#not an ‘oh shit’ this time but a simple ‘oh’

[acmeangel]

♡ For my Valentine's Week Event! ♡ SFW ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ Short one shot, fluffy ♡ Summary: You and Levi are both Scouts, and it's time for Paradis' annual Lovers' Festival! When Levi notices how you light up at the sights of the festival, how does he react?

Levi always chose you to go with him on trips into town to pick up more supplies for the barracks — you were focused, always stuck to the specific inventory needs, and he didn’t hate having your company, either.

You always appreciated the opportunity to go with him. While it wasn’t the most exciting ‘mission,’ it was still a break from the barracks for a short while, in a way that didn’t involve fighting Titans or risking your life (though you did sometimes fear for it while Levi double-checked the inventory list after you were done).

Town was typically quiet, bordering on dull and monotonous, but you didn’t mind that. The way you saw things, it was an idyllic look into how a normal, peaceful life could be — something as simple as picking out vegetables at a market stall seemed like a romanticized dream to you.

Levi would sometimes catch you from the corner of his eye, as you wistfully stared at the people in town, and he’d narrow his gaze with judgment, but wouldn’t tell you to stop. You’d still remained focused, so he saw no reason to take away this simple thing that seemingly brought you joy.

Today, however, was no ordinary day in town. Through the chaos of life with the Scouts, both of you had forgotten that it was the day of the annual Lovers’ Festival.

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose as the two of you had turned down a street and been met with streets full of couples holding hands, pink and red ribbons tied around every festival stall, children giddily sneaking pieces of chocolate, and bouquets of flowers bursting from every corner.

“Shit,” he’d muttered, “I forgot this insane thing was today.”

“Oh,” you said, your voice somewhat distant as the sights of curling rose petals, decadent sweets, and paper hearts captivated your gaze. “Yeah… so did I…”

Levi didn’t seem to notice your distraction as he began to weave through the crowded street, his brow set in a straight line and his lips pressed firmly together as he evaded the couples who were giggling while exchanging gifts and sweet words.

You, however, were in no such rush. You took your time, looking at each and every booth in the festival with wide eyes filled with curiosity and elation. You’d never say it out loud — especially not to Levi — but you’d always hoped that some day, you’d get to go to the Lovers’ Festival with someone special and be one of those couples. You knew that life in the Scouts made this a bit of a pipe dream, but you couldn’t help yourself from wanting it, anyway.

“Y/N,” Levi called out as he turned around from far ahead of you, irritation rising in his tone. “Move it, we’re on a sched-“

He cut himself off as he saw you leaning over the rows of flowers, your skin glowing as the vibrant colors of petals reflected onto you, your lips curved up into a warm smile. He saw the way your eyes lit up as you saw the couples walking by with intertwined hands.

He sighed and stood still at the end of the row of stalls, waiting for you to catch up instead of hurrying you along.

Eventually, you’d finished making your way through the street, and the two of you went on to gathering the supplies as usual, the sounds and sights of the festival left behind.

“Alright,” he'd said, after you'd finished up at the last shop of the day, glancing over the list one last time. “That’s everything.”

“Mhm…” you hummed in response.

Levi could hear the distraction oozing from your voice and he snapped his head up, expecting to see you preoccupied with something ridiculous. But when his gaze followed yours, he turned his head to see a modest vase of roses sitting on the shop counter. A small pink ribbon was wrapped around the vase, with a tag that read “Single Red Roses for Your Beloved” in swirling calligraphy.

His eyes drifted back to your profile, studying your expression — the small smile that played on your lips, the soft puff of air from your nose, the subtlest longing in your gaze.

“Tch.” He tapped his pencil against the paper. “Forgot something.”

You blinked hastily, your wandering mind brought back to reality as you turned to face him, your face heating up with embarrassment.

“I did?” Your brows turned downward, your eyes straining to try and see the paper. “What did I forget? Sorry, I’ve been…”

Your voice trailed off as Levi ignored your questioning, neatly folding and tucking the paper into his jacket and turning to head for the shop counter. You watched as Levi approached the shop owner behind the counter, pointing to the vase of roses. Your eyes widened with confusion, which morphed into actual bewilderment as the shop owner gave Levi not one, but all of the roses from the vase, wrapped together with newspaper. You heard him mumble a “shit” as he pricked himself with one of the thorns, griping under his breath.

Levi tossed a few coins down onto the counter then walked over to you, his stride as calm and purposeful as it always had been, as if he were about to hand you a folder of reports rather than a bouquet of roses.

The tension in his voice, however, betrayed a hint of actual nerves.

“Here.” He outstretched his arm, handing you the bouquet, his eyes looking everywhere but into yours. “You kept… staring at them.”

You took the bouquet into your arms, the sweet scent wafting up to your nose. You reached a hand up to gently trace your fingers along the soft, velvety petals, your eyes sparkling with wonder.

“Levi,” you began, your voice quiet and drawn out, as if trying to delicately navigate this uncharted territory. “You didn’t have to do- this is- these are beautiful…”

The tips of his ears turned bright red, his top lip scrunching upward with slight discomfort.

“You weren’t exactly being subtle, the way you were looking at everything all day,” he uttered, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Was starting to think your eyes were gonna fall out of your damn head. I don’t know. You looked… happy.”

“Thanks, Levi,” you said, your voice completely sincere as your face began turning hot once again and you couldn’t help but smile. “No one’s ever— just, thank you.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with your pleased reaction, studying the boxes of supplies for a moment before looking at you again.

“But if anyone asks, I didn’t buy those for you. I’ll deny it.” He raised a stern, serious eyebrow at you, but the softness in his eyes and the faint upturn of his lips suggested otherwise.

He paused for a beat, then added, “Those suit you. Maybe I’ll keep ‘em on the inventory list for next time.”

His lips tugged upward just a fraction of an inch more for the briefest moment, before he pushed through the shop door, back out onto the bustling festival street.

♡ Participate in my Valentine’s Week Event! Rules are here.

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[mangionebabymama]

Her First Kiss — Luigi Mangione

Summary: Though you’ve been friends for quite some time, Luigi utterly can’t believe that you’ve never kissed anyone before, despite you reminding yourself, along with many others, that you’re fine without any idea of romance in your life. It doesn’t bother you at all that you still haven’t had your first kiss—or that’s at least what you tell yourself.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Just something simple that’s short n’ sweet, very strong, independent gf-coded and obviously self-indulgent, lol. I just wanted to get this out in words! Stay tuned for more.

Late afternoon sunlight permeated the blinds of Luigi’s inviting condo, casting warm, golden beams of light across the room. You positioned yourself cross-legged on his couch, a mug of tea delicately grasped in your hands, as the two of you shared laughter over a cherished memory. It was one of those effortless, comforting moments that instilled a sense of homeliness—an experience you consistently felt in Luigi's presence.

Luigi reclined in his armchair, that characteristic smirk gracing across his face. “You know, I still can’t believe you managed to convince me to go on that road trip with you. Three days in a car with no AC? You’re lucky I love you.”

You may have rolled your eyes, but inside, your heart did a little flip at his words. “Love me? More like you were bored and needed an excuse to get out of town.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a busy man,” He teased, raising an eyebrow. “But you’re right. I wouldn’t have said yes to just anyone.”

There was a moment of silence, and your feelings became thicker, filled with unexpressed tension. You diverted your gaze, sipping your tea to conceal the slight flush rising to your cheeks.

“So,” Luigi started to speak, his tone altering slightly, “speaking of road trips and adventures… what about love life adventures? Any exciting updates there?”

You snorted, almost choking on your next drink. “Love life? Me? Gigi, you know better than anyone that I’m not exactly the ‘romantic’ type.”

“Oh, come on,” he pressed, leaning forward with a grin. “There’s gotta be someone. You’re smart, funny, stunning—and don’t even try to argue with me on that. You’re telling me no one’s caught your eye?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. “Nope. It’s not my thing; we’ve been through this. I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

Luigi’s smile briefly dimmed, giving way to a genuine sense of curiosity. “Wait… so, you’re saying you’ve actually never…?”

“Never what?” you inquired, although you sensed you already knew the answer was going.

It perpetually, without deviation, guided one down the same road to the same destination.

“You’ve never dated anyone? Never even had your first kiss?”

You hesitated, gripping the mug tightly. This wasn’t a subject you discussed frequently—or ever, to be honest. You had always taken pride in your independence, not needing anyone to make you whole. Yet now, with Luigi observing closely, it felt… different.

“No,” you confessed, your voice just above a whisper. “I haven’t.”

Luigi’s eyes widened, and he just stared at you for a moment. “…Wow. I mean… I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.”

You forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “What, are you surprised? I told you, I’m not exactly the romantic type. I don’t need that shit in my life.”

“I’m not saying you do,” He stated hastily, his tone becoming more gentle. “But… don’t you ever wonder what it’s like? To be with someone, to share that kind of connection?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the steam rising from your tea.

Did you ever wonder?

Of course, you did.

There were moments—late at night, when the world was quiet, and your thoughts drifted—when you thought about what it would feel like to be held, to be kissed, to be wanted—to be sought after. But those thoughts were private, fleeting, and quickly brushed aside. You didn’t need them, and why would you? As always, as you said it yourself, with your chest, you were completely fine.

“Not really,” you lied, forcing a smile. “I’m happy with my life as it is.”

Luigi remained silent for a while, and when you eventually glanced up, you saw him observing you with an expression that was difficult to identify. His eyes had a certain quality—something tender, passionate, and slightly dangerous. They had never looked at you like that, and he knew it himself, too.

“What if…” He started gradually, his words becoming soft and subdued, “What if I told you I could change your mind?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him, your mouth suddenly open dry. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m talking about giving you your first kiss. Right here, right now.”

You blinked, your mind grappling to process his words. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he swore, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, if I’m honest. You’re… different, you know that? You’re strong, independent, and confident—everything I admire in a person. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Luigi? Thinking about kissing you? This was the same guy who had been your friend for years, had seen you at your best and worst, and knew you better than almost anyone. Now he was sitting here, looking at you, as if… as though he wanted you—he wanted to kiss you and give you your experience of your very own first kiss.

“Gigi, I…” you breathed out, taking a moment to gather your thoughts, but the words felt stuck in your throat. It was hard to find the right thing to say or how to respond to a situation like this. It was difficult to exist within a reality you would never have imagined or dreamt about, one that you daydreamed with the pure intention of distracting yourself and your attention from the present for a reason.

He reached out, his hand brushing against yours as he gently took the mug from you and set it aside. His touch was affectionate yet startling, a fresh jolt to your senses that sent heat coursing through you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured at a whisper’s edge. “Just… let me do this. Let me give you your first kiss. Can I?”

Looking back, you might wish you had said no. It would have been great to pull away and remind him that this wasn’t what you truly wanted, and that you didn’t need this in your life. It would have been empowering to stand up and grab the cup of tea he took from you in the first place—when, as a matter of fact, you could have made some tea for yourself, but instead, he made you some tea because he simply wanted to, for you, telling you to sit down and let him make it for you—and assert yourself as the strong woman you know yourself to be—one who doesn’t need a man to feel complete. Yet, as his eyes locked with yours and his face drew closer, you felt a weight on your chest, unable to move. Your heart raced, your breath quickened, and all you could focus on was how much you longed for this moment.

His lips hovered mere millimeters from yours, and the warmth of his breath brushed against your skin. You felt your eyes fluttering shut, your eyelashes brimming the surface of your vision and becoming one, and then—

They brushed against yours, unsteady and curious, as they explored this beautiful new experience together. It was a tender kiss, sweet and innocent, that sent waves of warmth cascading through you. As his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroked your skin, and you melted into him, your body responding naturally to the moment.

The kiss intensified, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, purposeful rhythm, igniting a wave of emotions you couldn’t fully articulate—desire, yearning, and need. Your hands instinctively grasped his shoulders, gripping his shirt as you returned the kiss, your heart racing.

As he finally withdrew, both of you were breathless, sharing a silent exchange of unexpressed feelings through your gaze. His hand remained on your cheek, with his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip.

“So,” he whispered, his voice sounding rather huskily, “what do you think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he leaned in again before you could say anything, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one longer, deeper, and more urgent. Your mind went blank, dissolving into a haze of sensation as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment, in Luigi.

You withdrew abruptly, your chest heaving as you regained your breath. Luigi’s hand continued to support your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin, yet you found yourself unable to meet his deep brown eyes. Your heart raced, not solely from the kiss but from the torrent of emotions it had evoked—emotions for which you were not prepared to face.

“I…” you stumbled over your words, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Luigi’s expression softened, yet a hint of surprise flickered in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he inquired, his voice low and composed, although there was a discernible trace of concern.

You stepped back, creating a bit of space, and wrapped your arms around yourself. “This. Us. Whatever this is. I… I’ve never… I’ve never felt like this before. And it’s… it’s terrifying.”

His brow furrowed as he approached you, but he stopped when you shook your head. “Hey,” he soothed, “it’s okay to feel scared. I get it. But… you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“It’s not you,” you blurted, voice cracking, thoughts jumbling into an untidy heap. “It’s… it’s me. I’ve spent my whole life being independent, not needing anyone. I don’t rely on people. I don’t… I don’t let them in. And now… now you’re here, and you’re…” you trailed off, your words failing you.

Luigi stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze steady on you. “I am here,” he affirmed, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not asking you to change who you are. You’re strong; you’re independent. You’re… you. And that’s what I love about you.”

Your breath hitched at his words. Love. He said it so easily, naturally, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But it wasn’t simple for you… not when you had spent so long building walls around your heart.

“I don’t know if I can let someone in like that,” you admitted. “I’ve never… I’ve never been vulnerable like this. I don’t know how to be.”

Luigi stepped closer, slowly, this time, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Your body was tense, but something in you wanted—needed—to close the distance between you.

“Vulnerability isn’t a sign of weakness,” he reminded you, his promise like a caress. “It’s a strength. It involves allowing someone to truly see you and placing your trust in them not to inflict harm. And I promise, I would never hurt you. Not on purpose. Not at all. Not ever.”

His words were like a balm to your racing thoughts, but they didn’t erase the fear entirely. “What if I can’t give you what you want?” you pumped, your voice exhibiting a tremor. “What if I’m not… enough?”

Once intense and guarded, his eyes were ultimately relaxed and became at ease at the sound of your fears, and he extended his hand, his fingers lightly touching your arm. “You’re enough,” he said with conviction. "You have always been enough. I don’t want you to change; I just want you to be yourself. If you’re not ready, that’s perfectly fine. We can take this at your pace.”

A lump formed in your throat as his words pierced the walls you had so carefully constructed. Yet, a part of you still resisted, yearning to retreat into the comfort of independence. But when you gazed into his eyes, something shifted.

“I’m scared,” you revealed, your words scarcely perceptible. “But I… I do want this. I want you.”

Luigi’s lips formed a gentle, tender smile. “Then let me be here for you,” he eased. “Let me show you that it’s okay to let someone in. You don’t have to do this alone.”

His statements resonated with you on a deeper level, and before you had time to ponder, you moved in closer, narrowing the distance. Your fingertips lightly touched his torso, picking up on the consistent rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hands. Little by little, you drew near, sealing your lips with his.

This kiss felt different from the ones before. It was softer, slower, and immensely profound. It conveyed a question, a plea, and a promise simultaneously. As Luigi kissed you back, his hands on your waist, the skin of his fingertips pressing the fabric of your shirt, bracing the bit of skin sneaking from underneath the hem of your shirt, you sensed a change within you. The walls you had constructed seemed to start crumbling, brick by brick, and for the first time, you didn’t attempt to halt them.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against him, and you closed your eyes, savoring the moment. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” you mumbled.

Luigi chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re doing just fine,” he reassured. “Just… follow your heart. It’ll guide you.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to see him truly—not just as your friend, but as someone who could be so much more. Someone who saw you, all of you, and didn’t hold back away.

“What happens now?” you asked.

Luigi dimpled with pleasure. “Whatever you want,” he said. “We can take this one step at a time. No pressure. No expectations. Just… us.”

You nodded, experiencing an unexpected wave of calm. Then, almost instinctively, you leaned in once more, pressing your lips against his for another kiss. This kiss was more resounding and more assured, igniting a spark of something new—something that quickened your heartbeat and left your body yearning need.

Luigi’s hands tightened around your waist, drawing you closer. You surrendered to him, allowing your fears to fade into the background. For the first time, you permitted yourself to be vulnerable, to let someone in, and while it was terrifying, it was also exhilarating.

When the kiss finally ended, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against one another. “I could get used to this,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, an onrush of warmth settling upon your chest. “Me too,” you confessed, letting go of an exhale from your lips.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. “Then let’s take it slow,” he breathed. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest. Yet this time, it wasn’t merely fear; it was an unforgettable feeling—something akin to hope, and even more profound than the assurance of self-trust. For the first time in your life, you realized you genuinely desired this; you longed to be loved without reservation. And there was absolutely nothing wrong, nothing daunting, and nothing despicable about being loved in the moment.

Tag List: @daydreamingwithluigi @mailovesreading @wannabenugget @paolavallado @chipsxsalsa @yancii @briarloves

[whereubeenloca]

Tupperware

Part 6 of the Neighbor! Reader series: Table of contents

Summary: You return Carmy's tupperware

Pairing: Carmy x Reader

Tags: VERY Slow burn, Awkward, Jealousy, Claire mention

Word Count: 908

a/n Sorry for the wait! Life got in the way for a while, hope y'all enjoy!

Wanna be added to the tag list? Comment/ MSG me!

Tag List: @criesinlies @amberpanda99 @marchsfreakshow @leminjelly

This isn’t weird.

Why would it be? What’s weird? Nothing. You’re just nonchalantly returning containers to your neighbor in a super chill, super cool way. Sure, maybe you panicked at the idea of returning empty containers. And yeah, maybe you spent way too much time trying to bake the most perfect cookies ever. But you totally don’t have a freezer full of mistakes that you’ll be slowly whittling your way through. Of course not, that would be ridiculous. 

The stairs creek as you reach the landing leading to Carmy’s door. Your hands are full so you elect to kick the bottom corner of the door instead of a knock. Carmy is quick to answer, a smile spreading across his face as he sees you. 

“Hey- sorry, I didn’t text first. I just uh, wanted to return these?” You smile sheepishly, shifting the containers in your arms. 

“Sure, yeah come in.” He says, stepping aside to let you in. 

His apartment looks similar to yours. A short hallway leads to a kitchen and living area. The kitchen to the right is walled off completely from the living room. His walls are white, no photos, no posters, and he doesn’t even have hooks for his coats. You peek at his living room, simple furniture but not much else. It looks like he just moved in.

“Kitchen’s over here.” He says, guiding you to your right. 

He has an island, your kitchen doesn’t have that. You carefully place the containers into the center.

“You have butcher block counters? How’d you get Randy to install this?” You gape, running your hand over the wood.

He scoffs in response “Randy didn’t do shit, it’s a cart.” He explains, tapping his foot to the side. A hollow sound rings out. 

“Oh, wow. Fooled me.” You smile. He laughs.

“So…” Carmy interjects, gesturing to the containers. “Whatcha’ got?” 

“Cookies. Nothing special.” You say, poking the lid of the tallest deli container. 

He pops open the container, picking the first cookie on the top and biting into it. “S’pretty good.” He says between bites. 

“You think? I uh, browned the butter n’stuff. Tried to make them fancy.” You say, digging the toe of your sneaker into the tile.

Your eyes wander around his kitchen as he eats. He keeps it clean, that’s for sure. The counters are bare save for a knife block and a roll of paper towels. His sink is empty, your eyes finally land on the dish rack. A pot, two plates, and two wine glasses stare back at you. You hate how your stomach twists, quit being weird. 

Carmy makes a face like he’s focusing, waving his hand around vaguely as he chews. 

“Cinnamon?” He says finally. 

“What?” You ask, snapping back to reality.

“In the cookies.” He says, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Did you put cinnamon in them?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s good, right?” You give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind goes into overdrive. 

You don’t even hear his response, all you can think about is who he had in here. He probably made her dinner, something nice. He probably walked her through the whole thing, talking about every ingredient, and explaining each step. If he made her dinner it’s probably serious, right? It must be, you don’t just do that as the first date. You rub your thumb over the surface of the butcher block counter, tracing the same deep cuts over and over. 

You focus your eyes back on Carmy and he’s staring. Why’s he staring, what the fuck is he staring at. His mouth moves again and you don’t quite catch it. Oh shit, you’re in the middle of a conversation. What was he even talking about? Fuck, think of something to say, anything-

“Can I uh, use your bathroom?” The words fumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

Okay, maybe not anything. 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Carmy responds, cocking his head to the side a bit. He nods towards the hallway. “First on your left.” 

“Thanks.” You breathe, crossing the kitchen quickly. 

You shut the door behind you, taking a moment to steady yourself. It isn’t weird to use your neighbor's bathroom, is it? No. Of course not. The bathroom is small, the fan blows obnoxiously as your eyes skim the space.

 One step forward, you glance towards the toilet. No waste bin, no pads. That’s a good sign. You’re snooping, that’s weird. You shake off your thoughts as you peer into the tub, hands clasped behind your back. It isn’t snooping if you don’t move anything. You’re just seeing. Three-in-one shampoo, body wash, loofah. 

She isn’t here often, maybe it wasn’t as serious as you thought. Now you’re speculating, that’s weirder.

You turn to the sink, the final test. Not a test, you’re not testing anything. Hand soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss - huh, didn’t peg him for a flosser. You smile to yourself as you reach over to the toilet and give it a flush to cover your tracks. You run the sink and wash your hands. 

Maybe it was nothing, maybe she didn’t even sleep over. As you dry your hands from the situation, you step forward only to be met with a small metallic click. Your gaze shifts to the tile, scooting your sneaker back to reveal a small golden hoop earring.  You reset your jaw before kicking it under the lip of the sink, out of sight. Good luck, girl.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Lost Time

You didn’t mean to forget.

It was just that life had been moving at a relentless pace—school drop-offs, doctor’s appointments, laundry piles that never seemed to shrink, and the constant whirlwind of raising kids. By the time you had a moment to sit down and breathe, the day was already slipping away, and there was always something else to do.

And then, the realization hit you like a gut punch.

You were supposed to be on a plane.

Your stomach dropped as you stared at the time on your phone. Your flight to LA had taken off an hour ago. The trip to visit Marshall for the weekend—just the two of you—was something you had both been looking forward to for weeks. It was rare, getting time alone together, and now you had completely missed it.

Your hands shook as you picked up your phone, heart pounding as you scrolled to his name and hit call. It rang twice before he picked up.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was warm, but you could hear the exhaustion behind it. “You landed okay?”

You swallowed hard, pressing your fingers against your forehead. “Marshall…”

Something in your tone must have told him everything he needed to know, because there was a pause.

“…What happened?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I—I forgot,” you admitted, voice thick with guilt. “I missed my flight.”

Another silence stretched between you. The disappointment was palpable, even through the phone.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and it made your stomach twist even more.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t even have a good excuse. I just—everything’s been so crazy with the kids and running around, and I lost track of time. I didn’t even realize until just now.”

Marshall let out a slow exhale, and you could picture him rubbing his hand down his face the way he always did when he was frustrated but trying to keep his cool. “Damn, baby,” he finally said, voice softer now. “I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “I know, I was too.”

You could hear the hurt in his voice, and it broke you. Marshall never asked for much—he understood how busy life got, how much the kids needed you, but this was supposed to be your time. And now you had let him down.

There was a long pause before he spoke again. “You could try and get another flight tomorrow,” he suggested, but you already knew it wasn’t that simple.

“Marshall… I don’t think I can. The kids—”

“I know,” he cut in, but there was no anger in his tone, just understanding. And maybe that made it even worse.

You closed your eyes, willing the lump in your throat to disappear. “I feel awful.”

“I know you do,” he said, quieter this time. “But I get it, babe. You got a million things on your plate.”

You wiped at your face, hating that you were tearing up. “I just—I don’t want you to think I don’t care. Or that I don’t want to be there.”

“Never,” he said immediately, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. “You do everything for us, for the kids. I know you love me. I know you wanted to come.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I really did.”

Marshall was quiet for a beat. Then, he sighed. “I miss you, though.”

The admission made your chest ache. “I miss you too,” you whispered.

There was another pause, then his voice turned a little softer, a little playful. “You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“You owe me.”

Despite the guilt still hanging over you, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Oh, do I?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Big time. I want a whole weekend when I get back. No interruptions, no running around—just me and you.”

You exhaled, already nodding. ��Deal.”

“Good.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sitting in the quiet together. Even from miles away, he still had a way of making you feel grounded.

“I’ll call you later?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get some rest, baby. You work too damn hard.”

You smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, still kicking yourself for forgetting. But if there was one thing you knew about Marshall, it was that he’d always understand. And you’d make it up to him—one way or another.

---

The guilt still sat heavy in your chest, even after Marshall reassured you he understood. Missing your flight wasn’t just about forgetting a plan—it was about forgetting him, even if just for a moment. And you never wanted him to feel like an afterthought.

So, you were going to fix it.

The kids were finally asleep, the house was quiet, and after staring at your phone for a few minutes, you decided you weren’t just going to wait until he got back. You could still make the weekend about him.

You called him.

It rang twice before he picked up, his voice groggy. “Babe?”

“Hey,” you whispered, biting your lip. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” he exhaled, and you could hear him shifting. “I was just laying here. What’s up?”

You hesitated for half a second before deciding to just go for it. “I wanted to make it up to you.”

Marshall chuckled, low and rough. “Oh yeah? How you gonna do that from a thousand miles away?”

You grinned, settling back against your pillows. “I have a few ideas.”

Silence. Then—“Shit.” His voice was lower now, already catching on. “You tryna kill me, woman?”

“Maybe,” you teased, running your fingers lightly over your bare skin. “You said I owe you. Figured I should start paying up.”

Marshall groaned, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “You got my full attention, baby.”

~~~

The next morning, you woke up to a text from him.

Marshall: Damn. Now I really can’t wait to get home.

You smirked, typing back.

You: Told you I’d make it up to you.

A second later, another text popped up.

Marshall: Oh, you’re not off the hook yet. I’m making you pay up in person.

You bit your lip, already feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

You: I’m counting on it.

---

The second you saw the flight tracker update, confirming Marshall was on his way home, you sprang into action.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love having the kids around—you did. But after missing your weekend together, you owed him something uninterrupted. No little voices calling for you, no last-minute homework emergencies, no laundry, no distractions. Just you and him.

So, you started making arrangements.

By early Friday evening, the house was quiet. Your daughters were off at their friends’ houses, giggling about sleepovers and promising to text if they needed anything. You stood at the door after drop-offs, staring into the empty house, nerves buzzing in anticipation.

This was actually happening.

It had been so long since you and Marshall had a weekend to yourselves. Between parenting, his career, and the never-ending responsibilities of life, time together had been sacrificed more than either of you liked. But now, for the next two days, he was yours.

And you were not going to waste it.

You sent him a text as you walked through the quiet house, already thinking about what to wear, what to do, how to make this weekend one he wouldn’t forget.

You: House is empty. Just me waiting on you.

A moment later, your phone buzzed.

Marshall: That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Plane just landed. Be home soon.

You smiled, your heart hammering in your chest.

Time to welcome him home properly.

~~~

You were practically pacing by the time you heard the front door open.

Marshall barely had a second to step inside before you were on him, arms wrapping around his neck, pressing yourself against him. His duffel bag hit the floor with a thud as his arms instantly circled your waist, holding you close.

“Damn,” he murmured, burying his face against your neck. “Missed you too, huh?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head so he could press his lips against your skin. “So much.”

His hands tightened around you, like he didn’t want to let go. “Thought about you all weekend,” he admitted. “Then you go and tell me the house is empty? You tryna kill me, baby?”

You smirked, pulling back just enough to look at him. “You said I owe you, right?”

His blue eyes darkened, hands sliding lower on your waist. “Damn right you do.”

You bit your lip, grabbing his hoodie and tugging him toward the bedroom.

“Then let me start paying up.”

---

The second the bedroom door shut, Marshall wasted no time. His hands were on you before you could even take another step, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through his hoodie and jeans.

“You really sent the kids away for the whole weekend?” he murmured, his breath warm against your jaw as he pressed lazy kisses along your skin.

You hummed, sliding your hands under his hoodie, fingertips tracing over his stomach. “Mmhmm. No distractions. No interruptions. Just you and me.”

Marshall let out a low groan, gripping your hips. “You tryna make me fall even more in love with you or what?”

You grinned, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Maybe.”

He exhaled sharply, then suddenly, his hands were on your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed, dropping you down onto the mattress before climbing over you, caging you in.

“You don’t know how bad I needed this,” he admitted, his voice rough, his eyes locked on yours. “Needed you.”

Your fingers tangled in the front of his hoodie, pulling him down until your lips brushed against his. “Then take what you need.”

And he did.

~~~

Hours later, you lay tangled together in the sheets, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers traced lazy circles along your back, his touch light, comforting.

“I should’ve just flown home early,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Screw LA. This is where I wanna be.”

You smiled sleepily, pressing a kiss against his skin. “Well, you’re here now.”

He sighed, squeezing you closer. “Yeah, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow so you could look at him. “Promise?”

He cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing over your skin as his eyes softened. “Swear on everything.”

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss.

For the first time in weeks, there were no schedules to keep, no places to be. Just you and him, making up for lost time.

---

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred slightly, shifting against the warmth wrapped around you, only to feel Marshall tighten his grip. His arms were locked around your waist, his face buried in your hair, his breaths slow and steady against your skin.

"Mm-mm," he murmured, voice thick with sleep. "Not movin' yet."

You smiled, stretching slightly before settling back against him. "Not even to eat?"

Marshall let out a groggy sigh, but instead of answering, he kissed the top of your shoulder, his lips lazy and warm. "M’too comfortable," he admitted. "Stay a little longer."

You turned in his arms, brushing his messy hair back from his face. He looked softer like this—sleepy, relaxed, the weight of the world momentarily lifted.

"You wanna take a bath?" you offered, running your fingers lightly over his jaw. "Then I’ll let you go back to being a human blanket."

His eyes cracked open just enough to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, alright," he muttered. "Long as I don’t gotta do any work."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Just sit there and be pretty, babe."

He chuckled, stretching before finally releasing you from his grip, letting you drag him out of bed.

~~~

The hot water soothed your sore muscles, but the real comfort was the way Marshall held you. He sat behind you in the oversized tub, his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. His fingers traced light patterns along your stomach as the steam curled around both of you.

"Could stay like this forever," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the side of your neck.

You smiled, tilting your head back slightly against his chest. "We kinda have to eat at some point."

Marshall huffed, but reached for his phone resting on the edge of the tub. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

"You say that now, but if I order somethin’ weird, you’re gonna give me that look," he teased.

You turned your head to glance at him. "What look?"

"The ‘Marshall, what the hell is this?’ look," he mimicked in a higher-pitched voice, making you laugh.

"Just order, dork," you said, nudging him.

He smirked, placing the order before setting his phone aside. "Done. Now stop distracting me, I’m tryna relax."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly, you loved how soft he was being. He wasn’t always like this—he had his tough exterior, his walls, the weight of his career always hanging over him. But with you, in moments like this, he let himself just be.

And you cherished every second of it.

~~~

By lunchtime, the food had long since been eaten, and you were curled up together in bed, mindlessly watching something on TV. But as you looked over at Marshall, you could tell his mind was elsewhere. His brows were drawn slightly, his jaw tense, fingers absently tapping against his stomach.

You reached over, running your hand along his arm. "What’s on your mind?"

He exhaled sharply, his fingers stilling. "I dunno," he muttered. "Just… been thinkin’."

"About what?"

His eyes flickered toward you before he sighed. "Does it make me a bad dad that I needed this? Like, two weeks away from the kids, and instead of gettin’ home and spendin’ time with them right away, I just—" He gestured vaguely between you two. "I just wanted this. You."

You frowned, sitting up slightly. "Marshall—"

"Nah, I mean, I love them more than anything, you know that," he said quickly. "Just… what kinda dad dips out for two weeks, then sends them away for the weekend soon as he gets back?"

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "The kind of dad who also needs to take care of his relationship," you said softly. "The kind of dad who gives everything to his kids, but also deserves time for himself. And with me."

Marshall exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "I just don’t ever want them to feel like I’m not there enough."

"You are there," you assured him. "And they adore you. But you can’t pour from an empty cup, babe. We needed this time, too. You needed it."

He let out a slow breath, nodding slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, you’re right."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him softly. "You’re an amazing dad, Marshall. The girls know it, I know it. And this weekend doesn’t change that."

He gave a small, grateful smile, tugging you closer. "Love you," he murmured against your hair.

"Love you too," you whispered.

And as he held you tighter, you could feel the tension finally start to melt away.

---

The weekend had been everything you and Marshall needed—slow, intimate, and uninterrupted. But as Sunday afternoon rolled around, reality crept back in.

You were curled up on the couch together, your head resting on his chest while he mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair. The TV was on, but neither of you were really paying attention.

Marshall sighed, his grip tightening around you. “Guess we should probably get the kids soon, huh?”

You hummed, tracing light circles on his stomach. “Probably.”

Neither of you moved.

Marshall let out a low chuckle. “We’re terrible.”

You grinned, tilting your head up to look at him. “Or maybe we just really needed this.”

His blue eyes softened as he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “Yeah… we did.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the last few moments of quiet before everything picked up again. “But we should go before they start thinking we abandoned them.”

Marshall sighed dramatically, shifting under you. “Fine. But only ‘cause I don’t want them tellin’ their friends their dad ditched ‘em for their mom.”

You laughed, pushing yourself up. “C’mon, let’s go get our babies.”

~~~

The drive was filled with comfortable conversation, Marshall tapping along to the beat of a song playing low on the radio.

“You think they missed us?” he asked as he pulled into the driveway of your oldest’s friend’s house.

You smirked. “I think they missed you more. You’re the fun parent.”

He scoffed, throwing the car in park. “Nah, they just like me ‘cause I let ‘em stay up too late.”

You laughed, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Exactly.”

The front door swung open before either of you could get out, and your daughter came sprinting toward the car.

“DADDY!”

Marshall barely had time to react before she jumped into his arms, wrapping herself around him.

“Damn, girl,” he grunted, catching her with ease. “You act like I was gone for a year.”

She giggled, squeezing his neck. “Two weeks is a long time!”

You watched as his entire face softened, his arms holding her tight against him. That doubt he had earlier about needing time with you? Gone. Because no matter what, your girls knew he loved them.

And as your other daughter came running from the house, yelling “Daddy!” just as loud, you knew there was no place he’d rather be.

---

The house was filled with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of a movie playing in the background. The four of you were curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets, limbs tangled together as you soaked in the simple joy of being close.

Marshall sat in the middle, your youngest daughter curled up against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching onto his hoodie like she was afraid he might disappear again. Your oldest was tucked under his other arm, her head resting against his side. And you? You were right next to him, your legs draped over his as he absentmindedly traced circles on your thigh with his fingertips.

“This is the best night ever,” your youngest mumbled sleepily, nuzzling further into her dad’s chest.

Marshall smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, baby?”

She nodded against him. “Mhm. I like when we’re all together like this.”

You glanced at him, and the way his eyes softened made your heart clench. He had spent so much time worrying about being away, about taking time for himself and for you. But right now, in this moment, it was obvious—he was exactly where he needed to be.

“Me too, baby,” he murmured, holding her a little closer.

Your oldest yawned, shifting to get more comfortable against him. “Can we do this every night?”

Marshall let out a soft chuckle. “If it means I get to cuddle with my girls? Hell yeah.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Guess that means we’re never leaving this couch.”

He turned his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a beat longer than necessary. “Sounds perfect to me.”

The movie played on, but none of you were really watching anymore. The girls slowly started drifting off, their soft breaths mixing with the low hum of the TV.

Marshall exhaled, his arm tightening around you. “This,” he murmured, voice low, like he didn’t want to wake them. “This is all I ever need.”

You looked up at him, your heart full. “Me too.”

And as you sat there, wrapped in the warmth of your little family, you knew—there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

[squidsinashirt]

U must have some amazing stories about your dad u can share! 🤩

I’ve sat on this one for a bit, sorry Anon. Wasn’t intentional but I… just didn’t know how to answer it.

I mean, I get it. He’s Jeff Tracy, right? The Jeff Tracy. I can remember being just a little kid, and going to meet him off coming home from his latest mission. All these huge crowds cheering for him, those amazing rockets, and little me thinking all this, for my dad?

The thing is, everybody has their own stories about him. It’s fascinating, because you’ll hear all these other tales that exist only thanks to other people. Colonel Casey, Captain Taylor, heck even Kip Harris knew him. All these huge figures have got larger than life tales of the incredible things Jeff Tracy did, and was, and inspired. There’s statues and plaques to him, and you can take a tour at the space centre about his missions, and there’s books and movies and documentaries…

There are five incredible machines he dreamt up, standing by to help achieve this fantastical goal of his to help the world. I suppose in a way, you get to snatch a little glimpse of who Jeff Tracy was, and what he believed in, every time one of them appears to save the day. Every time some kid points an excited finger up at Thunderbird Two or squints after a contrail that was Thunderbird One, there he is. That magic, that excitement, that kind of imposing extraordinary that he did so well.

Anyway, to get back on track. People come bounding up to us, to me, and they ask this sort of question all the time, and that’s the thing about being JEFFTRACYSSON (said in one breath at rapid pace, because that’s the way people greet you). I get the curiosity, I really do. I don’t say it with any malice intended, and it’s comforting to know he still has that kind of impact. I’m always happy to talk about him, I promise!

It’s simple to be JEFFTRACYSSON when you pull on an International Rescue uniform. It took a little practice to ease into at first, but it’s perfected now. It’s really easy to talk about how we believe in his dream, how we’ve all taken on that duty in our individual and collective ways. In the importance of iR, in what it means to us as family. Shiny uniform, perfect hair, smile and wave and save some lives 💪🏻

Please don’t read into this in the wrong way - I’m very proud to be Jeff Tracy’s son. It’s actually quite difficult to really put across how strongly I feel about the weight of that title, because it’s pretty sacred (and also a little intimidating at times). Everywhere we go, it’s “oh, you must be Jeff’s boy” or “oh, you’re a Tracy”, and that means there’s instantly an expectation to live up to, both publicly and privately. It’s a privilege, it really is, and I think it’s a kind of sacrosanct commitment that has really been at the centre of my thinking as I’ve gotten older - how to try and be the sort of man that deserves that kind of birthright.

I don’t just mean the public side of being Jeff Tracy’s son. See, behind the scenes, to me, to us as a family, he was every bit human in a very ordinary way.

He made the best Sunday pancakes.

He cheered far too loudly at swim competitions (and teenage me was perpetually mortified by it) and was every bit as encouraging and supportive as you might guess.

He told these excellent, awful dad jokes, always at just the wrong (or right, I suppose) moments that made you groan.

He used to let me drive his old truck up the drive when he came home from a long mission, playing country songs with the window rolled down.

We loved pranking Mom together by hiding in the laundry bin and jumping out like idiots.

He told the most spectacular, far fetched bedtime stories he swore were real, and my brothers and I could never get enough of them.

He was also away for months on end in space, or training, or lost in his plans and ideas and dreams, and sometimes that meant he wasn’t really here with us, even if he was.

He couldn’t do laundry for shit, and he was absolutely useless at trying to run a house with five young sons on his own, and only a military background to lean on for ideas (thanks Grandma and Scott for saving that one).

Being Jeff Tracy’s son is a little more complex than just the uniform, I guess, and because of that I don’t always recognise the Jeff Tracy in the books and the movies, the one that people are so desperate to hear more about.

I think that’s why I find answering questions like this so difficult, and why maybe my answers never land particularly well with the people who ask this. Because the expectation for them is an entire reel of grand tales that haven’t been heard yet out of me. Some heroic, unbelievable stories that reads like the plaques - and then they are always a little disappointed that it turns out all I can say is that he was a real person. Somebody who was very human and very brilliant and very flawed, and who I loved very much. Because to me, he’s my dad.

And ultimately, nobody wants to hear about that. It doesn’t fit their two dimensional, mythical image of him, or my brothers and I for that matter. Us being a fairly regular family doesn’t really inspire the kind of tales that perhaps lend themselves to be told.

(This is the biggest reason I don’t do interviews, because I’d be like you wanna hear about the time he took us on a hiking trip, got us lost in a storm and Mom nearly divorced him because she thought we’d all been eaten by coyotes? No? It’s hilarious, honestly!)

That’s alright, though. Like I said, the movies and the books are there to tell those stories, and Lee Taylor will happily yap your ear off for an hour about their exploits if you want. Dad’s legacy, in that form, is more than secure.

They’re not going to ever be able to tell you about his favourite pancake toppings though, or his favourite song to dance to in the kitchen or his favourite swear word, and there’s the real privilege in getting to be Jeff Tracy’s son. In getting to carry him forward, not just the stories.

…

…

This got a lot deeper than I intended it to go. I’ve had a beer and I rambled. Sorry Anon.

Ahem. Good question! I guess I’m just not the best person to answer it, ironically enough ;)

I guess the best that I can offer is that if you are ever in trouble and call us, just know that there was a really great human being behind the face that made it all possible, who told the worst jokes, but who cared a whole f-ing lot.

*insert generic story here about Dad and a rocket*

[vershautece]

Now girlfriend I am gonna need a list of all possible kinks and things of sorts you think Luigi is into, DROP THE LISTTTTT 🩷🩷

ok queen i literally never like to project my own fantasies onto someone if i can’t realistically picture them doing it irl so these thoughts are just my opinion, taking an educated guess lol!!

size kink: phd tweet this speaks for itself ;) and he just exudes that energy hehe u guys get me (also u all know those 2 pics where u can see his bulge even though he’s soft :3)

on here we decided he has a breeding kink which could Definitely be farfetched but who careeees we’re never gonna know for sure what he’s into so whatever :) we started discussing that bc of his tweets about falling birth rates in japan, he’s brought it up more than once and in one tweet said sex needs to be more encouraged bc the falling birth rates are a cultural issue. thennn there’s also the fact that he seems quite traditional regarding relationships just based off his personality, i can imagine him courting a girl properly and wanting a committed relationship which is why i think he’s never been in one, bc he’s never felt that deep connection; he feels rlly hard, so i don’t think he’s found his person yet - SO what im getting at is that i think he would then be quite traditional in dating to marry and then having kids, definitely at least 3, even more so bc he comes from a huge traditional italian family :)) and there u go that’s why i think he might have a breeding kink and in like all of my writing he cums inside every time😭

i also think he is most definitely a switch in bed, he’s so cocky but is def a sub at times bc he 100% didn’t lose his virginity until at least college haha and he’s so soft and sweet like that boy just loves to be underneath u :3 i also think he prefers passionate sex over quickies, maybe not in his college era but definitely now, bc like i said it’s literally confirmed that he’s a veryyyy emotional sort of person like he feels so deeply and i know he’d be obsessed with making love to u more than any other type of sex

i’ve said before that anything non-vanilla he would do with u only if u asked first, like something as simple as choking he’d be like wtf no way bc he wouldn’t wanna hurt u but once he starts doing it to u and anything else u ask him to do (obvs within reason lmao) it would turn him on so much knowing how much u like it

which brings me on to my next point, and prob my final point bc i can’t remember if there is anything else i should mention! but yes the fact that he is 100% a munch :) it turns him on more than anything to know that you’re feeling amazing and that he’s the one making u feel like that, so he’d spend hours between your legs pleasuring u - & he had a couple of female pleasure books on his goodreads list (he hadn’t read them yet) so there’s that :p also i know with him being a nerdy science guy he would definitely love knowing all the different ways of making a girl cum, he’d research so much shit lol

& we all know he’s not kinky at all but he’s passionate as hell, he’ll be rough with u but in a passionate and intimate way, not any degrading shit ofc lol. and he will definitely pound u into the mattress if he’s in a bad mood or if you’ve been teasing him :))

oh and i forgot to say he 100% talks u through it, he’s cocky and intelligent there is no way he doesn’t :D

[holyhaech]

PLEASE ENVELOPE 4 WITH MARK OR JENO OR JAEHYUN I CANT DECIDE 🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️

forever only

f!reader x jeong jaehyun (comfort)

you’ve always been top of your class for as long as you could remember. until that annoying boy from korea moved to your town in middle school, that is.

jay jeong, how could you forget his name. it sits on your tongue with a metallic taste, not unlike blood.

he always left a bad taste in your mouth, he just tried too hard yet not hard enough. he always beat you in exams, no matter the subject. even english. how could he beat you at your native language? eugh, he just pissed you off.

that little rivalry ended as soon as it began though, because he moved back to korea for his high school years.

however, you never forgot him. even though you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise. you stayed a try-hard honor roll student in high school, rejecting boys’ advances from your left and right.

whether you realized it or not, you were always comparing them to him. jaehyun jeong. the boy that would never escape your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried.

you thought that chapter had ended though. you had made peace with it, you’d never see him again. it was that simple.

what was not simple, however, was your silent yearning for him.

it was ridiculous, he had definitely forgotten you, so why was your mind addicted to the thought of him? he stayed in the back of your mind, even in uni. it got to the point that you decided to give into the voices, you were gonna find him.

you applied to a multitude of university exchange programs in seoul, hoping he would be there.

one fateful day you opened your macbook to find your acceptance letter for the top university in south korea, yonsei university. with only one month left until you go to korea, you had to pack up your things, get a student visa, etc. to put it shortly, time was limited.

you arrive in the airport to a swarm of people with cameras. there must be an idol here somewhere. you could care less, so you keep walking toward baggage claim. until you hear his name. you see people moving toward the noise. then you start hearing his name again, and again.

“JEONG JAEHYUN OVER HERE!” “JEONG JAEHYUN YOU’RE SO HANDSOME!” “jeong jaehyun. jeong jaehyun, jeong jaehyun…” the name stops sounding coherent after the sixth time you’ve heard it yelled across the airport. you decide to look up as the screams start sounding closer and closer to where you are. “oh my god.” your mouth drops to the floor. it really is him. “i guess i won’t be seeing him at yonsei.” you think to yourself.

you catch his eyes. even with the mask and hat, you can still see the little jay jeong you knew in middle school. smiling under his mask, no doubt, as evidenced by his half-moon eyes. he locks eyes with you, eyes widening in subsequent surprise. he waves in your direction. you wave back.

it seems your little rivalry wasn’t forgotten by him, after all.

a/n: this is literally shit from a butt, i'm so sorry user stuckonmark. i will be writing a jeno enemies to lovers as well to make up for this fic

[bunnib4b3s]

Xavier- Burnt Cookies

Synopsis: Xavier wanted to confess that his feelings went past friendship, and decided that he wanted to make cookies for you. Instead his entire plan went to flames

Genre/ Warnings: 18+, Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, Coworkers-to-Lovers, Smut, Grinding, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Porn-with-Plot

MDNI

Word Count 2,000+

Setting up to confess to your long-time crush and coworker was a little more stressful than Xavier bargained for. He had worked with Jeremiah to find a recipe for a simple batch of cookies and made the icing with him a couple of days in advance to cut down on his nerves and possible accidents.

And thank god he did. With shaking hands, he carefully kneaded and placed the dough balls onto the parchment paper, lightly pressing them down. He stuck them in the freezer and set a timer for two hours.

Okay, he had two hours to clean up, then he could nap. Unfortunately, Xavier had clearly underestimated how long cleanup would take. There was flour and bits of dough everywhere, not to mention the plethora of ingredients he had left out.

Just as he finished wiping the flour off his pants, the timer went off. He glanced at the clock.

15:02

Shit. He needed to place these in the oven ASAP. No time for a nap because you would be coming home from your mission in an hour. He set the oven to 345° and fought off sleep while waiting for it to preheat.

Once he heard the miraculous ding, he carefully placed the cookies in the oven. But his drowsiness caught up with him, and he forgot to set a timer. Before he knew it, he had passed out at the dining table, his left arm dangling off the side.

The smoke must not have woken him up, but the firefighter screaming in his ear did. With shock and confusion swirling in his sleep-addled brain, he jolted up, his chair nearly tipping over as he took in the scene before him.

Black smoke curled around the kitchen ceiling, and the intense scent of burnt sugar filled the air. The firefighter shook his head. "Kid, if you wanted to set the mood with a little heat, this isn't the safest way to do it."

Xavier groaned, running a hand through his tousled hair. "The cookies," he mumbled in despair, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Oh yeah, they're definitely extra crispy," the firefighter deadpanned, pointing toward the charred remains of what once were cookies. The baking sheet, now coated in blackened dough, sat on the counter.

And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, the door swung open.

You stood there, eyes wide, mission gear still strapped to your frame. You took in the soot-streaked kitchen, the firemen, and Xavier—disheveled, half-asleep, and looking like he’d just survived a war.

“Xavier, what happened?!” you asked, clearly trying to make sense of it all.

Xavier groaned again, dropping his head onto the table. “I was trying to make cookies for you, but they burnt.”

"Clearly." You giggled. Walking up to him with a smile, you added, "Why don't I handle the baking up in my apartment?"

He looked up and smiled lightly as you both, along with the firefighters, shuffled out of Xavier's apartment. You led him downstairs to your place and opened the door.

Xavier was in awe of how cutely decorated your living space was. He had visited and stayed over many times before, but he hadn’t been over recently to see your new decorations since the influx of highly dangerous wanderers around the N109-zone.

You motioned for Xavier to sit down as you kicked off your shoes and headed to your room to change into something comfortable. When you returned, you found him twiddling his thumbs on the couch, his face a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

You squatted in front of him, peering up with a bright smile. Xavier’s cheeks flushed red at the sight of you.

"Soooo, why were you baking cookies for me?" you asked slyly, curiosity laced in your voice.

He truly didn’t know how to answer. It’s not like he baked for you every day, and it looked suspicious, considering it was Valentine’s Day.

With hesitation in his voice, he quietly murmured, "I wanted to do something nice for you… since I knew you'd be by yourself."

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his confession. Warmth spread through your chest, and you couldn't help but smile even wider. "That’s really sweet, Xavier. Even if you almost burnt your apartment down."

He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, not exactly how I planned it."

You reached for his hands, fingers lightly grazing over his. "Well, how about we make those cookies together? That way, you don’t burn anything, and I get to spend time with you."

Xavier’s heart pounded. "You’d really want that?"

"Of course," you said, standing up and offering him a hand. "Come on, let’s make some cookies—properly this time."

He took your hand, fingers wrapping around yours a little tighter than necessary. Maybe his original plan had gone up in smoke, but somehow, things had worked out even better than he imagined. And as you both moved toward the kitchen, butterflies erupted in his stomach. Fuck, he was so in love with you.

As you gathered ingredients, Xavier moved closer—so close that his chest nearly pressed against your back as he reached for a measuring cup, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"You're awfully close, Xavier," you teased, smirking up at him.

His eyes darkened slightly, lips parting. "Maybe I like being close to you," he admitted, his voice low and heated.

You swallowed, your heart racing. "That so?"

He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours as he helped you stir the batter. "Yeah. And I think you like it too."

You bit your lip, staring up at him. The tension between you was thick, undeniable. "You're really bad at being subtle, Xavier."

"Not trying to be subtle anymore," he murmured, tilting his head. "I’ve wanted this for a long time. Wanted you."

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your face. "Then why haven’t you done anything about it?"

Xavier exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking to your lips. "Because I wanted to get it right. No burning down kitchens this time."

You grinned. "And what’s your plan now?"

He smirked, setting the bowl down before sliding his hands onto your waist, fingers pressing into your hips. "Figured I’d start with this."

Before you could quip a response, his lips were on yours—warm, needy, tasting faintly of sugar and something entirely Xavier. The bowl of cookie dough was forgotten as you melted into him, gripping his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

Maybe the cookies could wait. You had something much sweeter right in front of you.

He turned your body to face him and his lips melted into yours. The softness of your hand in his and your light moans as he pushed his tongue deeper down your throat was easily turning you both on.

In one swift motion, Xavier hoisted you up from the kitchen counter, eliciting a simultaneous groan from your lips as he wrapped your legs around his waist. As you ground against his growing arousal, the heat between you intensified.

With no intentions of stopping, Xavier pressed you closer to him and teased you through your soaked shorts with the bulge of his erection, slowly tracing circles against your clothed core.

Breaking away from your heated make-out session, Xavier trailed light kisses down your neck before sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His own moans mixed with yours as you pushed harder against his throbbing dick.

"God, you feel so good," Xavier groaned, his voice thick with desire. "I can only imagine how incredible you'll feel with my tongue between your legs."

The back of your hand goes against your mouth as you lightly moan at how dirty Xavier's words were ,and you couldn't help but think about how hot Xavier would be between your legs.

He removes himself from your neck and looks down at your glossy eyes and swollen lips with a lustful gaze and smirks, "Yeah? You want me to eat your pretty pussy out? Make a mess all over my face gorgeous?"

Your legs tremble in his tight grip as you weakly nod in agreement. Without hesitation, Xavier hoists you up and throws you onto the couch with a force that knocks the breath out of you.

As you look down at him, he wastes no time ripping off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. His hand presses against your slick center, his thumb teasingly tracing circles over the fabric. You whimper at the sensation and see the intense desire in Xavier's eyes as he gazes hungrily at your soaked panties.

With feverish urgency, he pulls you forward by your hips until his face is pressed against your panty-covered sex. Inhaling deeply, he kisses and licks a path up and down your folds until you're trembling and grasping at his head.

Slowly, he pulls away and looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes and flushed cheeks. With deliberate movements, he removes your panties and discards them to the side. As he readies himself between your thighs, his gaze never leaves yours.

"Please, Xavier, don't make me wait any longer," you beg, unable to withstand the anticipation any longer.

That's all the confirmation Xavier needs as he eagerly buries his face between your glistening lips. He moans around his mouthful of your delicious taste as he plunges his tongue deep inside you. His nose rubs against your sensitive clit in a tantalizing rhythm, while his skilled fingers join in to add even more intoxicating pleasure.

He focuses on sucking and licking your swollen lips while simultaneously circling and teasing your throbbing clit. You can't hold back any longer as you cry out in uncontrollable pleasure.

"Fuck, your pussy is so beautiful. I wish I could have tasted you sooner...you taste fucking amazing," Xavier groans into your core, his hooded eyes locking with yours in a lustful daze.

Just looking at him intensifies your climax, and you feel yourself spiraling into euphoria. Xavier continues to work his magic on you, relentless in his rhythm, his fingers thrusting faster and his tongue flicking with precision.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you buck your hips against his face, gripping his head between your thighs as you ride out your orgasm. He doesn't let up, holding your thighs tightly as he devours every last drop of pleasure from you.

Finally, when your body relaxes and your thighs release their hold on him, he looks up at you with a satisfied smirk.

Your heavy eyelids fluttered as your vision slowly cleared, focusing on the ceiling above you. The room was quiet except for the two of you, both gasping for air after the intense moment you had just shared.

Your heart thumped against your chest, still feeling the rush of adrenaline as you looked over at Xavier. He was resting calmly against your hip, his eyes closed in peaceful contentment.

You reach up and run your fingers through his tousled hair, eliciting a soft smile from him as his eyes peep open. He slowly sits up, glancing down at you with affection.

"Why don't we finish those cookies now that we've caught our breath?" he suggests, pulling your hand down to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm.

"Shouldn't I return the favor? You didn't quite finish," you tease playfully.

Xavier's innocent expression quickly turns mischievous as he stands up, revealing a wet spot on his pants. Your eyes widen in surprise, taking in the evidence of his pleasure.

He looks back at you with a sly grin, waiting for your reaction. You can't help but burst into a fit of giggles at the sight.

"Well I guess we should finish those cookies then, Xavier," you say with a playful wink.

"Only if it means I get to do more of this," he whispers against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I wouldn't dream of stopping you," you reply with a smirk as you wrap your arms around his waist.

[valentine-cafe]

:grin: guess who's here

can I please get a headcanon or drabble with pasquale where he is coming back from work or a race or something and walks in to the reader touching herself? He gets all smug and asks "were you just touching yourself?" fem!reader preferably but gender neutral is fine too!! thanks pookies <33

˖⁺. “ desperate darling ! ” : 

﹙ inhuman racer boyfriend x fem reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 pasquale x fem reader !! 🍒 : ﹙ racer ˖ inhuman ˖ punk ﹚

your boyfriend comes home after a long day and finds you trying to tend to yourself. what kind of boyfriend would he be if he doesn't give you a hand? and tease you for it too. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ masturbation ˖ cunnilingus ˖ praise ˖ some degradation ˖ multiple orgasms | wc : 1.4k 

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Sprawled out on the bed, hair covering the sheets of your boyfriend’s bed. Pussy full of your own fingers desperately set to chase a high you’re sure will be difficult to get to when he’s not around.

It didn’t matter how many times you called out his name, not did it matter no matter the effort you put in to imagine him above you. His large dick filling you up to the brim and keeping your lady down there satisfied.

So you were in your own world. So much so, you failed to hear the unlocking of a door downstairs and the familiar voice of your boyfriend greeting people, before trudging his way upstairs to his room.

You came for the first time in the past 15 minutes you’ve tried to do so. . .

Just at the same time your boyfriend happened to open up the door and watch you throw your head back and whimper out his name.

A chuckle deep enough to shake your core took a lap around the room. And had it been been between your legs. Praising and kissing away at the puffy, desperate wet folds. You would have surely been knocked into a state of fucked out already knowing the skill of his tongue.

“Principessa.” He hums in greeting, slowly ridding his hands of the pair of dark gloves, closing the door with the weight of his body and locking it with ease by the simple flick of his head to the side.

Like a slow dance, his feet carry him towards the nearest drawer to put haphazardly throw his coat onto. “You touching yourself?”

Adrenaline rushes through you, giving you the hard whack of reality when you realize who just arrived in the bedrom.

You sit up quick, fingers still buried in your throbbing pussy, while you take your time to process.

“Pasqu—”

“Oh but you look so pretty too.” With a tut, he interrupts you. His hand finds itself by the long mirror next to him. Flipping it over so that you are met by the reflection of yourself and his silhouette taking over the reflection.

The cold weather outside lingers still on his touch and face. With red tinting soft, light olive face, that stretches when he gives you a smug grin.

“You weren’t around to help me. So I decided to help myself.”

“How’d that go?” You wanna punch him, and kiss him all at the same time. The shit-eating grin was what you fell for along with his chaotic and poetic personality after all.

The bastard has the right to steal a gasp from you. When hands settle down on your waist and creep below your shirt. Lips silence the protest you were about to throw at him. Covering yours like a blanket and soothing your eyes shut.

Nimble fingers wrap around the hand that had three fingers buried deep inside of your velvety walls. Urging a small pop to follow as you now feel so empty.

“Pasquale—” You murmur out in slight frustration, eyebrows knitted, while you hitch your breath. “If you’re gonna come intervene at least fuck me properly.”

What an invitation you’re giving him. How could he ever deny that?

Shivers rush up and down your spin when the feel of his index and middle run up your slit, before flicking against your clit. And when they’ve teased you enough and pulled enough whines out of you, they bury themselves inside of your folds.

“You want me to give you something good huh?” Wetting his lips, ruby hues flicker down towards your parted legs, observing the way your arousal squelches against his fingers quietly. Before they slowly enter you.

“Good, pretty whores beg for it baby.”

The familiar words have you gushing fountains, and your lungs inhaling sharply. Instinctively, the soft pair of hips below his left hand chases the feel of the fingers that pump and hook away at the nerves inside of you.

“Pasquale— please, I’ve been waiting for hours.” Despite your words, all that leaves him is a small hum. Not good enough for him, huh? The doe eyes usually do the trick, though it seems this time not.

“You’ve been at work and racing all d-ay.” You sigh out, velvet walls clamping down against his lukewarm fingers. With hooded eyes and your head tilted upwards and slightly to the side. You give him a look of sincerity.

“Why can’t you just let yourself lose on me tesoro?”

It’s like a cord inside of him snapped, his brows furrowing and his lungs taking in the same, sharp inhale you did just a moment ago. Before his lips are attacking the expanse of your neck, and his hand is gripping and squeezing away at any plush skin it can grip onto.

“I know. . . Lay back.” The groan is followed suit by your happy and eager response of almost throwing yourself back. He takes no time to pry your legs open the second you’re down.

Every part of your abdomen and pelvic area flutters, at the feel of his mouth connecting with the folds between your thighs. You taste so good you could make him pussydrunk in the matter of seconds if it wasn’t because he at least wanted to give some precision before getting sloppy.

Shaky hands run up and down your sides, below your shirt and then up to cup at your breasts. Thumbs swirling around your pebbled nipples to bring your back to arch. Your hips jerking upwards.

His tongue laps away at your soaking cunt. As devilish as the man can be, if heaven was something he sought. You’d truly be the definition of it.

The pink muscle does unspeakable things to you whenever he’s got your walls clamping down on it before they flutter and he draws yet another orgasm out of you. Calloused thumb rubbing slow and sensual circles against your clit.

Sometimes stroking upwards to press down on your clitoral hood and rub it up and down just like that.

“M- mgnh— fuck- fuckfuckfuck— ! Pasquale!!” Each pretty gasp that he manages to pull from you pulls another slew of cum out of his throbbing dick. Staining his pants, while he busies himself with smearing all of your juices out on his lips. Panting hard for another one of your pretty orgasms.

“Fuck. . . taste so good— Dammene un'altra, tesoro” ( give me another one, darling )

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[ahhrenata]

I’m having an ‘oh’ moment while you bandage my hand, man

MY THOUGHTS FOR THIS ONE ARE IN THE TAGS :)

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[brutally-loving]

Fun fact! Being an idiot, as in, HARASSING PEOPLE, about other people selfshipping with your f/o would not make your f/o like you any more. At all. Also you're the worst kind of person and you make everyone in this community look horrendous.

Sending hateful anons and making alts to harass people is cringe and you are beyond childish. Get over yourself. Point and laugh at the clown, class.

[i-bring-crack]

A–Aventio TGCF idea?? Wherein Civil God Veritas Ratio meets the infamous Ghost King Aventurine during his first mission cuz cuz like— The "live for me" paralels?!? The one who has all the luck partner as well?!? The villain who was actually not the Villain this whole time!?!? The loving humanity a little too much it causes their downfall !?!?!?

Rant AU in the tags proceed with caution

[scoliosisgoblin]

yo, @bennydunbar, check this out

[backpackingspace]

Young odysseus convincing everyone Ithaca is nothing but a poor island with rocks and goats to avoid any raids/conquerors/so he doesn't get murdered for talking to Helen bc "it's not like he's a real choice"

Young odysseus falling in love with Penelope at the same event: wait. Wait shit I fucked up hold on just hear me out

[whatsitcalledagainn]

Finally caught up to bsd and I think I'm gonna need to let it simmer a little longer and fix itself before I return...