#assassin’s angst

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

Dialogue from the quest into Lucanis's mind

Organized by order of occurrence in the scene. This took me 2 hours.

First echo;

ECHO OF CALIVAN: Useless. All of this. Utterly useless.

Upon arrival;

ROOK: I know this place. It's the Ossuary. The prison we freed Lucanis from. SPITE: Freed? No. We've always been here.

The first room;

ROOK: Nobody's here. SPITE: Of course not. Rook can't be here. ROOK, surprised: Me? Why not? SPITE, matter-of-factly: You open doors. You don't close them.

Another echo;

ECHO OF ILLARIO: If I were in charge, you wouldn't have to do this anymore...

Another echo;

ECHO OF ZARA: Still fighting? How tiresome. There's no point, you know. Nothing awaits you anymore. You're long dead.

Thought fragments in the room with Caterina;

She gave that ring to my mother. It was the mark of her favor. House Velardo killed my parents and sent it back to Caterina... (so few of us left...) [found near Diamond-style couches below]

...but we're more like brothers. Caterina took us both in... (All we had left...) [found at this Crow-style meeting table below]

What if I go after him and get Caterina killed... (All I have left...) [found near lonely chair and a drink for one, shown below]

Projection of Caterina Conversation;

CATERINA: Rook, did you forget our deal? CATERINA: You were to bring my grandson back to me. ROOK: I... did? CATERINA: You brought me an abomination! Where is my grandson? SPITE (inhaling): Tenderness and terror. Rage and relief. Old, stale fear of disappointment. ROOK: This is the Fade, so this Caterina is... a spirit? Something like that? SPITE: No. Lucanis is mine. They won't dare. Thoughts live here. Ideas. Feelings. ROOK, understanding: She's his idea of Caterina, then. ROOK: Caterina? Lucanis is trapped. But I think you're part of his way out. ROOK: Lucanis may have changed, but he's still the little boy you loved, and raised. CATERINA: He's not changed - he's possessed by a demon! ROOK: And you would never think of rejecting him, whatever happened. Would you? CATERINA, fading in a burst of light: My poor boy...

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ZARA: What trouble you've been...

Thought fragment from an "outside" area of the mental ossuary;

I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep. This was my mistake... (Spite is here...) [area pictured below]

Second Encounter - projection of Lace Harding:

HARDING: Don't worry, Rook. I've got my eye on the prisoner. ROOK, displeased: You've conjured up a friendly face, Lucanis. But your real friends and allies need you, in the real world. HARDING: Rook, are you sure Spite isn't tricking you? What if there's no Lucanis - just the demon? ROOK: After a year in the Ossuary, you might believe that. But you're no demon. HARDING: Look around. This isn't the mind of a human being, let alone an Antivan Crow. ROOK: You're still the man you were, Lucanis, even buried in this pain. No demon would punish itself like this. HARDING: You really shouldn't trust anything you find in the Fade. ROOK: I trust you, Lucanis, and I trust myself to get you home. Let me. HARDING: You know that's the kind of attitude that's gonna get you killed, right? ROOK, still to Lucanis and not the projection: I'll risk it. I have a master assassin on my side. Don't I? HARDING, fading into light: Just... be careful.

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ILLARIO: Cousin, stop. You can't dwell on this. It'll drive you mad. [a memory of what Illario said shortly after declaring Caterina dead, in response to Lucanis demanding to know how she was killed]

Thought Fragment;

You'd have to kill me... (And Spite would die...) [found on cozy reading chair similar to one found in the Lighthouse]

Third Encounter - projection of Neve Gallus;

NEVE: Hey, Rook. Should you be here? Can't say it's the safest place in the world. SPITE (inhaling): Strangeness and charm. Something familiar and foreign at the same time. With a little guilt. ROOK, thoughtfully: Somehow, I thought Lucanis would think of Neve as being more... Tevinter? SPITE: Tevinter? People come in three kinds. Family. Enemies. Contracts. ROOK, unhappily: I hope that's just Spite talking. ROOK: Neve, you need to let us pass. NEVE: You know how he is, Rook. Even if you open the door, Lucanis won't walk through it. This is where he wants to be. ROOK: Well, I'm not leaving until Lucanis is all right, so we might be here a while. NEVE, fading into light: You really think you can help him? You're such a sap, Rook. ROOK: I think it's time you stood aside and let me try.

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ZARA: What are you hiding, little demon?

Another Echo;

ECHO OF CALIVAN: I was supposed to have a useful demon, and instead I have a useless abomination! Wonderful!

Thought Fragment;

I didn't want you to see that. Again... (I'm not this. I cannot be this.) [memory of what he said to Rook after Spite nearly killed Illario, found atop a stack of books like the ones in the Lighthouse library]

Thought Fragment;

She came after me. She came after Caterina. She will come for you, too... (Cousin, what about you?) [found on a simple table with two chairs, like the one he sits at after jobs for coffee]

Another Echo;

ECHO OF ILLARIO: How long are you going to keep doing this?

Fourth Encounter - projection of Illario;

ILLARIO: Rook... you're too good to be wasting your time in a place like this. Forget about my cousin. You've got much more important things to worry about, don't you? You've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. SPITE (inhaling): Sharp. Jagged edges. Hurt with every breath. Grief and relief. Hope and anger. Mixed. ROOK: Lucanis, you don't owe Illario a second thought, much less a supporting role. SPITE, angrily: He. Put. Us. Here. ILLARIO: You've got to leave this be, Rook. You turn my cousin loose, it's only going to cause more grief. ROOK: I think Illario will be feeling that grief. Right, Lucanis? ILLARIO: You know that Caterina had five children? Eight grandchildren. All dead now, except for Lucanis and me. Last time the Crows fought a war of succession, House Dellamorte lost everything. Except for the seat of First Talon. This time, we fight ourselves. What will be left then? You think you'll survive? Your friends? Your cause? ROOK, chuckling wryly: You know him, Lucanis. Even here, Illario just wants to save his own neck. ILLARIO, bitterly: Would that be enough? Would anything? Do you really think he made a deal with a demon? He's not even a mage! Or do you think, maybe, he just found the one there already? He'll carry this prison with him forever, and he'll fill it with corpses given time. SPITE, uncomfortably: We. Need. Out. ROOK: You're an Antivan Crow, Lucanis. A profesional. Trained to avoid collateral damage and go after the real enemy. ILLARIO, ominously: You have no idea what the consequences will be. ROOK: Whatever they are, Lucanis, I'll be there to help you.

Final Encounter - finding Lucanis;

LUCANIS: What're you doing here, Rook? ROOK: I had to find you. If anything happened to you... I can't even think about it. [can we agree this line could have been better written?] LUCANIS: You should go. It's better I stay here than risk losing you. SPITE: You see? He breaks. Our. AGREEMENT. SPITE: His mind. Is stil here. He wants. To stay here. So he keeps. ME here! LUCANIS: Mierda! Why would I want to stay? Even in my head, this place is a nightmare! ROOK: RIght, but... it's a nightmare you already defeated. ROOK: I get it now... As bad as the Ossuary was for you, it was better than the alternative. LUCANIS: What alternative? ROOK: The Ossuary, Zara- you could solve those problems with a blade. But healing again? Living as an abomination? There's no simple answer there. And if you fail, you could hurt the ones you love. LUCANIS: No! I... This is not... (angry growl) Damn it, Rook! SPITE: Make. Him. LEAVE! ROOK: He's trying to leave, Spite. It's... complicated. Mortals can't just change ourselves. It takes a lot of time. SPITE: (growls in frustration) LUCANIS: Rook. You are right. There has to be a way through this. It's just... so much. I cannot see how to begin. ROOK: Start small, you and Spite. Figure out a goal you can both agree on, then make it happen. SPITE: A contract! LUCANIS: Contracts are for clients. Call this... an alliance. But on what terms? ROOK: The choice seems obvious to me; beat the crap out of your cousin. SPITE: Rook. is. my FAVORITE! LUCANIS: Illario... he's a pain in the ass, Rook, but he and Cateria are all I have left. SPITE: He. Put. Us. HERE! ROOK: I never said 'Kill him.' I said, 'Beat the crap out of him.' LUCANIS: So. Do we have a deal, then? We'll work together, and Illario will suffer for what he's done to us. SPITE: He. Will not. Escape us both! LUCANIS, merging with Spite: (looks into Rook's eyes as they fade from the Fade in a burst of light)

-- back in the real world --

TEIA: ...Rook, are you alright? VIAGO: What's the matter with the two of you? ROOK: It's okay. We needed a moment, but I'd say we're ready for anything. VIAGO: ... ROOK: How, uh, long were we standing there? TEIA: Just long enough for it to get awkward. You're sure you're alright? LUCANIS: We're fine, Teia. Don't waste your worry on us. Can I trust the two of you to keep an eye on Illario? If he starts anything, I want to know about it. VIAGO: I was going to do that anyway. TEIA, suspiciously: You're planning something. LUCANIS, firmly: My cousin has a lot to answer for. I intend to make sure he does. But we need information first. We don't know what we're going into; if he has Caterina hostage, if he has allies... We do this job right. Find out everything we can, then strike.

[jjkbambi]

sorority car wash luigi mangione x reader (18+)

smut summary: your best friend’s brother luigi visits your sorority’s spring fundraiser

warnings: long ass argument, our frat boy #graduated, rough as usual, name-calling, p in dis v :3, is car sex public? car sex, implied cheating, jealous quickie, assume everything is unedited

the fundraiser had drawn out the worst of penn state: truck drivers, high school football coaches, republicans with obvious gambling addictions. despite the obvious discomfort around dancing around frat row in a bikini, there was an undeniable satisfaction in knowing every passing gaze was a dollar to your name.

well — not necessarily your name. it was a dollar to your sorority house, your sisters, your reputation. your public display was, in all, an investment for an impressive bullet point on your college resume. any level-headed businessman would’ve been able to see that.

unfortunately for you, luigi mangione majored in computer science.

your heart falls to the floor the second you see his car swerve into the street. your feet move quickly, running up to the side of his car before any of the girls could hound a dollar out of him. his window is down and you’re in it, both whispering and yelling, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“car wash,” the brunette boy says flatly, gesturing to the hastily painted cardboard signs wrapped around your sorority house.

“it’s for penn students only.” you say, trying to wave him off. the thought of him—or anyone else from back home—meeting your new fair-weather city friends is unbearable. it would take months to salvage your pride.

“it doesn’t say that anywhere.” luigi argues. “plus, i’m an alumni.”

interest washes over the crowd of busy rich cheerleaders as they begin to inch nearer to the scene. you’re frazzled and fucked. “mangione, please don’t embarrass me.”

“you’re embarrassing yourself,” luigi says. his eyes glance over your body, skin exposed and wet with the moisture and mess of the event, boobs perky underneath your strappy bra. “seriously, what the fuck are you wearing?”

you feel a rush of insecurity as you bring your arms up to cover yourself. “it’s sorority tradition—“

“we didn’t do any of this at my frat—”

“it was an engineering frat, you didn’t do anything—!” as your whining comes to a close, a pool of your sorority sisters begin to flood around you. your heart rate sparks.

“who’s this?” your roommate asks.

the italian boy is quick to smile at the new company, his earlier furrowed brows and fault-finding demeanor vanishing in an instant. “i’m luigi,” he says with a brief wave. “i’m with y/n.”

“he means we’re friends from back home,” you correct quickly, shooting a glare at him. “he actually went here. he was in phi psi.”

“aw,” your roommate coos. “those guys do my homework all the time.”

he reaches over to open the car door, the force pushing you aside as it swings open. “get in the car,” luigi says. you pause, confusion swirling around you. then, luigi glances at your crowd of sisters, acknowledging them with a slight nod. “i’m borrowing her for the day. is there some sort of curfew i need to know about?”

“no, but it’s karaoke night,” one of your sisters tell him. “you should come! it’ll be at zbt.”

luigi raises a brow. “the sports frat?”

“yeah,” your sister says, grinning. “y/n’s boyfriend is the president. he’s super nice—you’d like him.”

his eyes flick to you. “boyfriend?”

“luigi’s busy tonight,” you say, forcing a tight smile, desperate to change the subject. “besides, he’s probably super jet-lagged—he is supposed to be backpacking through asia right now, after all.”

“yeah, well,” luigi says, his voice cool but with an edge that stings, “i stopped by for my sister’s birthday this weekend.” his eyes narrow as he looks straight at you. “guess one of us had to remember.”

your shoulders stiffen under the weight of his words, heat rising to your face.

“aw, luigi, you’re so sweet!” one of your housemates chimes, completely oblivious to the tension brewing. your guilt crashes over you, hot and suffocating. it’s almost embarrassing, the sudden clarity of how far you’ve strayed, how horrible you’ve become. “y/n’s boyfriend does cute stuff like that too. he came all the way down this morning to get pictures of her in this new outfit.”

if you didn’t feel stupid and cold before, you most definitely do now.

luigi glances over his shoulder. “isn’t the zbt house just around the corner?”

your housemate, still oblivious, grins and adds, “yeah! he’s always doing cute stuff like that for her. like, he prints a bunch of pictures of her and made a wall in his room because he thought she’d think it was sweet.”

you had no intention of your best friend’s brother ever finding out about your flamboyant college romances, yet here he was, gossiping with your girls. “he took that down as soon as i asked him to,” you explain.

“yeah, and ever since then, he sends flowers like, everyday.” your sister hums, bright-eyed. “so thoughtful, right?”

luigi’s jaw clenches, and his shoulders tense. “yeah, cute,” he says, voice low and biting. “guess that’s what happens when you’ve got nothing better to do than play personal assistant.”

“luigi.” you say, a desperate attempt to draw the line.

“get in, now,” he beckons.

luigi’s dark eyes never leave you, boring into you with a relentless intensity that makes your stomach churn. the look isn’t anger—it’s something deeper, more personal, and it clings to you as you fumble into the passenger seat. each movement feels heavier than the last, his unyielding stare haunting you as you slip inside, shutting the door between you and the reality you can’t escape.

the car swerves sharply, pulling you from your thoughts as you put your head in your hands. “i totally forgot,” you mutter, voice barely audible.

“clearly, you had distractions,” luigi says, his tone colder than you expected, like a wall between you both.

you feel his disappointment radiating through the air, and it hits harder than you’d like to admit. “you know,” he continues, his voice laced with bitterness, “back when we were close, you never would’ve forgotten something like that. but i guess things are different now.”

you wince, knowing he’s right. you’ve been so caught up in college, in the chaos of sorority life, parties, and the constant buzz of new experiences, that you’ve lost touch with everything that once mattered. and now, forgetting his sister’s birthday feels like the final nail in the coffin.

the silence hangs heavily between you, suffocating and full of unspoken truths. you can’t even find an apology that would suit the sin.

he reaches over to the backseat, tossing his jacket over your cold body, his fingers brushing against your skin as he does. “you look stupid like this,” he mutters, his voice laced with something deeper than frustration.

“it’s fucking weird,” luigi continues. “i used to watch you, how effortlessly you picked things up, how eager and excited you were for everything.” he sighs, his gaze flickering to you for a moment, like he’s trying to see the version of you he once knew. “but now… now it’s like you’re someone else. all that potential, all that drive—it’s like you’ve buried it under all this nonsense. i don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“oh, come on, luigi,” you say, defensive. it felt weird to have him like this—so cruel, so suddenly. “i make one mistake and now you don’t recognize me?”

he tuts, then rolls his eyes. “don’t act fucking dense.”

“i’m sorry, okay?” you say, half-defeated. “you’re not exactly giving me a chance to explain.”

“an explanation isn’t good enough.”

“just because i forgot one day doesnt mean im not here,” you argue. “you’re the one left the fucking country!”

luigi almost laughs at the dead argument. “and you stayed and still couldn’t show up when it mattered. how’s that any better?”

“i didn’t forget on purpose!” you can feel your temperature rising. “i’ve just been swamped with everything, alright? it’s not like i don’t care.”

luigi’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. “so that’s your excuse?” he says, his voice sharp. “too busy to remember my sister’s birthday, but not too busy for that stupid fucking boyfriend of yours?” he laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “god, you even joined that sorority for him, didn’t you?”

your face goes white and he takes it as confirmation. “fucking knew it. that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? you’re too busy trying to be a penn girl, pretending like you fit in, just because he’s part of it. you’re so caught up in his world that you can’t even bother to remember the people who actually care about you.”

you’re cold underneath his judgement, almost speechless. almost. “this is why i didn’t want you finding out about him,” you truth.

“i was in a frat, y/n. i’ve seen girls like you before. weekends spent doing dumb shit like car washes for the sorority, all glittered up for spirit week like it’s some huge fucking accomplishment.” his anger cuts into you like a blade. “you're too fucking good for that.”

your heart is pounding now, and you feel your face flush with anger, embarrassment, and something else—deep, gnawing ache in your chest. your fingers tighten around the door handle. you can’t stand sitting here, suffocating under his judgment. without thinking, you yank the door open, trying to escape the weight of his accusations.

but before you can move, luigi’s hand shoots out, slamming the door shut. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“i don’t want to talk about this anymore.” you say, trying to push down the panic rising in your chest. you don’t want to be here anymore. not in this car. not with him looking at you like you’re some stranger.

“you’re not getting out of this car, y/n.”

you don’t respond. instead, you unbuckle your seatbelt and shove the door open, stepping out of the car before he can stop you. it’s like your whole body is running on autopilot—everything inside you screaming to get away from the mess he’s created, from the mess inside you.

“y/n!” luigi’s voice cracks, rising in a panic as he stops the car and jumps out after you.

you are not turning around and getting into that car and letting him humiliate you. your hands shake as you pull out your phone, desperate for some relief, something to help you make sense of all this. the contact name lights up on your screen, and you hit call, needing your boyfriend now more than ever.

before you can even hear the first ring, a hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and yanking your phone from your grasp. you whip your head around, heart pounding in your chest, only to find luigi, his jaw clenched tight and eyes burning with fury.

“what the hell are you doing?” you demand, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and frustration. “give it back!”

but he doesn’t budge, holding your phone just out of reach. his voice is a low growl. “you’re fucking unbelievable. you’re seriously calling your boyfriend right now?” he’s glaring at you, his face hard with a mix of disbelief and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“you made your point, mangione!” you say. “clearly you already hate me, so i don’t see the point in sticking around for the ride. thanks for the reminder! see you around!”

“y/n, stop, i don’t hate you—“

“y/n? hello?” your boyfriend’s voice crackles through the phone, confused, a little worried.

luigi straightens, his hand tightening around the phone as he holds it to his mouth. “she’s busy.” he tosses the phone back into his car, cutting off the call with a finality that makes your heart race in frustration.

he opens his mouth for another lecture but your hard heart won’t let him in anymore. you’re beyond annoyed. he can keep the fucking phone, for all you care, you really just needed a second. you try to turn away, but he’s too fast. he grabs your wrist, pulling you back, and you’re caught off guard by the force in his touch. the heat between you is unbearable now, and the intensity of it makes your mind race.

“let go of me!”

“no,” luigi snaps, his voice harsh but laced with something you can’t quite place. “you don’t walk away from me.”

“i can do whatever i want!”

“you’re sure about that?”

without warning, he pulls you toward him, and before you can fully process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. it’s rough, unexpected, and it throws you off balance. your breath catches in your throat, and for a split second, you don’t know what to do.

your mind spins. this is worse than wrong. you shouldn’t be kissing him.

his grip on you is unyielding like the force of gravity, and you’re suffocating underneath the pressure, your confusion mixing with a strange, undeniable pull that makes your thoughts scatter. you pull away quickly, breathless and disoriented.

“luigi, no—stop,” you say, trying to regain your bearings, but your heart is still racing, your body still tingling from the kiss.

he doesn’t. he won’t.

his mouth is on yours again, aggressive and intent and so fucking mean. your balance is completely lost, your feet no longer sure of the ground beneath you. luigi doesn’t let up, his body pressing you into the side of his car and it’s like everything you knew about him is shifting, unraveling before your eyes.

when he pulls back, your chest heaves as if you’ve been starved for air. you try to summon another surge of pride, but luigi moves faster than your thoughts can catch. “lift up your legs,” he grumbles against your lips. you do. he carries you on him as he yanks open the door to the back seat, his hot breath hovering over your neck.

“you’re so fucking stupid,” luigi mutters into another sloppy kiss. “need me to teach you how to behave, yeah?”

desire and desperation muddle your better judgement. everytime you come up for air, you try to return to reason. “we shouldn’t—”

“let me,” he says. “i’m gonna take care of you.”

you shake your head as his warm hands grope and clutch at your cold nude. he was right—it was a stupid fucking outfit.

“relax,” luigi says, climbing over you, biting and sucking at your neck. you feel him between your legs, hardening. “you need me to teach you how to show you the ropes, don’t you? you need me, right, baby?”

“i have a boyfriend,” you whimper.

“doesn’t matter.” he says. “you belong to me.”

you’re in the corner of his car and there was no escape. luigi was all over you, grabbing, pulling, biting. “come on,” he beckons, coming in for another kiss. “make yourself useful, baby, i came all this way.” his fingers moving your bikini to the side and sliding his slender fingers into your aching clit. you quiver as he breaches your entrance.

“how often do you fuck him?” he asks, his two fingers digging into your core, storming your senses. the abruptness of the question made your nerves spike. there’s a certain amusement in his gaze, as if your misfortune is his greatest entertainment. “where? hm? hallways? dorms? in the shower, after his games, d’you spread your legs open to make him feel better about being a goddamn loser?” he’s intent on leaving your skin covered with evidence of him. he paints across your neck with his hot wet tongue, sucking and biting at your sensitive skin. you whimper at the sensation. “you’d make a perfect fuckin’ trophy wife.”

“i didn’t—“ you truth, shaky and red. “we never…”

“god,” he moans. “good fuckin’ girl, saving yourself for me.”

your mind is hazy, though not completely lost. “you’re jealous? of him?”

“why would i be?” luigi asks, smug. he knows he has every damn right he every right to be—he feels your slick drooling out of you, your body quivering underneath him. “i’m the only one who gets to have you like this.”

he reaches for his belt. you need this as much as he does. he can see the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his shifty friction, and it sends heat rushing down his abdomen. no reason to be patient about this.

“someone’s gonna see,” you whine.

luigi laughs against your mouth. “go on then, show them what a perfect fuckin’ penn girl you are.”

you barely hear him. your lower lip is between your teeth as you work to free his cock from his boxers, and he hisses in pleasure as you pump him gently, smearing his precum down his shaft. he reaches between your legs to hook his finger around your panties, pulling the gusset to the side.

your cunt glistens. you’re soaked.

“you’re unbelievable,” he grunts. “acting out because you couldn’t get any good dick?”

“you’re so mean to me.”

“just missed you, is all,” he murmurs.

you’d never expected him to be so big. you brace yourself on his shoulder with your free hand, sinking down on him gradually. you’re so wet that it only takes a moment to adjust to his size before you’re rocking against him again, and he pulls you back in for another hungry kiss, guiding your hips with his hands. a grin etches at the edge of his lips when he feels your cunt tightening around him when he brings his fingertips to your clit. “what, already, babe?” luigi teases, pretending his own release isn’t just moments away. “c’mon, that’s gotta be a new record.” you try to laugh, but he pushes the pressure on your clit, and you arch your back as the coil in your belly tightens.

“you’re so big, luigi,” you choke out.

“i know, pretty girl, i know,” he tries to assure, though he’s too lost in his storm of pleasure to have the decency to slow down.

tears well up in your eyes as he buries his cock deeper into you. hot flashes of pain and pleasure overwhelm you; it’s a devastating spell of torment and sanctuary. “luigi,” you whine. “too much, i can’t—“

“you’re so fuckin’ tight.” luigi says. “fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

“i can’t, lu,” you whine. “you’re too big—”

“be a good girl,” he says. his cock bullies into your sensitivity. you swear you hear yourself snap in half. “let me fill you up, princess, let me make you mine.”

you’re a mess underneath him, whimpering and crying at the unfamiliar pleasure. something in the background begins to hum over and over and over until luigi glances over his shoulder. “your boyfriend’s calling,” he says. “you should answer, show him what a perfect slut you’re being for me.”

you run your head back and forth. “no? you don’t wanna do that for me?” he questions, eyebrow raising. he raises your body—closer,deeper—just to slap his hand against your ass. you jolt at the pain, shivering. “thought you were being good.”

“luigi,” you cry. “it hurts.”

“fuck,” he moans. he can’t help but slap your ass again. “you gotta make it up to me, y/n. you gotta let me come inside you.”

“lu, wait—“ you begin weakly, tangling your fingers in his hair. he cuts you off by sucking harshly at the delicate skin of your throat, and instantly you feel the coil snap.

“jus’ like that, baby, all mine,” he growls into your skin. you feel him smile against your neck as he marks it up. “i should visit home more often, yeah?”

“lu, please,” you moan.

“tell me who you belong to.”

“you, luigi. i belong to you.” you cry out as you convulse around luigi’s cock, slumping forward onto his muscular chest with a shiver. the sensation of your walls clamping down on him like a vice makes luigi dig his fingers into your flesh as he pumps his own release into you, swearing raggedly as his hips buck.

aside from the sound of your breathing, the car falls into a complicated silence, the windows clouded, blurring the world outside like some unspoken secret. your heart races as you both sit there, dazed, caught between confusion and something deeper. the empty neighborhood feels almost dreamlike, a quiet refuge for a moment too fragile to face the world. silently, you’re grateful for the solitude, for the way it shields you both.

“relax,” luigi mutters, his voice cutting through the haze. “this whole street was bought up by some real estate asshole. prices went sky-high, and no one took the bait.”

you glance at him, startled by the sudden softness in his tone. “is that true?”

luigi doesn’t answer right away. instead, he reaches over to the passenger seat, grabbing your phone. the motion is deliberate, almost taunting, as if he’s enjoying how unsteady you’ve become.

he tosses the phone onto your lap, the thud startling in the heavy air. “penn daily did a piece on it” he says, his voice low but cutting. “you can look it up after you break up with your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen, and you grab the phone quickly, clutching it as if it could ground you. “god, can you stop bringing him up for two seconds?”

“why?” he retorts, leaning back against his seat with a knowing smirk. “you brought him into this when you started dating the guy who shows you off to frat row and makes you fake-smile your way through glitter car washes.”

“he wasn’t even at the car wash this time,” you mutter, frustration bubbling up.

“too busy setting up karaoke night? are we going to that?”

“no.”

“my sister would probably love it,” he points out playfully. “and i know you didn’t get her a present.”

you roll your eyes, trying to avoid the guilt that wells up. “don’t remind me.”

“don’t be a brat,” he retorts, his voice firm but not unkind.

“I’m not being a brat,” you snap back, but there’s a hint of defensiveness in your tone.

“yeah, you are,” he says, his voice softening just a little. “but we’ll deal with that later.”

he glances over at you, a hint of a smirk on his face. turning your gaze to the window, avoiding his eyes. god, how were you meant to recover from this? another silence encapthres you and the awful spell of awkwardness washes over you both. until—

“you know i could never hate you, right?”

“hm?”

“you said earlier i made up my mind about you,” he murmurs, his eyes holding yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away. “i have… but not in the way you think.”

your breath catches, his words pulling at something deep inside you. “then how?”

“i’ve always liked you,” he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper. “hated seeing you go. hated the idea of you at college with some asshole who doesn’t see you the way i do.”

your heart skips, his words unraveling every doubt you’ve ever had. “and how do you see me?” you ask, barely finding your voice.

he leans closer, his gaze unwavering. “as everything.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Home For Christmas—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— your boyfriend, Luigi, recently extradited to New York, faces a court hearing just days before Christmas, leaving you heartbroken and unsure if he'll make it home. against all odds, he is granted bail and surprises you by coming home for Christmas.

warnings—none! lots of fluff, luigi is a sweetheart, perfect christmas ending <3

a/n— My dms and asks have been blowing up with you guys clamoring for more Luigi content, so I decided to whip something up, enjoy <3. I truly don’t believe Luigi is guilty and would’ve hoped he would be home for Christmas :( I hope he gets out soon and won’t be sentenced.

The courtroom doors creaked open, and your breath hitched as Luigi walked in, surrounded by officers. He wore a burgundy sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, its collar peeking at the edges. His dark curls framed his face perfectly, and even though he looked composed, you could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the toll of the weeks apart was evident.

His gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. His steps faltered briefly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You felt your chest tighten as he looked at you like you were the one ray of light in an otherwise dim world.

“Amore,” he mouthed, his voice soft even though you couldn’t hear it.

You couldn’t hold back your emotions. You smiled, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over, and blew him a kiss. Luigi grinned in return, his confidence slipping back into place as though the sight of you gave him strength.

It had been weeks since you’d seen him, weeks of navigating the unbearable distance after his extradition to New York. Every call had been short, every letter cherished, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him.

When he was seated at the defendant’s table, Luigi tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “You came,” he whispered, his voice carrying an unmistakable mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

“Always,” you mouthed back.

The hearing began, the air in the room heavy as his lawyer argued for his release on bail. You knew the evidence was thin, there wasn’t enough to convict him of the CEO’s murder, but the stakes were still high. The very thought of him being sentenced, of losing him, made your heart clench.

During a brief recess, Luigi’s lawyer gestured for you to come forward. You hesitated for only a moment before making your way to the front, the officers giving you a wary glance but letting you pass.

As you approached, Luigi’s eyes softened, and he reached out slightly, his cuffed hands resting on the table. “Amore,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to hold back tears. “I missed you too, Lulu. More than anything.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m so sorry for all of this. For putting you through this. But you’ve kept me going.”

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re coming home, Luigi. I’ve talked to your lawyer, and we’ve worked everything out. The judge is going to grant bail. You’ll be home for Christmas.”

Luigi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Two days, just two more days.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to compose himself. “You’re my everything,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve you, but I swear, I’m going to make this right. I’ll make it all right.”

Before you could respond, the bailiff called for everyone to return to their seats. You reluctantly pulled away, but not before squeezing his hand one last time.

The judge’s decision came swiftly, Luigi would be released on bail, just in time for Christmas. As the words registered, you felt the weight you’d been carrying for weeks lift. Luigi turned to you, his eyes shining with relief and love.

“Looks like I’ll get to spend Christmas with my amore,” he said, his voice soft yet triumphant.

“I can’t wait,” you smiled through your tears, nodding.

When you finally got home that evening, the reality of it all hit you. Luigi was coming home in just two days. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes as you stepped into your apartment, flicking on the lights.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree filled the living room, and you froze in your tracks. Underneath the tree, there was a mountain of neatly wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there before. You blinked in confusion until you noticed a note placed delicately on the coffee table.

It was from Luigi’s lawyer.

Amore, the note read in Luigi’s familiar handwriting. I didn’t know if I’d make it home for Christmas, so I asked someone to help me make sure you were taken care of. I wanted you to have a perfect Christmas, even if I wasn’t there to share it with you. I love you.

You smiled, your heart aching with love as you knelt by the tree. The gifts were wrapped neatly, clearly not by Luigi himself and labeled with little tags in his messy handwriting. Your favorite perfume. A set of Victoria’s Secret lingerie and a cute silk pajama set. A cashmere sweater in your favorite color. A pair of designer heels you’d been eyeing for months but would never have splurged on.

Tears welled up as you unwrapped each thoughtful gift, your fingers trembling slightly. He’d thought of everything, even when he wasn’t sure he’d be here to see you open them.

Two days later, you stood at your front door, waiting as the sound of a car pulling up outside made your heart race. When the door opened, and Luigi stepped inside, you couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Lulu!” you cried, throwing yourself into his arms.

He dropped his bag instantly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Amore,” he murmured, “I’m home.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his sharp jawline. “I missed you so so much,” you whispered before pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss.

Luigi groaned softly, pulling you even closer until your feet barely touched the ground. His hands slipped to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips and giving your ass a squeeze. “I missed everything about you,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” you teased, your fingers threading through his curls.

He smirked, his eyes darkening slightly. “Trust me, amore. I have no intention of being away from you ever again.”

The night continued with kisses and lingering touches all over. You showed Luigi the gifts you’d gotten him, a rare set of books he’d been searching for, a sleek leather jacket that fit him perfectly, and an intimate surprise, a pair of silk boxers with pictures of your face all over it.

Luigi laughed when he opened them, pulling you onto his lap as he held the boxers up. “Really, amore?” he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs.

“What? I thought you’d like them,” you said innocently, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“I love them,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he kissed your neck.

The two of you spent the night cuddled on the couch, watching Christmas movies and sharing a blanket as the tree lights twinkled softly in the background.

You turned to face him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll always wait for you, Luigi. You’re my home.”

Christmas morning was a quiet and cozy. The smell of hot chocolate and marshmallows filled the living room as you stretched out on the couch in your matching pajamas, wrapped in one of Luigi’s arms. His other hand rested on your knee, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the fabric.

“Good morning, amore,” he said, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied softly, his gaze warm.

Under the tree, there were more gifts to unwrap. Luigi insisted you go first, sitting back with a grin as you tore into one of his carefully wrapped presents. It was another beautifully thoughtful gift—an engraved gold bracelet with the words Sempre il mio cuore (Always my heart).

You stared at it for a moment, your chest tightening.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his tone suddenly vulnerable.

You nodded quickly, slipping it onto your wrist before throwing your arms around his neck. “I love it, Lulu. I love you.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good. Because I saw it, and I thought of you. Always my heart, amore. Always.”

You gave him a box that held an expensive perfume set he had been eyeing but never expected to have. Another had a small, vintage journal with an inscription from yourself inside the front cover, For the stories you’ll write one day.

The next gift made him grin even wider, a vintage Italian cookbook, filled with recipes you knew he loved.

“You spoil me,” he teased, leaning over to kiss you softly.

“Now I can teach you how to make the perfect lasagna,” he teased, flipping through the pages before looking up at you. “Thank you, amore. This is perfect.”

The day passed in a happy blur of laughter and kisses. You spent the afternoon in the kitchen, making Luigi’s favorite Italian dish, spaghetti alla carbonara, while he stayed close by, sneaking bites of the ingredients and kissing your cheek whenever he passed.

“You're going to burn the pasta if you keep distracting me,” you warned, laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

“Let it burn,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’d rather taste you than the pasta anyway.”

“Luigi!” you protested, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Dinner was perfect, and afterward, the two of you curled up on the couch with a plate of cookies you’d baked together. The promise ring on your finger glinted in the light of the tree as Luigi traced the outline of it with his thumb.

“Do you know why I got you that?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

You glanced at him, your head resting on his chest. “Why?”

“Because I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’m yours. Forever,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “Even when things got bad, when I was in a prison cell, all I thought about was you. You’re the reason I fought so hard to come home.”

Your throat tightened with emotion, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Luigi.”

The night ended with the two of you wrapped up in each other, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows over the room. Luigi held you close, his hand tangled in your curls as he murmured sweet nothings in Italian.

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so safe, so loved.

For the first time in a long time, Christmas felt like it should, celebration of love, laughter, and the promise of a future you’d both fight for.

[blueteller]

You guys ever think about how funny it is that the whole reason why Cale did not have try at all to impersonate the original Cale, was because no one actually knew anything about him, despite the fact that everybody knew about him? On an international scale, even??

Cale: (doing an absolutely terrible job at being trash) Everybody else: That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about Cale Henituse to dispute it

[fmth3rd]

This might be an unpopular opinion but like

You shouldn't write self-indulgent sexual fanfics (or fanfics period) about actual people

There is a boundary there and knowing you wrote something like that would definitely make the real person very uncomfortable

I'm talking specifically right now about Luigi Mangione fanfiction and how horrified I am to see it normalized

Luigi Mangione is an innocent person who got framed in this huge fucking mess and he's just trying to get out of it with his life. Can you stop sucking your own cock for ten minutes please and focus?

[art-the-f-up]

I'm glad you guys like my feligami AU obsession

Previous part

[takuma-talkz]

it’s CANON Ino is 21. He was BORN in 2003.

it’s SHOWNin the manga and anime.

do research.

You is striking at the #1 Ino baddie, I KNOW MY MAN!!

first of all, Jujutsu Kaiden takes place in 2018!!!

SO yes, he is 21 but

take away 21 years from 2018 and you get what? 1997

So you do some fucking research you fucking donkey, YOU FUCKED WIT THE WRONG INO BADDIE

[ethan-acfan]

On the note of desmond surviving the end and having to rebuild his life after, I just wanna say that he would probably have some kind of muscle disability afterward. Because, and yes, I'm talking about this again, by ac3, they were keeping him in the animus for at least 3 days at a time, and no doubt it was probably upwards of a week towards the end. So his muscles were probably FUCKED by the end and he would def need physical thearpy and perhaps a cane/crutches (PLEASE IF ANY ARTISTS READ THIS IM BEGGING DRAW HIM WITH A CANE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA-) ahem, anyway also I feel like his mental state would also be screwed like verging on Clay's level of insanity, so do with that what you will

(PLEASE DRAW HIM WITH A LEG BRACE OR SOMETHING LITERALLY ANYTHING IM BEGGING I CANT DRAW FOR SHIT PLEASE🙏)

[noisilyscreechingsong]

As the (for a lack of a better word) Ancient of balance and space, and being a halfa that is arguably immortal, Danny has the rare opportunity to reincarnate. Live again. Start over.

When Clockwork had originally told him he was immortal, he (understandably) assumed he meant he, Danny Fenton, could not die. He was wrong. As usual. Instead, it was that he, his soul, could not parish or cease to exist. Two very different things that he was forced to learn through experience when Danny Fenton died at the age of 64 from a car accident as mundane as that is, and ended up in the Ghost Zone to, presumably, ‘live’ the rest of his afterlife. It wasn’t until later when he fell asleep in his lair (first sign something was happening, ghosts don’t need to sleep) and woke up with his head fuzzy and body clumsy. He was a baby and it wasn’t until his mind was old enough to comprehend who he was that he understood he was living life again, this time as child in a different universe and different time.

And when he died again, this time very young from a sickness traveling through his village, he ended up in his lair again, as if he never left. The other ghosts understood after a brief explanation, but the process was still disorienting. Even if it happened again and again.

This time he was born into an odd place. He awoke from a large tube of green liquid. He had a mother named Talia and a Grandfather. He also had a father and older brother named Damian, but they lived in a different country and weren’t really on speaking terms it seemed. It also appeared he was born into a cult of some kind. Mother called it the League of Assassins and Grandfather called it his Legacy, the organization he built from the ground up. Oh and it all revolved around the green, bubbling pit below their home that had resurrection powers that may or may not make someone insane.

A connection to the dead in the basement, a family business, and a Frootloop with too much power. This was turning out to be a lot like his first life.

It’s the assassinations that bother him. He’s fine with killing to protect himself and to protect others. He’s even fine with mercy killings, but to kill someone who is unarmed and can’t even put up a fight is crossing a line.

Grandfather doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like a lot of what Danny does. He talks back too much, he doesn’t follow orders, he has too much of an imagination, he has a weak stomach and can’t see the big picture, he’s never good enough. He’s also compared to his big brother Damian a lot. He’s never even met the guy but knows he has a better fighting stance and climbed the mountain faster when he was Danny’s age. Danny doesn’t know if he wants to met Damian at all after hearing his name every time Grandfather criticizes him. The only thing Damian is to him is a standard to exceed.

And don’t get him started on his Father. Mother brags about him enough, but he’s obviously not here for a reason. He stole Damian from the family, Grandfather says, his golden heir. Danny is just the spare, filling in for his older brother who doesn’t want to come home. Of course, he takes everything with a grain of salt. Danny’s family also brainwashes and conditions people to follow them and die for them, it’s all twisted and manipulative. However, there’s bound to be some truth woven in there somewhere and it doesn’t look good for his biological father.

When Danny becomes the Demon’s Head, and with everything he’s been training for he WILL be the Head, the first thing he’s doing is cutting Grandfather’s head right off his shoulders and feeding it to the dogs. He’ll run this cult thing with actual morals and better management. Not too much change because then his position will be questioned, but over time he’ll bring about some good outcomes.

He does think his family believes they are doing things for the greater good, he just thinks they’ve lost sight of what’s important.

Danny’s not even bothered with not having a normal childhood. He’s lived it once or twice, it was quiet, nice, but ultimately boring. He enjoys the adventure and thrives on the action. He gets excited when he learns a new weapon and celebrates when he finally perfects that technique he’s been practicing. He’s proud when his mother compliments his precise aim in her own weird roundabout way of speaking and is awfully smug when Grandfather doesn’t say a word of criticism when he slaughters his opponents efficiently.

He has a crazy family, but it’s his. So it comes to no surprise that he feels a little unbalanced when his mother takes him to Gotham after some political tension between Grandfather and some group he’s not important enough to know.

He’s seven and has lived this entire life in Nanda Parbat, only visiting the other League locations a few times, where the weather is warm and the air is clean. Gotham is the opposite of his home. He remembers a life in Chicago, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the permanent smog covering the sky. Even if it was clear, the light pollution would hinder his view of the stars.

He already hated this place and was actively counting down the minutes until they could leave. Although he had a suspicion of why they were here. The tight lines beside his mother’s eyes gave away her reluctance, but her confident stance didn’t falter.

Danny watches as she meets with a man in a black superhero suit and what looks like a teenager in a different uniform. The pieces were finally coming together when Mother calls him to come out and he drops from the rafters to land on his feet like a cat.

Their two visitors stare hard at him and if he was in a different life he might have fidgeted under their intense attention. He does not.

“My son, this is your father and older brother.”

“Mother,” the teen- Danny’s brother, Damian, objects, “since when do I have a brother? Have you adopted like Father?”

In response, Danny pulls down the black mask to show the rest of his face and the clear resemblance between the two. Danny had more blue mixed with his green eyes to give a marbled effect and he had his mother’s jaw line but he still had his father’s lips and- actually that was all he could see, the cowl obstructing the rest of his features. Either way, there was no mistaking Danny and Damian as anything but brothers.

“Damian, meet your brother. I hope the two of you will get along and look out for one another.”

Like hell they will, Danny thinks bitterly. He’s spent pretty much this whole life being compared to the boy in front of him, there’s bound to be some resentment on his part.

“I thought he’d be taller,” he tells his mother, eyeing Damian up and down unimpressed.

Damian actually sputters.

“Talia,” his father says, demands, as if asking twenty questions in that one word.

“You will care for him while I’m away. It isn’t safe for him and I have work to do.”

Danny knew it was coming and yet he still felt the squeeze of panic and betrayal in his chest.

“Mother, don’t leave me here,” he almost whines but just manages to keep his voice steady. “I can stay in Switzerland or the Alps or somewhere else that is not here.”

Mother says his name with that amount of sharpness that lets him know she wasn’t changing her mind. He huffs angrily and glares at the two in front of him like it was their fault his was here in this disgusting city.

They don’t talk for much longer before Danny is following them back to a black suped-up car and Mother is nowhere in sight. The ride is silent, the others’ thoughts loud and leaving the vehicle suffocating.

Danny decides to make the process difficult for them, arguing when they ask for a blood sample to confirm, getting into things he clearly shouldn’t when he got bored, and being a little shit to anyone else that shows up in his path.

He knew nothing of this side of his family, his Mother only telling him how strong and honorable his father is and how proud she is of Damian despite his decision to not become the Demon’s Heir. This was his opportunity to watch and learn and maybe test their patience here and there. He didn’t want to be there, they didn’t want him there, so he was going to make this everyone’s problem and maybe formulate his own opinion of his father and brother in the meantime.

It doesn’t take much for him to tolerate the others Father has brought into his side of the family because he had no prior knowledge of them.

He respects Alfred, he can relate to Tim, Dick is a pun master that Danny can’t help but contribute, Jason is too cool not to like, Cass is kind, Steph is bubbly, Duke is probably the most normal, and Selina has a mischievousness to her that Danny can get behind.

Father is gruff. He always looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t. Danny isn’t used to that. Mother and Grandfather and even himself have the position of power to say what they want without much consequence. What’s stopping him?

It gets to a point where Danny snaps and demands he speak his mind or say what he’s feeling. It doesn’t go well but he thinks there might have been some progress in the days afterwards.

Damian is a different story. Danny doesn’t hate his brother, but he certainly doesn’t like him. He makes a point to show it through pranks on the older boy and trying to outplay him in competitions and bets the other sometimes doesn’t even agree to.

Danny can admire how passionate he is in his art and how devoted he is to caring for his animals, and even how much he reminds him of Sam from his first life, but it doesn’t erase the years of feeling less than the perfect first son.

This doesn’t really change until Damian comes back and goes directly to the medbay after a mission gone wrong. It takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s worried for his big brother. Damian is in pain and Danny does not like it. He wants to go out and kill the men who hurt his brother, make them pay for what they’ve done. He wants to be the one to stitch up his wounds and bring him soup.

It’s truly unfortunate that his obsession is protection, particularly around those he considers friends and family.

Danny tones down on the aggression towards Damian after that. He still pranks the teenager and teases him and challenges him to competitions and duels, but it’s more in a brotherly way than showing resentment. Damian definitely notices, but wisely doesn’t address it. Instead, Damian quietly talks about what he remembers and misses of Nanda Parbat when the two of them are alone, both of them actually having a conversation without raised voices or tense shoulders.

After a while Danny doesn’t even realize he isn’t counting the days anymore.

[spocks-husband]

I don't care what Grant Morrison or anyone else on the planet says-- this is my Talia. She is complex and traumatized and loving and scared and as gentle as she possibly can be with hands taught only to kill, and Bruce is (until Damian) the brightest, most beautiful thing in her life. She loves that man more than anything. Fuck you. Go read Batman Chronicles #8.

[magicpiano]

I think there is a missed opportunity with batfam AUs where Bruce finds out about Damian and brings him home way earlier.

Imagine if Damian was brought into the bat family before Jason died, before Tim was Robin. So instead it is Jason Damian tries to kill so he can become Robin. Except, of course, he would be just a little kid. Baby. Only a bit older than a toddler really. It is hard to even be mad about it. Jason finds his stabby assassination attempts kind of cute. Bruce has no idea how to handle this.

[xoxostilinski]

Fuck me like you mad at me baby 😝❤️‍🔥

[meracyn]

The love you left behind

oneshot. gn reader, angst.

tw ; mentions of death

How long has it been already?

One month? Two? Is it five now? The days after the accident blurred together, it all happened too fast— You didn’t remember anymore.

You stood up, and walked over to where your lover sat on the soft grass, gazing out at the river, a pebble in hand. The sky above was coated in orange and pinkish hues, the sunset painting the clouds in a faint gray color mixed with purple, swaying in the cool breeze.

You stayed still, watching quietly. Even though you wanted to speak, you wouldn’t be heard. You were gone after all—

you were dead.

I wish things didn’t end this way.

It had become a routine; this silent watch over them—making sure they were doing well. In the beginning, it was hell. The shouts, the intense denial, the pain. The line that separated the living and the deceased wasn’t too wide.

You still held feelings, memories of your life throughout the years, still shed tears, even without a beating heart.

The pain was supposed to be gone after death. Why is it still there?

Loneliness, sorrow, love, too. It wasn’t different, it felt exactly the same. But it doesn’t matter, your feelings wouldn’t be able to reach them.

Unless we reunite in death.

As more time went by, you started to realize they were moving on— with someone else. Filling the void in their heart, forgetting about you. You could see it in their eyes, you could feel it even—the look of hope, of healing. The way their heart began to beat a bit quicker each time the two were met.

Can you still feel heartbreak even without a beating heart?

You finally had the answer.

You wanted to be angry. Hold a grudge against the person, shout and somehow reach out to your lover and be remembered again. Be loved again. But you couldn’t. You had no voice, nothing to carry your pain in.

Filled with dread, betrayal. You tried to accept their decision and let go, to be happy, but you couldn’t deny the growing feeling of resentment.

Is it selfish to wish that you never let me go?

You could only watch. Watch and wish. Wish that you were still a part of their love, be reassured and held in their arms once again. To be told “I love you” one last time.

But those wishes were unreciprocated. You were forgotten already, fading away in the back of their mind. The pain was unbearable, you weren’t in peace. The vow you once made after death to always protect them, ended up being broken.

You couldn’t watch anymore.

Either way, it wouldn’t have mattered if you still did or not.

After all, they were happy with someone else now.

— Aether, Izuku, Denki, Childe, Meguru, Gojo, Shoto, Tanaka, Tanjiro, Nagisa, Itto, Gorou, any of your favorite characters!

a/n; first time writing angst lmao btw theres so many characters i didnt know who to pick so i chose random but you guys obviously have bigger brain so choose whoever you think fits w/this, havent posted in almost a month too i just realized..ill go sleep rn 💀 and. pls send genshin reqs (but only ‘til sumeru im hella behind whoops)

[greengoblinswifey]

Through His Eyes—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— Luigi realizes your apprehensiveness to compliments and shows you exactly how he sees you. Based on this request.

warnings— slight insecure!reader, praise kink, fluff, L bombs, body worship, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, mirror play, creampie.

a/n— if you stupid fucks don’t like it, don’t fucking read or interact.

You were the light of his life and the fire of his loins.

Luigi was never one to hold back his admiration for you. Whether it was a passing compliment on how stunning you looked in the sunlight or an outright declaration of how he couldn’t believe you were his, he meant every word. But lately, he noticed something—every time he complimented you, you brushed it off.

Like tonight.

“You look amazing in that dress,” he’d said earlier, his eyes taking you in as if you were a masterpiece. Your immediate response had been a flustered laugh, accompanied by, “Stop, it’s just a dress.”

Now, as you sat on the couch with him after dinner, scrolling on your phone and avoiding his gaze, he leaned closer, determined to get to the bottom of it.

“You always do that,” he murmured.

You glanced at him, confused. “Do what?”

“Deflect every time I tell you how beautiful you are.”

Your breath hitched, his words catching you off guard. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

He tilted his head, studying you with those eyes that made your heart race. “You don’t see yourself the way I do, do you?”

You shrugged, your voice small. “I just don’t—I don’t see what you see and I don’t know how to take compliments.”

Luigi frowned, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. He reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “You don’t think you’re special? You don’t see yourself the way I see you? Amore, you’re everything to me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a soft kiss. When he pulled back, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“Let me show you,” he whispered.

Your eyes searched his, unsure of what he meant. But then he leaned in again, kissing you deeply, his lips slow and purposeful against yours. He pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, your body flush against his.

“Luigi,” you murmured, your voice shaky, but he only smiled up at you, his hands resting on your hips.

“You don’t see it,” he said, his voice husky, “but I do. The way you carry yourself, the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, absolutely everything about you is beautiful to me.”

You gasped, feeling your chest tighten at his words. “You really see me like that?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, his hands sliding up your sides as his gaze went over you. “And I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it. You’re stunning.”

Heat spread through your body at his words, and you couldn’t help the way your hips shifted slightly against his clothed cock. His breath hitched, and his grip on you tightened.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck. “Every inch of you. And I’m going to prove it.”

He kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with reverence, as if he were worshipping you. You felt his praises with every touch, every whisper against your skin.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured against your collarbone. “You don’t even realize how much you drive me crazy.”

“Luigi—” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his dark curls as his lips continued their descent.

“You deserve to hear it,” he said, his voice firmer now as he kissed along your shoulder, sliding the strap of your dress down. “Over and over again.”

Every word he said sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, craving more of his touch, his warmth, his affirmation.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, but he stopped, pulling back to look at you.

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice almost stern. “You deserve everything, amore. You deserve to feel loved, to feel wanted, to be complimented. You’re worth it. Always.”

His words broke down the walls you’d built around your insecurities, and as he kissed you again, you felt something shift within you. You let go of your doubts, letting him guide you, his touch and his words proving to you just how much you meant to him.

When your dress finally came off, you were left only in your lace underwear. With his eyes on you, he used his teeth, pulling them down your legs and revealing your already leaking pussy.

“Can I, amore?” he asked, his voice laced with need.

You nodded slowly, your hands finding their way into his curls. His head dipped, mouth engulfing your pussy, drawing the sweetest sounds from you. He was slow and deliberate, his movements appreciative and showing you just how much you meant to him.

“You taste absolutely incredible,” he hummed.

He pried your legs open wider, going deeper, his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue slipped past your entrance. When that wasn’t enough for him, he pushed your legs back, spreading you open even more.

“You’re so so beautiful like this,” he murmured before dipping back down.

He licked from your entrance back up to your clit, beginning to focus on it as he slipped a finger inside you. He immediately curled it, thrusting against your g spot making you cry out.

“That feels good? Cum for me then. I want you to fall apart on my tongue.”

His mouth engulfed your clit and he began thrusting his finger faster. Your legs shook and your back arched from the couch as an intense orgasm took over, leaving you utterly spent and breathless.

He hovered above you, pressing kisses all over your face then finally, your lips.

“You’re so perfect, everything about you,” he muttered between kisses.

He stood up, lifting you effortlessly and taking you to the bedroom bridal style. His eyes remained on you, dark with desire but full of love like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. You were the apple of his eye and it was all in the way he looked at you.

As he placed you gently on the bed, he whispered. “I’d give anything for you to see yourself through my eyes.”

He slipped out of his bottoms, hovering over you once more. “You’re one of a kind, amore. Remember that.”

He put your legs over his shoulders and as he lined himself with your entrance, he kissed your feet all over. “Every part of you, fucking perfect.”

He took your hands in his and slowly began inching inside you. No matter how many times you took him, you still needed to adjust to how big he was. He stared into your eyes and as he rubbed soft circles on your hands, slowly began thrusting after you adjusted.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, feeling him repeatedly slam against your sweet spot.

“You look so beautiful under me, baby.” He held onto your hands tighter, increasing his pace as your moans grew louder and more breathy.

“So tight, so wet for me,” he said, tone full of adoration.

You could feel him deep inside you in that position and your hands gripped his tighter, the pleasure about to tip you right over the edge.

“Lu, I’m gonna cum, you feel so good,” you cried out.

“You’re my good girl, you can cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock,” he panted.

His deep thrusts had you squirming under him and you moaned his name like a prayer, sweet release washing over you.

“That’s my pretty girl. You did so well for me,” he cooed, kissing the back of your hand.

He took your hand once more, gently pulling you to stand. Your knees were wobbly and he held you close positioning you so you stood in front of the mirror with him behind you.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, “you’re one of a kind. There’s no one else like you. I adore you.”

He pressed a kiss to back of your neck and wrapped his arms around you. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Show me,” you breathed, still aching for more.

You could see him smirking in the mirror and he reached down, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy.

“You’re gonna look at yourself in the mirror while I fuck you, okay?”

You nodded and he whispered a “good girl” as he sank into your leaking pussy from behind. His eyes darted from your naked form in the mirror to your ass slapping against him as he began pounding into you. Each time his cock disappeared inside you and came back out, it was soaked in your juices, a testament to how the moment turned you on.

“See how beautiful you look getting fucked by your boyfriend?” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

His hand went to your tits, groping them and pinching your nipples as his thrusts grew faster, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You watched him in the mirror, muscles flexing, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and his jaw agape as his cock slid in and out of your wetness.

He slapped your ass before squeezing it, biting his lip as he did. “Wish you could see just how fucking hot you look getting fucked from behind. Perfect ass, perfect body, everything about you is perfect.”

You reached back, fingers tangling in his curls as your pussy clenched around his cock tightly. You pushed back against him, gaze locked on his in the mirror as he pounded into you even harder.

“You look and feel incredible. I can’t hold back any longer, cum with me, amore,” he said, breath ragged.

His fingers began rubbing rough circles on your clit and you fell apart in his arms, your knees giving out as you squirted on his cock. He followed immediately after, ropes of his cum spurting deep inside your pussy and you clenched around him, milking every drop.

“Good girl,” he cooed, lifting you up and placing you gently on the bed once more. “You did so well for me, my sweet, beautiful girl.”

He was about to leave, presumably for something to clean you up but you just wrapped your arms around him, pulling him onto the bed.

“I love you so much, Lulu,” you said, tears threatening to spill.

“And I love you even more, my beautiful angel.”

Every kiss, every caress, every whispered praise that night was a step toward seeing yourself the way Luigi saw you—worthy, beautiful, and so, so loved.

[marf244]

Ash never got to give her brother his birthday card

[nana-mizu-shiki]

"Yeah. That sounds like Tim."