He’s So Pretty Omfg Imagine Looking Over And Seeing Him In Ur Class

he’s so “i love my gf” coded

LMAO

Bro knew he had one final serve left in him

oh my god 😩

legal team part one luigi mangione x reader

summary working on luigi mangione’s legal team has its benefits

warnings unedited, I do not like this hair on luigi and speak about it 2x, rpf haters are not gonna like this one, surprisingly safe for work

he doesn’t see you every week.

meetings with his attorney are rare enough. meetings where you’re there too—sitting off to the side with your notepad, eyes lowered—are even rarer. still, he notices you every time. how careful you are. how you listen without pretending to. how you somehow make the cold concrete room feel a little less dead.

he remembers the first time you walked in: frostbitten, soft-spoken and sweet. you were bundled up in a heavy coat, scarf loose around your neck, hair tangled from the wind. you looked too soft for this place. too alive.

his attorney—well, she insists he just call her karen now—she notices. she makes these meetings feel less like depositions and more like conversations. she listens closely, looks for patterns. she sees the way his eyes flicker when you’re mentioned, how they lose focus when someone else enters the room. she caught the way his jaw tensed when she introduced him to her senior paralegal. the way his shoulders dropped, relieved, when she reassured him you weren’t gone—just reassigned, temporarily, to a different stack of documents.

“y/n isn’t here this week,” she says gently, like it might break him.

luigi blinks. he hadn’t even sat down yet. “sorry?”

“she’s still on the case,” karen says pointedly.

the hazel-haired boy sits stiff in his seat. he should be offended—should feel insulted that his attorney finds it necessary to clarify something so trivial, so far from the gravity of his trial. his greatest anxieties should be occupied with the outcome, the press, the sentence hanging over his head like a blade.

but they aren’t.

his fingers twitch against the leather of the chair. he doesn’t look at karen when he asks, voice quieter than before, “so she’ll be back?”

karen nods. “next week, maybe sooner. depends on how fast the paperwork clears.”

he leans back, but only slightly. eyes drift to the window behind her desk—rain tapping gently against the glass like it’s trying to pull him out of the room. he can almost picture you in it. red scarf, crooked smile, hands too small for the amount of documents you had to carry. the soft clumsiness of someone not built for law offices and depositions, but for poetry, maybe. for gardens. for late afternoons with nothing scheduled.

“good,” he murmurs.

she re-arranges the paperwork in front of her, glances at him. “from what i read, you two went to penn together?”

he nods once.

“same year?”

“she graduated early.”

karen nods, making a note in the margin of the document in front of her. “that tracks. she struck me as someone who doesn’t waste time. sharp, efficient. very focused.”

luigi lifts one shoulder in a shrug. avoids her eyes. “we weren’t friends,” he says quietly. the first piece of his real life he’s given up in weeks. “i TA’d for one of her classes.”

karen’s smile comes smally. it’s cute, she thinks. and undoubtedly useful.

“i’ve worked with women like her,” she goes on. “sharp, composed, polite on the surface—but give them a red pen and a narrow margin and they’ll eat you alive. i’d bet she rewrote half your comments.”

a faint smile flickers across his face, the kind that men of his class fight to hide.

“you’re aware, of course, that casual conversation is permitted,” karen says, tone returning to a neutral cadence.

he looks at her now, uncertain.

“with her,” she clarifies. “should she return. which she will. next week.”

he doesn’t respond, but she sees the way his jaw shifts.

karen nods, satisfied. “just thought i’d mention it. in case you were under the impression that you had to admire her silently.”

the next week, karen is back—with her daughter in her place, the senior paralegal. she’s grown on luigi more than he expected. he likes the way her hair is always curled like she’s got somewhere to be after this, and the way she talks back to her mother. in a lot of ways, they’re similar. she knows how to talk to people. she knows how to talk to him.

the rain hasn’t let up all month. it swallows the edges of new york, turns the windows into blurred watercolor, makes the concrete sweat, seeps into his bones even though he hasn’t stepped outside in weeks. it makes the bad days worse. heavier. slower.

they’re mid-review when karen needs to step out for a phone call. he slumps back in his chair and sighs without realizing.

“bored?” sofia, the paralegal, asks, not looking up from the file.

“no,” he says. then, “yeah.”

she snorts softly. “we could ask the court to make the evidence more entertaining.”

“maybe add a soundtrack.”

“sure. live orchestra. i’ll have my father write the motion.”

luigi almost smiles.

she gives him a once-over. almost looks unimpressed. “you’ve let your hair grow out.”

he shrugs. “not much to do about it in here.”

“well, you’re about three inches taller now. we’ll have to update your profile. or adjust the lighting so the media doesn’t notice the awful new hair.”

he exhales through his nose. “very nice.”

and then—

the doors open.

soft voice, familiar cadence, gentle thank you’s to the guards as you step inside, coat dripping at the sleeves, coffee in hand like a peace offering.

“sorry i’m late,” you say, breath still uneven from the run. “you’ll never believe what happened on the train before this—“

luigi doesn’t say anything right away. he barely registers what you’re even saying. he just watches as you tug the scarf loose from your neck, tuck your damp hair behind one ear, offer that half-smile you give when you’re tired but trying.

“you made it,” sofia says. “thank god. our client was getting dramatic.”

you glance at the table, doe-eyed and sweet. “mr. mangione?”

“he sighed like four times,” she says. the two share a glance, where luigi feels himself glaring. surely this was confirmation this family gossips about him at the dinner table.

sofia smiles in his face, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in her chocolate brown eyes. “if there’s ever a tell-all, i’ll make sure the section about your terrible attitude is thorough.”

“i sighed once,” luigi mutters.

the paralegal nods. “yeah. loud enough for me to count it four different ways.”

you draw your presence closer and hold out your hand. a cup of coffee.

“it’s cold. but it’s yours.”

he takes it, fingers brushing yours. he didn’t like coffee, but he liked the gesture. the idea of you going out of your way for him—stepping off the train in the rain, weaving through the checkpoint, explaining yourself to two bored guards just to get through the door and hand him something warm—did something to him. something soft. something stupid.

he smiles up at you. “i’m sure it’s better than anything i can get in here.”

sofia wants to laugh, but doesn’t. she lingers by the table a second longer than necessary, pretending to run through her notes.

“actually,” she says, too suddenly to be believable, “i need to step out. quick call.”

luigi doesn’t look up. “to who?”

“clerk’s office.”

you glance at her. “you already spoke to them this morning.”

“right. well, something might’ve changed.”

“since an hour ago?”

“these people are unpredictable,” she says with a shrug, already slinging her bag over her shoulder. “besides, you’ve got time.”

before you can respond, she’s halfway out, nodding at you, “it’s good you’re back. he’s nicer when you are.”

then she’s gone.

he watches you peel your coat off—slowly, like it’s sticking to your sleeves—and drape it over the back of the chair. you shake the rain from your hair. it clings to your collarbone, a little frizzy from the weather. your pretty eyes wash over his tired face.

“karen said you were a little miserable last week.”

“those women talk too much,” he murmurs. luigi then takes a sip of the coffee, hoping it’ll give him something to do with his hands, but it’s cold. watery. he grimaces.

you arch a brow, sifting through the mountain of documents in front of you. “you mean the ones building your defense?”

he exhales through a crooked smile.

“alright. they talk just enough.”

you take a pause to watch over his expression. “did you want something else?”

“what?”

“you don’t like the coffee?”

“it’s fine.”

“there are vending machines outside—”

luigi takes another swing of the coffee. it’s terrible. “really,” he tells you. “it’s fine.”

“you’re making a face.”

“this is my grateful face.”

you laugh, short and real. it knocks the air out of him, a little.

“that’s your grateful face?” you ask.

“what, you don’t like it?”

“it’s alarming.” you say, teasing. “almost as alarming as your new hairstyle.”

he immediately runs his fingers through his chaos of light brown curls, self-conscious now. “you noticed?”

“how could i not?” you say, already reaching for one of the papers, your eyes flicking over the page like this is just another tuesday. like this—being here with him—is ordinary. he watches you, struck by how easily you settle into the space, how you speak to him like he’s just a man across a table, not a headline or a case file. something about that makes his chest ache a little.

luigi smiles, trying to make it seem like it’s no big deal, but he’s suddenly acutely aware of how unkempt he probably looks. “you think it’ll divide the jury?”

“i dunno, i liked it shorter,” you say, casual, distracted.

luigi nods. “i’ll let the barber know.”

the conversation lingers for a second longer than feels professional. he’s not sure if it’s the cold coffee in his hands or the way your eyes keep landing on him—steady, warm—but there’s a looseness in his chest he hasn’t felt in weeks.

“it’s… really good to see you,” he says, softer now.

your voice has that tired warmth he remembers—not from knowing you, not really, but from watching you closely enough to wish he had.

“yeah,” you reply softly, looking at him with a small smile. “good to see you too.”

the next week, the rain clears.

you arrive in the first minute of morning, your coat slipping off one shoulder, a soft crease still pressed into your cheek from your pillow. there’s a grogginess to your expression—half-lidded eyes, slow movements—that he finds endearing. he watches you walk in with a bundle cradled in your arms, and it takes him a second to realize it’s for him.

“good morning, mr. mangione,” you mumble, voice still heavy with sleep. his mouth lifts slightly at the sound of it. you’re the only one who still calls him that—no teasing, no irony. just soft and sincere, like you still believe in titles, in dignity.

“you know you’re the only person who calls me that,” he murmurs, watching you from under lowered lashes.

his chestnut brown hair is shorter now, clean at the neck, the mess finally tamed. you notice right away, your eyes flicking up as you set the clothes down on the table. the new cut brings out the angles of his face more—sharper jaw, clearer eyes—but there’s still something boyish in the way he looks at you.

your innocent eyes meet his, head tilted. “do you want me to stop?”

he shakes his head once. slow. deliberate. “no. i want you to say it again.”

your lips part slightly, caught off guard—not just by the words, but the way his eyes are on you now.

“we have people waiting, mr. mangione,” you decide on saying, sliding him the cloud of clothes. his fingers tighten around the bundle like he’s anchoring himself to it. he disappears behind the divider, the makeshift dressing area tucked in the corner of the room. you hear the rustle of fabric, the soft clink of the belt buckle. silence, mostly. then his voice, low but clear:

“you didn’t have to bring the tie.”

you smile. “they like it when you wear green.”

he chuckles under his breath. when he steps out, the shirt’s still slightly wrinkled, but it fits. the blazer straightens his posture. the tie—crooked. he frowns down at it, then at you.

“this is not my skill set,” he says.

you stand, stepping in front of him, fingers reaching to adjust it. he goes very still. you tug it straight, tighten the knot gently, smoothing the line of fabric down his chest. he’s watching you the whole time. his eyes aren’t sharp anymore—they’re soft. warmer than you remember.

“better,” you say.

“i like when you do that,” he says quietly.

you glance up, eyebrows raised. “tie your tie?”

“fix me.”

you smile. but you notice it. the air shifts between you—tightens. neither of you moves, but the tension grows sharp. your hands are still at his collar, and his gaze dips to your mouth, just for a second.

his eyes linger on you longer than is professional. there’s something about your face this morning—fresh and undone, your lips still pink from sleep, your eyes impossibly doe-like. they blink slowly, sweetly, and he wonders how it’s possible you look softer now than you did when he first saw you in the frost of december.

“you’re going to be late,” you say, clearing your throat.

“just one thing first,” he says, and before you can ask, he leans in—slowly, giving you the chance to stop him—but you don’t.

his hand curls firmly around your waist, the other finding your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your mouth before his lips replace it. he kisses like he’s starved for it—slow but deep, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees give a little. he feels it, steadies you with a hand at your hip, pulling you closer, pressing into you like the taste of your mouth is something he doesn’t want to lose.

you gasp softly into him, but he doesn’t pull back. just breathes it in, groaning quietly when your fingers tangle in the short hair at the back of his neck.

you’re heat and rain and tension in his hands. everything about you is soft but decisive—the way your hips press into his, the way you lift your head and open up under him, the way your skin flushes like it’s just for him.

“you cut your hair,” you breathe against him, lips swollen and glazed.

he brushes his nose against yours, smirking. “you hate it?”

“it’s terrible,” you joke.

“yeah?” he murmurs, mouth skimming your jaw, voice rough. “still kissing me, though.”

you laugh, quiet and shaky, breath hot on his throat. he pulls back enough to look at you—just look. your eyes are glassy and soft and a little dazed. doe-like. he’s never seen anything sweeter.

“how late can i be?” he asks.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t make me explain the delay to a room full of cameras,” you say, pouting.

he laughs, but it’s soft, breath still mingled with yours. “we’ll have to be quick then,” he says smoothly, warm hands wandering. “you’re gonna have to work with me here.”

askbox

i hope today is good to lulu, i really hope he’s doing well <3 thinking about him today

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹!!!!!

The legal fund has officially surpassed $1M! 🎉

soft haven

summary: you and your boyfriend unwind in bed together after you both had tough days.

warnings: fluff, kissing, cuddling, david lynch mention, twin peaks mention, laura palmer mention, kyle mclachlan mention

notes: i dedicate this to @mangioneee and everyone else who sent me a request regarding cuddling with lu in bed :)

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your room is your safe haven tonight, a cozy shield from the heaviness in your heart. you’re curled up tight in the middle of the bed you share with your boyfriend, wrapped in the quilt that smells like a mixture of his cologne and your perfume.

you’re lying in bed, propped up by a couple of worn pillows. a folded throw holds your laptop across your lap, its dim glow casting light over your face and the tangled sheets. you’re watching your favourite show, twin peaks, with agent cooper’s steady voice coming through the laptop. it’s been a rough day, and the heavy feeling lingers. your eyes wander, hardly focused on the screen, lost in your thoughts.

for some reason, you felt numb all day. and all your mind was fixated on was getting home to your warm bed, and unwinding with your favorite show. work plodded along, conversations drained you, and all you wanted was to just go home.

you miss luigi and can’t wait for him to walk through the door.

as if the universe somehow managed to read your mind, sure enough, the bedroom door swings open, and there he stands, a gentle smile spreading across his face, instantly brightening the space.

“hey baby,” luigi says softly, his voice a balm. his gaze locks with yours, weary yet warm, and he moves silently to the bed. “missed you today.” he murmurs, leaning close, his lips grazing yours softly at first, then deepening into a heartfelt kiss, each one easing the heaviness of the day.

you sink into him, your hands resting on his shoulders as the kisses deepens. his fingers graze your cheek, drawing you nearer, and the world slips away. honestly, you could kiss luigi for hours and not get bored.

amidst the kisses, you manage to murmur, “how was your day?” your lips still grazing his, unwilling to break the moment.

he hesitates, his forehead pressing gently against yours, a faint sigh slipping out. “awful.” he admits softly, his tone sad, before his lips find yours again, the kiss deeper, as though seeking refuge in your closeness.

you relish in the kiss briefly, but concern for luigi tugs at you. slowly, you ease back, your hand resting gently on his cheek as you look into his eyes. “why, what happened?” you ask tenderly, voice full of care.

you lift the blanket, beckoning him closer. “cmere.”you say softly, guiding him in. he slips beneath the covers beside you, his warmth close as you pull the blanket over you both, ready to hear him out.

luigi nestles closer, his shoulder grazing yours as he exhales softly. you shift to face him, the faint buzz of twin peaks playing on your laptop fading into the background, your attention focusing on him.

“tell me what’s wrong.” you whisper, your hand slipping under the covers to find his, squeezing gently. he leans in, nuzzling his face against your chest, seeking comfort. you run your fingers through his curls, stroking them softly.

his breathing evens out, his face still nuzzled against your boobs. after a pause, he mumbles, “i keep overthinking at work.” his voice carries a hint of frustration. “it’s like… i’m second guessing every move i make, worried i’ll mess something up. today was just… too much.” he presses himself closer, as if your warmth could untangle his mind.

your fingers run through his curls, gentle and calming. “lu, you’re so smart.” you murmur, your voice full of warmth. “and i’m not just saying that because you’re my boyfriend, there’s really no need to doubt yourself when it comes to anything. you’ve got this incredible mind, one that’s extremely rare to find in people.”

you pull him closer beneath the blanket, the laptop’s faint glow forgotten, hoping he can feel how much you believe in him.

he lets out a soft sigh. “i guess…” he mumbles, his tone uncertain but softening. after a pause, he shifts, his voice quieter. “anyway, that’s enough about me and my bullshit. what about you? you seem sad.”

you hesitate for a second, your fingers slowing in his curls as the day’s weight settles back in. “i’ve just felt… off.” you confess, your voice faint. “i’ve got no clue why, but i just felt so shitty all day, and nothing seemed to shake it.” you lean into him, feeling soothed by his warmth.

luigi lifts his gaze to yours, his eyes warm with quiet concern. “i’m sorry baby, it really hurts me to know you felt that way.” he says softly, his voice sincere. he places tender kisses on your breasts, his arms tightening around your torso. “how about we just stay in bed together for the rest of the evening?”

he pauses, glancing towards the glow of your laptop. “watcha watching?”

your expression brightens, a flicker chasing away your prior sadness. "it’s twin peaks!" you say excitedly, voice warming as you gaze at him. "david lynch directs it, and basically, this girl called laura palmer gets murdered, and kyle mclachlan plays this fbi agent who goes to the town to investigate it, and sooo many weird and supernatural things happen."

you glance at him, anticipating his response, only to find him fast asleep, his head nestled against your chest like a cozy baby.

you roll your eyes, giggle and kiss his head, pulling him closer.

your silly, silly boyfriend.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

hope u all like this :,)

previous work

luigi at a halloween party (2019) + crumbs

oh my goddddd 😣😣😣😣😣

omg okay imagine this: you’re pregnant and you’re in that part of the pregnancy where your milk starts coming in and you do notice but do not say anything. since you and Luigi are horn dogs, even more so after you’ve become pregnant, one day you’re riding him slowly in bed. Like, he came home from work, you fed him dinner, he massaged your feet while talking about his day and y’all move to the bedroom….. and now you’re bouncing on his lap. And of course he’s got his hands and mouth all over your tits. He has been sucking on them for so long that suddenly, he feels something wet in his mouth and he’s like???? then you both look down to see that you’ve started leaking and you’re like 🫢 but he’s so gone that you feel his cock twitch inside you and he goes back to sucking on your boobs even harder.

You’re dumbfounded and aroused (ofc) and go, “Luigi what..😧”

And he’s just looking up at you all doe-eyed and innocent, all the while sucking on your nipples with a little bit of milk over his mouth

(I’m going to hell for this, forgive me lord)

GIRL ILY FOR THIS

omfg im literally insane i’ve thought so many times about riding him while you’re pregnant and he’s tasting your milk😣😣😣 oh my god

AND HES LOOKING UP AT U LIKE THIS😣😣 GUYS