#hero x jo

[togament]

𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄.

sakura, ume, suo, kaji, kiryu, endo, togame.

"ever imagined how it'd be like to be in the mood with them but damn it. You're separated by distance? Mhm. I got just the thing for you."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: PHONE SEGGS UH OH!, language language swearing swearing, AFAB!reader, ume switchy :o, endo's a fucking menace :((((, TOGAMMMMEEEEEEE *howls!!!!! barks foaming at the mouth*, toy usage, your man straight up “jorking it” and by it haha well lets justr say his peanits, degradation on endo's part--general seggsy time stuff and needy boyfriends, NSFW STUFF MINORS DON’T INTERACT PLS.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

✦ gotta guide him through it. At first, he didn’t really see the appeal of it. Why do it over the phone when you could meet up instead. ✦ but OH once he’s in the zone though, ONCE HE UNDERSTANDS? SEES THE LIGHT????? I’m wishing your pussy good luck because you’re doing it often. ✦ your phone rings sometimes at 2 am and you’re met with a panting Sakura. He sounds so apologetic too — he’s fought against calling you and just handling it himself. But he couldn’t help it. He has to call you. To hear you. ✦ “Strokin’ my cock right now. F-fuck m’sorry but can ya touch yourself for me too? Couldn’t get ya outta my head and I—ngh.. Need t’cum. Please, baby. It’ll be quick. Promise.” ✦ narrator’s voice: it was in fact, not quick at all. ✦ he likes sending over voicemails at night when he knows you're alone, when he's needy (which is often). ✦ it's mostly just of him panting into the receiver, recalling the events of the day and how each thing you did turned him on. You often end up sending each other voicemails to quench the thirst but god damn it. That doesn't come close to fucking.

𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.

✦ another one of the ":o I don't see the appeal of phone sex when we could just see each other instead?" gang. He sees the vision real quick when you dropped something while you were talking though. You bent down to pick it up and let out a soft grunt. He couldn't stop his mind from wandering. ✦ BIG ON PRAISE. GRUNTS AND SIGHS INTO THE RECIEVER LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. LOVES DOING IT WHILE HE'S LAYING DOWN, PANTS HURRIEDLY UNBUCKLED AND MESSY, SHIRT HAPHAZARDLY THROWN TO THE SIDE. PHONE WEDGED IN BETWEEN HIS CHEEK AND SHOULDER WHILE HE STARTS STROKING WITH ONE HAND AND THE OTHER TANGLED IN HIS HAIR, GRIPPING IT LIKE YOU WOULD--(gets dragged off stage kicking and screaming) ✦ big switch. He's Umemiya, after all. He's the feared and respected leader of the Bofurin for a damn reason. Very sweet when he's just in the mood on a random day, chuckling in between because that's just how the both of you are. It's fun! But when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days? Oh FUCK. When his voice would normally grow soft and whiney, has morphed into growled responses with him fucking his fist desperately, trying to remember how your cunt would swallow him whole. �� "G-Good girl, my good fuckin' girl. Filling your pussy up with that dildo you bought? Not good enough, huh?" he adds, grunting as he's imagining you fucking yourself with the dildo, panting and unsatisfied, knowing full well you need him filling you up instead. "I really miss you, babe. You'd look so pretty-gh-! Underneath me right now. So pretty." ✦ cums hard every time you're on call, grunting and wheezing out your name so desperately you almost feel like he's trying to summon you somehow. ✦ Thanks you for it too. It's cute!!! Ends with both of you cleaning yourselves up, still on call. You both often fall asleep together with your phones still on.

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

✦ you both call often. He just loves hearing your voice! Thing is, you never know when he's in the mood. But he somehow can tell whenever you are. What gave it away? Was it the way your breathing stilled when he let out a sigh when he stretched? Was it the way you tripped over your words when he lowered his voice just a tad? Was it when you were left speechless when he praised you for finishing a task you were putting off? Was his teasing working on you? Whoopsies. ✦ INSTRUCTIONAL WITH IT. He’s so good at directing you what to do. ✦ “Want you to imagine my fingers, dove. Why don’t you ease just two in for me? That’s my girl. Now curl them up a little. Keep your mind on me." ✦ you want him to feel good too :(((((( so you ask for him to do the same as you. Of course, he lets you beg a little first. Little did you know he was already fucking his fist before you even started. ✦ has one of your clothes or panties close by because he loves smelling them. He loves your scent. It helps him get off. Hell, he gets horny in public when he takes a whiff of your perfume. ✦ he gets more vocal when he cums and that’s when you KNOW for sure he’s jacking off while listening to you. String of expletives and grunts escape his lips while he spills onto his hand, dribbling down his knuckles while you’re riding out your high.

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈.

✦ FILTHY. FILTHY. FILTHY. ✦ doesn't have much toys but he has a tenga flip and uses it whenever he calls you. Can’t just go full hand and lube. (Probably has a warmer for it too. Mhm. Yeah.) ✦ another "clothes stealer". Has stolen your panties and shirts a couple of times. ✦ you can hear the wet squelching through the phone whenever he thrusts. Whether it’s lube or his cum, you could never ever tell. ✦ AGAIN, FILTHY. SO SO SO SO FILTHY. ✦ “y’getting off to this, huh? Listening to me fuck my toy? Fuckin’ know you’re soaking wet for me now. Lemme hear it. Lemme hear my pussy.” ✦ “keep up with me. Don’t you fuckin’ cum until I say so.” He barks, but he ends up cumming before you. He’s still pumping his sensitive cock waaay after he’s released though. He wants to hear you fall apart. ✦ bites back his whimpers but when he cums? Jesus. He’s stuttering out your name, repeating it like a damn prayer.

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔.

✦ HAS SO MUCH TOYS HOLY FUCK. ✦ he sends over photos of them before he calls, wanting you (yes YOU, dear reader!) to pick the toy of the night!!! ✦ he’d much prefer doing your mutual masturbation over facetime but you suggested a voice call. Who is he to deny his princess? ✦ always opens with a syrupy sweet, “How’s my baby?” and eases you into it with him. He never starts without you or without your express approval. If you’re suddenly not in the mood, he gets it. It happens sometimes. You guys could just talk instead. ✦ praise praise praise. Whispers the raunchiest and sweetest things to you. Talks you through it, guides you. HE’S WAY TOO GOOD. ✦ “Need my pretty princess right now. Need ya to sit on my face—taste so good. Fuck… Your pretty little moans too. I’m addicted.” ✦ “Remember when I did that thing you liked with my tongue? Yeah? Want you to do that on your clit with your fingers. Circle around it f’me, princess. Mhm.. Oh? Not good enough? Need my piercing on it? Naughty.” ✦ PORNOGRAPHIC MOANS. SO FUCKING PRETTY??? You’ve asked for his permission to record some of them. Of course he lets you. ✦ sends photos of the aftermath if you want him to. His cum on his still clenched abs, his trimmed happy trail, over his belly button piercing. Yum. ✦ HAS DEFINITELY POSTED ON GWA YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.(it’s JOI too :(((( he’s secretly dedicated some audios for you. May or may not have accidentally whispered your name in one of his jerk off with me audios too :(((((((( man I’m sobbing into my pillow. Nobody touch me.)

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎.

✦ you can’t look at this man and say he’s shit at phone sex. You can’t convince me otherwise. You just can’t. ✦ of course, he’s absolutely cracked at talking dirty to you. It’s always a mix of praise and degradation with him. ✦ he’d be happy if you just sent him nudes, really. But he’s over the moon once you suggested to do it over a call. Immediately is palming his hard on through his jeans while he’s waiting for you to pick up. Opens with a casual little, “hey, honey,” you wouldn’t know he’s practically going to town on his cock, hot to go. ✦ with how sweet he could be to you, he could be so, so fucking mean too. ✦ “My, my. That was such a pretty sound you just made. Wanna do that again for me? Wanna hear my pretty little cockslut begging for me while I fuck my fist. Yeaaah, just like that. Louder.” ✦ the type to send in voicemails at random times of the day. You know they’re exclusively for you since he’s practically chanting out your name while he fucks himself. You’ve made the mistake (plenty of times) of listening to some of them in public. Thank god your phone wasn’t on full volume but people definitely heard your boyfriend fucking his fist. ✦ you put him in his place when you get home by tying him down to the bed and edging him to hell and back and back again and back again and back again and—

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

✦ THIS MANNN…. He knows how to use his voice. He KNOWS HOW TO USE HIS VOICE SOMEONE HOLD ME THE FUCK BACK— ✦ he really doesn't like texting. So you both often call each other at the end of the day when you're apart. You're often apart too, with work and with it taking you to different cities. He's home alone at your apartment with your pets, with your clothes beside him on the couch. See where this is going? :-)) ✦ "Miss ya. Fuck, I really miss ya. Even the cats miss yer constant yappin'-" he teases and he's palming his cock through his gray sweatpants when he hears you shoot a clever quip at him. "Mhh-doll, I really do fuckin' miss ya. Especially when we wake up in the mornin'? Yeah. When ya press yer ass up against me, miss how ya know how to touch me just right-" "Jo, are you touching yourself right now?" he has the gall to chuckle. "Wanna see?" He was so ready to switch to facetime, to show you how he's lazily dragging his fingers up and down his throbbing cock, gray sweatpants pulled down just enough to pull it out. But you wanna stay on the call. You're rushing to your bed, hand in your shorts as soon as you lay down. ✦ likes dirty talking. LOVES when you talk dirty to him back. He's whispering phrases like, "mhm, yeah?", "what do ya want me t'do to ya when you get back?", "what else, angel?" prodding you on, urging you to express your deepest desires to him because he's NEEDY NEEDY NEEDY. (He knows you're as eager as he is too) ✦ wants to cum with you so he edges himself until you say you're almost there. Wants to match your pace and tries to by listening to your breathing, the rhythm of your moans. Never fails to tell you he loves you after he cums. ✦ promises a huge surprise for you when you get back :-)

a/n: THESE WERE SO FUCKING FUN TO DO RRRRAAAAAHHHHHHHHHRHRHR!!!!!!!!!!!!! *insert werewolf ripping clothes open meme here* I hope you guys like it. The brainworms are wriggling mighty strong.

[ma1dita]

Hii!! Congrats on 23!!! I love your writing!! Idk if you write for Jason Grace, but if you do could you do something with a daughter or Dionysus reader where it’s just her trying to loose him up a little bit? Or maybe them at a party?? Thank you so muchh!

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

jason grace x dionysus!reader

a/n: underage drinking lol but that comes with a dionysus!reader ,,, ty for the request my love!

wc: 683

“So you’ve like, never been to a party?”

You’re smacking on a piece of gum as the both of you watch the party come alive in your cabin. Cabin 12 was always the place to be on weekends with it just being you and Pollux, and everyone knows that no one can throw a party like a Dionysus kid. Though with the way Jason’s leaning against the corner of the wall you both take up with a beer in hand, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Ever since his arrival at Camp Half-Blood, you’ve come to notice that there is possibly no version of him that is ever at ease.

“Never really had the time.”

Well, that just won’t do.

You teach Jason all the things a teenager usually does at a party, from drinking a few cups of spiked punch (which was much more pleasant than the beer), to dragging him onto the dance floor once the drinks set in (he thinks he likes spinning you around until your laughter bubbles over like sparkling champagne), to finally getting him to join a few party games. Jason killed it at cup pong, watched you annihilate other campers at king’s cup, until an Aphrodite kid insisted you end off the night with 7 minutes in heaven. A chorus of both groans and cheers were heard around the room, and Jason looks at you confused. His glasses glint under the fairy lights and you giggle at his lost puppy look.

7 minutes in his father’s domain didn’t seem like a good game to him, so he leans in to listen to you whisper the mechanics of it all. His cheeks redden, and he’s unsure if he wants to play.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, sparky.”

You gave him the nickname because he always looks like someone’s lit a fire under his butt—too uptight and cordial for your liking.

Sitting around while mismatched couples took their turns in your linen closet wasn’t really Jason Grace’s idea of fun, but he supposes he doesn’t really have a good grasp on that either. He trusts you though, for what it’s worth. A son of Jupiter having full faith in a daughter of Dionysus must be a deadly combination.

When Piper calls out both of your names, he supposes that could be fun. You grab his wrist and he follows you into the dim closet, everyone’s voices muffled through the closed door. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, even if no one else can hear him but you. Your smile is intoxicating when it’s directed at him, he realizes, and he wonders if he’s finally drunk. 

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jace,” you say sincerely. At a wave of your fingers, the hesitation and impairment from the punch subsides a little; a light buzz settles in your stomachs. Jason pushes his glasses up and then dares to ask, “So what do people usually do when they’re in here?”

You raise your eyebrows. You didn’t think you’d have to spell it out for him.

“Um, well…they kiss. Or other things…”

“Oh.”

You giggle at his shock, leaning in slowly and waiting for him to make the final move. Jason closes the distance and there are a few things that surprise you about this kiss. It’s intense, lips molding onto yours with the passion he puts into everything he does, wanting to do the job well. Whether it be the waning effects of alcohol or a static shock—it made the both of you hyperaware, lightly panting before his hands pull you in by the waist and you smile into the scar on his lip, grabbing onto his tshirt. You tilt your head to the side and let him consume you once more, a floaty feeling in your chest until you realize—the both of you are actually flying. 

A muffled groan leaves him when his head hits the lightbulb, sparks flying out as you land in his arms. 

Lips locking through the laughter, Jason finally understands why you would think this is fun.

[poppitron360]

Hello :)

What is in your opinion a) the best Sapphic ship and b) what are your headcanons for them?

This has been in my ask box since may, and it’s been on my mind for a while.

So sorry I took ages to answer, I was waiting to finish the series so that I’d have all the relevant info (I’d heard Thalia x Reyna is a thing and I wanted to see for myself) don’t worry I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU-

Also, Life has gotten pretty badly in the way of things lately.

Tbh I haven’t really seen/paid attention to the sapphic ships in PJO.

Currently, drafting this before BoO, I’d say it’s probably Ruegard (Selena x Clarisse). While I very much think Beckendorf and Selena were in love, you can’t have two same-sex characters parallel Patroclus and Achilles and NOT have them be queer-coded (Unless Rick genuinely believed that Patrochillies really were just platonic besties, which is objectively false and factually incorrect and gay erasure honestly Rick).

I think Dying For Each Other IS queer culture (Valgrace for LIFEEEE).

While I swear by Aro/Ace Reyna and will die on this hill, the ships she’s paired with are cute dynamics.

- Theyna is badass. It gives similar vibes to Buffy x Faith from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (easily one of the non-canon sapphic ships of all time) I just love how when they first met Thalia kidnapped Reyna and Reyna hit her with a chair. I just see that and think “couple goals”.

- @demigod-shenanigans has forced me to think about Pipeyna and honestly yeah they would be really cute. Particularly their dynamic paired with Valgrace. I love Reyna and Jason’s friendship and I love her relationship with Leo.

- Reynabeth (is that a ship? It should be). Daughter of War Goddess x Daughter of War Goddess SUPREME!!!!

But also, we need more aro/ace rep in media. I heart my aro/ace siblings.

Pipabeth is also some of the most sapphic shit I’ve ever seen. I think it’s just RR not really knowing how female friendships work (or maybe it’s me never really having the kinda touchy-feely female friendship I see on TV all the time, and so being unable to comprehend that kind of platonic compassion, but I’m not gonna unpack that here) but you can’t tell me these aren’t two cottagecore lesbians collecting mushrooms and building a fence and shit that cottagecore lesbians do.

Also shoutout to Rachabeth and basically any sapphic Annabeth ship. She is bi in my mind.

Shelper is underdeveloped. There is so much potential in a mortal x demigod relationship that was explored a little bit with Perrachel but never fully. I need to write a fic about them at some point.

I was writing something earlier and ended up maybe starting a Nyssa x Lavinia ship (hardened grunge Lesbian x bubblegum Lesbian)

But my favourite???

EMMIE AND JO!!!

We NEVER get sapphic romances for old people. I NEED a spinoff about them. I mean, you’ve got the forbidden romance from being in the Hunters of Artemis turned marriage (Idk if they’re canonically married or not but they are in my mind) and you’ve got them being badass fighters and you’ve got them being moms to Leo and Georgina and basically everyone at the waystation. It seems like “giving up immortality for each other” is Rick’s standard for “true love” and Emmie and Jo did exactly that. I love them sm.

[azira-crowley]

İf i didn't watch/read The Songs of Achilles, Good Omens, Nana, Firebird, Banana Fish, Omnicent Reader Viewpoint, Alien Stage, I'm Not That Kind Of Talent, Hannibal, Weak Hero Class, A Home Far Away, Murderous Lewellyn's Candlelit Dinner, No 6, Pearly Boy, The Boxer, Windbreakerand, Read Poets Society and Link Click i would be like this

[somewherefornow]

[queerlyloud]

Okay, but genuinely, every single one of my canon run Dragon Age series characters has fallen for the character who intended to betray them but fell for them along the way anyway, despite knowing every second that this would end in flames.

I think I have a Type. 🙃

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

Series Master List Main Master List

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[enderlovez]

It's Okay

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: You and Spencer have to comfort a little girl after she finds her parents dead in her home, and your odd tactics work surprisingly well.

Content Warning: guns and violence, mentions of murder, blood, strange methods of calming a child down, dead bodies mentioned, broken glass, scared children

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The house is unnervingly silent.

Bloodstains and shards of broken glass litter the carpet around the bodies as you carefully step around them, you and Spencer moving cautiously towards the bedroom.

From inside comes the faint, muffled sound of sobbing. Through the cracked door you can see a little girl—Harper—curled up tightly in the corner, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit as though it's her only lifeline.

You glance at Spencer, your expression heavy. This is always the hardest part of the job: dealing with the survivors, especially ones this young and scared. Spencer offers you a faint nod, his own nerves masked by his calm demeanor.

You open the door slowly, kneeling down to meet Harper's line of sight. "Hey there," you say softly, careful not to startle her. "I'm Y/N, and this is Spencer. We're here to help you."

She doesn't answer, her tear-filled eyes darting between the two of you. Your chest tightens as her tiny frame trembled, her grip on the stuffed animal tightening further.

Spencer kneels beside you, his voice just as soft and measured as he addresses the young girl. "We promise, we're not gonna hurt you. We're here to keep you safe."

Her bottom lip quivers, but she doesn't speak. You can practically feel the weight of her fear, and your usual comforting words don't seem enough right now. You briefly look at Spencer, then back at her—time to get a little creative.

You stand and cross the room, kneeling again when you're right in front of her.

Reaching for your holster, you carefully pull out your sidearm and hold it up in a non-threatening way, your finger nowhere near the trigger. "Do you know what this is, Harper?" you ask, your voice calm and steady.

Please don't backfire on me...

Her sobs pause for a moment, her wide eyes fixed on the gun. "A... a gun?" she whispers.

"That's right," you say, your tone light as if you're discussing her favorite toy. "It's my job to use this to protect people, to keep them safe. And right now, I'm here to keep you safe. Me and Floppy," you add with a smile, nodding toward her bunny.

Spencer glances at you, his eyebrows raises slightly in surprise, but he doesn't stop you. You know what you're doing—or at least you hope you do.

"Can I see it?" Harper asks hesitantly, her curiosity momentarily overpowering her fear.

"Not this one—it's very grown up," you say with a small chuckle, slipping the gun back into its holster. "But maybe someday, when you're older and want to be a hero too. For now, just know that it's here, and it'll keep you safe."

Harper blinks, her tears slowing as she processes your words in her little six year old brain. "You'd use it for me?"

"Absolutely," you say firmly without hesitation, leaning in a little closer. "You're really important to us, Harper. We're going to make sure nothing bad happens to you."

Spencer finally chimes in, appearing beside you, his voice gentle but slightly amused. "And I can vouch for Y/N. She's a very good shot."

The faintest ghost of a smile crosses Harper's face, and your shoulders relax slightly. "You're like superheroes," she says, her voice so quiet you would've missed it if you weren't paying so much attention.

"Exactly," you say, grinning. "Superheroes with badges and really big teamwork. And guess what? Superheroes are really good at making sure kids like you are okay."

Harper nods, her fingers loosening their death grip on Floppy. "Okay," she murmurs, edging closer to you, "but I'm still scared."

"That's okay too," you assure her. "Being scared just means you're brave enough to face things that are hard. And right now, you're doing and amazing job, Harper."

She hesitates, then leans forward slightly, her small frame still trembling but no longer frozen in fear. She wraps her little arms around your waist, face pressed into your stomach. You take her into your arm, tracing shapes on her back with your pointer finger.

You glance at Spencer, who's watching you with a mix of admiration and mild disbelief. He mouths, Really? The gun?

You shrug subtle in response, your lips quirking up.

After a moment, Harper looks up from your stomach, her eyes still red but clearer now. "Will you stay here?" she asks.

"We'll stay as long as you need us," you answer instantly, tone as warm and reassuring as you can make it. "You're not alone anymore, Harper. Are you tired?"

She nods, so you lift her up off the floor and lay her down on her bed, only laying beside her when she gently tugs on your shirt. She immediately snuggles up against you, clutching onto you with one of her death grips, but you don't care.

Her breathing starts to even out, and for the first time tonight, the tension in the room begins to lift.

When Morgan peeks into the room a few minutes later to check in, he raises an eyebrow at the sight of you—Spencer sitting at the end of the bed, you actually laid down with Harper's arms wrapped tightly around you, tight enough to actually make breathing a little difficult.

"You two good?" he asks, glancing between the three of you.

"Superheroes don't leave their missions unfinished," you reply with a wink, gently stroking Harper's hair, and Morgan shakes his head, muttering something about your methods as he leaves.

One Harper is finally asleep, Spencer leans towards you, his voice low. "You know, not every kid finds guns comforting."

"Worked on her, didn't it?" you whisper back, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Only you would use a weapon as a comfort object."

"She needed to feel like we can keep her safe," you reply, looking down at Harper's peaceful face, "and I think we nailed it."

He chuckles softly, his hand brushing against yours for a brief moment. "You're not wrong." A brief pause. "Wait, how'd you know the rabbit's name?"

You silently gesture to a drawing on the wall, a little girl and a rabbit holding hands, Harper and Floppy written in blue crayon beneath it.

[myownwholewildworld]

WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C’mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

[koiiiji]

random windbreaker headcanons

tw : no, kinda cute, x reader not included

⊹ Wooin believe in mbti types, if it says that someones mbti type doesn’t match with his, he will believe it.

⊹ Hyok ultimate stand is pokemon. he wants to be pokemon.

⊹ Harry actually dog enjoyer who prefers animals to people bc they are loud and use doping. and dogs don’t use doping. Noah always argues with him bc actually cats are cooler.

⊹ Mahon was super naive person in some ways. like it was enough to say something with straight, serious face and he will believe it.

⊹ Sangho drink water or strong alcohol like whiskey, vodka, soju or something that have degree higher than 30°. nothing else. it always either water or alcohol. and he hates cocktails. if u guy who drinks cocktails u r gay, his honest opinion, i just asked him!!

⊹ Juhwan actually have a shark. there is an app, where you can “buy” a shark and you can see its location. so Juhwan owns two sharks, their names is Bobby and Sam. he was really upset when Bobbys tracker lost and he can’t see his shark anymore :( Bobby was his favorite one

⊹ deep inside Juwon really lonely person, so partly he actually enjoys that he have Vinny’s company and at some, really rare moments actually think about him as his younger brother (then he have a call from his partners from dark business and everything goes back)

⊹ Juwon actually get tied of people really fast, so he doesn’t really have friends, only business partners like Sangho and some people like Umi, who was with him in university

⊹ TJ have tiktok playlist that contains hard brazilian phonk, the ones from epic anime edits, and he listen it in headphones and imagine himself as an anime hero

⊹ Minu was questionable about his preferences. before he met Mia he always spent biggest part of his time with boys from zephyrus and June, and he wasn’t interested in girls around him. he used to think maybe he had a crush on Vinny or June.

⊹ Aria really enjoys history classes and have best marks at this subject.

⊹ Vinny doesn’t understand concept of dating. like you just met random people and start see each other every day and then maybe marry and have kids? are you insane? you just see random person and think “oh u cool, u r my boyfriend/girlfriend now”. he genuinely think people are weird.

⊹ Shelly 100% high fashion enjoyer and maybe even wanted to be a model, but she is not tall enough, so before coming to Korea she was insecure about her height.

⊹ aside from apples Hajun enjoys cucumbers. they are like apples in vegetables world.

⊹ Kaneshiro hates iqos. same with sangho, either normal cigarettes or pipe with tobacco. no third option.

⊹ Jay Jo enjoy Gordon Ramsay shows. especially old “kitchen nightmares” where he travels across US and mock cafe owners.

[jolalibrary]

Hi Jo! Love the idea of #mmvalentinesevent! Could I please request Ghost x Rain, and specifically Rain freaking out because Ghost was reckless and risked his life for a USB? Was that when Ghost fell in love? Happy Valentines xx

retrieve it.

simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader (rain!reader)

an: a huge thank you to @ave661 for allowing me to use this beautiful image. i’d written the scene, seen the render, and it was like two worlds colliding in the most brilliant way. thank you, i adore you

wc: 1.6k | an: no warnings, little anxiety/worry. i changed the prompt a little, as i wanted to do them established already for v-day ♥️

It mirrors it. The mission that first made you realise you didn’t just admire him, but had feelings for your lieutenant.

It was the one that haunted your nightmares, more so now, than it had done at the time. The one which shattered your small world, making it hard to think of anything but him.

He almost became a ghost. A real one.

Something he knows, but won’t admit. Likely knowing there are more times than he can count where it’s been that close or worse.

And you should be listening as Price gives the rest of them a role, a part to play. You don’t hear him, don’t even take the file from the table. Everything was the same, anyway.

You’re with Soap. You’re the one staring down the scope—you’re the one protecting his six. You’re drowning, dazed…

Words are simply circling, but not sinking in. Your nose heightened to his deodorant suddenly, to the way his skin smells when you’re nose is pressed against his chest. You’re not even close to him. But your body reaches for him, clings to him—attempting to smother the building worry:

People aren’t that lucky.

He’d walked from it last time—fire whipping around him, scorch marks having kissed his clothes and exposed skin. It’s not that you ever focus on, but the minute that felt like an hour when he wasn’t responding. When his radio crackled, and you realised that you liked him—that you cared, that you—

You’re panicking a whole metre away from him. No way close enough for him to tell. But he does. His eyes lock with yours under the balaclava, digging his pupils into your skin: I’m here, I’m here.

But for how long?

They all tease Soap for being the first to rush into danger, to throw himself on the grenade. But, Simon isn’t that different. He’s more methodical, having likely come to a calculated conclusion rather than reactionary, but he still throws himself against danger. His isn’t to be a hero, but to pay a due—one he doesn’t even owe.

It’s why you keep replaying Price’s words from minutes ago—

We can’t fuck this. Ghost. You’ll b’going in alone, y’retrieve the USB…

Price knows he’ll do it. Knows without fucking question. It almost makes you a little mad at your captain.

Because Ghost will pull apart buildings, rip through people, and willingly throw himself into flames for the mission—for the cause.

It’s all you can think of. It’s all that plays in your mind. Untangling and tangling again, like a pair of headphones which have been in your pocket for too long.

“Meeting adjourn—“

You’re out of the room before anyone else. Your boots slamming and echoing down corridors, t-shirt suddenly too tight, belt too restrictive…

Panic.

That’s what you feel. It makes your arm throb, it makes the scars littered along your skin burn. It makes you want to claw—practically consuming you. Filling you from the ankles to your forehead, suffocating you, wrapping its hands around your heart and lungs as it squeezes and squeezes and—

You almost slam through the door. The one which leads to an empty room—a former office. A desk and a chair are all that remain as evidence that they belonged to someone once. A desk and chair you and Ghost have made use of when you truly need time alone—no interruptions, no risk of being caught.

You could seat yourself in the chair, but you slide onto the desk. Pushing your back against the jagged brick, letting your feet hang, moving them forwards and backwards.

Calming.

It works, sometimes. Roots you. You trying to keep yourself level-headed. Breathing in and out, trying to stuff it all down, and yet, you’re failing—badly. Mind tumbling, falling aimlessly through your neck, chest and stomach.

You can’t lose him.

It’s what builds inside of you, occasionally being drilled like a woodpecker against your skull. You had thought the same then, and didn’t—hadn’t. But, the helplessness never eased, even when he held you close. The emptiness you felt, when he entered the building, but took so long to come out.

That same emptiness has worsened over time, developed into something thicker and harder to ignore. It multiplies, in the same way, your feelings for him have.

Rain doesn’t wash away ghosts, but it falls similarly to how you have for him. Quickly, significantly. It sits on your chest when he stares at you in silence, when his calloused touch brushes over your cheek, softly, intimately.

None of them knows.

None of them would have even considered that you love him, and that he… feels something close to it. They don’t know. None of them understood the anger he felt when your arm was dislocated; none of them comprehended why anger had burst out of you when he was nearly shot because of shoddy intel.

They don’t know, because they don’t have it: a secret which erodes in your chest, one that makes it hard to think. You sigh, and then you hear it—footsteps, one’s which seem to slow your pulse back to a regular rhythm.

He always has that effect on you. The same as he always finds you.

It almost makes you wonder if he’s akin to a heat-seeking missile. Never missing, never too far away from locating you. You’d ask him, whether he had a sixth sense, but you’re not sure you can talk.

Ghost says nothing as he steps in, but he’s rolled his sleeves up. His ink and veins on show as he walks towards you in silence, the door meeting the frame the only thing to shatter the quiet.

Before he came to your home, Ghost stalked towards you. Since then, he walks. Each movement he does towards you is more rounded, less jagged.

“In and out.”

He says it so confidently you snort. He’s always confident—it’s Simon who isn’t.

Ghost is clinical, emotionless, and withdrawn—and rightly so, for the things he’s had to do. It’s Simon who can’t consider the possibility that someone is waiting for him—the former not allowing himself to consider he’s worth it.

“Rain.”

You lift your chin at your callsign, finding him standing in front of you. His bare hand slowly slid over your knee, your legs parting—just enough to let him move a little closer.

It’s gentle, almost confusingly so. The two of you rarely share these moments, the quiet ones, the ones where so much is said, but with eyes and softer gestures.

You focus on the scratch fabric of his trousers catching on your inner knees and thighs as he steps between your legs, nudging the desk you’re placed on.

He says nothing, and neither do you.

A flash of memories fluttering like the wings of butterflies: him at your one-person table, him in your bed—your sheets; him finding you in the showers, him bringing you a can of Coke… just because.

It’s his palm sliding up the outside of your thigh that makes you really meet his gaze. Not afraid or ashamed of the tears brewing in them, your lips parting, but the words don’t fall—don’t roll from your tongue…

I need you alive. I need you.

Your hands, though, take hold of his top—burning the words as hard as you can into the fabric, hoping he hears you. Not sure if you can spit them out. Even if your heart is bellowing it, furiously banging on your ribs to get him to hear you.

“It’s not like then.”

“No?” you murmur.

He shakes his head, silent, but direct.

“You’ll do anything to finish a mission.”

He nods, tracing a circle on your outer thigh, making your skin tingle. “I will.”

“You… you put yourself in danger, and… I admire it, fuck I love that about you, but…”

“I have you.”

You feel your brows furrow before you’re even sure you hear him. His words smothering the ones from Price—the ones which hadn’t dislodged for prayers or hopes. Only him.

He swallows, lifting his other hand to your cheek, holding your eyes on his. “I have you, and you like me alive.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, sharply. Nodding softly against his palm as he sighs.

“In and out.”

“In and out.”

He gives a curt nod, slowly lowering his forehead against yours, fingers strumming your thigh and your cheek.

“Plus, your scope will b’on me,” he gruffly whispers.

“I-It will.”

He strokes his thumb over your chin. “Then I’ll be fine.”

You hate his confidence, the pressure which falls in flecks onto your shoulders.

“No one I trust more to have my back, Rain.”

“You’re just saying that—”

He lifts his head, tilting your chin up, staring down into your soul through the blacks of your eyes. “Not to you. I never say… not to you, alright?”

You nod, rolling your lips as you sigh. Unsure whether you should say it, let the words kiss the air, until they fall from your tongue all the same—

“I love you alive, Simon.”

His eyes widen at the chance in word. The noticeable difference from like to love.

Your hands balling up against his clothing, his hand gripping your thigh. Perfection. That’s what you think as you hold on for as long as you both can, making sure he knows you mean them. Your words.

Then you feel it, his heart hammering more purposefully against your wrist, as you clutch onto him a little tighter.  

And then, he lifts the fabric from his chin, letting you see soft pink and stubble, before he kisses a reply against your lips, over and over again.

One which burns in all the right ways; one which you carry with you, as you make sure he’s safe as you stare down the scope.

[ma1dita]

🐥 a lil something for jason grace? just yk him meeting hephaestus!reader for the first time at camp half blood and she's this bubbly girl who befriends everyone cuz that's just how she is and like she offers everyone solutions to material problems like aphrodite kids with vanity mirrors that light up on their own, apollo kids with medical kits that look small outside but has TONS of storage, demeter kids with self watering pots, etc

reader gives him a welcome gift (leo and piper too), a compact watch sword thingy like percy's and jason's like new to this bcs all his life he's been treated like a prince in waiting, a leader most of the time and he hasn't had anyone do something for him cuz its usually him doing things

ooh and a lil bit of leo valdez teasing him bcs of him blushing when she's around cuz reader is his sister basically, same dad and all

Thank you and happy bday again!

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

jason grace x hephaestus!reader

a/n: this was so cute but pls lmk if i got his character right...i had to reference my irl pjo bestie for this i love this boy

wc: 766

Jason Grace thinks you talk too much.

And too fast. It’s one of the first things he noticed about Camp Half-Blood weirdly enough, besides the nagging feeling that he didn’t belong there. There wasn’t so much as a day where he wouldn’t see you whizzing past campers offering to tinker items to make their lives easier, and he could barely keep up—which says a lot for a boy raised to be a soldier.

It was like you set everything alight, and the flames you left in your midst could not be tamed; everyone was enamored by you, and admittedly, so was he. The son of Jupiter was sure his brain had short-circuited along with everything else going on but all of his worries were dashed when you presented him with a wristwatch shield.

Jason blinks slowly.

“Are you listening? Do you like it? I can change the finish on it or scrap it completely if you don’t think it’s cool, or maybe it's too big? Let me see your wrist—Jace?”

You wave your hand in his face before grabbing his arm, encircling his wrist with the metal links to make sure your creation fits him comfortably.

Too torn between the predicament of being raised by fucking wolves and training for a war that no one knows the start date of, Jason Grace has not had too much time to acquaint himself with the matters of the heart. So in his eyes, this poor sweetheart thought your welcome gift was the equivalent of a marriage proposal, or something like that…

Your half-sibling Leo thought this was hilarious of course, his teasing grin stoking the fire in the pit of Jason’s stomach when he asked to see it. The blond boy was gentle with your gift, shaking his head at the notion that it meant anything, that you were just kind to everyone, and nothing about it whatsoever makes him special.

Okay buddy…

So of course when you came to confront him about Leo’s taunting that had reached all of the inhabitants of cabin 9 (and the armory, and the counselors, and even Chiron and Mr. D—the biggest gossips of Camp Half-Blood), Jason Grace, a boy who usually has his shit together, was reduced to the phenomenon of being an embarrassed teenager with a crush.

You were standing a little too close for his liking and even if he towered over you, the blaze in your eyes could incite fear in the gods.

“Just because I'm nice and do things for you doesn’t mean that I like you, Jason Grace,” you say adamantly as you cross your arms over your chest. He notices the smudge of soot on your cheekbone, and thinks it looks quite pretty against your complexion.

“Of course.”

“I gave you the wristwatch shield as a welcome gift,” you say next, to which he nods since it’s a fact.

“Of course, I didn’t mea—”

“I mean you’re always protecting others, so I thought someone should protect you for a change,” you mutter, watching him scratch the nape of his neck as your smile spreads like gasoline touched by a lit match. He can’t help but embrace the burn (His serious demeanor is broken by the smile on his face, so big that it almost hurts).

“But you are right, I do like you. Suppose we’ll have to do something about that.”

Thinking hard about the confession that left your mouth, you look like you’re working through a methodical problem to solve— finding the missing piece to a puzzle instead of making the son of Jupiter's face heat up like a thousand suns. He reckons there’s an ambush inside of him as something starts to work harder than usual, not his brain overridden by battle tactics and that of survival— but his heart, beating fast like a well oiled machine (and more importantly like a normal teenage boy). 

Jason reaches out to rub the soot away from your cheek, but when you pull him in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, he finds himself to be stained by you all the same.

[seiwas]

masterlist

・・・・・ this is the masterlist for my one year anniversary collab event! minors dni. links to each fic/art will be updated as they come; if you're interested in joining, you can check out this post for the guidelines! this masterlist will stop updating on july 25, 2025.

fics

boku no hero academia

ꕤ bakugo katsuki

feelings left unspoken by @peachsukii # fluff fluff fluff. just how katsuki acts in love. sfw. summary: bakugo’s hidden love language is touch. any and every kind. hand holding, arm slung around your waist, hand at the small of your back, ankles hooked under a table, etc.

[title tba] by 🌱 # early relationship katsuki summary: tba

untitled by @gfguren # f!reader, pro-hero!bakugo, hurt/comfort, established quirk, strangers to friends(?) to lovers summary: bakugou likes to think he knows everything, can handle just about anything that's thrown his way with flying colors and then some. so why can't he figure out this tug in his chest, or the upset in his stomach whenever you come around lately? you with your stupid quirk and all your stinkin' audacity. who do you think you are to figure him out with one little touch, one measly brush of your fingers against his anyways?

ꕤ todoroki shouto

[title tba] by @withclawandvine # sfw, established relationship summary: tba

haikyuu

ꕤ iwaizumi hajime

[title tba] by @merumis # tba summary: you’re not unfamiliar with a regretful hookup, but last night’s might just make the top of your list. still, you and iwa planned this roadtrip to see your friends months ago—surely things won’t be different. so why does he keep looking at you like that? and why is his cold water bottle always against the back of your neck?

ꕤ kuroo tetsurou

[title tba] by @tetzoro # sfw ; tooth rotting fluff ᡣ𐭩 summary: kuroo tetsuro has spent his whole life looking after others. it’s something that came naturally to him, as simple as breathing. it never fails to catch him off guard when he finds you doing the same for him and yet, he can’t help but melt under your tender care.

ꕤ ojiro aran

he's not subtle! by @noosayog # gn!reader, sfw, fluff summary: maybe he’s not one for over-the-top declarations, but it’s all the same when he makes it this obvious.

ꕤ sakusa kiyoomi

love me from your point of view by @irisintheafterglow # pro player!sakusa x rockstar!reader, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, character study, angst/fluff, sfw summary: you teach sakusa kiyoomi how to love, in spite of the cameras and the gossip.

jujutsu kaisen

ꕤ fushiguro megumi

[title tba] by @raven-cincaide # sfw summary: tba

ꕤ fushiguro toji

untitled by @cuntcure # nsfw, fluff, morning sex, very domestic and soft! summary: most mornings, you are only partially roused to a place just beyond being fully awake and coherent.

[title tba] by @pmpmyread # f!reader, mostly fluff, with suggestive themes and implied/non-graphic smut summary: tba

ꕤ gojo satoru

i won’t come back to you broken (i’ve been away too long) by @kissxcore # sfw, blind!gojo, angst probably, jjk spoilers summary: in which you prove to gojo that every part of him is loveable, even without his eyes.

and five more by @mieiri # gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff! summary: boyfie! satoru sleeps on your shoulder. you think about him in the meantime.

ꕤ nanami kento

[title tba] by @selarina # sfw, anniversaries summary: tba

the ghost of u by @em1e # a little bit of angst, sfw. summary: the intimacy of sharing music.

ꕤ sukuna

[title tba] by @miss-cincaide # nsfw summary: tba

wind breaker

ꕤ hiragi toma

bloom by @melon-fodder # sfw, 'shedding' as little signs of your partner being in your space summary: over time you fill hiragi’s heart and home with little pieces of yourself.

ꕤ togame jo

[title tba] by @shinuko # tba summary: tba

art

jujutsu kaisen

ꕤ gojo satoru

romantic encounter by @mididoodles # gn!reader, sfw description: cat!gojo and bunny!reader cuddling/sleeping.

ꕤ nanami kento

[title tba] by @mididoodles # selfship, fluff description: tba

thank you for participating, and enjoy!

[somewherefornow]

PHANTOM GIRL/TINYA WAZZO & ULTRA BOY/JO NAH in FINAL CRISIS: LEGION OF 3 WORLDS

[anhonest-puck]

hellooooo!!! this is intro post v.4 :)

general info!!

name: neil or poison, but ralph/ralphie works too :)

pronouns: she/he

age: MINOR!!! just be aware of that when talking to me please (any1 can talk to me just don’t be odd)

myers briggs type: ENFJ-T (the protagonist)

tags!

#rambling on and on: literally just rambling because i don’t shut up ever

#neil’s tweaking hours ™️: tweaking and freaking out or something i thought it was funny

#neil’s hopecore posting ☀️: the exact opposite of the prev tag!!! good things :)

#ester jo >^..^< OR #katze posting: my cat!! she seems to be a fan favorite..

#artsing: my art, sometimes not my art! i’ll specify

#lyricsing: lyric posting!

fandom tags!

#dead postings society: dps stuff!

#straight up creeking it: nickel creek :3

#straight up thileing it: chris thile :3

#the chems are romancing, #mcrt: my chem :3

#spacing out: space stuff!

#medical malpractice md: house md!

#lotfing: lord of the flies stuff!

interests!!

my chemical romance, dead poets society, lord of the flies, space, maxxxine, horror in general, fantastic mr fox, biblically accurate angels

music stuffs!!

the velvet underground (after hours, i found a reason)

the cure (friday, i’m in love, a night like this)

the smiths (how soon is now?, half a person)

joost klein (offline, PTSD)

lana del rey (doin’ time, fuck it i love you)

hozier (nobody’s soldier, angel of small death & the codeine scene)

mitski (carry me out, working for the knife)

tyler, the creator (answer, peach fuzz)

david bowie (lady grinning soul, heroes)

matt maltese (intolewd, curl up & die)

chris thile (falsetto, you’re an angel, and i’m going to cry)

nickel creek (where the long line leads, helena)

kin list!!

neil perry (dead poets society)

ralph (lord of the flies)

maxine minx (X, maxxxine)

dr. james wilson (house md)

party poison (danger days, mcr)

lovely people!!

@noctilucaa @wilsons-three-legged-siamese @neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies @lv3buzzz @yourfavvgal

@ace-misplaced @xxcherryberriezxx @sweaty-toothed-mad-woman @1mlostnow

@pingunaa @teddys-diary @duohadmehostage @vessel214 @mikeru-funzies

@toddandersonsblog @neilperryismine @y-a-w-p @poetsinnyc @richardcameronshusband

@desire-mona @chaoticamberr @neil-perrys-reincarnation @sillypoetssociety @hyacinthi-mortem

@lefthandedspaghetti @grungelvrr222 @star-laboratory @vampjro @rubeslovesthesmiths

@mi1kw33d-2 @neimanverse @march32nd @faileddog @stirlinqs

@cams-libraryy

(if you’d like to be added/taken away from this list feel free to DM me!!)

please do ask if you’d like to be mutuals!!! i’m always open to new friends :) i don’t bite i swear.. (i do)

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, I would like to ask you to write something for the new fandofandom.

Could you please write:Wonder Woman daughter reader x Platonic super sons (Damian Wayne, Jon Kent).

The little trinity first met on watchtower when their parents needed to hold an unplanned emergency meeting of the Justice League and there was no one to leave the children with.

And I would not say that their meeting went smoothly.Mainly because Damian is Damian and the reader is a stubborn, proud Amazon.

John literally had to get between them so that their verbal altercation would not escalate into a fight.

But over time, they still became best friends, even though the bickering between Damian and the reader did not stop.

They tried to spend every free weekend together with an overnight stay either at the Kent farm, at the Wayne estate, or at the Temeskira embassy.

They care about each other very much.For example, John talks about how he is bullied by a school bully and at the same moment Damian offered to dig up dirt on the bully and destroy his life, and the reader immediately after that offered to call the bully to a gladiatorial fight to the death according to the laws of honor.

In short, something cute about children becoming best friends.

Tiny Trinity?

Tiny Trinity!

Hope you enjoy!

Wonder Buddy and the Super Son's

SFW, Platonic, Amazonian reader

WONDER FAMILY

Buddy is Wonder Woman’s daughter.

Created the same way as her mother and a near spitting image, minus a few features.

She had stayed in Themyscira for the first few years training alongside her grandmother and auntie’s while her mother was out in Man’s world.

Buddy putting her head on her grandmother’s lap: “Grandmother? Why is mama out in Man’s World? Isn’t it a cruel place?” Queen Hippolyta gently stroking her granddaughter hair: “She has a job in Man’s World. A very important job to try and save this world.” Buddy huffs a bit: “I wanna be with Mama.” The Queen smiles and tucking in a strand of hair behind the toddler’s ear. Queen Hippolyta: “Soon my dear, soon.”

Soon came quicker than the Queen thought as she saw the features of her daughter and granddaughter fade into the sky.

It was… an adjustment, but Buddy was determined to blend in like her mother.

To become a hero, just like her mother.

Her first time up in the Watch Tower, Diana had been called for an emergency meeting.

She didn’t want to leave Buddy alone in the apartment.

Last time she had done that, Buddy figured the magical world of the freezer, her ice cream stash, and somehow ended up tied up in the Christmas lights on the tree.

That was not a good day for Diana, Buddy, or the squirrel living in the tree.

Diana walked her into one of the lounges to see two boys in there.

Diana rushing into the lounge with Buddy. She notices Jon and Damien in the room. Jon waving happily: “Hi Ms. Diana!” Damian: “It’s Wonder Woman up here Superboy.” Jon brushes the comment off before noticing the smaller version of Diana next to her. Diana: “I’m sorry for the rush introductions, but this is Buddy, my daughter.” Damian and Jon’s eyes went wide: “Daughter?!” Diana doesn’t answer because she had already run out of the room leaving the three in the lounge alone. Buddy smiles at the two and holds out her hand. Buddy: “Greetings, I am Buddy, daughter of Diana and a fellow Amazonian.” Jon is already right by her side shaking her hand. Jon: “Hi! I’m Jon, Jon Kent! Son of Superman, also known as Superboy—” Damian: “Also known as the worst person to conceal their secret identity.” Buddy gives Damian a look before turning back to Jon. Jon: “That’s Robin, Batman’s son, also known as Damian Wayne.” Damian turns quickly to Jon. Damian: “Jon! What did we talk about?!” Jon: “Its fine—” Damian now standing up next to him: “Its not fine! We don’t even know this… this…” Buddy crossing her arms: “This what Damian? This what?” Damian and Buddy start glaring at each other. Jon slightly shrinking back: “Oh boy…”

Wayne stubbornness and Amazonian pride clashing.

Poor Jon is left to play peace maker.

Yet when Buddy leaves the two to go home with Diana, she already made a secret blood oath to protect her new friends.

She practically begs Diana to meet with the boys again.

Something that nearly earned her a one-way trip to the hospital, but she eventually did ask Clark for a ‘play date’.

Clark opening the door to see Diana and… a mini-Diana? Clark: “Diana and…” Buddy smiles and shakes his hand: “I am Buddy. You must be Clark Kent, father of Jon Kent?” Clark laughs a bit before Lois and Jon show up. Buddy also shakes hands with Lois before Jon grabs her hand, pulling her inside the house. Jon: “I can’t wait to show you the newest video game I got last Christmas!” Buddy just smiles letting the boy ramble about this ‘video game’. In Gotham… Damian looks up from the Batcomputer. He picks up his overnight bag and starts heading to the Zeta tube. Tim: “Umm… where are you going?” Damian: “You’re hallucinating again Drake, go back to bed.”

A few minutes later Damian arrived at the front door, he entered the house after giving a quick hello and finds Jon showing Buddy how to play a video game.

One thing leads to another, and Damian and Jon are now playing a racing game with Buddy cheering them on.

They make plans to do a sleepover at the Manor so Damain could ‘beat them in more games.’

Clark and Lois are glad that Jon is making more friends.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, Cass and Steph do a double take when Damian walks down the hallway in his batman pj’s followed by Jon in his… other Batman pj’s and a new girl with a Martian Manhunter pj’s. Tim: “Is he…” Stephanie: “Having a sleepover?” Damian turns around to look at all his siblings. Jon waves at them smiling. Buddy gives them a sleepy smile. Jason: “Why does the kid look like a mini-Diana?” Damian: “Tt. Buddy’s her daughter Todd.” Bat family: “Daughter?!” Damian takes one hand while Jon takes the other. Damian: “Now if you’d excuse us, Buddy needs to take a power nap before we go over our future patrol routes.” Jon waves them good-bye before Damian shuts his door in his family’s face. Everyone is trying to process what just happened.

Soon the three of them are having sleepovers at each other’s places nearly every day.

The three of them become protective over each other.

Buddy and Jon protect Damian on patrol and some of the other younger superheroes when they judge his behavior… unless he did cross a line.

Buddy standing in front of Jon and Damian: “I’m sure that Robin didn’t mean any of—” Damian: “No, I meant it all. In fact, I have more—” Jon puts his hand over his mouth: “Stop it!” Buddy facepalms.

Buddy and Damian protect Jon when they get wind that someone started bullying him.

Damian and Buddy put aside their usual bickering for Jon and worked well.

Damian behind Tim: “Drake!” Tim jumps a bit before glaring at him: “Oh it’s you.” Damian takes a deep breath: “I need… your help.” Tim raises an eyebrow: “You need… my help? Why? What’s the catch?” Damian: “Some miscreant is bullying Jon at school. The name is on the post note. I need everything on them so I can make their remaining time on Earth torture.” Tim nods a bit and starts with the information search. Tim suddenly stops seeing Damian move to the Zeta tubes: “Wait, what do you mean by ‘remaining time on Earth’? You’re not going to…” Damian: “No. But right now I need to stop Buddy from finding them and challenging a duel to the death in Jon’s honor.”

Damian and Jon protect Buddy from the people who make fun of her for not knowing about the modern world and help her adjust to it.

Damian, Buddy and Jon are sitting on the couch watching a scary movie at night. Jon has part of his face in Buddy’s shoulder while staring at the screen. Damian refuses to be in Buddy’s embrace, but under the giant blanket is holding Buddy’s hand. Ever so often jumping and squeezing it. Buddy can’t stop from staring at the screen, one arm around Jon tightly while the other holding Damian’s hand. ???: “Hello—” Tiny trio: “AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Buddy holds the boys tightly to her chest while turning her back to the voice. The boys grip onto each other for dear life. Clark, Diana and Bruce turn on the lights seeing the kids hugging each other in fear. Bruce looking at the movie: “Who’s idea was it to watch scary movies this late?” Neither of the kids dared to respond, still holding on to each other for dear life. Clark quickly takes a picture of them and sends it to the old trinity’s group chat.

Thankfully it was too quick for Damian or Buddy to notice and for Jon still hiding his head in the group hug.