#my fic lore

[toqiuh]

been reading bamsara's TROD au and man do i love their dynamic

[lightasthesun]

Comprehensive Lexicon Guide for First-Time SW Fic Readers:

Flimsi/Flimsiplast = Paper

Flimsiwork/Datawork = Paperwork

Stylus = Pen

Datapad = Tablet

Comlink/Comm = Communication Device/Phone

Binders = Handcuffs

Chronometer = Clock

Spectacles = Eyeglasses

Chrono = Watch

Conservator = Refrigerator

Caf = Coffee

Nerfburger = Hamburger

Blue milk = Milk (literally blue)

Hubba chips = French Fries

Sweet roll = Doughnut

Flatcakes = Pancakes

Tabac = Tobacco

HoloNet = World Wide Web

Holovision/HoloTV = Television

Holodrama/Holovids = Movie/Videos

Holocamera/Holocam = Camera

Holomap = three-dimensional map

Holojournal = Newspaper

Holocube = Picture frame

Holotable = Projector

Holoscanner = X-ray machine

Holojournalist = Reporter

Flatholo/Holograph = Photograph

Sonic Damper = Active Noise Cancellation

Refresher/Fresher= Bathroom

Sonic Bath = Bath

Sanisteam/Sonic shower = Waterless Shower

Hydrospanner = Wrench

Hydro Flask = Water Bottle

Power Cell/Energy Cell = Batteries

Authorization Chip = Decryption key

Datatape = Disk

Datastick = Flash drive

(Personal) Com Code = Phone number

Datachip = SD Card

Synthflesh = Synthetic skin

Glowrod = Flashlight

Sparkstick = Match

Slugthrower = Gun

Slug = Bullet

Vibroblade = a blade that can vibrate at high frequencies, increasing its cutting power and penetrating ability (tactical knife)

Rangefinder = Rifle scope

Turbolaser = Cannon

Ion pike/Vibropike = Spear

Electro Staff = Stun baton

Blaster = Pistol/Rifle

Stun Blaster = similar to a Taser

Landspeeder/Airspeeder/Speeder = Car

Turbolift = Elevator

Slideramp = Escalator

Starfighter = Fighter jet

Rotorcraft = Helicopter

Hoverpack/Jetpack= Jet pack

Speeder Bike = Motorcycle

Skylane = Traffic lane

Railspeeder/Hovertrain = Train

Power Chair/Hoverchair= Wheelchair

Windscreen = Windshield

Podracing = Car racing

Dejarik = Chess

Sabacc = Poker and Blackjack combined

Galactic Rebels = Combat simulator

B'shingh = Dungeons and dragons

Jizz = Jazz music

Wailer = Singer (ie. Jizz Wailer)

Cantina = Bar or Pup

Para Sailing = Paragliding

Aurebesh = Alphabet

Credits = Money

Sleeping Pallet = Bedroll

Naming Day = Birthday

Youngling = Child

Galactic Basic Standard/ Basic = English

Medkit/Medpac = First aid kit

Hypo = Syringe

Medic/Healer = Doctor

Medcenter = Hospital

Bactapatch = Bandaid

Nanoweave = Fabric

Transparisteel = Glass

Plastifoam = Packing material

Durasteel = Steel

Plasteel = Plastic

Duracrete = Concrete

Slicer = Hacker (slicing = hacking)

Identikit = Passport

Minder = Therapist

Synthleather = Vinyl

Viewport = Window

Cooling Unit = Air-conditioning

Honeydarter = Bee

Slythmonger = Drugdealer

Spice = Drugs

Stimpill = Caffeine pill

Power Socket = Plug

Cutters = Scissors

Cycle = Day

Standard Cycle = 24h

Standard Week = 5 days

Standard Month = 35 standard days

Standard Year = approx. ten months

Tenday = literally ten days

Cigarras/Smokes = Cigarettes

Click = Kilometer or 'a moment'

Parsec = a unit of distance

Tweezers/Clanker/tin head/tinnie = Droid

Separatist = Seppie

Promise Ring = Wedding Ring

Body Glove = Jumpsuit

Slicksuit = Wet suit

Civvies = Civilian clothing

Carbonite = a metal alloy used to freeze a person in a state of hibernation

Hyperdrive = device that allows a starship to travel faster than lightspeed

Moisture vaporator = device that can extract water from the air, commonly used on tatooine

Glareshades = Sunglasses

Gasser = Gas Oven

Repulsorlift = technology that can create an anti-gravity field and is used for levitating heavy objects

Heating unit = Heater

Utility Droid = Roomba

Sunbonnet = a Clone trooper helmet

Bad Batcher = a defective Clone Trooper

Banthabrain = birdbrain/ a stupid person

Bantha fodder = waste of space/nonsense

Blast! = word of exclamation

Blasted! = s.o in anger or annoyance

Blaster-brained = dimwitted

Blaster fodder = cannon fodder

Blast off = Piss off

Brainless = Stupid

Bug/Bugger = used to refer to Geonosians

Forceforsaken = godforsaken

Full of Poodoo = full of shit

Poodoo = Shit

Kriff = Fuck

Jedi scum = derogatory term for jedi

Kark = derogatory expletive

Larty = LAAT/i gunship

Laserbrain = insult

Meat droid = derogatory term for Clone Troopers

Redrobes = Palpatines guard

Rookie/Shinie = newly recruited Trooper

Scum = insult to refer to bounty hunters/rebels

Sharpie = Sharp-witted

Sithspawn/Sithspit/Hellspawn! = expletive

Sleemo = Slimeball

Son of a bantha = insult

Wizard! = Cool

Spaced = dead

Hutt-spawn = Bastard

Karabast = exclamation of dismay

Stang = Crap

Buckethead/Bucketbrain = derogatory term for Stormtroopers

Bucket = Helmet

Nat-born = Natural Born

Roger Roger = affirmative/copy that

Droid poppers = EMP grenade

Sitrep = short for situation report

Backwater Planet = any planet that isn't part of the core system

Holocron = device that can project a three-dimensional image of a person/object and is used for communication or entertainment.

Kessel Run = a risky Operation. Commonly used as a metaphor in impossible situations.

Thermal Detonator= device that can create a powerful explosion like a grenade or bomb

Ray Shield/Energy Shield = creates a (protective) barrier

Rebreather = device that allows a person to breathe underwater or in toxic environments

Phrases:

Wild goose chase = wild bantha chase

That's bantha shit = that's bullshit

As slippery as a greased Dug = untrustworthy

Credit for your thoughts = penny for your thoughts

Cut the poodoo = cut the crap

to get your gills in a twist = get upset about something

Holy mother of meteors = holy mother of god

Oh my skies/ Oh my stars = exclamation of surprise

Stars' end! = exclamation of disbelief

What in the blue blazes = exclamation

When Geonosis freezes over/When it snows on tatooine = extremely unlikely

Who pissed in your power supply = who pissed you off

Blast it = damn it

By the maker = exclamation of surprise

Great karking Dragon = expression of disbelief

Lothcat got your tongue = equivalent of 'cat got your tongue?'

Sod it = expression of frustration

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Some more Raised in Amphibia AU feat. Frog Valley farm girl Anne and Princess Marcy Leviathan heir to the throne of Newtopia and Chief Ranger of the Night Guard and Master of Gates etc etc. I imagine they met when they were little one time when Anne traveled to Newtopia with her family and stayed in contact as penpals for years and years until they met in person again as teenagers, and Marcy has grown into this very knightly, very princely young woman that is beginning to awaken something in Anne with her chivalry. How much they remember of their life and their friendship before spawning in Amphibia is ambiguous, but even if they remember nothing, they're still incredibly close, as if they were always meant to be together 🥺

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Some Bumblebee and mother Ratchet :)

I dont know if that's the artstyle but is Ratchet crying?? That's kinda sweet if he is 😭

Here's some G1 shots where it's just them cause I'm a sucker for these 3

[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.”

[teeentyonepilots]

Torchbearer helping Clancy to stand after the heavydirtysoul death drop. Source

[ink-and-dagger]

Remember in Drink With Me Chapter 9 when they get hammered and Silco smiles at Astrid?

Yeah. That’s the one.

🖤

[elsmaster]

Going through all of Anders' party banter for fic-writing-purposes, and

Anders, baby, they had you locked up in solitary FOR A YEAR. That is not, in fact, fortunate. That does, in fact, count as torture.

(Also: oh how I miss the horrifying, straight-to-the-point dialogue from DA2)

[monstersholygrail]

If a siren boyfriend tried to have you swim with him would you do it??? Or would you be to scared of going under the water or him accidentally luring you to sleep with this voice?? Because like my biggest concern is the teeth 😭 -🐳

Of course I’d do it! How could I deny such a cute little guy. He just wants to swim with me I’m sure there would be no repercussions 😀

But actually in the beginning when meeting Siren bf I’d wear ear plugs. We don’t know each other or trust each other yet so of course we’re gonna be wary and take precautions.

The longer we meet up on the shore though, the more Siren bf would start to get hurt by the plugs. Acting as proof that I don’t trust him.

It would be a big show of faith to finally take them out and to hear his voice without anything possibly blocking it. His voice would certainly be the most beautiful and alluring thing I’ve ever heard.

When the time finally does come for him to suggest taking me for a swim, I’d imagine we’ve been doing this long enough so that I wouldn’t even hesitate. Thinking it’s just a little date and he wouldn’t hurt me.

Of course, I’d be right. Siren bf would take every safety measure to ensure I’d be alright. I’d imagine he wouldn’t even talk to me underwater in fear of what it would do. Instead using clicks or gestures to talk to me. Not like I could talk back any other way right? So it would work great!

If he did want more underwater, I’ve imagined him bringing a merman along with him to kiss me. He’d absolutely hate it, seethe with jealousy, and kiss the daylights out of me after. But a merman’s kiss grants human the ability to breathe underwater so it would be worth it. He’d take extra good care of me on those days.

Eventually he’d move his cave to a one with above water access. That way he can keep me with him and we’d no longer have to be a part.

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Subtle Signs

also on AO3

Danny slipped through the shadows quickly, trusting the alarms to cover the noise of his footsteps. He still wasn’t fully used to having his wakizashi hooked to his back again after all this time. It was throwing off his balance. Subtly, but enough to matter. He had considered leaving it behind when he had to run (again). But seeing as he couldn’t exactly get rid of the...gift...his time with the Fentons had given him, he might as well keep the one from his time with the League of Assassins, too. Who would have guessed a sword from a literal death cult would end up being one of his least death-touched possessions.

He reached what remained of the entrance to the now fully crippled GIW facility and paused. There was something wrong. The smallest pressure in his ears, the faintest blur through the sky, the slightest feeling that someone – multiple someones – had entered his space. He crouched further into the shadows and mentally mapped out several escape routes.

What he wasn’t expecting was for one of those someones to drop from the sky. Nor for them to be dressed in bright colors, nor for them to be masked, nor for them to –

“Damian?”

The name was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Directly between two blares of the alarm. Clearly loud enough for that someone to have heard, judging by the way they jerked into a fighting stance and stared directly at his hiding place. They drew a katana that Danny would recognize anywhere and leveled it at him aggressively.

“Show yourself!”

Two green slits appeared from the darkness next to the collapsed entryway. Damian tensed, shifting into a more agile stance and subtly tapping his wrist comm for backup. The glowing eyes shifted, as if the head they were attached to was moving. They inched forward toward the light but didn’t cross the threshold. A single hand extended from the darkness, clenching a long, thin sheathed blade. A wakizashi, judging by the length and curve, with minimal decoration on the mounting save for...

“Danyal?”

Damian dropped his guard, katana dipping to point at the ground in front of him. A figure crept into the light, taking up their own relaxed stance, sheathed blade still held in their off hand. Their eyes were bright Lazarus green, and their hair was subtly glowing white, barely visible under a hood. Their foot was slightly out of position, arm just barely low of where it should be, all still ingrained in muscle memory to perfectly complement their mismatched heights and Damian’s own style while fighting at his side. There was no doubt. That face was etched into his memory, his very being. He would recognize it anywhere. This was Danyal.

Then the wakizashi was drawn. Danyal’s green eyes flicked to Damian’s right in panic just as he heard the smallest crunch of dirt. He tilted his katana up in front of his face and raised his other hand to his side firmly, signaling Father and Grayson to stay back.

They did. But they spread out to better form a perimeter around this unknown (to them) armed (more than he seemed) potential threat (if he wanted to be). And they watched intently, ready to pick up on even the smallest detail. He would have to be cautious. His subtle head shift let the others know he knew Cain and Brown just landed on his other side. Danyal’s eye flick meant he saw them, too.

“How are you here, Danyal? You died.”

“You should know better than most, Damian. Death is not always final.”

Damian was off. Cass noticed it immediately. His stance was different. He was tense in a way she’d never seen him before. His words were hesitant, and when he did speak, his fingers twitched around his katana’s grip. He gave them a small flick with his hand, signaling for them to stay back, then took a step forward. The other boy – Danyal, she presumed – followed his lead step for step, never dropping his guard, even if his stance was slightly imperfect. His hands twitched even more than Damian’s.

Then he flinched and took a step back, eyes snapping to where Batman had taken a step forward. Damian scowled angrily.

“Stay back, Father!”

Cass hadn’t heard that much venom in his voice for many years. Nor had he ever broken codename protocol while they were in costume. Nor had he ever fidgeted or been this nervous. His emotions were strong, barely restrained, confused and angry and somehow eager. He wanted to charge forward, but for what she didn’t know. He was barely holding himself back.

The other boy was unfamiliar, so she had no reference. She couldn’t even see his full face. But he had to be even more nervous than Damian with the way his whole body squirmed minutely when his hands twitched. His anger was colder, deeper, an undercurrent compared to Damian’s storm. There was no confusion, not even at ‘Father’, but there was fear, a suffocating amount of it. He was unsure of himself. Wanting to charge like Damian, but wanting to run perhaps even more. The indecision left him rooted to the spot.

“Why are you here, Danyal?”

“Tying up some loose ends. You?”

“Investigating the destruction of government facilities on behalf of the League.”

Danyal tensed at that.

“The Justice League,” Damian was quick to clarify.

Danyal took that even worse. He curled into himself, the fear overwhelming all his other emotions, his eyes going narrow and glowing a brighter, somehow harsher green. Cass spared a glance back to Damian, whose twitching had spread to his non-sword hand now. Worry was breaking through both his anger and confusion. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her look back to Danyal, who had begun to slide back towards the shadows.

“Danyal, wait!” Damian stepped forward, and to her surprise Danyal did in fact stop moving. “Why are you running?”

He stopped twitching entirely and stared Damian down.

“I will not be taken by either of your Leagues.”

That was confirmation that he was familiar with the League of Assassins, perhaps a former member like Damian.

“The League of Assassins has been dismantled. I can guarantee the Justice League will not harm you.”

“Yet you are here on their behalf.”

“I do not understand, Danyal.”

He wasn’t alone in that. Cass risked a glance to the others. Steph was firmly at her side, waiting for a signal to get involved. Bruce was tense, confused but calculating, processing the apparent familiarity not just with the League, but with Damian and his identity. Dick was clearly confused too, but the concerned for his little brother was even clearer.

“There is much you don’t understand, Damian.”

“Then tell me.”

Damian’s hand gave the smallest of twitches before he charged forward at Danyal, who charged back as if he were expecting it. But this wasn’t one of his normal attack patterns. He was slower and more rigid. This wasn’t right. She raised her arm to Spoiler’s chest, stopping her from joining the battle, her fist clenched to signal the others to hold. Spoiler glanced at her, confused, but stayed at her side. Batman and Nightwing heeded her signal as well after taking a few steps forward.

Their blades clashed as they pressed together, faces nearly touching. Cass swore she saw Danyal’s lips move briefly before they pushed each other back, both already angling for their next attack. What followed was a set of perfect strikes and parries, one for one, back and forth, all much below what she knew Damian’s speed and strength to be. All telegraphed well in advance. Until Danyal pivoted unexpectedly, twisting directly into the path of Damian’s katana.

She saw Damian’s shock, his fear, saw him try to pull back his strike, but it was too late. Danyal raised an arm to shield himself from the blow that was about to cleave into his flesh, but he wasn’t worried. Wasn’t surprised or scared, just...sad?

The katana didn’t hit. A bright green armor plate flashed into existence on Danyal’s arm, and Damian’s blade bounced off it with a clang, vibrating through his arm and tipping him off balance. Danyal dropped his weight and kicked forward, hitting Damian in the chest and knocking him backwards much farther than expected.

Damian twisted in the air and rolled as he hit the ground, leaping back into a defensive stance. Cass saw no anger, just surprise and worry and more confusion. She stomped her foot and shook her fist, insisting that everyone keep holding back. This brought Danyal’s attention to her.

His eyes flicked over to pierce into her. She felt seen, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her spine. He didn’t look at her with any emotion she expected, merely annoyance. He flicked his eyes back to Damian after sparing her a second at most, and then he was empty. No emotion at all. Nothing. Cass gasped. She felt Steph press against her arm gently, a question. She pressed back in response, still holding her fist. Steph placed a hand on her back, silently grounding her.

With Danyal not giving her anything, she shifted her focus back to Damian. He tilted his katana to look at the blade, which she could tell even from a distance had been greatly dulled where it had made contact with the phantom armor. When he pulled his hand away from his ribs, she could see small drops of frost fall to the ground.

“Danyal...when did –”

“I have never set foot in the Lazarus Pits.”

Damian dropped his arms to his side. Cass could see more shock on him now than any emotion she’d read on him ever before. He’d never left himself so open and unguarded at any time she could remember. Despite all that – or perhaps because of it – his hands kept twitching.

“How…”

“I told you, Damian. You don’t even understand just how little you don’t understand.”

Despite not reading any nervousness from Danyal – no emotions at all – his hands kept twitching.

“Then tell me.”

Damian’s voice was soft, more vulnerable than it had ever been. His off hand kept twitching in the same pattern, over and over.

“I can’t.”

Danyal took a step backwards toward the shadows. Damian stepped forward and yelled.

“Danyal, please! I want to understand!”

But he took another step backward, his own off hand twitching in the same pattern as Damian’s.

“Goodbye, Damian.”

Damian took another step forward and raised his hands to his side in a peaceful gesture.

“I will understand, Danyal.”

He switched to his first language, the one he had spoken as a child, and pleaded.

“I swear it on the first star’s light, on the first bird’s song.”

Danyal flinched mid-step. And his facade shattered. Emotions burst through stronger than before. Scared and exhausted and angry, but the tiniest sliver of hope pushing past the wariness. His head tilted up, letting the light pierce the shadow of his hood to reveal bright white hair that somehow shifted under its cloth covering. And his face looked nearly identical to Damian’s.

His flurry of emotions slowly, excruciatingly slowly, steadied as the tension in his body loosened. She watched him take a deep breath and let it out, emotions shifting into pure determination. His off hand twitched again and – no, not a twitch!

They had been signaling to each other.

And then they were charging again. Cass dropped her arm and wrapped it around Steph’s, who tensed at the two boys’ movement, but relaxed as Cass leaned against her. Batman and Nightwing did charge. It was clear they wouldn’t make it in time, even if Danyal’s speed weren’t obviously enhanced.

The boys flipped their swords to hold them backhand and twisted them such that the dull end faced forward. They collided harshly, sword arms clasping around each others shoulders. Danyal knocked Damian back a step, but they held each other tightly, neither allowing the other to fall. Batman and Nightwing stuttered to a stop several feet away and stared in surprised confusion as the boys raised their off hands to cradle each others necks and press their foreheads together.

“I missed you, Brother.”

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Cale isnt a cuddler.

He never had toys to fall asleep with, he couldn’t snuggle up to his parents after the accident and he certainly couldn’t with his uncle, and he was, most often, barely comfortable when he slept anyway.

So when the apocalypse arrived, he was the perfect person when it came to sleeping.

He didn’t move around, he didn’t snore, and he had already gotten used to falling asleep on shitty surfaces!

Jung Soo described it as eery, with the way that Rok Soo would get into a position to fall asleep and then he would stay that way for the rest of the night. His chest barely rose and fell, and on more than one occasion Soo Hyuk had woken him up because they were afraid he wasn’t breathing. Thankfully he has always been a light sleeper, so just moving around nearby would be enough to startle him awake.

They tried having a buddy system where they would sleep next to Rok Soo, “for his safety” but he would refuse and find some private place to cram himself into to sleep, scaring them even more. They tried to trick him multiple times, but Rok Soo never fell for it.

He allowed it one time.

It was a cold night, and Jung Soo was too tired from fighting monsters that they couldn’t get back to their company before nightfall.

Jung Soo had been barely coherent, grasping onto Rok Soo as he had been temporarily blinded by a poison grade 2 monster.

He refused to let go of Rok Soo, and so he gave in. He laid on the ground, curled up to Jung Soo, and pretended to be asleep.

He used his record ability intermittently throughout the entire night. It got cold enough to snow, and so Rok Soo had to be the fire for the time.

He never told Jung Soo he stayed up to keep him warm.

But that doesn’t matter.

Because now he’s Cale Henituse. He’s trash. He can sleep anywhere and at any time, but he demands a bed because he can. He demands comfort and warmth and safety. He always wants to fall asleep with a full stomach.

The others know this.

Except he can fall asleep easily when he hasn’t eaten. He can barely be counted as safe, ever, because of the White Star. He complains about the cold but they know he sometimes forgets to ask for a jacket.

The strangest story, however.

The oddest story?

Cale sleep walked.

Once.

Raon watched him get out of bed, and followed him to a nondescript corner of their newest house, where he laid down and stopped moving.

Raon woke him up immediately, and Cale was very disoriented and confused, but Raon didn’t care about the sleep walking. He cared about the stillness. Cale had looked as if he was hiding from a monster and could barely lift his chest to breathe softly.

Raon demanded to sleep next to Cale from then on, because he was worried Cale would get himself hurt.

Cale reluctantly gave in. He thinks about Soo Hyuk and Jung Soo, and thinks they’d be proud of him for opening up.

He casts that thought away.

(December 30, 2022)

[silkjade]

sometimes, Mydei fucks you slow, and deep, and sensual—a reminder that there is no promised tomorrow, because while his body remains immortal, yours does not... and for that, he leaves the brute shows of strength and spirit on the battlefield. Here in the sanctum of the bedroom, he finds idolatry on your body and salvation in your lips; ravishing every inch of skin, until he finds a home at your hips and in your cunt, as he folds your form in half. Curling your knees to your head, as he sinks himself inside you, every inch accompanied by whispered praises, every thrust—long and languid—accompanied by the promise of a new Kremnoan heir.

[wandixx]

Seriously chaotic fashion misadventures

I realized I posted a teaser and never really followed up on it, so here is some more of that

“Hey, Dami?”

Boy hadn’t looked up from the kittens he was bottle feeding but let out a hum indicating he listened.

“I'm thinking about trying out a more girlish style. Do you think it would suit me?”

Well, Damian had no idea but if Dani wished to give it a chance, then, well, the only proper reaction was to offer his aid.

*-*-*

“Father, I require access to your rouge gallery.”

Bruce almost choked on his breakfast when his youngest made this announcement.

Rouge gallery, as his children playfully called it, was vast collection of lipsticks, which he collected to uphold his Brucie persona. Famous playboy with head constantly in the clouds couldn’t not show up with discreet signs of scandal from time to time. And it couldn’t always be the same shade. Or scent when he choose more subtle approach and used one of his more feminine perfumes.

In all honesty, he enjoyed this.

But that’s not the point, point was that Damian wanted to use it and Bruce needed to know what disaster would fall upon him if he agreed.

“Mind telling me why, chum?”

Dick, who visited Manor for a weekend, barely stifled his laughter while Tim stared at his empty coffee mug like it personally betrayed him. Cass just wore her usual knowing and mischievous smile.

Damian shifted in his chair, hands clenching on butter knife. He was nervous and suddenly Bruce dreaded the answer he was about to hear.

“I don’t see how me sharing this information would change anything. It won’t be used to cause harm to anyone but it’s necessary in the extracurricular project I just started.”

“Dami, what project?” Dick asked, voice oozing with genuine curiosity and excitement. He was almost bouncing.

“I don’t want to disclose it.”

“Is this a hero or civilian type of deal?”

Damian didn’t look any of them in the eyes, both hands clenching on his seat as he kept shifting. Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was his youngest… flustered?

“Civilian”

“Alright, great” Dick swung back with single clap, almost tripping his chair over “I think B won’t have anything against you using his rouge gallery, will he?” Man knew his oldest son well enough to recognize his ‘don’t you dare to disagree’ tone. He was confused but there wasn’t any harm so he nodded with affirmative hum.

“Thank you, Father”

Boy practically inhaled rest of his food and rushed outside. Despite all his training and all his efforts, they clearly saw his excitement. Tim pinched himself and returned to staring at his mug.

“Cass, have you seen what I’ve seen or am I overreacting?” Dick asked, barely restraining his enthusiasm. Girl nodded eagerly, shoving more crumbs into her mouth. Young man cheered, throwing his hands up.

“What have I missed?” Tim mumbled, frowning a little.

“BABY BAT HAS A CRUSH!”

Cass nodded again with wide smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Who were they? What did he know about them? Was Protocol 3r0s started? Did someone run a background check already? What could they do if they somehow hurt Damian? Was this person a risk to their identities? Oh gods, oh no.

He probably will have to do The Talk™.

He always dreaded having The Talk, with any of his kids. He felt The Talk with Damian would be even worse. Understandably so.

“Also sleep in at least three da-”

“Fuck off, dick.”

“Was this insult or-”

His children remained obvious to how much work it meant, cheering and sassing each other like they often did.

*-*-*

Damian did not know how it was possible but he lowered his guard enough to get caught.

"What are you doing?" Brown choked out after they stared at each other for a long moment.

"It does not concern you–"

"You're rummaging through my wardrobe, not many things concern me more and also, that's frickin creepy don't do it to anyone outside of the family"

She did have a point however he was not convinced it would be the correct approach if he shared his plan. Father's wards (even unofficial like Brown) tended to make assumptions and overreact based on these conjectures. Dani wasn't easy to scare off but he didn't want to check if his family would manage. They often did things thought to be impossible.

He tried to get away but the blonde stood fiercely in a door, leaving the window as the only way out. He wasn't this desperate. Yet.

Girl looked more and more angry at his silence. He had to give her some answers.

Now that he actually considered it, she could be a useful asset. She was far better versed in women's fashion and if he phrased it correctly, he wouldn't even need to bribe her. Question was, how should he phrase it?

"I have an acquaintance- I have a friend," he corrected himself "from the animal shelter I volunteer at. She mentioned wanting to try out more 'girlish style' and asked for my opinion. I wanted to see if you had any clothes that would fit her. She is smaller than me so I thought that whatever I take, it wouldn't be missed." 

Brown grinned with an unsettling gleam in her eyes. He suddenly regretted opening his mouth if not coming to this room in the first place. 

"Say no more, I have a plan Demon Child"

[shadowtriovibes]

it's a sign of the times

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian..."

the 'verse continues in "the train ain't even left the station" [AO3]

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?” At once, the three of you freeze. “Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?” “I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Can you please remind me again why I’m even a part of this harebrained scheme?” you ask for at least the third time.

You’re crouched around a small table in one of the far corners of the upper section of the Library. It’s well past curfew, but since you aren’t technically breaking any rules by avoiding the Restricted Section, you’re currently getting away with your loitering, as do most students who are caught studying after hours this close to final exams.

Only, you’re not studying. You’ve been summoned there by Ominis, who despite being your closest friend at Hogwarts is also a conniving, duplicitous liar who neglected to tell you that this whole thing is Sebastian’s idea.

You watch warily as he turns over a contraband Time-Turner in his hands, inspecting its impossibly small dials and knobs. The golden sands inside the hourglass hypnotically shift back and forth while he reads over its inscriptions and consults the guidebook he’d smuggled out of the Restricted Section earlier that same day.

You have no idea where he managed to get the device – perhaps in one of those vaults along the coast in Cragcroftshire that he’d been exploring during the summer term. However, now he’s got it in his head that perhaps the reason you haven’t been able to heal Anne is that the cure to her curse simply hasn’t been invented yet. Therefore, a quick jaunt several years into the future ought to reveal a way to rid Anne of her illness (and maybe even earn his way back into her good graces).

It’s not the first ludicrous and impractical idea he’s had in the past year, nor will it be the last, but it’s certainly one of the more radical ones.

“Merlin’s beard, I’ve already told you,” Sebastian sighs. “Since we’re going forward in time rather than back, this is an unauthorized use, and in case we get stuck in the future, we might need your ancient magic.”

“So I’m an insurance policy?!” you demand.

“Not so much for Sebastian as for me,” Ominis answers plainly. “He thinks he’s got it all sorted out, but I’m not as sure.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian interjects.

You huff and roll your eyes. “Need I remind you that using a Time-Turner to go forward is expressly forbidden by the Ministry? It’s only to go back.”

“Loads of people have done it, though,” he argues. “I’ve been reading all about it, it’s well-documented.”

“And they’ve all come back to the present?” you demand.

“Yes,” he snaps. “...For the most part.”

You scoff. Unbelievable.

“Do you two honestly think my magic is just an unlimited get-out-of-Azkaban-free pass?” you hiss. “I have no idea how to manipulate time and space. If we get stuck there, we’re stuck there.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out like you always do,” Sebastian mutters distractedly as he fiddles with the Time-Turner.

You glance at Ominis pleadingly and he just shrugs.

“You know we can’t let him go alone, we’ll never get him back,” Ominis reasons.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you grumble.

Sebastian shoots you a warning look before he holds up the Time-Turner for the both of you to inspect.

“I have it set to jump forward twenty years,” he explains. “We’ll have to get cozy before we go, as we’ve all got to be wearing it. Physically, we’ll land precisely where we are now, at the same time of day.”

“What if the layout of the Library changes?” you ask skeptically.

“The castle hasn’t changed in centuries,” Ominis points out. “Compared to its history, two decades is indeed quite short.”

“...Fine,” you finally mumble. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

The three of you stand in a tight circle in a spot tucked away behind some shelves, hoping to remain hidden there after you make the jump forward in time. Sebastian drapes the thin gold chain connected to the Time-Turner around the three of you; it even seems to stretch and extend in length to fit. Then he murmurs a brief incantation to the enchanted timepiece and spins the innermost piece a whopping twenty times.

Your stomach lurches while it turns over and the world around you seems to spin out of control, almost like one of those Muggle carousel rides you saw once as a child. You can barely make out years and years of students and professors walking around you – through you, even – and countless books sliding on and off the shelves until everything comes to a sudden halt and you fall straight to the floor.

Ominis and Sebastian tumble with you, winded.

“That felt bizarre,” Ominis wheezes. “Where are we? Did we travel anywhere?”

“N-no,” Sebastian breathes. “Everything else just… traveled around us.”

You glance around the Library and see that as Ominis had suggested, it looks largely the same. There are some newer books among those you recognize on the shelves, their spines less creased and dyed with more vibrant colors than those of your time.

One title jumps out at you: Advances in Practical Conjuring, 1900-1910

We’re in the 1910s, you think bewilderedly. We’re in a new century.

Mercifully, the layout of the library seems to be largely unchanged. Rows and rows of dimly lit stacks stretch along the length of the grand room with two winding spiral staircases leading down to the lower level.

Once you catch your breath, the three of you cast Disillusionment on yourselves and huddle together to make your way downstairs to the Restricted Section. Ominis leads the way with his wand extended to search for any lingering students or restless ghosts, having long since proven that his spatial awareness bests both yours and Sebastian’s even without his sight.

Your trio makes it downstairs and past the first row of shelves before Ominis stops in his tracks. Sebastian collides with him and then you knock into Sebastian, causing you both to hiss some choice words at each other.

“What’s going on?” you demand in a whisper.

“Someone just came in,” Ominis explains. “The librarian is at the desk and she hasn’t noticed, but a student is coming down the stairs.”

Sure enough, across the room you see a faint flicker of light and can just barely make out the outline of a small student sneaking down the main stairs – must be a young one, you think, no more than thirteen.

“I think it’s a girl,” you offer. “I can see her just over there.”

“What’s she doing?” Sebastian whispers.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ominis says carefully. “She’s past the desk, the librarian didn’t see – oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

“What is it?” you breathe.

“She’s going straight for the Restricted Section,” Ominis mutters. “Just our luck, I suppose.”

The three of you remain crouched behind the shelf while you watch the girl creep ever closer to your hiding spot. You’re panicking inside your head, wondering what possible seams of the universe might immediately be torn to shreds if she were to spot the three of you, but thankfully she seems single-minded in her mission to gain access to the locked collection of books across the room from you.

“She’s tiny,” Sebastian snorts. “I suppose the young ones are even more bold in the future.”

“Weren’t you about her age when you first started to sneak into the Restricted Section?” Ominis reminds him.

Sebastian insists, “No, I was fourteen. I didn’t go in until Anne was attacked. She’s got to be twelve at most, maybe even a first year.”

“Will you two be quiet?” you hiss. “She’s going to hear you!”

Across the room, the Disillusioned girl pulls a key out of the pocket of her robes and starts to insert it into the lock. A girl her age wouldn’t have mastered Alohomora yet, you think, nor would it be effective on this kind of lock. You have no idea how she managed to get a copy of the key, however.

“Do you suppose we could just go in after her?” Sebastian proposes. “She’s nearly got it open, we should take advantage of that.”

“Are you mad?” you scoff. “We can’t be in there at the same time, we’ll get caught!”

“So what if some little girl from the future sees us?” Sebastian argues. “Why wouldn’t she believe we’re just students from her time doing our own research?”

But before you can further explain to Sebastian how astonishingly stupid that idea is, the girl across the room gasps softly and drops her key to the floor. In front of her, the lock is glowing red as if it’s searing hot.

That’s a new security development from your time, you think. It’s rather lucky the three of you didn’t discover that the hard way.

Immediately, the young librarian leaps from her seat and hustles across the room to the Restricted Section’s gated entrance much faster than Madam Scribner ever would have.

“Hang on…” you say under your breath. “Is that – that’s Sophronia!”

“Who?” Ominis asks.

“Sophronia Franklin, she’s a fourth-year in our time,” you explain distractedly. “She’s always lingering in the library, of course she takes over for Scribner once we finish school.”

“I know her,” Sebastian chimes in. “Tried to get me to play a game of trivia in exchange for returning a book on curse breaking I’d been waiting for. Rather precocious, I thought.”

You glare at Sebastian and he merely rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way, I was referring to her choice in books,” he grumbles. “Merlin, you’re protective of her.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” you murmur, appreciative of the fact that Sebastian can’t see you blushing. Truthfully, you don’t think much about Sophronia these days, other than that she absolutely cannot catch the three of you in her Library as she’ll easily understand what you’re up to.

Before you can try to convince the boys to call it quits and return to the present, Sophronia rounds the corner and the girl’s Disillusionment charm melts away in surprise.

“Anne-Marie Sallow!” she calls out. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

At once, the three of you freeze.

“Did she say ‘Sallow?’” hisses Ominis. “Did I hear that right?”

“I – no. No,” Sebastian stammers. “There’s no way that’s what she said.”

“Apologies, Madam,” you hear the girl say with a cheeky lilt to her voice. “I was just looking for a book for my aunt, that’s all.”

Just then, Sophronia leans down to pick up the dropped key and all three of you catch a glimpse of the young girl’s face. She’s probably around twelve, like Sebastian had guessed, but her face… Merlin, she could be your younger sister.

Her slightly-upturned nose is nearly identical to yours, only she’s got a small smattering of freckles across hers. Then there’s her chin, which juts out just a bit like yours does, and you’re too far away to make out the color of her eyes but you’re positive that they’re almond-shaped just like your own.

Now that you think about it, her hair is tied back like you always did with yours when you were younger – braided with a green bow at the end, only her hair is a rich, warm brown color.

“...Is that you?” Sebastian asks softly. “How. How are you doing this?”

“That’s not me, I’m right here,” you remind him.

“Hold on, what am I missing?” Ominis whispers.

“That girl looks exactly like this one,” Sebastian insists. “She’s got her nose, her eyes, her face shape. It’s like there’s a second-year version of her, standing right across from us.”

“We’re twenty years into the future,” Ominis reminds you both. “...What if she’s your daughter?”

You feel like the room is starting to spin around you again, and you find yourself pitching to the side before Sebastian quickly tugs on your arm and pulls you back behind the shelf.

“Do not go daft on us now,” he mutters. “I don’t care if that is your daughter–”

“She’s your daughter too, you know,” Ominis chimes in. “In case you were wondering.”

“Wh… What?” Sebastian stutters, and Ominis gestures for the two of you to listen in.

“Goodness, Miss Sallow,” Sophronia sighs. “You really are so much like your father, always sneaking into the Restricted Section.”

You watch as the girl puffs up her chest proudly, a mischievous smirk on her face that doesn’t strike you as particularly like you at all – but rather Sebastian.

“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, Madam Franklin,” Anne-Marie says.

“While I respect that you are both voracious consumers of knowledge, he, like you, had little respect for the rules of the Restricted Section,” Sophronia continues. “I’ll have to ask you to leave until you get permission from a professor for relevant research or turn fifteen.”

Anne-Marie is still arguing with the librarian as she’s being escorted out. “Perhaps if you would just let me borrow the book for a while–”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to give you detention this time,” Sophronia interjects. “I can’t keep looking the other way simply because I owe your mother a favor. This is the third time this term!”

Anne-Marie huffs and folds her arms. “But my godfather–”

“Your godfather is a very busy man who would undoubtedly appreciate it if you spent more time staying out of trouble,” Sophronia finishes, “than trying to emulate your father. In fact, I think Ominis would agree with me that one Sebastian Sallow in this world is quite enough!”

Well, that certainly clears things up.

Sophoronia marches Anne-Marie up the stairs and out of the library. The three of you, having already forgotten your original mission, put your heads together without a word so Sebastian can drape the Time-Turner around your necks and return you to the present.

You collapse in a heap on the library floor, but this time it’s fully empty – even the librarian’s desk light is extinguished. You sit in silence for a few moments, and you and Sebastian don’t dare look at each other. Eventually you force yourself to stand and offer Ominis a hand up, steadfastly ignoring the other boy.

“So,” Ominis finally says, barely concealing his smile. “When exactly is it, do you suppose, that the two of you fall hopelessly in love with each other?”

You both curse at him at the same time, and Ominis throws back his head and laughs.

“Shout at me all you want, but that little girl is proof that the two of you are destined for each other,” he crows. “Oh, how brilliant!”

“Come now, Ominis,” Sebastian says with a nervous laugh. “You don’t seriously think that girl is, what… our child or something?”

“That’s precisely what I think,” Ominous answers, smirking. “You said it yourself, she looks exactly like her mother.”

“Stop!” you interject. “I’m not anyone’s mother, in case you forgot.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Ominis agrees primly. “I imagine it will be several more years before Sebastian makes you one.”

Sebastian goes deeply red while you sputter indignantly.

“Thats – that’s foul, Ominis,” you insist. “It’s untoward to even be talking about this!”

Sebastian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re that offended by the very idea of us having a child together? I’m hurt.”

“W-well, I just meant that we shouldn’t talk about things that haven’t yet come to pass,” you explain nervously. “Besides, all that is years away. Decades, even.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way he looks you up and down.

“Right,” he says slowly. “It’s not like we know anything for sure, obviously.”

“Of course,” you agree. “...I don’t suppose you have any other family members named Sebastian? Distant relatives, perhaps?”

“Why?” he drawls. “Looking to snag a cousin of mine so I won’t be the one to father your children?”

You shove him right into one of the bookshelves, but he laughs like he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“Now now,” Ominis murmurs. “You ought to be kind to your future husband, you don’t want to damage his virility.”

“I have half a mind to put a dent in Sebastian’s virility right here and now to save me some trouble later,” you reply, casually aiming your wand at his groin.

“Have you gone mad?!” he stammers as he takes several steps backward. “Put that thing away!”

“Oh, will you please relax?” you sigh. “We just saw one of your descendants, your ability to procreate is in no danger.”

“You could still put me in the Hospital Wing,” he sulks. “Besides, it’s not just procreation that I use it for.”

Ominis snorts. “Unfortunately, I am intimately aware of that.”

You make a face while Sebastian grins cheekily, offering no apology.

The three of you start to make your way toward the exit into Central Hall, ignoring the weak protests of the prefects stationed outside. As you make your way back toward the Slytherin common room, you all fall silent again, lost in your thoughts.

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to forget what you saw, you think. In the future, you have a daughter. Her father is Sebastian Sallow, and… and she’s brilliant. Beautiful, courageous, more than a bit headstrong, and as determined as you both are if not more so.

You catch yourself actually grinning, and when you glance over at Sebastian, you see the same expression on his face.

“Anything you care to share?” you ask him.

“I know we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he starts, “but there is one thing that girl said that I won’t soon forget.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he admits, “I heard her say she’s looking for a book for her aunt, and you haven’t got any sisters.”

You smile softly and reach for Sebastian’s hand. “No, I don’t.”

He lets you take his hand in his to give a reassuring squeeze.

“She’s still alive,” Sebastian says quietly. “She… she’s still sick, probably. But she’s still alive in the future. She meets my daughter, and she knows her.”

“She does,” you say. “And – and maybe we don’t quite know how that happens yet, but you can have a little faith, Sebastian. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, and Anne will be with us for a long, long time. There’s still plenty of time to make things right again.”

He nods wordlessly but doesn’t drop your hand.

Just before you arrive at your common room, Ominis stops in his tracks.

“Hang on… Her name, Anne-Marie?” he asks you. “That sounds like something Sebastian would have picked. How generous of you.”

“Aww,” Sebastian laughs. “You must be so in love with me by then to let me pick the name.”

You grit your teeth and ignore them as you murmur the password to the giant stone snake guarding the door, hoping to get some well-earned rest and be rid of these boys for the night.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Sebastian says as he ducks around you and slips inside the door. “I’ll let you pick the name for the second one, and we can duel for rights to the third.”

You go running off after Sebastian and holler, “You bastard Sebastian Sallow, how many damn children are you expecting?!”

Ominis quickly pulls the door shut behind him and shakes his head.

“Godfather,” he mutters to himself. “I’ll never know peace, will I?”

---

[Get to know more of the Sallow kiddos in "the train ain't even left the station" ❤️]

[squipedmew]

so help me god i will learn to draw different body types if it kills me

had to do it

[jjkbambi]

the best man! luigi mangione x reader

summary it’s your brother’s wedding this weekend. best man! luigi and you are in charge of finding something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue to gift your sister-in-law for the wedding!

no warnings! just fluff and vibes. slight enemies to lovers? he’s your brothers best friend, so naturally there’s a bit of a push and pull. comfort + slice of life . pls tell me if u like!

for the first and last time, your brother entrusts you with his shiny silver credit card.

the fancy card was shoved in the back of your scuffed clear phone case, and yet, you couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride swinging it around. it felt like everyone around you now knew about your exclusive access to mediocre airplane food and flight points no one ever knew how to use. of course, the real perk was priceless: this thing was doing a great job at stroking your ego.

“i’m sure we won’t find something borrowed at swarvoski, y/n.”

your brother’s last-minute plea to fulfill the wedding tradition of something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue came with two conditions: an unlimited budget and the unspoken punishment of spending the weekend with his best friend.

“luigi, all diamonds are borrowed,” you huff. “we didn’t find them under the mall or in america.”

luigi had dropped by your house far too early in the morning for you to be in a good mood. he hadn’t been fair, either, proudly announcing that he’d already fulfilled two out of four of the needed items on the list. something old: the beloved couples prom photo glossed over and re-framed, tossed at the back of his car for all those with eyes to see. and something blue: a pair of bright blue oval sunglasses the boys had found in tokyo. you tried to tell him that, objectively, the glasses were really fucking ugly and there was just no way anyone could give that to a woman on her wedding day. luigi wouldn’t listen. he tried to sell you on the idea that the foreign souvenir was sentimental, proof your brother had been thinking about her despite time and distance, but you were already settled on the idea that oval sunglasses hadn’t been a good idea since the nineties.

you stare down the case of rings intently. before you can find one that catches your eye, luigi interrupts again, “she’s already getting two rings.”

“she has two hands,” you argue.

“you have two shoulders; you don’t wear a bag on each everyday.”

“you don’t see me everyday.”

“right.” he agrees seemingly just to agree. the brunette boy leans over the counter, casting his masculine judgement over the case of brightly colored jewelry.

just as the quiet settles in, he comes with a grumble, “these are impractical.”

they’re supposed to be. they wear bold, unconventional jewels. to his point, their gallant design teetered on the edge of gaudy, yet there’s the one. the white idyllia cocktail ring: a mix of cut gemstones, with a delicate flower design at its heart. the petals were a collection of smooth yellow stones, curled in a way that almost looks like they’re caught mid-bloom, while the rhodium plating gives it a nice silver contrast. it’s sweet but striking, the kind of piece that demands attention without screaming for it.

“they’re cocktail rings,” you say, defensive.

luigi lifts one shoulder up to shrug. “they’re tacky.”

“you wear hybrid shorts and souvenir tees—“

“are you two alright over here?” the sales associate chirps, all bright eyes and perfect teeth.

“we are perfect,” you reply through a small, forced smile, your headache blooming like a bad omen.

she’s tall, polished, and dangerously cheerful for how early it is. “what’s the occasion?”

“a wedding—” you start.

“oh, wow, a wedding?” she gasps, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “congratulations! you two make such a beautiful couple.”

the sheer horror of spending any more life tethered to luigi hits you like a truck. you open your mouth to deny it, but before you can, luigi nods with a polite, “thank you.”

he doesn’t even flinch, casually inspecting a display of bracelets while you’re left to choke on your indignation. you freeze, caught between correcting the mistake and just letting it slide. but before you can make up your mind, luigi leans in, casually gesturing to a row of silver tennis bracelets. “we’re actually just picking out something nice for her before the big night,” he says with a playful grin, his tone light and teasing.

the sales associate beams, clearly oblivious to the tension between you two. “how lovely!“ she sings. “you’re both so lucky to have each other.”

“so lucky,” you manage.

luigi, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a beat, turning to the associate with that effortless charm you’ve heard so much about but never actually seen in practice. “we were just talking about how much we prefer simpler jewelry, you know? nothing too flashy. like those rings over there, totally not our thing, right babe?” he grins, nudging you playfully before adding, “these thin bracelets look nice, though.”

“tennis bracelets,” you correct him, trying hard not to look annoyed.

“whatever you want, babe,” he says with a wink, clearly having way too much fun with this.

the sales woman says something chirpy before fluttering off to grab a tray of options, and luigi leans closer to you with a stupid playful smirk. “you know, it’s fun messing with people sometimes,” he tells you.

you rub your temples in attempt to soothe your storming headache. “you’re just being annoying,” you say, deflated. “i’m gonna go grab a coffee. please just don’t get an ugly color like yellow or green.”

he cocks his head to the side. “i like those colors?”

that doesn’t surprise you. “you’re one of a kind, mangione,” you hum, the words almost losing their bite as you slip the shiny silver card from your case, tapping it lightly against his chest. “have fun. just text me when you’re done.”

luigi opens his mouth to reply with something, perhaps incentive to stay to keep you between him and the sales associate, but before he can get it out, the winter chill finally gets the best of you. you make a sharp, purposeful exit, walking fast enough to look like you know where you’re going, but not so fast it’s obvious you’re trying to escape.

the cold air bites at your skin, but your instincts were right: espresso is the only thing that’ll fix your morning. you settle by the fountain, wrapping your hands around the warmth of your cup, grateful for the quiet. just as the steam from your drink begins to settle, you hear the rustle of gift bags. expensive gift bags.

you look up. luigi, brown-haired and a bit late. “you didn’t answer my texts,” he says.

you blink, then glance over at your phone.

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) Where are you

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) I hate this mall

Luigi Mangione (Penn) is now sharing his location with you! Would you like to share it back?

from Luigi Mangione (Penn) Fucking answer me

3 missed calls

“oh my god,” you say, eyes widening. “luigi, i swear i’d never do that on purpose.”

before he takes the chair beside you, he gives you a telling look. you would.

“pep,” you frown, the childhood nickname rolling off your tongue seemingly ticked him off more. “seriously, my mind hasn’t been working all day. i haven’t slept and—you know. everything’s just been weird.”

“alright,” he sighs, trying. “what’s bothering you?”

“you’d think it’s stupid,” you say, trying to dismiss the purpose of your sadness entirely. at the end of the day, you didn’t want to get into your dip in depression with your brother’s best friend. all your woes would just turn into an endless run of joke material at next year’s thanksgiving. “what’d you buy?”

“silver thing.” luigi answers, sliding the giftbag toward you. “shiny, impossible to hate. we’ll have to pull together something more interesting for something borrowed.”

you nod, flying through the clouds of gift wrap to get to the beautifully extravagant

yellow

box.

your lips pull into a straight line.

“they were out of the other color boxes. but the bracelets silver,” he tells you.

you touch the box gingerly and try to take the high road. there was no reason to end a bad week worse. “i’m sure it’s nice,” you manage.

luigi crosses his arms over his chest. “look in the other bag,” he says, slightly pushy. you brighten up, slightly at this—he was a smart guy, but was he wise and willing enough to invest in options?

you turn to the other bag with the other box, also mustard fucking yellow, but smaller and more delicate. pulling the top open, you reveal the white flower ring you’d been eyeing earlier—its petals a soft, intricate design that now seems even more beautiful in your hands.

“you kept looking at that ring,” luigi points out. “it’s yellow.”

you first look at him, then the ring. did he seriously buy this just to prove a fucking point?

“it’s white and gold.”

“says yellow on the receipt.”

you sigh, shutting the lid and dropping it back into it’s fancy gift bag. “i guess we’ll have to ask the bride.”

“we can go back and ask the sales associate for all i fuckin’ care,” he says, his tone firm. you laugh at how silly this is.

“you swiped my brother’s card for a ring, just so we could argue about it?” you say, rolling your eyes. “somehow, i’m the one everyone calls crazy?”

“no, i put that one on my card,” luigi corrects. “you can keep it.”

you freeze, looking up at him, confused. he wasn’t the type to indulge in unnecessary accessories. he hated consumerism. hell, he’d gone off about capitalism all the way over here. “what do you mean?”

“you liked it.” he shrugged. “it’d look good on you anyway, just keep it.”

you blink, momentarily thrown off. it sounds so silly, but as you look at him, you realize it’s the nicest thing that’s happened to you all week. you feel a warmth spread through you, unexpected but welcome. you lunge in for what was probably your first ever hug.

“aw, pep,” you say, tone soft and musical.

he pulls back, “no—we don’t have to—”

“no, seriously, you have no idea how awful this week has been for me,” you sigh into his neck. his warmth feels nice. warranted. he’d allow it. “thank you.”

“tell me,” luigi says into your hair. he hugs his arms around the small of your back, gentle, soft, barely there.

“hm?”

“tell me what happened.”

you try to mask the tension in your chest as you search for the least emotional way to explain your drop in enthusiasm. you pull away and start cautiously.

“well… my boyfriend pulled out of the wedding.”

“…oh.” he blinks, slow to a reaction. “is he okay?“

“we broke up,” you truth. the words feel foreign on your tongue, awkward in their simplicity. of all the people you expected to have this conversation with—gossiping over coffee about your ex—instagram user luigi.from.fiji was nowhere near the top of the list.

“oh,” luigi says. you feel him turning in, his gaze sharpening, studying you closely. you deliberately adjust your hair and look away, trying to escape the intensity of his attention.

“it’s whatever.”

“it’s not whatever. are you okay?” he asks, the concern in his voice making it clear he’s not going to let you off the hook that easily.

you put a hand on his wrist. “just don’t tell anyone. everyone in the family still really likes him.”

“y/n, i wouldn’t do that,” luigi swears. “and for the record, i never liked him.”

“you met him, what, once?”

“first impressions only take seven seconds,” luigi says, his tone shifting, a hint of a smile in his voice. “he wore a band tee to my parents’ country club. any reasonable person would’ve at least read the dress code before stepping in. it’s fuckin’ golf, not bowling.”

“luigi mangione, the fashion police,” you retort mockingly.

luigi relaxes into his seat, chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “so what happened? what’d he do?”

“everything just started to suck,” you admit, your voice softer now, like you’re still trying to make sense of it all. “he forgets what weekend the wedding is, forgets he has a trip planned with his boys. it’s like everything else comes first, and i’m just… somewhere in the background. i asked him if he knew when my birthday was — and he just stood there, silent.”

“so you broke up with him?”

“does that surprise you?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

he raises his hands in defense, a small laugh escaping him. “i was surprised you gave him a chance,” luigi argues, his gaze reuniting with yours, a different comfort in his gaze. “i’m not surprised you left him. surprised it took you so long, sure.”

“oh, fuck off,” you dispute, playful but sharp. “you don’t get to have an i told you so moment right now. you met him once then moved away!”

luigi scoffs. “it’s not rocket science, you know. i didn’t have to be across the street to see that you’re way too pretty to be wasting your time. honestly, i don’t know how anyone could ever forget someone like you.”

you hate that you flush at the compliment, quickly shaking your head back into reality. “you don’t have to be nice to me just ‘cause i had a shitty week, pep.”

he rolls his eyes. unbelievable. even your gentlest moments were shielded by your wall of contretemps. “i’m not being nice just because of that,” luigi says, his voice dropping a little lower. “i’m being nice because you deserve it. shitty week or not.”

you feel light-headed, like the ground beneath you is shifting with every word. the afternoon sun hasn’t even touched you yet, but it feels like you’ve been swept away by a storm. “thanks, i guess,” you say, suddenly shy and unlike yourself.

he leans forward — just a touch closer, his lips curling into something warmer, more certain. “you’re welcome,” he says, his gaze never leaving yours. it’s as if he’s trying to read the very contours of your soul, tracing each flicker of thought that dances across your face. his eyes move slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to miss even the faintest shift in your expression, as though every moment with you holds something worth studying, something worth remembering. “and in case you didn’t know—if you ever need someone to make you feel special, i’m always around. not just ‘cause you deserve it, but because i’d be lucky to get the chance.”

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, time seems to slow down. you can’t even really help the smile that tugs at your lips. “you really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

luigi chuckles softly, a hand brushing lightly against yours. “only when it’s you.”