversation the entire time.

It’s easy. Effortless.

He talks about everything, his classes, his teammates, a hilarious story about how he once fell asleep in the middle of a Zoom lecture and got called out for it.

I laugh before I can stop myself.

He looks ridiculously proud of this accomplishment.

"You like my suffering," he accuses, eyes gleaming.

"I’m just impressed by your ability to sleep through an entire class," I tease.

Pedri gasps dramatically. "So she can joke. This is a breakthrough moment."

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.

We eat slowly, the conversation flowing without effort.

And it’s nice. Too nice.

Because for the first time in a long time, I feel something dangerously close to happy.

After lunch, Pedri suggests a walk.

I should say no. I should go back to my dorm, back to my safe space.

But instead, I find myself walking beside him, our steps slow and unhurried.

The campus is quieter now, the afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the trees. It feels peaceful.

We eventually find an empty bench near the park and sit down.

I exhale, tilting my head back slightly to feel the breeze on my skin.

Pedri watches me for a moment before speaking.

"You don’t let a lot of people in, do you?"

I glance at him. "That obvious?"

He shrugs. "I just notice things."

A beat of silence. Then—

"Why?" he asks softly.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I don’t usually talk about this. I don’t talk about myself at all.

But with Pedri, it feels... safe.

"I like peace," I admit finally. "I like being quiet. Being unnoticed. It’s easier."

Pedri stays silent, waiting. Letting me talk.

I take a breath.

"People... they take up space. They expect things. They need things. And I—" I pause, searching for the right words.

"I don’t know how to be what people need. So I just don’t try. So I won't end up getting hurt."

Pedri listens carefully, nodding like he understands.

I look down at my hands.

"I spent so long blending into the background that I guess I forgot how to be anything else."

Pedri exhales softly. When he speaks, his voice is gentle.

"I get that," he says.

I glance at him, surprised.

He leans back against the bench, gazing up at the sky.

"You know, people always assume I like attention just because I’m popular. Because I’m always around people, always talking."

I nod slightly. He’s right. I did assume that.

"But the truth is," he continues, "I don’t care about any of that."

I frown. "Then why—"

"Why you?" He turns his head to look at me. "Why did I notice you?"

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

Pedri smiles, but it’s softer this time. "Because you’re real."

I blink. "What?"

"Everyone else is so... loud," he says.

"Always trying to be something, trying to impress, trying to fit into whatever image they think they need to be."

He shifts slightly, his knee brushing against mine.

"But you? You’re just you," he murmurs. "And that’s rare."

My heart does something weird in my chest. I don’t like it.

Pedri studies my face for a moment, then sighs.

"Look, I know you like being on your own. I know you don’t trust people easily. And I get that. But..." He hesitates, then turns fully toward me.

"Give me a chance," he says.

I inhale sharply. "Pedri—"

"Just a chance," he insists.

"Let me prove to you that I’m not like everyone else. That I don’t just want something from you."

I bite my lip, staring at the ground.

"You scare me," I whisper.

He blinks. "Me?"

I nod. "Not in a bad way. Just... you make me feel things. And I don’t know how to handle that."

Pedri’s gaze softens, and he reaches out, hesitating for a second before lightly brushing his fingers against mine.

"You don’t have to handle it alone," he says gently.

"Let me in. Just a little."

I look at our hands, barely touching, then back at him.

His expression is so open, so earnest, that something in me cracks just a little.

Maybe just a little wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

I take a deep breath. Then, slowly, hesitantly, I nod.

Pedri smiles, squeezing my fingers lightly before pulling away, giving me space.

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel terrifying.

It happens gradually.

One moment, he’s just there, the way he always is, persistent, warm, impossible to ignore.

The next, he’s everywhere.

And suddenly, Pedri is mine.

Which is strange...

If you would've told me I would end up with the most popular guy of my uni, I would've straight up laughed in your face.

But, here we're... I guess.

It’s funny how quickly I get used to him.

To his presence, his warmth, the way he seamlessly fits into my life like he’s always been there.

And maybe it should scare me.

Maybe I should keep my distance, hold onto the walls I spent so long building.

But with Pedri, distance feels... impossible.

Because he refuses to be anything less than close.

It doesn’t take long for people to notice.

Because Pedri isn’t subtle. At all.

If anything, he seems to take genuine delight in shocking people.

Like the time we’re walking across campus, and he suddenly grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I freeze.

"Pedri—" I start, eyes darting around, but he just squeezes my hand.

"Relax," he murmurs, glancing down at me with a small smile.

"It’s just me."

I exhale slowly. It’s just him.

I tell myself to pull away, but I don’t.

And then I really regret it when I hear a group of students whispering nearby.

"Wait—are they holding hands?"

"No way. Pedri and y/n?"

"How did that even happen?"

I feel my entire face heat up, but Pedri? He doesn’t care at all.

If anything, he likes it.

Because the next day, when we’re sitting together in class, he casually reaches over and plays with my fingers under the desk.

Like it’s a habit.

Like he just wants to touch me.

"Pedri," I hiss quietly, trying to pull my hand away.

He smirks but tightens his grip. "You’re cute when you’re flustered."

I glare at him. "You’re annoying."

"And yet," he hums, "you still let me hold your hand."

Damn it.

Outside of school, it’s even worse.

Because Pedri doesn’t just want to see me in class, he wants to see me all the time.

"Are you free later?" he asks one afternoon.

I glance up from my notes. "Why?"

"Because I wanna see you," he says easily.

I blink. "You see me every day."

He grins. "Yeah, and?"

I sigh but don’t argue. Because, honestly?

I want to see him too.

Some nights, he comes over with zero warning.

Like when I’m sitting on my bed, fully prepared to spend my evening reading, and suddenly—

Knock, knock.

I groan, already knowing who it is.

When I open the door, Pedri is standing there with two cups of hot chocolate and a ridiculously pleased expression.

"You didn’t text me," I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Didn’t think I needed to," he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

I sigh. "What if I was busy?"

He flops onto my bed, looking completely at home. "Then I’d just sit here and wait for you to be un-busy."

I shake my head, but my lips twitch. I hate how much I like this.

One day, we’re supposed to grab lunch, but it starts pouring out of nowhere.

Pedri and I sprint across campus, completely drenched by the time we duck into the nearest café.

I groan, wringing out my hoodie. "Well, this sucks."

Pedri grins, shaking water from his hair like a golden retriever.

"Nah. I kinda like it."

"You like being soaked?" I deadpan.

"No," he chuckles. "I like that it means I get to stay here with you longer."

And damn it, he means it.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the way my heart clenches.

We sit by the window, watching the rain while sharing a plate of fries.

Pedri drapes his hoodie over my shoulders because I’m still shivering, and when I glance at him, he just shrugs.

"What’s mine is yours, princesa."

I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest doesn’t go away.

One night, we’re lying on my bed, facing each other in the soft glow of my bedside lamp.

It’s quiet, comfortable.

Pedri reaches out, tracing lazy patterns on my wrist.

"You ever think about what would’ve happened if I never sat next to you that day?" he murmurs.

I blink. "What?"

"In the library," he says. "If I never sat down. If I never talked to you or approached you. What do you think would’ve happened?"

I think about it for a second. "I guess... nothing."

Pedri frowns slightly.

"You wouldn’t have noticed me," I explain. "And I would’ve kept living my life the way I always have."

His grip on my wrist tightens slightly. "That’s a terrible answer."

I laugh softly. "It’s the truth."

"Well, I hate it," he says.

I tilt my head. "Why?"

Pedri exhales.

"Because I can’t imagine my life without you now," he murmurs. "And I don’t want to."

My breath catches.

He’s staring at me with so much emotion, like I’m the most important thing in his universe.

"I meant what I said," he continues softly.

"I don’t care that you’re quiet. I don’t care that you like being in the background. I don’t care that people think we don’t make sense."

His fingers brush against my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You make sense to me," he whispers.

I don’t know what to say.

Pedri smiles slightly like he can hear all the things I’m too scared to say.

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmurs.

"Just, promise me you won’t push me away."

I swallow. "Pedri..."

"Please," he breathes. "Just let me love you."

My chest tightens, the weight of his words settling deep inside me.

But instead of answering, I reach for him, fingers threading through his hair as I pull him closer.

His lips meet mine, slow, soft, certain, and in that moment, I know.

I know that Pedri is different.

I know that I’ve already fallen for him.

And for the first time in a long time,

I don’t want to run.

It’s a normal day at school.

Or at least, it should be.

Except nothing is ever normal when you’re dating Pedri.

We’re sitting outside on one of the campus benches, a rare moment of peace in between classes.

I’m trying to eat my lunch, but Pedri, ever the distraction, is making that very difficult.

"You’re not even paying attention to me," he pouts, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Because I’m eating," I say, taking another bite of my sandwich.

"But I’m right here."

"And?"

"And I require attention."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t hide my smile.

Pedri grins, clearly pleased with himself.

He reaches up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, then lets his fingers trail down my arm before entwining our hands together.

"Better," he hums, like this was the missing piece of his day.

I shake my head but squeeze his hand anyway.

For a moment, it’s quiet, and comfortable, like it always is with him.

And then he drops a bombshell.

"So, I was thinking... you should come to my parents’ house this weekend."

I nearly choke on my drink. "Wait—what?"

"To my parents’ house," he repeats easily as if he’s asking me to grab a coffee, not meet his entire family.

"For dinner. Just something casual."

Casual?

Meeting his parents is casual?!

My brain short-circuits.

"Pedri, I—" I pause, exhaling. "That’s... a big step."

He tilts his head, studying me. "Is it?"

"Yes," I say, nodding vigorously.

"I mean, it’s your family. What if they don’t like me?"

Pedri immediately frowns, turning his entire body towards me.

"First of all, there’s literally no way they won’t like you."

I bite my lip, looking down at my hands. "You don’t know that."

"Yes, I do," he says firmly.

"You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and—" He pauses, squeezing my hand.

"And you make me happy. That’s all they need to know."

I feel my heart clench.

Damn him. Damn him and his words that make me weak.

I hesitate for a few more seconds before exhaling. "Okay... I’ll go."

His face lights up, and suddenly, I know I made the right choice.

"Good," he says smugly.

"Because if you said no, I was gonna beg."

I snort. "I would’ve made you suffer a little first."

"That’s mean."

"That’s justice."

Pedri grins, tugging me closer. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

That weekend, I stood in front of my mirror, stressing out.

What do you wear to meet your boyfriend’s parents?

I don’t want to be too formal and look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to look like I just threw on the first thing I found.

After way too much debating, I settle on something simple yet cute, just enough effort to look put-together.

And right on cue, my phone buzzes.

Pedri: I’m outside <3

I grab my bag, take a deep breath, and head out.

As soon as I open the door, I see him leaning against his car, arms crossed, a lazy grin spreading across his face the moment he sees me.

"Wow," he whistles, giving me an obvious once-over.

I shift on my feet, suddenly self-conscious. "What?"

"You look—" He pauses, stepping closer. "Beautiful."

My face heats up. "Shut up."

"I’m serious," he murmurs, eyes shining.

"My mom’s gonna love you even more now."

I roll my eyes but smile as he opens the car door for me.

As we drive, I feel the nerves creeping in again.

My hands rest stiffly on my lap, and I stare out the window, chewing on my lip.

Pedri notices immediately.

Without a word, he reaches over and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers.

"Breathe, princesa," he murmurs.

I exhale shakily. "I just don’t want to mess this up."

"You won’t."

"How do you know?"

Pedri lifts our joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.

"Because you’re you," he says simply.

And just like that, some of the nerves fade.

As soon as we arrive, Pedri barely has time to knock before the door swings open, revealing his mother.

"Hola, cariño!" she exclaims, pulling Pedri into a tight hug, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

He laughs, hugging her back. "Hola, mamá."

Then, her eyes land on me.

And suddenly, I forget how to breathe.

"And this must be y/n, the girl I’ve heard so much about," she says warmly, her gaze kind and curious.

I hesitate for a moment before stepping forward, offering a polite smile. "Hi, it’s really nice to meet you."

To my surprise, her face softens even more before she pulls me into a gentle hug.

"Oh, you’re adorable," she murmurs before pulling away.

"Come in, come in."

As we step inside, I glance at Pedri, who is smirking at me like he knew this would happen.

He leans down, whispering, "Told you she’d love you."

I glare at him, nudging him with my elbow, but the warmth in my chest doesn’t fade.

The house is warm and inviting, decorated with framed pictures of Pedri and his family.

Some are from his childhood, others more recent, like his love for football evident in every corner.

I take a moment to glance at one of the shelves, where several of his trophies and awards sit proudly.

"You’re staring, princesa," Pedri teases, nudging my shoulder.

"It’s just weird seeing your entire life displayed like this," I murmur.

Before he can reply, a deep voice cuts through the room.

"So this is the famous girl?"

I turn to see Fernando, Pedri’s older brother, leaning against the doorway with an amused expression.

"The one and only," Pedri says smugly, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

I shoot him a look but manage a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you."

Fernando nods, eyeing Pedri. "Well, I have to say, I’m impressed. I thought you were just making her up."

I snort, while Pedri glares. "I hate you."

"Love you too, hermano."

His mother shakes her head, laughing. "Boys, enough. Let’s eat."

Dinner is incredible, and not just the food (which is honestly some of the best I’ve ever had).

Pedri’s mom made a full spread, and every bite tastes like it was cooked with love.

"This is amazing," I say, genuinely in awe.

His mom beams. "Thank you, cariño. Eat as much as you want."

"Careful," Fernando jokes. "She’ll try to adopt you if you say that too many times."

Pedri smirks. "Too late. She’s already mine."

I nearly choke on my drink.

His mother laughs while Fernando groans.

"God, you’re embarrassing."

Pedri shrugs, completely unfazed, squeezing my knee under the table.

Throughout the meal, his parents ask me questions, not in an overwhelming way, but enough to show that they’re genuinely interested in getting to know me.

His dad is quieter but still warm, occasionally chiming in with a question or a story about Pedri as a kid.

"Did he tell you he used to cry when he lost board games?" his dad asks, smirking.

I light up. "No, but I love that."

Pedri groans, slumping in his chair. "Why are we exposing me?"

"Because it’s fun," Fernando says, grinning.

I giggle, and Pedri shoots me a betrayed look.

"You’re supposed to be on my side," he mutters.

"I am," I say sweetly. "Just... not right now."

After dinner, I insist on helping with the dishes.

"Oh, no, cariño, you’re a guest," his mother says, waving me off.

"Please," I say, offering a small smile. "I want to help."

She eyes me for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But only because you asked so nicely."

As we stand by the sink, washing plates, she suddenly speaks up.

"You know," she starts, her tone thoughtful, "I wasn’t a fan of the other girls Pedri has dated."

I blink, glancing at her. "Oh?"

She nods, rinsing a dish.

"They only wanted him for his name and popularity. But you... you seem different."

I swallow. "I just like him for who he is."

She smiles softly. "I know. And that’s why I like you."

Something warm blooms in my chest.

"You’re good for him," she continues.

"He’s always been surrounded by people who want something from him. But with you? I see the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you."

She pauses, drying her hands before turning to face me.

"I can tell you care about him."

I nod, my throat feeling tight. "I do. A lot."

She smiles, patting my hand. "Then that’s all I need to know."

As we drive back, Pedri is grinning like an idiot.

"That went amazing," he says, eyes flickering to me.

"It did," I admit.

"See? You worried for nothing."

I sigh. "Yeah, yeah. You were right."

He gasps dramatically. "Wait, say that again?"

"I will never repeat it."

He laughs, reaching over to squeeze my thigh. "I’m proud of you, princesa."

I glance at him. "Why?"

"Because I know this wasn’t easy for you," he says softly.

"But you did it. And my mom loves you. My dad and Fernando too."

I bite my lip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "But more importantly, I love you."

My heart stops.

Pedri, realizing what he just said, suddenly tenses.

"Wait—" His eyes widen. "I mean—"

I laugh softly. "It’s okay, Pedri."

He swallows. "I just... I love you, okay? And I don’t care if that scares you. I’m not going anywhere."

I look at him, really look at him, and feel something inside me settle.

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I reach over, lacing my fingers with his.

"Drive, Pedri," I whisper.

He exhales, squeezing my hand. "I’ll wait for you, princesa. However long it takes."

And as we head home, I realize—

I don’t think it’ll take very long at all.

It was another boring uni day. A day full of back-to-back classes.

I’m in the library, stacking my books neatly into my arms, already mentally preparing for my next class.

My mind is quiet, calm, focused on anything but him.

Pedri had texted me this morning, telling me he had early practice and would see me later.

"Have a good day, princesa ❤️ Miss you."

I had smiled when I read it.

I shouldn’t have.

I adjust my grip on the books and turn toward the exit. Then I hear it.

Laughter. Loud voices.

At first, I don’t think anything of it. Until I hear my name.

I stop. My heart stutters.

I tell myself it’s nothing, that maybe I misheard, that maybe it’s just some random conversation.

But then a voice cuts through the noise, A voice I know better than anyone else’s.

His voice.

Pedri.

My stomach twists, my fingers tightening around the books as I take a cautious step forward.

The voices are coming from the hallway just ahead, around the corner.

I shouldn’t listen. I shouldn’t. But I do.

"Bro, you’re actually still with her?" one of his friends cackles.

"I swear I thought this was just a bet or some shit."

Pedri laughs.

That’s the first stab.

"Nah, man. No bet."

"Then what the fuck is it?" someone else scoffs. "There’s no way you’re actually into her."

Pedri lets out a low chuckle. "Come on, man. You really think I’d go for a girl like that?"

A girl like that.

"Exactly," another voice chimes in.

"She’s fucking boring, bro. Always sitting in the back, never talking, just reading like she’s in some old-ass novel or something. You could have literally anyone, why waste time on her?"

"It’s not like that," Pedri says easily. "She’s just… convenient."

The air leaves my lungs.

"Convenient?" one of his friends laughs. "What, like a little charity case?"

Pedri doesn’t deny it.

He fucking laughs.

"Nah, it’s just easy, you know?" he shrugs.

"She doesn’t ask for much. Doesn’t complain. Doesn’t make a big deal out of shit. I don’t have to try too hard."

"So you’re with her because she’s easy?"

Pedri snickers.

"More like… low maintenance. She’s quiet, doesn’t bother me when I’m busy, doesn’t start drama. It’s just chill. I don’t have to worry about her blowing up my phone or expecting too much."

I feel sick.

"Damn, so you’re basically keeping her around for convenience?"

"I mean, yeah," Pedri mutters. "She’s just... there. It’s not that deep."

The laughter erupts around him.

I think I might throw up.

"Fucking knew it," one of them howls. "You had us thinking you were actually in love with her or some shit."

Pedri laughs harder.

"Come on, man. You really think I’d fall for her?"

My heart shatters.

I can’t listen anymore. I can’t.

The pain is too much, the walls around me caving in, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

I need to get out of here.

I don’t know how long I stand there.

Seconds? Minutes?

Everything is a blur.

Their laughter rings in my ears, mocking me, haunting me.

Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

I won’t let them have that power over me. My body moves on its own. One step.

Then another.

Then I’m walking away.

I don’t care where I’m going.

I just need to get the hell out of there.

I don’t go to my next class. I don’t care about my next class. I walk. Fast.

Away from the library, away from the voices, away from the truth clawing at my chest.

I feel numb.

Like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and I’m just walking around with a hollow, empty space inside me.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

I don’t check it. I don’t need to. It’s him. It has to be. I ignore it.

I ignore the ache in my chest, the sting behind my eyes, the lump in my throat that makes it hard to breathe.

I just keep walking.

By the time I finally return to my dorm, the sky is a deep shade of blue, the sun barely peeking over the horizon.

I close the door behind me, my body exhausted, drained.

And then there’s a knock. I hesitate, my pulse spiking.

I already know who it is.

I take a slow, shaky breath, gripping the door handle before pulling it open.

Pedri stands there.

His brows are furrowed, concern laced into every inch of his face.

"What the hell, Y/N?" he asks immediately. "Why haven’t you been answering me all day?"

I stare at him.

He looks so… confused. Like he has no idea what he did.

That makes me angrier.

"Go away, Pedri."

His eyes widen slightly. "What? No. What’s going on? Did something happen?"

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your friends?"

He freezes. And I see it.

I see the exact moment realization hits.

His lips part slightly, but no words come out.

"Yeah," I say, voice shaking. "I heard you. I heard everything."

"Princesa—"

"Don’t." I take a step back. "Just don’t."

His jaw clenches. "I didn’t mean it."

I laugh again, but it hurts.

"Right," I nod. "Because saying I’m just some joke? Saying you’re pretending to like me? That just… accidentally came out of your mouth?"

"It’s not like that," he says quickly, stepping forward. "Please, Y/n. Just let me explain."

"Explain what?" I snap. "That I’m just some quiet, boring idiot who actually believed you cared about me?"

He flinches.

"That’s not true," he says, his voice softer now.

"It doesn’t matter," I whisper.

"It does."

"No, Pedri. It really doesn’t."

I exhale shakily, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze one last time.

"I can’t do this anymore."

His breath catches. "What?"

"We’re done."

I step back, my hands shaking as I close the door in his face.

For a few seconds, I don’t move.

I don’t breathe.

And then I hear it—

A soft, desperate whisper from the other side of the door.

"Please don’t leave me."

Tears stream down my face.

But I don’t open the door.

And I don’t look back.

The days blur together, a mess of sleepless nights and suffocating thoughts.

I barely eat, barely leave my dorm, barely exist outside of my own mind.

Every time I close my eyes, I hear his voice.

Every time I let my thoughts wander, I remember the way his words sliced through me like a blade.

My phone buzzes constantly, but I ignore it.

At first, I let it ring, let the messages pile up, let his name flash across my screen like a cruel reminder of what happened.

But he doesn’t stop.

"Y/n, please." "At least talk to me." "I need to explain." "I miss you."

Every day, every hour, his messages come in, desperate and persistent.

And every time, I stare at them with tears burning in my eyes, fingers hovering over the screen before I lock my phone and shove it under my pillow.

Then, after a few days, I finally block him.

I expect that to be the end of it.

But Pedri doesn’t give up so easily.

It starts with soft knocks on my door, hesitant at first, then firmer when I don’t answer.+

I stay curled up in bed, biting my lip to keep from crying out in frustration.

Then, when I wake up one morning and open my door, I see flowers.

A bouquet of my favorite ones, left neatly against the doorframe.

The first time, I hesitate.

The second time, I stare at them for a long time before stepping over them.

The third time, I pick them up, hold them in my hands for a moment, and then drop them in the trash.

And yet, the next day, there’s another bouquet.

Every single day, without fail, there’s a new one waiting for me. And every time, I feel my resolve cracking a little bit more.

But I’m not ready.

I don’t even know if I ever will be.

One week later, I finally force myself to go back to school.

I can’t hide forever.

I tell myself I’ve had time to heal, that I’ve built up enough strength to walk these halls without feeling like I’m suffocating under the weight of my own emotions.

That I can handle seeing him again.

But the second I step onto campus, my chest tightens, and my heart pounds against my ribcage like it’s trying to escape.

I keep my head down, moving quickly, avoiding eye contact, avoiding him.

But I can feel it. His presence. His eyes.

I know he’s seen me. I don’t look.

I don’t want to see the desperation in his expression, don’t want to acknowledge the way my stomach twists painfully at the thought of him standing somewhere nearby, watching me, waiting.

I force myself through class, focus on my notes, pretend everything is normal even though nothing is normal anymore.

But later, as I leave my last lecture, I barely take two steps before I feel it—

A hand gently grabbing my wrist, pulling me back.

I freeze.

His touch is familiar, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll run.

"Y/n."

His voice is quiet, raw, holding a plea that makes my throat tighten.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before finally turning around, my expression carefully blank.

Pedri stands there, looking at me like I’m the most important thing in the world and he’s terrified he’s already lost me.

"Please," he says softly, his fingers still around my wrist. "Just let me explain."

I exhale slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. "There’s nothing to explain, Pedri."

"Yes, there is," he insists, stepping closer.

His hold on my wrist loosens, but he doesn’t let go completely, like he’s afraid that if he does, I’ll disappear.

"Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking."

I hesitate, my mind screaming at me to walk away. But something in his eyes, something so painfully real, holds me in place.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "Fine. Five minutes."

He pulls me aside to a quieter part of campus, away from the crowd, away from prying eyes.

I stand stiffly, my arms still crossed, my body tense like I’m ready to run at any second.

"I never meant what I said," he starts immediately. "I swear to you, Y/n. I didn’t mean a single fucking word of it."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Right. You just happened to say all those things for fun? Just to impress your asshole friends?"

"No," he says quickly, shaking his head. "It wasn’t for fun. It was to protect you."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"Those guys? They’re not my friends. They never were. But they have a way of making people’s lives hell. I knew that if I admitted how much I cared about you, they’d go after you. Mock you. Make your life miserable. I thought if I played it off, if I made it seem like I didn’t care, they’d lose interest and leave you alone. Trust me Y/n iy happened before and it had gotten really ugly. I didn't want that to happen to the person I love."

I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "You really think that justifies what you said?"

"No," he admits, his voice softer. "It doesn’t. I was an idiot. I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you to understand. But I swear to you, Y/n, I would never actually think those things about you."

"Be a fucking man Pedri and instead of doing this shit stand up for the person you supposedly love. You're nothing but a pussy."

I swallow, my emotions warring inside me. I don’t know what to feel.

So I leave. Again.

Later that day,

It all happens too quickly.

One moment, I’m walking across campus, lost in my own thoughts, and the next, there’s chaos.

A crowd gathers around a scene near the student quad. Loud shouts and yells fill the air.

My heart skips a beat as I push through the mass of students, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s going on.

I’m not expecting to see what I do.

There’s Pedri.

His fists are flying, and the guy he’s fighting, the asshole, is holding his jaw, clearly stunned.

But Pedri doesn’t stop. He throws another punch, fury in his eyes. I see the red in his face, the anger, and it’s not just at the guy. It’s everything. The hurt. The frustration.

The last few weeks have been hell for both of us, but in this moment, it’s all coming out.

His fists are like his words, punching through everything that’s built up, everything that’s been left unsaid.

But I can’t watch it anymore. I’ve seen enough violence in my life to know when things are about to spiral.

“Pedri! Stop!” I shout, pushing through the crowd to grab his arm, pulling him back.

He jerks his head towards me, his expression wild, eyes wide with a mix of rage and confusion.

I hold onto his arm tightly, trying to calm him down.

I don’t know why I’m even doing this for him, but it’s like I’m drawn to him, like I can’t just walk away.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but slowly, the fight drains out of him as he looks into my eyes.

His breath is ragged, and his hands are clenched into tight fists, knuckles covered in blood.

“Are you stupid?” I mutter, my hands trembling slightly as I grab his arm and pull him away from the scene.

The crowd disperses, some murmuring, others filming with their phones.

Pedri doesn't fight me.

He lets me drag him away, and somehow, I find myself leading him into the first-aid room, a small quiet space where the tension in my chest can finally loosen, even if just a little.

I shove him onto the chair and kneel down, rummaging through the first aid kit.

“Why do you do this?” I ask, my voice shaking. I try to stay calm, but my hands are shaking as I pull out the bandages.

I clean his bloody knuckles carefully, avoiding looking at him too much. I can’t let myself soften. Not yet.

He sighs deeply, his voice low, raw. “He was talking shit about you again. That guy, he just won’t leave you alone. I had to make it stop.”

My heart sinks, and I bite my lip hard. I don’t know how to feel. My stomach churns.

Why did he feel the need to fight again? Why did he let it get this far?

“But why do you keep doing this?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"I... I don’t understand, Pedri. You say you care, but you keep pushing me away in the worst ways possible."

Pedri doesn’t answer right away. He stares at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed as though he’s considering every word carefully.

I can see the guilt in his eyes, the regret, the desperation. He wants me to understand. He needs me to.

“I—” He hesitates, his voice cracking slightly.

“I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you were a joke. I thought... I thought I was protecting you, Y/n. From people who wouldn’t appreciate you the way I do. Those guys... They’ll never understand how much you mean to me. But they will hurt you if they think you matter to me."

I’m speechless, blinking at him. There’s a part of me that wants to scream, to tell him he’s full of shit, but the truth in his eyes catches me off guard.

He’s being real, and it’s so hard for me to reconcile that with the image of the guy I heard talking shit about me, degrading me, the guy I’ve been blocking out of my life for a week.

“You should’ve told me that before, Pedri.” I swallow hard.

My voice trembles with the weight of everything.

“Instead of... doing that. I don’t understand why you had to hurt me first.”

He doesn’t look away. He looks... guilty.

“I didn’t know how to explain. I didn’t want you to think I was using you as some kind of... shield or something. But I wasn’t. I swear, I wasn’t.”

His eyes soften as he gently reaches for my hand, his touch so careful now, like I might shatter at any second.

I pull away, feeling the heat of his gaze burn into me.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you yet, Pedri,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath.

“You hurt me too much. And... I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel anymore.”

He nods, his lips pressing together in frustration. “I’ll do anything to make it right. I don’t care what it takes.”

I turn away, my heart heavy, my thoughts too tangled to untangle.

It’s not so simple anymore. I don’t know if it ever will be.

I walk away, feeling like a piece of me is being pulled in two different directions.

The days that follow are both long and quiet. The silence between Pedri and me feels deafening, like an invisible wall built higher with every moment.

He’s not giving up on me, though. Not even close.

It’s hard for me to stay distant. Hard for me to ignore him.

But it feels like I have no other choice. Every time I open my phone, I see his name.

Every time I hear a knock on my dorm door, I know it’s him. But I don’t answer. I won’t.

Still, something is different now. I notice his absence more than I expect.

The void he left in my life isn’t easy to fill. His quiet persistence is eating at me, but I won’t let it show. Not yet.

Pedri, however, doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up.

At first, it’s small gestures. One morning, I find a handwritten note slipped under my door.

Just his name at the bottom, a few simple words.

“I’m sorry. Please give me a chance to prove I’m worth it.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen him so vulnerable. He’s always been confident, cocky even.

But this? This is different. I can feel the weight of his apology in the paper, and I fold it carefully, slipping it into my pocket.

Then, the flowers start.

He leaves them outside my dorm door every evening, sometimes daisies, sometimes sunflowers, always with a small note attached that says the same thing, “I’m sorry. Let me make it right.”

I feel the pull to just let him back in, but I resist. I’m not ready. I’m still broken.

Days go by, and I finally decide to leave my dorm to go to class. I walk through campus, trying to focus on the routine, trying to shut out everything else.

But I can’t. Pedri’s presence is everywhere.

I see him talking to the guys he used to hang out with, but now he’s different. He’s distant. Not laughing. Not joking around.

I can see it in the way he avoids eye contact, the way he doesn’t engage with them anymore.

His posture is closed off, like he’s shutting something down. I don’t know what it means, but something stirs in me.

Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s hope.

That’s when I notice it, his transformation.

Pedri has made a point to distance himself from the very people who encouraged him to hurt me.

He doesn’t hang out with those friends anymore. The ones who always made fun of me, belittled me, and tried to convince him I wasn’t “good enough.”

The ones who laughed at my expense and pushed him to do the same.

He’s even going out of his way to take different routes on campus, avoiding his old crew altogether.

It’s subtle at first, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. He’s proving to me, in the smallest ways, that he’s changing.

That he’s fighting for something that matters more than his pride.

One day, I’m walking to class when I hear footsteps behind me. A familiar voice calls my name.

“Y/n.”

I don’t turn around, pretending like I didn’t hear him.

He’s been trying to talk to me for days, but every time I shut him down. It’s easier that way.

It’s safer.

But then, he’s right beside me, his presence undeniable.

“Please, just let me explain,” Pedri says, his voice low. There’s a softness in it now, no trace of arrogance. Just sincerity.

I finally stop, reluctantly meeting his eyes. He’s standing there, his expression full of regret, but something else, too, determination.

“I’m listening,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I... I’ve been thinking about everything,” he starts, hesitating, as if searching for the right words.

“I was an idiot, Y/n. I should’ve never listened to them, and I should’ve never pushed you away like I did. I wasn’t protecting you. I was just being selfish. And I never should’ve treated you like you were second best. I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

His words hit me hard, and I want to yell at him. To tell him that his apology doesn’t fix anything.

But the truth is, he’s right. He was selfish. And I was hurt.

But there’s something about him, something in the way he’s looking at me now, that makes me wonder if he really means it.

“I don’t know, Pedri,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You say you’re sorry, but it doesn’t undo everything. It doesn’t fix what you said or what you did.”

“I know,” he replies quickly.

“And I’m not asking for you to forgive me right away. I’m asking for a chance to show you that I can do better. That I can be the person you deserve. But I need you to trust me. I need you to let me prove it.”

For a moment, we stand there in silence, my mind racing with all the things I’m still unsure about.

But then I notice it, the genuine effort in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice. He’s not just saying the right things.

He’s living it.

“I’ll prove it to you every day,” he says, his voice firm.

“I’ve already cut ties with the guys who put you down. I don’t need people like that in my life. They can think whatever they want, but you? You matter. You always have. I’ll prove that to you, Y/n. I swear.”

I swallow hard, his words breaking through my walls. I want to stay angry.

I want to stay hurt. But everything in me is telling me that maybe, just maybe, he’s worth another chance.

“I don’t know if I can trust you yet,” I whisper.

“But... I’ll try. Slowly.”

Pedri’s eyes light up, and for the first time in weeks, I see a glimpse of the boy I used to know.

“That’s all I need. Just a chance.”

From that day on, I watch him like a hawk.

Pedri is relentless. He’s not just sending flowers or leaving notes anymore, he’s putting in real effort.

He spends his free time sitting with me in the library, helping me with schoolwork, never pushing for anything more.

Every time I see him talking to his old friends, he’s distant, his back turned, never engaging with the people who once made him feel like he was better than me.

He’s proving to me, with every small action, that he’s serious.

One day, as we sit in the park near campus, he looks at me quietly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

“I know it’s not enough,” he says softly,

“but I hope one day you’ll look at me and see someone who actually cares. Someone who will fight for you, no matter what.”

I look at him then, really look at him, and for the first time in a long while, I believe it.

He’s not perfect. He might have messed up. But he’s doing everything he can to make it right.

“Okay,” I whisper, my heart beating faster. “I’ll let you try.”

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for now.

A few months later,

the tension between Pedri and me starts to ease. He’s patient, more so than I’ve ever seen him.

And with every day that passes, he seems to be putting more and more effort into proving that he’s not just saying the words.

He’s showing it.

But there’s something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Pedri hasn’t stopped trying to make things right, and it’s clear he’s not giving up on us.

It’s not just the grand gestures anymore, but the small, thoughtful ones, like leaving me my favorite coffee in the library, or texting me random jokes in the middle of the day to make me smile. (bare minimum fr)

And when I finally start to look at him again, I can see it. There’s real change in him.

And so, when he asks if I’ll go out with him on a date, I don’t say no.

But I don’t expect what happens next.

It’s a Saturday evening, and Pedri messages me earlier in the day, asking me to meet him at 6 PM sharp.

When I arrive at the spot he texted me, the park near campus, I’m greeted with something that takes my breath away.

There, in front of me, is a blanket spread out on the grass. The soft glow of fairy lights surrounds the area, strung between trees, creating a romantic little nook in the middle of the park.

On the blanket, there’s a picnic basket, candles, and even my favorite flowers, lilies, pink and white, arranged in a vase.

It’s not what I expected from him. At all.

Pedri stands beside it all, hands in his pockets, looking nervous as hell.

His eyes light up when he sees me, and for the first time in ages, I see a boy who’s trying harder than anyone ever has to make me feel special.

“Y/n,” he says, his voice shaky but hopeful.

“I know I’ve messed up. But I wanted to show you... that I’m serious about this. About us.”

I stand there for a moment, blinking at the effort he’s put into this.

The last time we were together like this, things were so different.

It feels like we’ve both come a long way.

“Are you serious?” I ask, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

“I’ve never seen you do anything like this before.”

“I know,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But you deserve something better than what I gave you. You deserve to feel appreciated. And not just with words, but with actions. I know this isn’t enough, but... I hope it’s a start.”

I can’t help but smile, my heart beating a little faster as I walk over to him.

“I think it’s a perfect start, Pedri.”

He grins, relief flooding his features.

“I’m glad. I thought I might’ve messed it up with the flowers and all that.”

“Honestly? It’s the most effort anyone’s ever put into a date for me,”

I admit, my voice soft, but sincere.

Pedri chuckles, and his eyes soften.

“Well, then I guess I’m doing something right.”

We sit down on the blanket, and the evening goes from awkward to comfortable, and then, as the conversation flows, it becomes something even more.

We talk about everything, the past, the mistakes, the ways we’ve grown.

We laugh about stupid stuff, and he even admits to being terrible at making dinner (something I’d suspected from the start, but now it’s confirmed).

He makes a joke about how he can barely toast bread without burning it, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll cook for you sometime,” he says with a playful grin. “And you can judge my terrible cooking skills.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow. “But sure. I’ll take you up on that.”

We settle into a comfortable silence for a while, just listening to the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

It feels... nice. Simple. And yet, it’s everything I’ve been wanting. I can feel the trust building again, piece by piece.

“Y/n,” he says quietly after a long pause, turning to face me.

“I know I messed up. But I need you to know that I would do anything to make things right. I’ll spend every day proving to you that you’re the one I want, the one I need.”

I look into his eyes, eyes full of sincerity, full of hope, and for the first time in a long while, I believe him.

“Okay,” I whisper, my heart thudding in my chest. “I’ll give you that chance.”

Pedri’s eyes widen, and a grin spreads across his face so fast it takes me by surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I say with a playful smile. “But only if you promise to keep the flowers coming.”

He laughs, his face lighting up like I’ve just given him the biggest gift in the world.

“Done. I’ll keep the flowers and the dates coming. Just don’t leave me again, okay?”

I laugh softly, nudging him again. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“And you’re lucky I’m good at dates,” he grins, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“Otherwise, I’d be in serious trouble.”

“Oh, you’re already in serious trouble,” I tease back, rolling my eyes.

“But I guess I’ll give you another chance. For now.”

Pedri leans back, throwing his arms around me in a mock dramatic fashion.

“I’ll make the most of it, I promise! I’ll win you over... one bad joke at a time.”

I can’t help but laugh as I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body next to mine.

It’s easy now. It’s natural.

“I’ll hold you to that, Pedri,” I say softly, closing my eyes for a moment.

And for the first time in months, everything feels right again.

The end

#football imagine #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri fluff #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri angst #pedri gonzalez #football x reader #football fanfic #fc barcelona x reader #barcelona x reader #barca x reader

62 notes · View notes

skynights2 · 3 days ago

Text

Rich and Patty hall- Husband and Wife=Huggy and Kissy update

(spoiler chapter 4 near end)

so far

Chapter 2 confirms Rich has a note with hearts to call patty hall.

Chapter 3 Rich mentions he has a wife, and he is trying to be better for her! So with the in game clue left for us. Small piece each chapter. This points to Rich and patty being husband and wife as a strong Possibility. The only two character who are married in the employee list that we know of from the documents/vhs tapes.. Also noted Rich last name is never revealed and his year date on vhs. So this could mean slow big reveal.

It's never confirmed why Patty was defiant against the company.. But if Rich is the first who goes missing.. Then his wife would most likely get frustrated with no one knowing where Rich went. and we know from chapter 4 vhs they confirm they cover up missing people who worked in poppy playco company.. So patty not gonna get any answers unless she get their attention.. and she did...when they sent her to storage B, where we know Kissy is stored.. As documents state Patty hall has been dealt with...

Though not fully- As even when she becomes Kissy she still helping us the player, breaking the rules against the company that took her husband and also turned her into toy.

I am not sure Rich-huggy is aware of his wife fate... notice in game. both the bigger bodies of Huggy and Kissy have not interacted all game.

Rich statement- he trying to be better for her, his wife who he loves.. I could see this might be the turning point for rich/huggy turning on the prototype.

Also interesting thing in chapter 3 Rich mention he feels like everyone out to get him before he promoted..

From the doey clue, I think he might found huggy and patched him up. As when doey sees kissy. He is shocked and mentions to get the medic. They are also short supply down there.

Though other strong possibility is rich repaired himself with duct tape. As we know he worked in shipping, and what do box need when closed? tape and lots of it.

What could be end goal for Huggy and Kissy fate though in probably the last chapter?

Well from clue it's possible Patty was thinking of adoption, and Rich was aware. As chapter 3 Kissy is shown looking at one the children picture-possible one of the kids she would adopted if not turned into kissy.

And we do have a child, that being Poppy.

Poppy is a child as even in recent vhs tapes she states she misses her dad. When poppy starts to have a breakdown. Kissy concern for poppy over her own fear shows. Showing patty care for the child breaking infront of her. In the newest tapes Rich is shown looking out for his younger employee. and calls him kid. So to me this shows rich and patty might have adopted a child if not what happen to both of them. As in chapter 3 kissy was shown aggressive when we neared the abandons orphanage area.. And she know what they do the children in here.

As kissy stays behind to follow poppy and protect her from the prototype. She shows concern like a mother looking out for her child.

As we see her hang on the cliff ledge after she looses her right arm. choosing to stay behind and go after Poppy.

kinda symbolic now both of them have lost their arm. Kissy right arm, and Huggy left arm.

The only thing left is to See if Rich realize his Wife is also down here with him... Maybe they threaten Rich to behave or they turn his wife like they did him.. Rich did escape to some unknown house.. probably his house.. where he and patty lived.. Trying to go back to her.. but probably realizing his appearance would scare her nor would she recognize him while she was still human at the time.

Would explain Rich anger issue/behavior doing 180 for the company. Better for his wife safety. once they realized. He was patient all those years and showed no mercy in the hour of joy..

I think in the end when they reunite, after learning the truth.. Could maybe get them fixed up by the player, and poppy is adopted by Rich and patty..

#poppy playtime #poppy #kissy missy #rich #patty hall #storage b #theory #theories #chapter 4 #poppy playtime chapter 4 theory

76 notes · View notes

taelophone · 18 hours ago

Text

Oblivion ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝˚.⋆⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Oblivious!Reader ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ CWs: Reader is violently oblivious like so clueless . Corny Flirting . Neurodivergence in Luigi . Slight angst ? ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ I played w the fourth wall a bit lol

What is she doing to me, man?

I mean, wait wait wait—! Before you switch, just listen to me for a second, okay? I’ve been trying to get with this girl I love for the past three years, and she hasn’t even acknowledged any of my attempts!

If she weren’t into me, I'd expect her to at least bring it up later, right? Ask me to clarify, say she doesn’t see me like that, or god forbid say it makes her feel uncomfortable.

But you haven’t! Every time I make a flirty comment, you just giggle and say I’m too kind! I’ve never once thought I was bad at flirting, but are my lines just not hitting like they used to?

Even now, as I’m walking you home, you’ve got your arm wrapped around mine while I talk about a robotics competition I did when I was fifteen that ultimately changed the course of my life and sparked a permanent interest in computer science. But all that seemed to travel through Luigi’s mind was whether or not you liked him back!

You nodded, hanging onto his every word as the hard rubber soles of your pink Jordan dunks step-step-stepped on the thick and heavy slabs of concrete. He seemed to really like telling you about his interests and achievements— not that you didn’t want to hear about them— but you just wondered why he seemed to love talking about academics so much around you.

But anyway, that’s beside the point. You and Luigi have been great friends for around four years now, and things were just amazing!

He bought you little candles, cute room decor, candy, new shoes, pretty rings, necklaces with your initials, and your favorite flowers all wrapped up in pink parchment! He was the best guy friend a girl could ask for, really, but that was a part of the problem.

He was so amazing in ways that other men in your life had never even come close to being before. From remembering little things about your interests to all the many dollars he had spent on spools of plastic for his 3D printer, gifting you elaborate custom-made plastic trinkets and “forever flowers,” as he liked to call them.

He was smart, funny, witty, and left your mind melting in his wake every time he graced your mornings with a random Starbucks order for you to try. Now perfect is high praise, because everyone has their flaws, but if you had to use the word for anybody it’d be him.

There was no way in the world Luigi had his eyes set on you when there were thousands, hell, millions of women out there that could perfectly complete his complex puzzle of a mind. You weren’t dumb or dull by any means, but there were just better options for your best friend.

It’s fine, really. Not sentimental at all, no no really.

“What are you doing this weekend, by the way?” Luigi asked, his voice cutting through the amalgamation of crazed screams in your mind.

You thought, your lips pursed together in a lopsided pout as you flipped through the mental pages of your planner, each page containing some sort of mental note or red ink until you reached this weekend. Free on Saturday, but only after ten in the morning.

“I’m free this Saturday, but I have to drop a friend from college off at the airport. She’s moving to Kansas, so I should be free any time after, like, ten to ten-thirty. Why?” You asked, your attention suddenly being grabbed by a community garden just up ahead full of pretty pink peonies and daffodils.

He watched as your eyes locked onto the garden and its floral inhabitants. He smiled his usual boyish grin, letting go of your arm momentarily to jog over to the garden before you got a chance to even process what he was doing.

“Luigi—? Luigi, what are you doing!?” You called, standing up on your tip-toes and calling out to him right in the middle of Twenty-fifth Street.

You saw him duck down, his cocoa brown curls disappearing amongst the plant life and greenery. You crossed your arms, waiting for him on the sidewalk like a puppy owner would wait for their eager little Maltese or Pomeranian to return from their burst of energy.

When that familiar face emerged again, he advanced towards you with a handful of freshly plucked flowers. He placed them in your hand with a particularly girly giggle, gently brushing his fingers across the general petals like he wanted to get a feel for their genetic material.

When he was done fluffing up each bloom, he gently placed a hand at the small of your back in a silent urge for you to keep walking.

“I’m not sure if that was illegal or not, we should probably start walking,” he beamed, a light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks as he felt you lace your arm around his firm one again. “But yeah, uh…what was I saying…Oh, right, I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend the day with me at my house. We’d have to go grocery shopping but it sounds fun…in theory.”

You nodded, an amused chuckle leaving your lips as you scurried down the street with Luigi. By now you neared your humble little home, sandwiched in between two other townhouses composed of bricks of vermilion.

“Yeah, sure! Why not. I’m not paying for groceries though,” you joked, reaching in your sweater pocket for your keys.

“You don’t pay for anything, girl…” he chuckled, his brows furrowing together with amusement.

“Well, you don’t let me!” You giggled, patting yourself down from head to toe before you sighed from the depths of your lungs. You left your keys on the kitchen counter.

“I done left my damn keys in the house,” you huffed, shaking your head as if you were disappointed with your laggy mind.

“That’s fine, I have mine,” Luigi added, reaching in his back pocket and pulling out a set of keys attached to a matte-black key fob, a LittleBigPlanet charm, a little heart charm you gave him two years back, and a Ben & Jerry’s discount pendant.

He plucked the only silver key from the jingly set, gently twisting your front door open with a flick of his wrist and a click of the bottom lock.

“Lock your top lock,” he reminded with no real bite in his tone. He raised his brow slightly, a look of feigned disapproval as you giggled back up at him.

“My hero!” You chirped, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders and pretending to swoon over his large muscles. “What would I ever do without you!”

“Stop it,” he chuckled, his sharp canines glimmering in the early afternoon sunlight as your feet hit the ground again. “Get in your house, go.”

You laughed, squishing his muscles one more time before he manually removed your hand from his bicep and turned you around, giving you a playful smack on the behind that sent you yelping into giggles in the doorframe.

“Bye, Luigi,” you mused, leaning against the white archway of your home with a satisfied and impish smile. He chuckled along with you, clipping his keys on his jeans belt loop as he leaned on the opposite side of the door frame.

“Goodbye, culona,” he chuckled, gently pulling your front door closed. “Lock your top lock!”

You smiled, locking both your top and bottom locks following Luigi’s gentle reminder to make sure you’re completely safe when home alone. Once you were sure your door was properly locked, you kicked off your shoes and raced upstairs to your warm and inviting bed.

You stared at the many Polaroids on your white walls; some of them from college or high school, most of them stemming from your solo trips or memories with Luigi. From jumping off of cliffs in Thailand to stuffing each other inside ridiculously small spaces to see how far the other's bones could bend before giving clear warnings of discomfort.

He was the best friend you’ve ever had in a long long time, and you didn’t want to be stupid and jeopardize that. So rather than perusing any sort of connection with Luigi— as tantalizing and coveted as he was.

You sighed, the air rushing in through your nostrils and drying up your mouth as you exhaled. As the tasteless carbon left your lungs, the bitter flavor of unrequited love bit your tongue, the iron taste of heartbreak bringing you back to your sad little senses.

But it’s fine…he’s still around, and after a while, the feelings will gradually fade into sparkles of humor that you’ll be able to sprinkle into daily conversations. A mere powder amongst the storm of dust you would ultimately face later in life— something to laugh about later, and nothing more.

But for now, that wasn’t the main concern. Your goal of the hour was to get your outside clothes off your bed, take a shower, and catch up on some new shows you had been meaning to watch for a while now.

You slipped out of your jeans and top, unclasping the sharp and satanic teeth of your bra and flinging it somewhere around your room before donning a nice soft sweater and shorts. The gentle fleece kissed your skin, bathing you in endless amounts of comfort compared to the cheap polyester-printed textile of some SHEIN shirt you had put on earlier.

You spent the rest of your afternoon through the late evening doing house chores. Folding laundry, doing dishes, sweeping the living room, cleaning yours, and finally getting around to organizing your dresser.

When the house radiated Pine Sol and the scent of Yankee Candle’s Soft Blanket, you took a deep sigh before deciding to take a scalding everything shower that would leave your vision impaired for the next hour. Shave, exfoliate, wash, deep condition, rinse, wash, rinse.

And just like you assumed you would, you stumbled out of the shower lightheaded and dehydrated after battling the demons of self-care. Your baby hairs clung to your forehead, a hot and humid reminder of the war you had won as you wobbled out of the bathroom to slather on some warm vanilla lotion.

You lathered the silky oils across your limbs and soft stomach, sliding on a matching set of blue and white pajamas before settling down at your vanity to do your skincare. No sooner than you sat down, your phone began to ring and chime with your set ringtone for Luigi.

You propped your phone up against the mirror, answering his slightly untimely call as you dabbed gentle amounts of your Curology on your face. “Hey, Lui!”

“Hi pretty,” he sighed, drowsiness evident in his tone.

His face was partially buried in his plush-looking pillow, a singular eye fought to stay open so he could see you on FaceTime. He watched as you slathered your skin shiny with products, serums, eye patches, and deep-moisturizing creams as you smiled at his little comment.

“I literally look like raggedy-Ann and you’re still calling me pretty. You’re too kind,” you chuckled, placing two green brightening eye patches under your eyes. “What’s up?”

“You do…not look raggedy, trust me,” he murmured, a sound that bridged between a scoff and a short chuckle from the front of his tongue. “But I didn’t want anything, I just missed you.”

“Luigi, you just saw me like…five hours ago!” you giggled, checking the time on your metallic alarm clock. “You’re literally gonna see me again in, like, twelve hours.”

“Yeah but I miss you” he frowned, sitting up so his back rested against the black wooden frame of his headboard. “You’ve been gone way too long.”

“Luigi you’re being a baby” you chuckled, placing all your cosmetics, cleansers, and containers in their respective places before grabbing your phone off the vanity and crossing the short distance to your bed.

“See, why are you being mean to me? I call you to say how much I love and miss you and you kick me to the streets?” He joked, his words enunciated by a quirk of his bushy brow.

“I’m not kicking you to the streets, I’m pointing out that you’re being a clingy little pissrat,” you teased, widening your eyes at the camera in faux shock.

“Pissrat is crazy…” he chuckled, a low sigh that drawled from the back of his throat and left his mouth a little drier than before.

You chattered back and forth on FaceTime until about four in the morning, and soon, the daunting revelation that you’d have to be up and out of bed to drive over thirty minutes to the airport and back washed over your brain like cold rainfall. You groaned, throwing your head back in near-violent regret before you exhaled from your nose.

“Are you okay? Hello?” Luigi asked, his brows furrowing together as an expression of slight fear and confusion donned his face. In an effort to placate you, he waved a single hand up and down at the camera in a little “calm down” motion.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t realize it was like…four in the morning. I have to be up in like two hours,” you whined, your eyes screwing shut as you accepted the somnolent fate that awaited you in just a few hours.

“Then get some sleep! Cuz then I have to deal with you in the morning, and you’re gonna be all cranky and irritated, then I’m gonna have to leave you outside…” he sighed, running a hand over his face to mimic genuine distress.

“So charming,” you huffed, flipping him off as your face buried itself into your pillows.

“I charm you every day, you just don’t know it,” he smiled, rolling his eyes in the most disgustingly flamboyant way his muscles could muster. It almost made you gag, both literally and metaphorically.

“Ew, sassy sergeant…” you huffed, flipping him off before blowing air kisses at the camera. “Goodnight!! I’ll see you in like…a couple of hours”

“Goodnight, pretty” he yawned, waving at the camera as his head leaned back against his headboard, the tanned column of his neck on full display.

You chuckled, taking a very obvious FaceTime photo before hanging up and giggling into your pillow. His face was so gorgeous— deep dark cosmos and stardust swam through his eyes, swirling with adoration that could kill you if you got too close.

And when your eyes fluttered shut you dreamed about him and his gentle chivalry. If gallantry was dead, then Luigi would be the very spark of electricity that rose from the ashes.

Sculpted by the clay-sodden hands of a helpless god, desperate to create one last reminder of courtliness in the dawn of decadency. Luigi, the ever-iridescent emerald buried deep in the sediment that aged and preserved his quality, birthing the emerald of Venus— a manifestation of her saintly love.

The slow pattern of your gentle breathing filled the room and slumber soothed the lingering anxiety that sneered and taunted your conscious. In the land of dreams and painless drift, there was nothing that could disturb your mind.

Except for an alarm clock.

The noise was loud, piercing, and obnoxious as your eyes just barely rose, a slow and undead hand reached out for your phone to press the big orange stop button on your phone. With a heavy and half-dead sigh, you arose from your cozy little coffin of a bed and stalked your way to your bathroom to get ready for the morning.

Hot shower, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, edge brush, and a little bit of warm vanilla perfume were all it took to jumpstart your morning. You grabbed your keys and tossed on some pretty pale blue jeans and a brown zip-up hoodie over a white crop top before you wiggled out the door and headed to your car.

In just a couple of hours, your best friend would be pushing you around a cold supermarket while your limbs dangled out of a near-filthy shopping trolley as you mindlessly knocked things off the shelf that would come crashing on top of you.

The casual intimacy of it was almost domestic— it was like shopping with your life-long partner. The few times you had shopped with him before had usually ended up with you eating ingredients with him on his couch while he word vomited about the nutritional value of the different kinds of snacks you had bought.

But you focused on the now, helping your cousin load her bags into your trunk right after you pulled into her driveway. When you finished, you dusted your hands off on your thighs and shut the trunk with a heavy thud before checking your phone after ignoring it ever since you silenced your alarm.

mario💚

‘ Good morning <3 Have fun driving your cousin. Tell her I said hi! Btw I think we’re gonna go to Whole Foods. ‘

You giggled to yourself, hearting the message before shoving your phone into your back pocket to climb in the front seat.

“Ooh, who got you smiling like that? Is it Luigi?” She asked, poking at your shoulder with a giddy grin.

“Chill, chill…Maybe,” you chuckled, pulling back out of the driveway a little messier than you would have liked to admit.

“Aw shit…we’re gonna crash and we ain’t even make it on the road yet. Lord take us, on her soul we ready,” She teased, throwing her hands halfway up in faux prayer.

“I should’ve left you in the house, on YOUR soul,” you fired back, a half-hidden smirk clawing its way to your face as you set your GPS.

“Didn’t you go to one of those fuck ass frat parties with him a couple years ago?” She asked, pulling out her mascara wand from her purse and touching up her lashes.

“Yeah, it was lowkey trash…like there was no personal space and music was shit. But I was really drunk so it got better,” you nodded, tossing on the radio to hopefully divert her attention from your best friend to something different.

“Man, if y'all don’t get married already,” she huffed, slamming the black mascara closed like the idea of your unattached state irritated her— skin-deep.

“He’s definitely not into me, but go off,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the childish fable she just proposed.

She stared at you, sharp from the corners of her eyes before a small scoff pushed past her lips. “A’ight, girl, whatever you say…”

The rest of the ride was spent jabbering about different topics before it was time to say your goodbyes, watching her disappear behind the glassy doors of the airport. After you confirmed that she had gotten situated inside, you took some time to text Luigi back.

“good morning ! :) omw rn just dropped her off. She says hey”

- Loved by Mario💚

You spent roughly forty-five minutes in your car, driving all the way from the airport over to Luigi’s with your music at a comfortable volume. You barely even had time to pull into a parking spot before the front door slowly came open to reveal your best friend twirling his keys around his pointer finger.

He waved, his sculpted arm flailing with excitement as you pulled up next to his house. You waved back, eagerly scrambling out of the car with a huge grin.

“Lu!” You beamed, jogging over to where he stood on his front porch and giving him a rather grand hug.

“Hi, pretty,” he squeaked, his strong arms wrapping around the small of your back and squeezing you into oblivion. Your sneakers dangled above the pavement, a shocked little chuckle rushing from your lips before he sat you back down on the ground.

“Alright, let’s go to Whole Foods, you can pick out some stuff too. I’ll pay” he smiled, making his way to his car with a very jolly pep in his step.

“I’ve never seen a man so excited about groceries,” you murmured, giggling at his little wiggly walk.

“No, I’m just really excited to see the most beautiful woman in the world,” he smiled, opening the passenger door for you with a boyish glint in his eye.

“Oh stop, I’m not paying for your groceries, Luigi,” you chuckled, giving him a shy smile before climbing into the passenger seat.

“No, that’s not what— oh you’re so…” he chuckled before closing your door oh so gently.

I mean, it wasn’t like his flirting was any type of concealed. He was trying everything! Italian nicknames, food, chivalry, casual compliments, everything!

But you just…didn’t notice. Sigh.

The ride to the grocery store was full of giggles, friendly flirting, and little side remarks about Luigi’s shitty driving skills— those for which he blamed your presence.

“I can’t help it! You keep laughing, and it’s making the car swerve. Siren song…all your fault,” he tutted, shaking his head in faux disapproval.

“I don’t know man…I think you just can’t drive. Might be because you’re Italian,” you joked.

“Okay racism, go off girl!” He beamed, snapping a very homosexual finger with a little face you could only categorize as flamboyant ferocity.

“Mamma Mia!” You sighed, shaking your head in feigned resignation.

“I will crash this car, don’t play with me,” he teased.

“Shocked you haven’t already,” you sighed.

When you reached Whole Foods, you practically bolted out of the car as you charged to find a big shopping trolley that you’d make Luigi push you around in. You hopped over the thin metal bars, the cart clattering underneath you as you boarded it with near-lethal aggression.

“See, look. Crashing carts and all you did was sit down. Lord, take her, she’s ready,” he joked, his hands wrapping around the handle and pushing you into the store as you shifted your limbs to accommodate for the tiny space.

He pushed you through each aisle, letting you lean over and sweep things into the trolley with little regard for what you were even picking. Mango ice cream, tortilla chips, some fancy goat's cheese, pocky, and a bunch of cherry turnovers with golden brown puff pastry.

The various snacks and ingredients began to pile on top of you, your midriff and bust while Luigi read off his little grocery list on his phone. He paused, looking down at you before giggling quietly, bonking your head with a blue box of fettuccine.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he giggled, pinching the bridge of your nose with his middle knuckles on his pointer and middle finger. “I think we got everything…I see you got yourself some snacks…” he mused, his eyes widening slightly.

“I had a moment,” you said, clutching a brown bag of lime tortilla chips that crinkled and crunched under the pressure from your arms.

“I see” he chuckled, pushing you over to check out and ringing everything up— freeing you from your crunchy cage of various kinds of sustenance.

He paid for your things, positioning the four reusable tote bags next to you in the cart as close as he could without squishing you to death. It was more of a task than it would seem, considering the cart was barely big enough to fit all of your being.

But for you, he made it work.

“Alright, let’s go do stupid shit at the house. I think we can try and make like…a vegan cake,” he murmured, rolling you out of the supermarket with an unserious smile.

“Vegan cake? Nah, you were right earlier. Lord, it’s my time, I’m ready,” you sighed, throwing your arms out in feigned disappointment.

“Stop it, vegan food is good for the body and brain,” he murmured, raising a brow at your innocent hatred for his idea of vegan baked goods.

“The only thing that goes into a cake that’s vegan is the flour…yeah nah. We can make vegan parfaits though. Or just eat carrots. Or just not eat?” You smiled.

“Actually, what did you eat today?” He asked, stopping the trolley in front of the car And unloading the bags into the trunk.

“Actually I didn’t eat anything yet,” you hummed, the realization just now setting in as you dangled your calves out of the little cart.

He paused, staring at you with a raised brow like you had just spewed a line of blasphemy. He closed the trunk with a heavy thunk and shook his head before scooping you out of the trolley.

“Yeah, no, that’s not an option…” he chuckled, placing you in front of the passenger seat and pulling open the door for you once again.

You giggled, getting as cozy as you wanted, even propping your heels up on the dashboard. When Luigi found his way to the driver's seat after shutting your door, he tossed a bag containing a cherry turnover at your head with one command.

“Eat. You’re hurting my goddess. You know what that’s called? Blasphemy. Shame on you, depriving a god like that…” he smirked, the engine of his lovely white Toyota Corolla. “How’s your cousin by the way?”

“Oh she’s doing great,” you said in between bites, being extra careful to not get crumbs in Luigi’s car— as eating was something he barely allowed inside of his precious vehicular baby.

“She was a little annoying today though. She said we should get married, but I thought that was weird because we obviously aren’t like that,” you chuckled. “I think she thinks you’re like…in love with me.”

He sighed, long and heavy from the depths of his lungs, his forehead resting on the black and slightly worn leather of the steering wheel as his hands gripped its top. You expected him to be annoyed for you, to pop his head back up and say something that would refute the claim with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Alright, come on,” he groaned, his head now gently hitting against the steering wheel before he turned to look at you again with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.

“Am I not your type? Am I too clingy? What is it, love,” he sighed. Wait what? Is he acting…? What is he talking about right now?

“Wait what…Luigi, what are you talking about?” You asked, slowly wrapping up your cherry-tasting pastry back in its plastic.

“Hi! Hello! Look at me, please,” he said, putting the car back in park and cupping your face in his hands. He looked like he was at his breaking point, the blows and slams you had taken to his fragile little heart unknowingly beginning to show on the map of his Sicilian features.

“I love you. So so much. Like, I’ve been trying to throw hints since like twenty-nineteen. I am VERY in love with you, stay with me, now,” he enunciated slowly, letting you mirror his body language as you nodded slowly.

“As we speak I’m letting you eat in my car, knowing it makes my skin crawl! I have a key to your house! You have a key to mine! My call log is literally just you…What is it, please just tell me. Are you not into me? Are you genuinely unaware…?” He whispered, his eyes dangerously close to crossing like he was in physical pain from saying this out loud.

“Oh my god, I had no idea…” You gasped, wrapping both of your hands over Luigi’s wrists, your thumbs flitting over his carpal bones with the gentleness of a newborn swan with their eyes freshly open to perceive the colors around them.

He sighed, a self-pitying chuckle tumbling from his lips before he began squishing and pinching your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was to self-soothe, or if this was his alternative for shaking you senseless.

“Okay…This is me formally asking. May I have the honor of being your boyfriend?” He asked, a tired smile on his face as he gave you a half-nod.

“Of course, Lu,” you laughed, kissing the tip of his nose with a bright smile.

“Oh thank fuck, I was gonna cry,” he sighed, kissing your squished-up cheeks before settling back in the driver's seat.

And after he pulled out of the driveway of Whole Foods, his cheeks tinted cherry with a fine dusting at the tip of his nose, he could rest easy knowing that he was finally out of the friendzone.

Ignorance is bliss, and you were one blissful woman.

Taglist is coming <3

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione fluff #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione imagine

130 notes · View notes