#i think there's More stuff to analyze in this one but i need some time to Digest It

[paging-possum]

3.5 hours of sleep does crazy things to ones brain and by that I mean. Murderbot gender thoughts

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

wild blue yonder

the tardis can regenerate itself...... !!! I mean, wait we knew that already kjhkjh but I just connected the dots now that... that means The Time Lords mined and mauled the child just to make their cars better, as well. Damn...

in classic who u used to have to use ur imagination to pretend everything wasn’t a wobbly set... now u have to use ur imagination to pretend everything isn’t a greenscreen :/

"is that who i am now?" the shocking thing isn’t that he is gay (that’s what donna interprets) the shock to himself is voicing how horny he is lol

Someone is gonna say gravity and that's gonna be fucking weird

"it would take trillion years to get that far” chills!

"no one is ever been this far. till us. and this ship" colonialism fiction dna shining thru

“you little streak” <3

"she'll move on" "not shaun, he'll go to that alleyway every year..." \ten at the alleyway to see rose parallel....

Ghost aroma!!!

blue and orange motif....…………… 13 aesthetic moments.... [13 and Swarm coded? / aka entropy/life coded?/donna and the doc...]

“maybe there's a tribe and they worship it… (…) time passes and the city falls... and there's the tardis" beautiful!! I'm could do somth w/ re: w/ the doctor and their companions. (eyes emoji)

"it got complicated" UNDERSTATEMENT OF A CENTURY #2

"The notion of shape is strange." "it limits" literally current architecture theory

This is so nofna solar system-core

love a classic “anti matter hates matter” story

[the no-bodies…?....cousins to the the could have been king ... with his army of never wheres…?]

This feels very [doctor trying to figure out their body in each regeneration] [intentionally?] this is so end of evangelion poster-core

"it’s strange enough my face coming back, but not this big" / [metaphor for reboots?]

This episode is like the clamoring for us to get a castrovalva 2 escher-like world again next season

"that's not gonna work either" i love these idiots

"why does it have to be one last trip?" rtd ringing moffat / gatiss / gardner / etc and being like like -

ok but follow this reasoning: if the doctor is the same person bc they keep their memories (as the show makes a point of.... constantly) ... and if the memories make the person ... then indeed an entity that copies the memories is the same person, is it not? Where do we draw the line between who’s “real” and who isn’t, in this scenario?

A CREATION I DEVASTATED / literally watched WoM two seconds before this w/ ten all "everything i do just makes it happen" sdjsdkf this is what i mean when i say the doctor has never Processed anythingggg since that Bottom Pit moment

"it wasn't your fault" "i know! (but it stil sucks!!!)" me at therapy like

"WHY DOES HE NEED YOU?" me, Pavlovian tone: because he is lonely...

“when something is gone, it keeps existing” → highlight this!!!! this is gonna be the new thesis statement about Grief!!! this is gonna be The Point for the next 4 years lol

It's very fun to watch this after marath6ning all of ten's era bc it's like... that boy never processed any of that shit. did 11 process shit? did 12? 12 maybe a little but really i think they just got even more trauma (bill ): ) dkdksks and don't get me started on 13. basically what im saying is the doctor Never did get a break on between waters of mars up until now... [and i guess to go further never did get a break after since like....... freaking ghost light skskskskkjkj seven is still There. we don't think about that enough.]

Donna being a clone fucker is not a headcanon ever thought i had but im glad its been confirmed now "donma doesn't think she"s stupid" im sure rtd has launched this exact same rant on so some unwilling family members while browsing ao3 "stop copying and make up your own minds" social commentary / commentary on reboots again / core "individualism > society" dr. who 101 messaging

The not things are kinda.... cute? skdksk if they weren't murderous they look like ppl to hang out w/ and play videogames......

"what do you want?" "you tell us" fundamental doctor-companion dialogue....

"love letters don't travel very far" put a pin on that...

ok.... ARGHGHGHH LET ME THINK THINK THINK skskks me failing at CBT be like

What if the doctor is from our universe. what then the doctor being like we have to mill ourselves immediately feels very 13

this is like "what if turn left and midnight but they go through it together this time <3" fic "where the walls are thin and anything is possible" eyes emoji

"that copy was 99% donna" so maybe re:earlier... what the show is saying between copy vs real is that it's all about the x factor, the 1%....

CONCLUSIONS! lived up to the hype! i think it's a bit 13-era vibe in that it's clearly influenced by all the prestige space-base-isolation scifi we see in the ~cinema now every year. the aesthetic is hitting that vibe (and going to the root, there's also a very clear Alien influence). kinda wish we had more one offs just like this one :( bc i feel the other 2 specials have too much Work to do, so there's not enough time to do.Fun like lore and character stuff. Execution wise is very successful. the switcheroos work. the callbacks work. there's a lot of character stuff happening ("I just realized I'm still working through that!") but it doesn't interfere w/ the adventure itself. My one grip is there's a couple shots that do feel too green-screen-y, but overall the ep is visually amazing. def only a story you could do now. also I love that the NMDs were like "rtd is gonna retcon the timeless child!!! everyone hated it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and he was like "cool. now watch this" lollll king moments. rare moments where it feels like we live in the best timeline.

[hypewinter]

Hear me out! Danny finds his human form slowly getting more eldrich as he gets older (and more powerful) and ends up going to Gotham where people are way less likely to ask questions!

Sadly when the people of Gotham see Danny, oops my shadow has eyes now, Fenton they just assume he's gonna be a new Rouge!

Que the bat fam watching Danny waiting for him to make his move, over-analyzing everything he does. Mans can't even buy a new laptop without Bruce breathing down his neck about it

This would be an issue if Danny wasn't such a little troll, and he starts buying more obviously ominous things only to openly use them in improperly boring and normal ways. Like buys a death lazer and can be seen using it to make toast, buys a cursed box full of death themed artifacts and uses it as a coffee table, that kinda stuff.

Every time the bat's assume 'this is it!' And gets ready to take him down, only to see Danny setting up a new 'coat rack' made of kriptonite

Even better when they see him tinkering on some kind of doomsday device, the kind that looks super evil and dangerous and even has a red count down timer on the front and- it's a fucking air frier again! He already has three! Why does he keep making air friers?! Obviously this must be some kind of scheme

I raise you: Danny starts selling his things out to random citizens (they've all been intensely screened). The bats panic thinking this is an attempt to cripple Gotham in one fell swoop. Nope. Ms. Randall just really needed a new air purifier and Danny had a toxin dispenser that was just collecting dust.

I imagine though that he might start to notice that the bats are focusing on him a little too much which is a problem considering there are things going down in Gotham that actually need their attention. But at the same time, our resident ghost boy isn't ready to stop being a menace just yet. So what does he do? Kill too birds with one stone.

Whenever Danny catches wind of a new plot going down, he does something to draw the bats's attention to it. Two Face planning a robbery? Suddenly Danny is showing up to the bank everyday to work on the vault (he offered to reinforce it for free). The bats get so suspicious they focus hard on the bank and discover Two Face's plot before he can do anything.

The bats pat themselves on the back while Danny giggles in the background. Wonder how long it will take for them to figure out what's going on.

[togament]

suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1

"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?"

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, general cute stuff really. There isn't much to warn about :o!!! gn!reader, Togame is tall and awkward and cute and and--, Ume's precious as always!

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

✦ when he’s doting on you way more, putting your wants over everything else.

He's attending to your every need even before you realize you even need it in the first place. Need tissues? He's already pulling them out of his bag. Got a migraine? He's already handing you a water bottle and an ibuprofen. He does it so naturally too like it's second nature to him.

✦ when he uncharacteristically gets heated when someone tries to harm you.

Listen. He's usually so, SO calm even in the most intense situations, always ready to analyze before acting--a real brain over heart typa guy. But when he finds you being cornered at an alleyway? He's sprinting towards you to beat whoever's planning on hurting you without even thinking twice. Someone's bothering you in town? He's shadowing you, protecting and keeping watch.

✦ he catches himself being flustered, blushing and folding at the sight of you.

Suo rarely shows any intense emotions. If anything, it's always just a slight smile and a little teasing remark here and there. But around you though? He's smiling widely, cheeks blushing. It's hard to hide sometimes. Goodness. He needs to keep himself in check, he often thinks. He doesn't want you to find out yet. Not yet.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.

✦ when he looks for you FIRST whenever he achieves something, whenever he's having a bad day--for literally EVERYTHING.

his immediate thought is you. Every time. When he sees the hybrid tomato plant you both grew from seed blooming, he's immediately sending you photos. When he's having one of those nights, tossing and turning in his sleep, thoughts keeping him awake, the only thing that's tethering him down to earth is you.

✦ when he sees you get along with the family that he built for himself.

Ume is never subtle when it comes to this. My god. He's blushing, tripping over his words, movements ever so stiff--it's very unusual to see Ume in this state. He's just so happy to see you interacting with everybody, loving each member as much as he does. He can't just swoop you off your feet and kiss you right? Not right now. Not when he's been silently pining for you for years.

✦ when he realizes his thoughts about his future always has you in it.

He often talks about his future with others, what his plans are after he graduates, where he wants to go, what restaurants to go to. Everyone notices how his thoughts always seem to gravitate towards you, always easing you into his plans with a pensive little, "Hm. Y'think they'd like to go here too? I heard them talking about the spot a couple times!", "Maaaan I wanna go here with them soon. Should I just book the tickets? Surprise them? Yeah I think I should!" Everyone's just waiting for a confession at this point, really.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

✦ when random things remind him of you.

he could be on their daily patrols, passing by some shops and his mind would drift off to you and how you would look in the shirt he passed by, how your face would probably light up at the taste of the anpan they're selling down the street. Goodness you never leave his mind. Day dreams about it sometimes. Suo and Nirei has caught him multiple times doing so. Always ends with an extremely flustered Sakura.

✦ when he thinks he hears your laughter or your voice, his head snaps towards the direction of the sound.

just like the above! But it's your voice. Nirei thinks Sakura's just on guard by how often he looks around quickly but Suo points out Sakura's reddening cheeks and they immediately know he's thinking about you again. Wants to fish his phone out of his pocket with trembling (and blushing) fingers to ask you where you are. Y'know... Just in case you run into trouble.

✦ when he gave you the other half of his food (he hasn't taken a single bite yet)

Sakura sometimes eats for at least 5 people so to have him offer half of his food to you when you're out eating is saying something. His hands are blushing and trembling as he's trying his best to steady them, slicing a portion of his food to place it on your plate. Of course, you give him the other half of your food too. Of course he's a blushing mess.

────────────────────────────────────────────

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Subtly.)

Ever noticed how Togame always seems to bump into you at spots you and your friends frequent? How he so happened to pass by the Furin school after your classes are dismissed? Gosh you're his first real crush so he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to see you and see you often. He awkwardly and adorably tries his damndest not to seem too obvious when he's trying to see you more to strike up a conversation but his blushing (and tall frame) doesn't help his case.

✦ when he always talks about you to the old men at the public baths he frequents.

Togame's a quiet guy. He rarely ever yaps, always getting cut off mid-sentence since he talks so.. SO slow. But when it's about you, his normal 0.75x speaking speed goes up to a full 1.0x or even, dare I say, 1.25x. He's smiling ear to ear, voice with an uncharacteristic shine to it while he's playing shogi with one of the old men. They already adore you before they even meet you. They often give Togame advice too--bring you your favorite flowers, they suggest. Take you out for a festival date, they suggest. "Soon," Togame responds, scratching the back of his neck, "M'nervous though. I can pull it off ri--" "Of course you can, kame-kun." he looks at the old men with the softest, most lovestruck eyes they've ever seen. Soon. He'll make his very first move.

✦ has caught himself staring at you from afar, smiling to himself like a damn lovesick puppy.

...on multiple ocassions, might I add. You could be yapping away with the Bofurin members, talking animatedly about the most mundane things, arms flinging to and fro to get your point across, snort laughing and head thrown back. Togame's just sat just outside the group, ever the introvert. Face propped on his hand, heart practically melting. He doesn't realize he's doing this before Choji points it out. Loudly. He's immediately looking in the other direction, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to keep the smaller Shishitoren member in check. While he's preoccupied, it's your turn to stare back at him, hiding a blush behind your hand. Suo notices this and points it out. Now the both of you are flustered messes.

a/n: tried my hand at a new layout!! eeeee inspired by my favorite perfume house but we're not opening that can of worms right now, lest I yap. ANYWHOSIES thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I am smooching your forehead tenderly with consent.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

The Smell of Home

Damian had noticed the new student in his school.

Not because he was new or how he looked

no, not any of the usual reasons someone would grab peoples attention.

Weirdly enough it was his scent, which was really weird. He usually didn't take notice of how people smell besides the usual just like anyone else.

But something about the smell that seemed to emanate from this new student who he had learned his name was Danny Fenton, just would not leave his mind.

He knew the smell but couldn't remember from where and it was just at the tip of his tongue, it was driving him crazy.

His family seemed to notice him become more irritable from usual.

But not around Fenton, he seemed to unconsciously calm down in his presence, which just made him suspicious and more irritated.

It wasn't until he woke up from a dream of memories from when he was little and still living with his mom that he realized what he was smelling.

The Lazarus Pits.

He grew up with that smell, it used to hang around the entire area and buildings.

He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had smelled it

He unconsciously related it to the smell of his childhood home.

But why would this random boy give off that very same odor?

Some investigating needed to be done.

~

Danny had noticed one of his classmates a boy he learned was called Damian seemed to act ...odd?

But only around him it seemed

With everyone else he was normal if a bit cold.

He would seem to relax an then suddenly tense up and send him a suspicious glare.

Also he was pretty sure that the boy seemed to be sniffing him?

Did he smell bad or something?

Why was he the only one who he seemed to act weird with.

Oh God, maybe he thought the smell of ecto was weird?

But that's not something he could control and most people never even seemed to notice the smell of ecto he produced since he became a halfa.

~

Damian glaring at Danny every time he realizes he's relaxed

Danny: "What did I do!?"

~

Batfam notices Damian being extra grouchy :" Ah, he's going through his rebellious phase"

~

Danny: "Did you just sniff mE!"

Damian: *scoff* "Don't be absurd"

~

Damian stealing Danny's clothes to analyze

Danny: " Who keeps taking my stuff?!"

Batfam: "Damian we know you're growing and experiencing new things, but stealing the things especially clothes from your crush is crossing boundaries"

Damian: "This is a misunderstanding, I don't have a crush on anyone!"

Bruce: "Son I think it's time I give you 'The Talk TM', I have an entire slideshow and docume-"

Damian: "This family is a nightmare!"

~

Just an Idea

[chisatowo]

Ok nvm having Mizuki Thoughts

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 1 -

Prologue : Next Part : Not edited : 3.6k words : M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"How was work?" You asked, putting your coffee cup filled with tea down on the coffee table aside from the couch. Not looking up from the chapter book that rested in your hands.

A sigh was all that left his lips as you heard him kick his boots off and hang his keys next to the door.

"That bad?" you asked, looking up at the ash blonde who was now rubbing his face roughly as he made his way over to the couch you were laid across. He hummed in response. With you laid across the couch, back rested against the armrest, you pulled your feet in to make room for him. He sat down roughly, instantly sinking all of his weight into the couch. He looked at you briefly, "You don't gotta do that y'know?"

"Do what?" you peered at him confused. He just rolled his eyes lazily and grabbed your legs to stretch them out again, placing them over his lap. He didn't look back at you, just closed his eyes and leaned his head back, resting his hands on your calves. It was hard to mask the surprise on your face, normally after a rough day he would take a shower and prefer to be alone for the night, maybe making dinner for the two of you and watching a show. Yet he hardly ever asked for physical touch.

"Do you want to watch a show?" you asked, trying to determine the type of help he wanted.

He sat silent for a moment, "How was your day?" He leaned his head to the side, looking at you.

You fought over the questions that came up, confused about why he chose you as a topic. But you chose against bringing them up, "Just did some quick testing for new equipment, I'm about to be finished with your new gloves too. They just finished the first stage of testing," you smiled, hoping the good news would make him happy. After all, he asked for new gloves close to a month ago.

He just stared at your face for a while before you realized he wanted you to continue. The words caught in your mouth as you analyzed the look on his face for a moment. Thinking that maybe this was the 'look' your close friends always talked about. The face that showed how truly in love he was with you.

"I also finished Z's stuff," Izuku, "so today was a productive day. Yet it was easy too, all I really needed to do was your stuff and his. After that it was just paperwork," you added on. Picking up the throw pillow on the couch and placing it in your lap to play with the tassels on the edges. Avoiding the overwhelming look he was giving you. "Came home only an hour ago, showered, and picked up my book," you looked down at the book that was placed on the couch beside you, where you placed it when Katsuki sat down.

You normally came home an hour before him. He always sent you a text saying he'd be home soon, so you packed up from work and headed home after receiving it. It was one of the best perks about being head of your technical support department. It maximized your time with him. Leaving the house shortly after him every day, and coming home only an hour before him. Kept you productive and caught up at work every day, never stressing about due dates because of how often you were at work.

"That's nice," Katsuki finally spoke, eyes soft as he looked over every feature on your face. When you looked up you saw the dark circles that surrounded his eyes.

"How was your day?" You asked softly, trying to tell him he didn't need to answer.

He squeezed your calf, looking away from you for the first time since he sat down. "Rough," he said, voice slightly cracked.

"What happened?" you pushed.

He sighed, "A young couple was caught in a bad villain attack, she didn't make it."

Katsuki always took deaths hard, as any hero did. He saw himself as a complete failure after every death. It's only happened personally to him a couple of times and he always took it just as roughly. Often following you around the apartment after getting home, gluing himself to your presences.

No words would help him. All you could think of was trying to console him in any way possible. So you got up from your spot, shifting your body so you could lean your head against his shoulder. Feeling him instantly rest his head against yours. You fumbled for the TV remote, putting on one of his favorite movies before you fully rested against him. Wrapping your arms around his, hugging him close.

Moments like this were far and in between for the two of you. You hardly hugged, only on the bad or good days. But despite that, he still felt like home. You wished this would be the daily but were okay to settle for what he was okay with. Never wanting to push him too far.

This.

This was your normal for the bad days. The good days just had a celebratory hug and that was it.

-

A couple of days passed and you were out with friends. With you forcing Katsuki to come out as well. After all, the group has been inviting him for the past six months. Izuku, Uraraka, Todoroki, Tsuu, Ida, Momo, Mei and her friend Nana were all there. All of you were sat in Izuku's living room. Izuku was across the coffee table from you, seated in a matching lounge chair as the one Katsuki was in behind you. You opting to sit on the floor in front of Katsuki, wanting to be closer to the girls who also chose to sit on the floor. Uraraka seated in front of Izuku, Mei, and Nana seated in front of the TV but facing the group, Todoroki, Ida, and Momo all sat on the couch, and Tsuu was on the floor beside you.

The conversation naturally divided, the boys choosing to talk about the new ranks and techniques they've learned and the girls talking about whatever. You shifted focus between the two conversations, keeping track of the hero equipment the boys might need. You were deeply invested in the rant Izuku fell into about how he'd need new gloves to combat his new move.

Your attention was snapped to the girls when your name was called out. All of them awaiting your response. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention," you blinked at them.

"Oh, Nana was just talking about her relationship problems, and you're in one right?" Mei asked, helping Nana out since this was the first time she's hung out with the group and she was rather shy.

You furrowed your brows, "Yeah? Whatsup?" After all, they did just ask if you were in a relationship right in front of your boyfriend. Maybe Mei was filling Nana in.

"So," Nana started, messing with her hands, "my partner is um, sorry I don't know how to explain it well." Mei shot Nana a smile, nodding at her to go ahead. She took a deep breath, "So, my love language is physical touch and they aren't very strong on it. And I just don't know what to do, like should I try to work it out or is the relationship dead? I've had a relationship like this before and it died off fast."

"I say it's dead," Mei added. Uraraka and Tsuu nodding in agreement as well.

Momo sighed, "I think communication is needed first, then decided. Try to work around it first."

You looked between the girls, "I agree with Momo, not trying doesn't solve anything. Plus if you could work around it with your second strongest love language, I think it could still work, if they really couldn't meet halfway with physical touch."

"What do you mean?" Nana tilted her head at you, and all of the girl's eyes shifted to you.

You flushed, "Well for me, like in my relationship," you cringed at the idea of bluntly talking about it right in front of him. Hopefully, Izuku's ramble would keep him from paying attention. "My biggest love language is physical touch, but he doesn't quite like it so there isn't a lot of it. So," you struggled to find the words to properly explain how your relationship was working, "My second favorite is quality time, I guess, and we spend a lot of time together. The other three are also up there, He often cooks for me and stuff, buying me random things too. And our relationship works just fine," you shrugged.

Mei frowned at you, "How are you still with him if he doesn't do your favorite thing?" disgust listed in her voice.

"Well I'm okay with whatever he is okay with," you brushed off her disdain.

"I don't know how you do it either," Tsuu agreed.

"Nana, maybe you shouldn't listen to her," Mei shrugged, "A relationship won't work long-term if that's how you go about it. Maybe just talk to them first but if they can't meet halfway leave."

"Yeah," Nana looked around shyly, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You leaned back into Katsuki's chair, giving up on the conversation as the girls carried it away. Only then did you notice that Katsuki was tapping his foot aggressively. When you looked up at the blonde, his hands were clenched and folded into his chest as he stared straight ahead with a frown.

He was clearly done with the group outing.

You stood up, gaining the eyes of everyone in the room. "Kats and I are going to head out," you announced. Walking over to grab his and your coat. Katsuki getting up as well to meet you at the door.

"Oh lemme walk you out," Izuku jumped up, walking to you guys as the rest waved and said their goodbyes from their seats.

Izuku walked the both of you to the elevator, "You're leaving earlier than normal, everything okay?" Izuku whispered to you.

"You know Kats doesn't like outings," you smiled at him, "Nothing to worry about." Izuku eyed you, knowing what you said wasn't entirely true.

Izuku stood straight up, having leaned down to talk to you, once you reached the elevator. "I'm glad you made it this time Kacchan," Izuku beamed.

Katsuki grumbled in reply, facing away and walking into the opened elevator.

The lack of a 'shut up' confused the both of you. So you turned to huge Izuku goodbye, taking the green-haired boy out of shock. "Nice seeing you 'Z, I'll start working on your new gloves," you smiled.

"Thank you, I'll text you everything I want added," he smiled, "Goodnight!" He waved goodbye before walking back to his door. You turned around to a grumpy Katsuki holding the elevator door open for you.

"Sorry," you mumbled, quickly stepping inside. When the door closed you took the chance to question his, "Whatsup?"

"Nothing," he crossed his arms again.

"Come on Kats," you crossed your arms as well.

He sighed, "Your love language really physical touch?" he looked at you briefly, allowing you to see the embarrassment that coated his cheeks.

You paled at the realization he heard the entire conversation, "Yeah," you admitted, "not a requirement for me though."

He just let out a louder sigh and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes aggressively.

"Kats?"

"What?" he grumbled.

"You okay?" you leaned closer to him, trying to see his face.

"Yeah," he dropped his hands, and stared at the number above the door, watching it tick to the ground floor.

"No you're not-," you tried, being interrupted by the elevator door opening, Katsuki rushing to the parking garage to leave.

Abruptly ending the conversation.

-

The drive home he blasted the radio, not giving you the option to turn it down and talk. Rushing inside your apartment as well. Quickly hiding himself in his room. You turned around with a scoff when he shut the door right in your face, going to your room for the night as well.

The next morning he left without a goodbye, all you heard from him was the front door shutting behind him.

Throughout the work day, he also ignored your messages. Leaving you alone for lunch rather than sharing it with you like he normally did. Not even texting you when he'd be home. The only thing you got from him was his calendar update, which wasn't even intentional. Seeing how he had moved his meetings for the day to fit in a meeting with Izuku last minute for the day.

So without any notice from him, you headed home near 6 in the afternoon. Which was normally the time you came home, so he should be home in an hour. Taking your shoes and coat off when you entered the apartment. Putting your keys away as well. Walking down the hall to your bedroom. Running into the ash blonde leaving his.

He paused for a minute, hand left on his doorknob as he looked at you. You crossed your arms impatiently, for one he was in the way of your bedroom and he also ignored you for the past day. He shut his door eventually, still blocking the hallway.

"Sorry," he muttered.

You drop your arms to your side, "Why?"

"Just felt weird," he mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

"Not going to tell me?" you furrowed your brows. He stayed silent. "Fine," you sighed, "Could you move? I want to shower, I'll be in the living room soon."

He stepped out of the way, moving to the side of the small hallway.

So you did just as you said. Walking into your room to grab clothes then going straight to the shower. Washing the day away as you washed your hair. Thinking over Katsuki's behavior since last night. And his reluctance to talk about it.

When you got out of the shower and dressed, you walked to the living room.

Katsuki was busy cooking, chopping vegetables, and dropping them into the pan. Adding meats and sauces as well. His brows were furrowed and his nose was scrunched. His thinking face. He was in his own world. Breaking out of it when you opened the fridge to grab a drink.

"'M makin' curry, keepin' the spices separate, don't worry," he grumbled over his shoulder.

He was going to play off his behavior like it was normal.

"Okay," you spoke, making your way to sit on the stool placed on the side of the island, seated right in front of him. You took a drink of your drink, "So you had a meeting with Z today?"

His knife paused for a moment, hovering over the carrot he was cutting. He glanced up, "Huh?"

"Your calendar?" you hinted, " I saw that you arranged a meeting with him last second. What did you need to talk about with him?"

He looked back down, "Nothin," he resumed cutting. You shot him a glare. One that, with so much time spent together, he could feel it without even looking. His shoulders sagged, giving in, "Just went over some tactics. I also went to him about a, um," he coughed lightly, "A support item in a way."

You perked up, filled with questions, "How come you didn't come to me?"

"I was askin' him if I should, was trying to see if it was even a good idea," he shrugged.

"What is it?" you crossed your arms, placing your forearms on the counter and leaning on them.

He finished chopping the vegetables, scooping them all into a pot, and letting it simmer. He turned back to you, leaning onto the counter. "So you know how I keep breaking the watches you buy me?"

"Yeah?" you questioned, not knowing how this involved work.

"Well, could you make me one?" he looked at your face. You were waiting for him to continue. "Like make it fireproof, waterproof-"

"Youproof?" you smiled, summing up what he was going to say.

"Yeah," he sighed in relief, glad he didn't have to explain every detail. "But I want one more thing added to it if you can."

"Kats, I can do literally everything," you smiled cockily.

"Can you make it disable my quirk?" he looked down at his hands.

"Why?"

"Just nice to be relaxed without it, can also help with my training. Then could you also make it so no one can try to cancel my quirk? All these quirk-removing things nowadays," he fumbled with his hands, mumbling out his words.

"Probably, I can definitely make it cancel your quirk, but making no one able to cancel yours, will be a bit hard. I'll make it combat most," you suggested.

"Okay," he sighed before looking at you, putting a finger in your face, " Also make it so only I can make it cancel my quirk. Like, put a password or some shit on it."

"Trust me, I was going to anyways," you laughed.

"Good," he grunted, turning back to the food on the stove.

"How come you needed Z for that?" you asked after a bit.

"Didn't know if it'd kill me or something," he shrugged. You wished you could have seen his face but his back was facing you.

"Also, Kats," you called. He turned to face you, "Answer my texts next time, hard to tell if you're alive or not," you frowned.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking back to his food.

The conversation died at that, switching to him talking about what he was cooking. Filling up the silence with meaningless words and the scraping of food being placed in a bowl for you.

He placed a bowl in front of you and sat beside you. You could have eaten at the table but walking didn't seem like something you wanted to do, despite it only being a couple of steps away. Shaking your head when he asked if you wanted to eat at the table.

After a few bites of food and small talk about the other day, your phone buzzed. Face up on the table between you two. Lighting up with an unknown number

xxx-xxxx

Hey! This is Nana from last night. I got your number from Mei, I apologize if you don't appreciate that-

You opened your phone to read the rest, leaving it on the table as you continued to eat.

xxx-xxxx

Hey! This is Nana from last night. I got your number from Mei, I apologize if you don't appreciate that but I felt the need to text you. I saw how uncomfortable you were last night, talking about your boyfriend. And how he doesn't like touching you. I hope you know it's okay, and people are there for you. I was in a relationship like that once, and it was hard but it ended and I'm okay now. I remember how uncomfortable I was talking about him, making up excuses for how our relationship worked. How he refused to touch me, unless it was.. harshly, for lack of a better word, and degraded me. Reminded me of how you were talking about your boyfriend. Just know I'm here for you, and you're beautiful and strong.

You read over the text a couple of times, trying to make sure you understood what she was saying. After you were one hundred percent sure, you looked up from your phone, glancing at Katsuki, who was staring at your phone like he wanted to kill it. Holding his spoon like it shot his foot.

"She thinks I fuckin' beat you or somethin'?" He looked at you.

You looked back down at your phone, "Think so."

"The fuck?" he put his spoon back into his bowl roughly, "The fuck did I do?"

"I don't think she realized I was dating you," you defend.

"Still? How in the hell?" he glared at your phone, "Just cause we don't touch a shit ton that means I fuckin' beat you?"

"Kats-" you reached a hand out towards him.

"No," he stood up, "That's fucking bullshit. It's not that bad that we don't, right?" He looked at you "Right?"

"Right," you confirmed, "She misread the situation that's all. Now eat," you pointed to his food. "I'll let her know she was wrong, and that we are fine and happy."

"Are we?" he asked, voice soft. You looked at him, the words stabbing at your heart. "Are you?" he reworded, voice on edge.

"Katsuki, what?" you looked at his eyes. He looked lost. "Katsuki," you spoke softly, "Of course I am, I'm with the best. Why wouldn't I be?"

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing at his face as he always did. "Okay, just," he grumbled, "Fuck, I don't know." He went quiet, sitting down and finishing his bowl of curry before washing his empty dish, and taking yours when you were done.

He was overwhelmed and frustrated, so you stayed quiet as well. Texting Nana back instead.

-You-

Hi! I appreciate this but the situation was completely misread. I was just uncomfortable because he was sitting right behind me. The ash blonde, number two hero Dynamight. Felt weird talking about my relationship with him right there. I'm very happy with him, so nothing bad is happening. Thank you for your concern, and I'm glad you got out of that bad relationship. I hope your new partner fixes their behavior.

Nana

I am so sorry then. I had no idea! I shouldn't have assumed. I should have asked a bit more about it before I jumped straight to that conclusion, I am so sorry!

"I texted her," you told Katsuki, "She feels bad and had no idea I was dating you."

He grunted in reply, walking on scrubbing the dish in his hands. "When can you get my watch done?" he switched topics.

"Maybe a month, with the whole people can't cancel your quirk," you shrugged, "Could you write me everything you want added to it?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, "I'll leave a note on the counter for you tomorrow."

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

[yzzart]

Could you do a Tom blyth x actress!Reader of like a compilation of cute moments during interviews? Like you did with the playlists one, but this time you could do more couple-ish stuff like kissing or any other type of physical contact? I’m just really craving for Tom content and you’re the only one I’ve seen who writes for him!!!!!🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

"Just married, according to fans."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: you and Tom look like an elderly married couple, say your fans and the rest of the cast.

word count: 635!

notes: here it's in your hands, anon! honestly, i had a lot of fun writing and imagining this scenario; it's so cute and adorable and forgive me if it's short & there're so many amazing writings for tom and you need to read them! — i hope you like it and share your ideas and requests with me!

"That's so cliché." — You turned, looking at Tom, amused by his answer to a behind-the-scenes question.

"We're cliché, honey." — He confessed, placing his hand on your knee, squeezing it weakly and with affectionate intent; you felt the small coldness of his rings.

"You guys're definitely cliché." — Rachel confessed, looking at the camera, with her lips curling into a tight smile and laughing; and soon, you and Tom laughed at her words.

"Oh, your work on 'Billy the kid' is so captivating." — You crossed your legs, settling in the armchair, and resting one of your hands on your knee. — "And i think i've said that for the thousandth time? I don't know?" — A question that did not, in fact, have a concrete answer; a simple provocation.

"Maybe, but, i want to hear it again." — Tom arched his eyebrows with a bold expression and curled his lips; and proceeding to arrange the headphones in his ears.

"Okay, okay!" — The radio presenter raised his hands, finding it funny and interesting. — "It's so good and intriguing, leaving the viewer wanting more and becoming completely obsessed!" — You paused briefly. — "And i already begged to participate at least as an extra in the series!" — Tom and the presenter laughed. — "And i'm not kidding, and to this day i'm waiting for something or confirmation."

"She's really not kidding." — Tom completed with a proud smile, having fun with your statement and waiting, with fingers crossed and mentally, for your confirmation in the series.

"And I'm saying…" — Rachel raised a finger up, supporting it in a sign of pronouncement. — "I'm saying that I think it's unfair for Y/N to participate in this!" — She laughed, looking at you and, soon, wanting support from Josh; you placed the small card you were holding, which was part of the game, and placed it on your face, holding it and looking at the camera in front of you.

"I also think!" — Josh confessed. — "Asking his girlfriend to answer questions about him is cheating." — He asked, jokingly, with his arms raised.

"Not in my world." — Tom mentioned, shrugging his shoulders, looking at the camera and pointing the small white cards towards it.

"Are you afraid of losing?" — Now it was your turn to tease, arching your eyebrows and running a hand through some strands of your hair and leaving the small card in your lap.

"Oh yeah?" — Rachel said; while, Tom's hand gently and knowingly held your and the camera captured and focused on the moment. — "Look at this!"

In every interview, or radio appearance, Tom always, always maintains physical contact with you; his hand on your thigh, or leg, he's holding and stroking your hand. — Analyzing the spots that are present, and rings that you wear. — Tom just can't keep his hands off you.

Those deep, lovely blue eyes are always on you; admiring, contemplating and paying attention to every word that was uttered from your lips. — Sometimes, he gets lost in the conversation and topic because they were busy watching you.

Matching accessories? Oh yeah! In addition to the photos, which fans analyzed, in which you wear his jacket, you wear rings, necklaces from the same brand and edition. — Not to mention the necklace with your initial that Tom already wore at one of the premieres and during a radio interview with Rachel.

Countless photos of you together're spread all over social media, whether from paparazzi or those that Rachel or you post. — Your fans go crazy, insanely, with them; at certain times, they created an album of them and Rachel even shared it on her profile and sent it to you.

Excerpts, videos, spread across social media, of you moving in sync; a touch on the face, rolling the eyes, or thinking about the same thing, answer or something and talking together. — God, there are so many compilations created by fans.

[moonydustx]

First, I solemnly promise to respond to pending requests again.

Second, I solemnly promise that there will only be smut below, be careful with what you are about to read.

--

How does it taste?

part 2 of How does it feel?

warnings: smut, pussydrunk! Law, oral (f!receiving), mentions of alcohol and weed, mentions of a possessive/jealous Law.

MDNI | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

♫ now playing: Lunch, by Billie Eilish

I could eat that girl for lunch

Yeah, she dances on my tongue

Tastes like she might be the one

And I could never get enough

I could buy her so much stuff

It's a craving, not a crush

Finding the courage to look your captain in the eyes seemed like an increasingly arduous task. Not that before it was simple to hide your feelings, but when you were close to him, intoxicated by his presence, his voice giving orders or just the smell of him near you, it became even more complicated to hide the blush on your face or talk about it. clear way. The only thing that was going through your mind was his body behind you, his voice explaining every detail, his fingers inside you.

Law was not innocent, far from it. He could see your eyes shifting every time he looked at you, how you seemed to avoid being in his presence, especially if it was just the two of you. However, the little game - which you had no idea you were playing - seemed interesting to him, even if some doubts were implemented in the surgeon's mind.

The weeks piled up, as did the frustration in both of you - not to mention the horniness. Your fingers didn't feel as good as Law's, preventing you from getting there or at least finding the same intensity. For him, it didn't seem so good to try to find some pleasure alone, if he wouldn't have your voice next to him asking for more.

That night he had reached his limit, he needed to feel you again, even if it was just a little. Law had waited until the night when you would be alone on the Polar Tang, as they were docked on an island. The control room could be left alone for some time, he who was the captain wouldn't mind that.

The three knocks on the wall as if the door were slamming caught your attention.

"Hey, Captain." for a brief effort, your voice did not fail.

"Hey." he approached, analyzing his surroundings. "So today you stuck around."

"Yeah, it looks like there's some kind of festival going on today, I heard someone comment above."

"Do you have any free time?" you heard him say, even if your brain had some difficulty processing it. You felt like little prey. "Why have you been running away from me, did I do something you didn't like?"

"Running away?"

"Well, you've been avoiding being in the same place as me. The other day you said that you had even stopped drinking just so you wouldn't be with me and the others and I know that's a lie." he pointed out, stopping millimeters away from you. "Did I do something you didn't like?"

"It's not really that, it's just that I…" the words trailed off from you, the only thing left was to tell at least a half truth. "It's a bit of the opposite of that."

"Did I do something you liked?" He said and it took seconds for him to put together what you said with the fact that you could barely look him in the eye. "Are you ashamed of me?" Law's voice came out in a light, almost cynical laugh.

With wide eyes and feeling shame take over you, you just nodded and didn't have time to think - or to let your body not react on impulse. When Law approached you and pressed his body to yours, all it took was for his face to be close enough for you to give way so he could kiss you.

You had already kissed with the taste of alcohol, weed, laughter and endless nights talking, however, the taste and feeling of desire were something that still caused you some strangeness. Before it had just been kisses to deal with the neediness that life on the high seas can bring, now, that feeling he had brought to you was permeating your mind and he seemed to know it. You felt one of his hands go down to your ass, squeezing it and using it as an excuse to press your body even more against his. Soon, the same hand slid down your leg and just passed lightly over where you needed it most.

"Let's go to my room." he said in a breathless voice.

"But captain…"

"First, no captain. Second, I bet your captain won't be mad at you leaving your post." the second part came out as whispered cynicism from his lips. Driven by will and allowing himself not to think too much, Law just let the words come out of him as he used his hands to open your jumpsuit without any rush. "Seeing you running away from me may be exciting, but solving my problem alone hasn't been enough for me." With the top of your jumpsuit open, Law's hand entered and stopped on top of the damp fabric of your panties, tracing small circles and smiling when he saw you gasp and almost melt in his arms. "Please."

"Doing it alone hasn't been enough either." Ignoring the small space that Law had created to be able to touch you properly, you clung to him, burying your face in his neck while your hips tried to increase the contact. "Please, Law, do that again. I need you to do it." you whispered against his skin.

Trapped to his skin and intoxicated by his touch, you only noticed the atmosphere change and now you were already in Law's room. He didn't care that someone would probably find a book of his lying in the control room, he just needed to feel you as much as possible. Amid stumbling, trying not to let go of each other's lips, you felt your body - already dressed only in the lingerie you were wearing - fall onto his soft bed.

Above you, Law impatiently unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing and threw it away, leaving you almost drooling at the sight of his tattooed chest. Likewise, his jeans found another corner of the room. Propping yourself up on your elbows and trying to reach his underwear, you barely touched the fabric before Law stopped you.

"Not yet." he warned, pushing you back onto the bed and placing himself on top of you. "I need to taste you first."

His lips took yours again, voraciously and urgently. The kisses that were previously only on your mouth began to travel down your lap, catching between your nipples and sucking the tip, while nimble fingers rolled the other. Eliciting moans from you and feeling your hips move almost involuntarily, Law adjusted himself so that you could roll against his cock, eliciting moans from both of you. Fuck anyone could return to Polar Tang at any time, he didn't want to have to worry about that right now.

Law's lips began to travel down your torso, a warm trail on your skin as he dragged his mouth down your belly almost stopped you from thinking, almost.

A rush of lucidity caused your fingers to get tangled in Law's dark strands, removing his lips from kissing the length of your belly.

"Where are you going?"

"I believe it is not difficult to guess." understanding that that would be enough of an answer for you, Law resumed kissing. It was seconds before your fingers pulled his hair again. "What?"

"Law, aren't you thinking about…" your eyes wandered from his face to between your legs a few times.

"I'm definitely thinking about it." his response came out in a light, innocent laugh. However, his expression immediately changed to something more malicious when he saw your face contort in shyness. "Wait a minute, he never did that to you?"

"Well, it's just… I think…" you tried to explain yourself, in vain. "No."

"That really explains a lot." he smiled practically victoriously, but it didn't go unnoticed by him that you were still reluctant. "Hey, if you don't like it, just tell me and I'll stop right away."

"Okay." just a whisper came out along with the movement of your head, agreeing.

Little by little, Law felt your fingers release his hair. For a brief second, he considered putting his hand back there, the feeling was too good to ignore.

Distributing wet kisses along your leg, Law dragged the thin damp fabric that was your panties and set them aside. With all the patience he still had left, the kisses began to retrace their path to your femininity. Almost as if in a perverse plan to make you lose your reason, Law let his lips slide down your thighs and his fingers slid across your pussy, small circles tracing themselves over your still covered clit. Not being able to hold on for long, Law once again tore the piece of cloth that covered your intimacy, the panties bill he owed you was increasing, but he would happily pay.

The small moans that escaped your lips almost forced him to skip all the preparation, for him to sink there and transform your contained moans into requests for more and more. Your wet pussy inches away from him made his dick ache and become even tighter against the fabric of his underwear.

"I don't think you're going to ask me to stop…" he said in a low voice, letting one of his fingers go down to your entrance and penetrate slowly. "I'm kind of sure."

"W-What do you mean by that?"

"The way she's squeezing me here, kind of begging to be eaten." he murmured, reaching down and licking right over your clit. "Fucking delicious."

"Law, don't be…"

"What do you mean, pretty thing?" In order to watch you lose your words again, he sank into your soaked pussy.

Since that fateful day, Law had wondered what you tasted like. At that moment, the only regret he had was that he hadn't done it sooner.

You were sure that even those outside Polar Tang had heard your scream. Law's tongue slid all over your pussy, traced small, quick circles over your clit and when it seemed like he was going to stop, he just sucked the skin back to his lip. If he had been right, he lost it the moment your legs grabbed his shoulders and your hips started moving against his face.

Without letting go of your pussy lips, he reached out as best he could to take one of your hands that were pressed against your face, in a frustrated attempt to contain the noises and place it over his black strands. Even though you hadn't had that feeling in your life, it was almost instinctive. You had already heard Law grunt, mumble, but when your fingers caught his hair while your hips moved looking for friction, you could hear him - and feel him - moan loudly against your intimacy. His own hips were trying to find some friction for his cock, about to explode.

If having an orgasm was good, one with Law's mouth eating you was too much for you. You felt the peak hit you and your vision went dark for a moment, it was too much, too much. How did you go so long without that?

You were happy to open your eyes, still intoxicated, to see Law leave between your legs, a hand drying your fluids from his lips as he reached your face. His eyes seemed as intoxicated as yours.

A sinful vision of the man who had brought you to an unknown kind of paradise.

"You're so delicious." his hoarse voice was starting to pull you back to lucidity. "That idiot of your ex, he doesn't know what he's been missing all this time. I should kill him… Or thank him." his laugh sounded like something more sinister, possessive. "All mine now. You're all mine now."

"All yours." you repeated, mesmerized by the way he looked at your lips. You felt his cock slide lightly through you, brushing your clit and your entrance, a silent request for permission. "Please Law."

You felt every inch enter you and you felt Law sink against your neck, a moan dragging against your skin. You just didn't expect to be interrupted.

"Captain!" Bepo's voice echoed outside, along with some incessant knocking. Law immediately propped himself up on his elbows and looked towards the door even though it was locked. The incessant knocking began again. "Captain!"

"What's up Bepo?" Law grunted, thrusting lightly into you and not containing a slight smile when he saw you pull the pillow to cover your lips. In order to tease you even more, he bent down and sucked your nipple again, hearing you grunt over the cute object.

"We have problems."

"How urgent?" He released your breast with a bop and seemed to get serious, stopping his movements immediately.

"Very urgent." the bear replied.

"Wait two minutes." he replied and Law's eyes turned to you, no longer having the pillow on your face. "Sorry." he whispered and saw you just nod, with a smile.

"We can finish it another day." you whispered back, seeing him look frustrated. "I promise not to run away anymore." He sank into your neck and filled every bit of skin he reached with kisses. "Ikkaku is out she won't see me, can you send me to my room?"

He nodded and soon you were back in your bed, still naked. You found a spare uniform and put it back on, resuming your position in the command room.

The problem for Law was something very simple to solve, a stupid fight that he resolved in a short time, opting to simply use his fruit to tear apart the rival crew that had threatened his crew. When he came back, he already knew he wouldn't find you in the room, when he arrived in the control room in order to steal some more of your attention for himself, Law found you dozing awkwardly in the chair. Apparently, you weren't used to the amount of energy spent to reach your peak.

He made you go back to the room again, even though you barely noticed in your sleep and he took over your role that morning. The taste of you was still on his lips and he had to fight the urge to relieve himself there at the memory of you around him. All yours, that phrase would still accompany him in his dreams.

---

Maybe one day I'll come back and post part three? idk

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿 ( 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 !! )

𝟭. improve your writing skills ( ✒️ )

i feel that not everyone has the perception of how important it is to know how to write. you don't have to be a poet, nor the new emily brontë, but fluid, conscious, rich writing makes the difference. really. you could write a page without saying anything at all, but if that damn page is written good and smoothly, then you can be sure that you will get extra points. take the time to improve your writing skills, the best advice i have for doing so is reading. read as much as you can. read novels (non-fiction in this case doesn't help because the content is preferred rather than the form), read contemporary authors – you don't necessarily have to read sophocles' tragedies, but read quality stuff. expand your vocabulary, your knowledge of syntax, learn to use punctuation! and then write, tell stories, write love letters, write reviews of films, books, cultural festivals, open a blog on tumblr and write to practice, reread what you write ad nauseam, until it is perfect, until the form of your essay is pulitzer prize worthy.

bonus some of my favourite authors (tell me in the comments about yours!): ian mcewan, banana yoshimoto, haruki murakami, george orwell, josé saramago, albert camus, khaled hosseini, hanya yanagihara

𝟮. develop critical thinking ( 💭 )

if you have always studied passively by absorbing information and vomiting it onto a test sheet then you have wasted your time. taking on information is not enough, you need to know how to rework it and develop your own idea about it. especially in the arts and literature one may disagree with certain information provided by a textbook. developing critical thinking is not easy, especially due to the school system that teaches us to standardize thinking. always consult all available sources on a given topic, compare them, analyze contradictions. it might be difficult and tiring – our brain spends more energy processing two conflicting pieces of information than processing two pieces of information that agree – but it will be worth it. by practicing critical thinking and improving your argumentation skills, you will not only be able to improve in your studies, becoming able to present complex topics and make interdisciplinary connections, but also in daily life, you will become much less influenced and manipulated by external information.

𝟯. find yourself an interest ( 🌷 )

it could be anything, but find an interest that excites you and you enjoy and do research about it. watch videos, documentaries, read articles. it doesn't have to be school-related, it must be an external topic that you are passionate about and that allows you to rediscover the joy of studying and learning every time school seems to suffocate it. sometimes i'm not in the mood to study for exams, so i dedicate myself to my personal research and finally find my spark, my seek for knowledge. for example, my interest is true crime, it has always fascinated me since i was little, but yours could be wild animals, makeup, comics, ships, planes, ocean flora, literally anything. there is no constraint.

𝟰. analyze your mistakes and recognize your wrongs ( 🫒 )

there is no shame in making mistakes. everyone makes mistakes, we are human, but the real sin is getting bogged down in mistakes, refusing to acknowledge them, and continuing to make them again and again. we should be continually growing, continually discovering ourselves, both intellectually and emotionally. how many of you were the "gifted kid" when you were little and then grew up into burned out high school / uni students desperately seeking academic validation? there comes a time when talent isn't enough, you have to put in the effort, and this doesn't make you less intelligent or gifted, in fact, quite the opposite. dedicating time and attention to your personal and intellectual growth also means having to ruminate on your mistakes. it's scary, but it's the most effective way if you really want to improve. take a notebook and at the end of the day reflect on the highlights and the wrongs, what you could have done better, where you would like to push forward tomorrow, what you achieved today. did you make a mistake? first ask yourself why and then look for a way to solve the problem, make every bad moment a lesson, a brick on which to build the version of you you wanto to become tomorrow.

𝟱. don't be afraid of doing researches ( 🧃 )

the amount of fake news and misinformation online is appalling. opening any app like tiktok or instagram we are inundated with information that is often (not always, but not so rarely) inaccurate. don't be afraid to conduct your own research, if you have time to mindlessly scroll through tiktok you will also have five minutes to read an article regarding that information provided. don't know the meaning of a word? look it up before using it. not sure about a piece of information? check it before using it in your argumentation. in the age of immediate access to data we have no excuse to be superficial.

𝟲. master communication ( ♟️ )

mastering communication is essential in both personal and professional realms. it's the cornerstone of building meaningful relationships, whether it's conveying ideas effectively in academia or fostering connections in the workplace. developing strong communication skills not only enhances your ability to articulate thoughts but also empowers you to listen actively, empathize with others, and resolve conflicts constructively. ultimately, honing these skills cultivates confidence, credibility, and success in all aspects of life.

𝟳. push yourself out of your comfort zone ( 🧸 )

build your confidence. confidence is uncomfortable. don't be afraid of it. you are young, this is the right time to experiment, take risks, discover who you really are. this is the best time for you to do those things that you would otherwise never do, you don't want to regret later in life that you didn't accept that scholarship, that trip abroad, that job opportunity, because you didn't feel comfortable enough. do things that take you out of your comfort zone until everything becomes your comfort zone. go on solo dates, be a social butterfly, tell the girl at the bookstore you love her t-shirt, go to the theater alone, eat at a restaurant alone, take that trip. if it goes badly, you'll only have one funny story to tell.

𝟴. stay informed about the news (but not too much!) ( 🌍 )

this might be controversial, but: stay informed about the news, just don't overdo it. personally, i am an easily influenced person and i realized that being constantly exposed to the bad things happening in the world had drained me and made me terribly depressed. don't get me wrong, you need to be informed about what's happening in the world and in your country, just being constantly surrounded by horrible news repeated ad nauseam on TV programs is of no use. be aware.

[underoossss]

Completely Yours – Miguel O’Hara

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

warnings: non, it’s a good old fashioned hurt/comfort fic 💕

an: I had a lot of fun writing this, there’s nothing more comforting than a story where your love being in danger makes you realize you’re in love. anyway I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ✨

masterlist

——-

“Ugh, Miguel, you’re brooding too loudly over there.” You groan, pausing the video playing on your tablet and looking at the tall man pacing on his platform.

It’s easy for anyone who knows you to hear the lack of annoyance in your tone, and rather the concern laced within each syllable. As far as friendships go, the one you have with Miguel is the most meaningful one you’ve had with anyone. There’s a sense of home and protection that falls between both of you whenever you’re together, at least on your side of things. You know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, and the same applies to you; he might be taller, stronger, and smarter but you’d protect him with your bare hands if necessary. The fact that you have a ridiculous and hopeless crush on him doesn’t help.

Setting the tablet down, you stand up and shoot a web towards the freakishly ominous platform before hauling yourself upwards. “Did they cancel your telenovela, hot stuff?”

Miguel’s back is turned to you, and he glances at you over his shoulder when you make your way towards him. “It’s more complicated than that.” He sighs and steps aside, gesturing towards the big screen in front of him.

“No internet connection up here.” You say solemnly; from where you stand you can tell the blinking letters on the screen are an error message –a failed code, but you’re not about to tell Miguel that. It would undermine his surprise when you whip out some smart rhetoric in a moment of need. “Tragic.”

“No, smartass, I’m trying to improve our algorithm, but I can’t figure it out how to do it yet.” Miguel’s eyes scan the screen, his hands placed on his hips and his weight settled on his right leg. You shift your eyes from his back to the error message and smile.

“Can I try?” You ask, concealing the mischief that possesses your body at the idea of getting under Miguel’s skin. “Maybe I can fix it.”

The fact that your grump of a friend steps aside to let you take a look at the code speaks on his stress. He’s tired, you can tell, the shadow under his eyes is darker today; he most likely didn’t sleep trying to get this to work. You shouldn’t make fun of it, you know that, and making a joke is not going to help fix this. But you also need you friend to relax before he gets a neck spasm. Miguel is grumpier than usual when his neck hurts.

You step close to the screen and analyze the code, it’s impossible to know what’s wrong at a glance –this isn’t your forte– but you pretend to. Biting your tongue to keep from laughing you tilt your head and hum. “I see what’s wrong.”

“What?” The sliver of hope in Miguel’s voice tempts you to abort mission and leave him alone. But who would you be if you didn’t annoy him?

“There is not a single legible word in this mess, babe.” You shake your head and place your hands on your hips as he always does. “No wonder your computer’s struggling, this is gibberish.”

“I thought you–” Miguel groans and covers his face with his hands staring up at the ceiling. “Por que yo? Por que yo? Por que yo?”

Naturally you start laughing, arms around you stomach when it begins to hurt. “Honestly, it’s on you. Crazy that you didn’t see it coming, baby.” The endearment falls easily off your tongue, all of them do, you gave up hiding how smitten you are a long time ago. It’s not like Miguel is ever going to act on it or make things weird. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside, this is a one-sided thing you’ve gotten used to.

Miguel turns to look at you, clear annoyance in the pinch of his eyebrows before it lessens when you smile at him. He sighs in defeat, shaking his head at you. “Why do I even let you come here?”

“Oh, come on.” You smile stepping closer to the edge of the platform and shooting a web at each opposing wall. “You were so stressed; I’m trying to get you to relax.” Making sure both webs are safely attached, you jump on the makeshift tightrope finding your balance at once.

Miguel’s amused, you can tell by the way his eyes seem to catch on your actions before he goes back to his computer. “This isn’t a game, the algorithm–”

“Is not as serious as you think either, try to relax. You should join my yoga class.” You shrug, jumping up and down on the rope before it snaps. Having seen it coming you shoot a web at the ceiling and catch yourself at the same time Miguel’s red webs pull you back to the platform and towards him.

“Cuidado.”

His eyes lock on yours, vexed at first before the shift into something softer when your arms go around him. You press your cheek on his chest, trying to push your affection onto him, let him know how appreciated he is. You hope the nano-tech allows it. “Sorry.” You mutter, voice muffled.

Miguel’s arms go around you and he holds you to him; you resist melting into his hold. “It’s okay, you were right.”

Those three words are enough to make you step back and look up at him, smirk on your face. “What was that?”

He chuckles under his breath and looks away. “There’s no way I’m repeating that.”

You’re about to say something else when you hear someone call from the lab’s floor “MIGUEL!!”

A chorus of voices follow the initial call, all coming from the lab’s entrance, and you’re quick to jump down and greet the three teenagers that walk in. “Careful guys, he’s moody today.” You warn with a smile.

“Same as always then?” Gwen says before all four of you giggle.

“This’ll cheer you up!” Pavitr says, before messing with his watch and sending something Miguel’s way. “Another mission complete.”

“So you did your job.” Miguel says once the platform’s closer to the ground. “Congratulations, here’s another one.”

Lyla pops up in front of Miles’ face and fixes her pink glasses. “New anomaly on earth 55. It’s a Vulture variant, Gwen takes point.”

“Why is she always the leader?” Miles complains, gesturing towards Gwen.

But the teenager ignores him and nods once, a determined look on her face before Lyla blinks away. “Let’s go.”

“Wait just one more thing.” Pavitr says, stopping Gwen and Miles on their tracks. “I have a question!”

“We’re full of answers.” You shrug before Miguel can shut down the kid. “Ask away.”

“Is there a monarchy on earth 928? It seems too futuristic to have one. Please tell me they got rid of it.”

“Other than the one in here?” You ask, a smile on your face as mischief makes another grand appearance.

Miguel mutters your name in warning, almost as if thinking you’d reveal the details of Miguel’s earth to the young Spider-Man. It makes you throw your hands up in mock surrender. “What? There is a monarchy here! I mean after all…”

Miguel turns to look at you, eyebrow raised and an unamused look on his face. The teenagers wait expectantly as well, until you open your mouth.

“You’re the king of my heart.”

Everyone groans at your bad joke, and you throw your head back laughing. Resorting to humor to let out all the feelings you have for the one you love, pathetic but necessary. Miguel sighs and turns back to his computer, but you’re almost sure he’s holding back a smile.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Miguel calls over his shoulder, arching a menacing eyebrow at the teenagers. It’s enough to make them scramble out of his lab, pushing each other to get to the entrance faster.

“Get ready,” Miguel then tells you. His mask covers his face once more, and you mourn not seeing his handsome face anymore. “Anomaly on earth 7832, you’re coming with me.”

“You got it baby.” You smile brightly, hopping onto the platform again and putting your mask back on.

“Come on.” Miguel huffs, but his tone is lighter than before. The hug helped, you smile in triumph though he can’t see it.

---

“The anomaly is a goblin variant” Miguel explains once the two of you make it out of the portal. “We need to take him away from this dimension.”

As you look at the buildings around you, shiny and modern, Miguel keeps briefing you on the matter at hand. The Goblin is going to Oscorp, thinking he can have his revenge on those who wronged him. However, this Oscorp hasn’t wronged him, it might have before but the goblin from this dimension already took many lives years ago. Miguel needs your camouflage, as you’re the only Spider-Man with this power other than Miles –though you’d rather have his venom powers instead, they’re so much cooler.

“I need you to trail him.” Miguel turns to look at you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Lyla will track him for you, and I won’t be far behind. Just stop him before he gets there and… be careful.” The last two words are said with emphasis, and it makes you smile. He worries so much; it gives away just how much his heart feels.

“Careful’s my middle name, handsome.” You blow him a kiss before you swing yourself off the building.

“Oh really, most of your records might disagree.” Miguel tells you on your watch and you can hear that cocky smile on his face.

“I hope you caught my kiss.” You ignore his jab, smiling under your mask as you swing yourself upwards and let go, doing a flip mid-air and shooting another web. “Lyla, am I close to our guy yet?”

“Closing in.” Her voice comes from your watch. “Three blocks.”

“Better turn invisible.” Miguel’s voice follows, it’s more agitated that before which you know means he’s trailing after you. Though you’re not nervous, a sense of relief washes over you at the knowledge that he’s close. “And no more talking, this is a stealth operation.”

“Sure thing, baby cakes.” You agree, “Catch you in a bit.” You make sure you’re camouflaged one block before you intercept the anomaly, staying silent, and focused on the mission. That is, until you pass a lilac and orange storefront. “Oh that milkshake place closed last year! Can we go back, later. Please.”

Your voice is merely a gasp, but Miguel’s chastises you. “Y/N”

“I’m gonna take it as a yes.” You shrug before going silent once more.

You spot the Goblin when you turn the corner of the last block. He’s green and wears a yellow hood on his head, his glider looks a lot like wings with green lights on the bottom. The anomaly is heading for a window, to break into the building mode likely but your don’t let him.

Shooting a new web and launching yourself upwards, you kick his glider to destabilize him and miss his shot. He’s definitely confused at what happened and even more so when you shoot two webs at his feet and pull. “I’ve engaged the anomaly, where are you?” You ask Miguel, showing yourself to your opponent so he can follow you to the rooftop.

The Goblin is faster than you, especially with his high-tech glider —you’ve never seen one so advanced— and he snatches you from the edge of the building then proceeds to throw you on the rooftop’s floor.

“How rude.” You shake your head at him, camouflaging again and slipping underneath the floating board he’s perched on. You shoot your webs at the blue ventilation system, knowing it will overheat it until it explodes before a series of red ropes latch onto the equipment and pull it away from the Goblin’s feet.

You roll to your right to avoid his body falling on top of you, at the same time an explosion goes off in your vicinity. Miguel stands there, as the glider’s smoke clears behind him, head cocked to the side. “I’m here.” He states when you stop camouflaging.

“You know, you really have to work on your one liners.” You shake your head. “Miss me? Would’ve been a much cooler thing to say.”

Neither of you can do anything else as suddenly six explosives are thrown both your ways. In a second, you shoot your webs are them, pulsing the shooter three times to change the web’s pattern and create a net-like trap you throw to your left. “Excuse me, we were having a moment here?”

The empty parking lot on the neighboring building shudders at the explosion and that’s when the Goblin attacks.

You try to put up a fight, and so does Miguel but the Goblin stronger than you. Though you manage to get some good punches in, his are stronger and knock the air out of you. He’s fast, too fast for one person to catch up with him, and even with you and Miguel running yourselves ragged, it’s hard to keep up. His bombs run out eventually —you kept throwing them to the empty parking lot, which worsened his mood— and you can focus on keeping Goblin still. The issue is, that no matter how many webs you shoot at his limbs, he snaps them easily before going back to exchanging punches with Miguel.

You try to pin his arms one more time, but he sends you backwards with a kick to your stomach.

You scream one of Miguel’s most common expletives, frustrated with yet another failed plan. “Okay. Babe, I have an idea, but you gotta help me out.” You tell Miguel, voice breathless, as he struggles with the anomaly.

“Tell me.” He grunts, trying to keep Goblin from escaping the rooftop, if he reaches the door and gets inside there would be too many people to look after.

“I hold him still and you bite him; I think it’s the only way to cage him.”

When you see Miguel nod, you get to work. You begin by shooting webs to the side of the buildings, much like you did back at Miguel’s lab, before attaching them to the Goblin’s body. His arms and legs are next, which you manage to hold down by circling him until they’re tight enough that he can’t move. Miguel uses his red webs to hold him too, and the front of his mask disappears showing his teeth as he approaches the anomaly. But the Goblin’s stronger than anything you’ve fought before and in mere seconds snaps one web, then another, until suddenly and with an ear piercing scream he’s free and sending a well-placed blow to your chest that leaves you breathless.

You’re out of webs thanks to your plan as he stands before you —to finish the job you’re sure— but it’s hard to focus on anything other than your shortness of breath. Miguel’s voice is muffled when it reaches you as he tackles the Goblin, grabbing at his neck with his claws. You take the opportunity to take off your mask, gasping for air and trying to get your rising panic in check. It barely lasts though, because the anomaly gets away, slipping through Miguel’s clutches, and going back to you. His green claw snatches you from the floor, making you grunt in pain as he jumps to the other building. Next thing you know, the Goblin lets go of you between the two buildings and your stomach drops. You activate your web-shooters in the hopes that even the smallest bit of web can help you but it isn’t your lucky day. Your body is in free-fall and the wind mutes the words coming out of Miguel’s mouth.

All you manage to hear is his scream, a desperate sound, followed by him diving to rescue you without hesitation. You can sense how his mind goes over the million ways he can grab and not injure you. Not even his bright-red webs can help you, he’d snap your back in two or detach a limb. But he will help you, you’re sure of that. You see him get momentum from the building in front of you before he dives in your direction, arms tight to his sides to gain speed. Once you’re within reach, his arms go around you, enveloping you completely before he turns around so his body receives the impact as you crash through a glass window on the opposite building.

“Go get him.” You groan, body limp on top of his.

Your lack of comment on your position is enough to worry Miguel. He was expecting something that would make him roll his eyes and hold back a smile as he always does when he’s with you. If you wanted some alone time, you could’ve asked, big guy. Woah, take me out to dinner first, handsome. He can hear it so clearly in his mind that your silence at present causes a wave of anxiety to rise in his sternum.

“You’re hurt.” Miguel states, voice strained as he lies you down gently on the floor.

“I’ve seen worse.” You shake your head. “Go find him, I’ll catch up.” It’s a blatant lie, and you know Miguel can tell. He can see you’re barely awake, how you’ve turned a shade closer to grey, how clammy your forehead looks and a quick glance at your abdomen confirms his first guess. He thinks at once, internal bleeding.

He talks to Lyla through his watch but you can’t make out a single world after the system’s name because you’re trying really hard to concentrate on breathing. Since when do you have to think about breathing? You’re suddenly bathed in tangerine light as a portal opens behind Miguel, and though he’s still in a hurry to get you back to the Society, he takes his time as he picks you up.

The movement is gentle but you still whine in pain, a string of curses flying past your lips. “How do I say motherfucker in Spanish?” You ask Miguel as your eyes fall closed.

“It’ll be over soon. Just look at me, okay?” His voice is tight yet calm despite the disastrous turn the mission’s taken. “Don’t close your eyes, you have to stay awake.”

You open them weakly —it’s so hard to stay awake all of a sudden— and look at his illuminated profile. His chiseled jaw, beautiful but so tense you’re sure he’ll crack a tooth. You’re in pain, slowly feeling like you’re fading away into nothing, but you can’t bear to see Miguel so stressed.

“Hey,” You whisper, and he looks down, his expression softening. “It’s Guasha right?”

“What?” Miguel looks so confused you’d laugh if it didn’t hurt to breathe.

“The secret to your cheekbones, babe.” You mumble.

Miguel squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, not annoyed but something else you can’t figure out. “As if I’d tell you.” He tells you, rolling his eyes at you in that fond way of his.

He steps through the portal and a moment later you’re back at the society, spidermen walking left and right to their own dimensions and missions. Miguel’s quick to bring you to the med-bay, at least that’s where you assume you are until you pass out.

It turns out, you were put under so the Spider-Medics could operate on you. Everything’s fine, they reassure you when you wake with a start, a couple of needles pricking your skin. Your eyes search for a familiar tall figure, brooding, handsome, the light of your eyes, but you can’t find it. So, you let the doctors run their tests and give you their diagnostics without another word. It takes a whole day for you body to heal and feel better, all while waiting for Miguel to show up.

He doesn’t. Not once.

Once you’re dispatched with an all clear and a lollypop, you immediately open a portal back home. There’s no use going to see Miguel at his lab. If he doesn’t want to see you, that’s fine. You get it, you ruined his mission and he’s gorgeously pacing in front of his many computer screens. But there’s also the gentle way he’d spoken to you, the look he’d given you before you passed out… No, it’s just childish wistful thinking. You’re the last person he'd like to see at the moment. You’re sure of that.

When you get home, you’re quick to turn on the radio and sync it to the police channel. Maybe chasing some bad guys will clear your head, take your mind away from the heartache threatening to consume you –it’s even worse than your previously broken ribs. But you shower and change back into your suit and no such luck; not even a small robbery to stop. With nothing else to do, you go up the fire escape and to the rooftop just in time to see the sun set in the horizon. It bathes your New York in orange; it’s not nearly as modern as Miguel’s but it’s loud and fun regardless.

“One would think that after that fall, you’d avoid heights for a while.” Miguel’s voice comes from somewhere behind you but it doesn’t startle you.

“Occupational hazard.” Is all you say, staring ahead as your heart aches in more ways than one; for your own feelings and his likely regret of bringing you along to Earth 7832. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

You refuse to look at him, guilt eating you up from the inside out. “Miguel, I ruined your mission.”

“You didn’t.” Miguel sighs. “Why would you think that?”

You huff, then look down at your hands and twist your gloved fingers. “I know you’re mad, don’t lie to me.”

You hear him approach you, his footfalls getting closer before he places something next to you. You look to your right and see it, the lilac paper cup with the orange logo and white straw. What? You take it in your hand and examine it in the sun. “Is this?”

“They closed a year ago, right?”

You turn then, and the sight of Miguel standing there increases your yearning tenfold. He’s bathed in orange light from the sunset, it casts sharp shadows on one side of his face as the wind tousles some rogue strands of his hair. It should be illegal really, to be so beautiful you bring people to tears.

The worst thing is that he’s not mad, you can tell by the way his jaw isn’t tense like a day ago. His brows are relaxed, and his eyes scan your face as if drinking you in. It makes your eyes tear up, much to his shock. If he’s not been angry at you, then he didn’t go to see you because he doesn’t care. You thought you were good friends, despite him trying to conceal it; he’s let you hang out with him all the time, never once has kicked you out of his lab, has taken you with him to multiple missions. Yet…

“You left.” You murmur tearily.

Miguel sighs and sits next to you, his back to the sun and his hands falling between his legs. His shoulder hunch, as he shakes his head. “Do you know how close you were to…”

“They said everything was fine.”

“You almost died.” Miguel’s voice isn’t loud but the pain with which he murmurs those three words make you grimace.

“Oh.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I was scared to lose you.” His right hand reaches for yours and you take it, moving the milkshake to your other side to scoot closer to him. “I might be strong, but not when it comes to seeing you in pain.”

“And after that?” You turn to face him, big fat tears fall down your cheeks, and Miguel wipes them away, setting your skin on fire and comforting you at the same time. “You still didn’t come. I thought we–“

“I was thinking.” He tells you softly, a hushed confession.

“Of course you were.” Even though you’re confused by his words, a grin makes its way to your face. He’s ridiculous. “About what? the multiverse perishing ‘cause of the bad guy we let escape?”

Miguel shakes his head before holding your chin between his thumb and index finger “The fact I was so overtaken by fear when you got hurt I could barely think; that I can’t live without you; that I’m completely yours without even knowing when it happened.”

“You’re mine?” You question, eyes widening in surprise, heartbeat raising at the same time as your hopes with his words. “You mean—”

“That I love you?” He chuckles at your expression, his eyes looking at yours fondly; “According to Lyla, everyone knows I do but you. I thought the milkshake would give it away.”

“Miguel, I thought I was the obvious one. I’m always —”

“You were, baby, you were” Miguel’s hand slowly moves to your cheek, eclipsing it in size as your body lights up at the endearment. “I was hesitant but I’m not anymore.”

“So you got me a milkshake.” You smile, widely this time as you move even closer to him. Damn this man and his acts of service love language.

“I would get you whatever you want, you know that.” Miguel’s voice drops to a whisper at your proximity, his hold on your cheek pulling you closer to his face.

“And you looove me.” You tease him, brushing your nose tenderly against his; there’s nothing you’ve wanted more than to shower him with all the affection you have for him. It turns out you have a chance to do it after all.

He rolls his eyes with nothing but adoration, and love. “Never stood a chance.”

“Wish it didn’t take falling to my death to tell me, hot stuff.” You murmur, brushing your lips against his, drunk with your feelings and the idea of loving him freely, no jokes needed. “You’re the one that bites out of both of us.”

Miguel chuckles and you lean close, closing the gap between you and kissing his lips like you’ve dreamed of for a long while. Your hands move to his hair as you pull him closer and a noise gets caught in the back of Miguel’s throat. His own hand on your cheek tilts your face to the side before his tongue brushes your bottom lip to open you up to him. There’s no testing the waters, no hesitation. No, this is something you’ve clearly wanted for a long time and after the events from yesterday’s mission there’s no way you’re delaying this anymore. You sigh into his mouth, intoxicated in the best way from the taste of him, coffee and something sweet that makes you gravitate even closer to him.

You’re left dizzy and happy beyond words when you part, your lips chasing his for a moment before you press your forehead against Miguel’s.

“Hermosa,” Miguel murmurs. You can feel his eyes on you as he ghosts his lips across your chin, your cheek and jaw, as your mouth shifts to a grin. No one but you knows your moody vampire is so loving.

You move to sit on his lap, your side to his front, smiling widely at the content look you find on his face when you look up. Completely unguarded, for you.

“Okay moment of truth.” You announce, reaching over and taking the paper up in your hands. Your hands cover your face as soon as you take a sip, the creamy chocolate taste coating your mouth and releasing endorphins to your system.

“What?” Miguel asks, his protective mode rising to the surface for a moment before you smile. It makes him shake his head.

“Ohmygod, I missed this so much!” You cry out, taking another sip and sighing in content. “Might have to pop by and get another one every now and then.”

“If there’s another mission there maybe,” Miguel concedes, arms going around your waist to pull closer. “Maybe.”

“You did it though.” You remind him, cheek resting on his chest, making your words come out muffled.

“I’m in charge,” He shrugs, self-assured smile clear in his tone.

“You’re no fun.” You sink against his chest, breathing him in and taking in his warmth. Until a memory flashes in your mind, making you light up and look at him again. “WAIT. Was that a joke earlier?”

—-

*por que yo? (why me?)

*hermosa (beautiful)

*cuidado (careful)

[roanniom]

King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

[bug-bites]

batfam beach episode?? real not clickbait no glue no borax??

cw: nothing! pure vacation beach fluff (p≧w≦q) also barely proofread,,,

pairing: gn!reader x batfam (NOT ALL AT ONCE.)

characters: dick grayson, jason babygirl todd, cassandra cain, tim drake, damian wayne (all intended to be interpreted as either romantic or platonic unless its damian. ik in some comic runs he's like an adult but hes like permanently 12 in my head and i dont fw that :/)

a/n: im back with a new dc obsession tee hee (soz to everyone who wanted more abt the cod guys or spiderverse im comicsmaxxing and redhoodpilled) will probably make a part 2 w/ bruce, babs, steph, and duke eventually :3c

Dick Grayson haha dick

oh he loves the beach so much

the sand beneath his feet make him feel nostalgic from when he would practice tumbling with his parents in the circus ring i think there's sand in circus rings right? I dunno someone fact check me on that one

the victim of being buried in the sand, always asks for a mermaid tail but ends up with something like massive sand tits (courtesy of either tim or jason), he laughs it off anyways

somehow gets the worst tan lines. He wore a swim shirt one time and never again because the tan lines looked SO BAD which is a total shame because he tans gorgeously

will beg to do play shoulder wars i have no clue if this is the right name, again fact check me for this thing where you get a piggyback ride from someone and you try to knock someone whos also getting a piggyback ride over in the water

you’re on his shoulders since bro is strong asf and you square up against tim and damian

obviously you lose because hello that's damian wayne we are talking about but at least its fun!!

cass and jason are forever the undefeated champions of shoulder wars though, that goes without saying

Cassandra Cain

shes always seen beach episodes in animes that damian practically dragged her into watching so when she gets to actually go to a beach she is so excited peak sibling bonding is dragging your siblings into your interests

loves building sandcastles and writing things in the sand, watching it get washed away, and then do it all over again

hold her hand and jump over waves together on the shore and she will be the giggliest and happiest human being alive on planet earth

but out of all the beach activities she loves beach volleyball

shes actually scarily good at beach volleyball for someone who has never played volleyball before

dick thought it would be fun to teach her and have a friendly match between him and bruce vs you and cass

yeah bruce and dick were COOKED. huffing and puffing like they have a vendetta against the three little pigs at the end of it while cass is like “this is so fun, lets go again!”

ends the day with a little sunset stroll along the shore i need her so bad you do not understand please bbyg ill treat u soooo well

Jason Todd

beaches are fun on paper for him, in person not so much

PERSONAL HC INCOMING! He gets migraines after the lazarus pit so he can only have so much fun before needing to lie face down with his head covered with a beach towel to make everything less overwhelming or he wears sunglasses the entire time

he brings a book to read at the beach and stays in the shade the entire time yes he is that bitch

usually at home in the comfort of his little library he likes to read things that have an impact on him or just stuff that makes him want to analyze deeper. think books like frankenstein, lord of the flies, all quiet on the western front, just generally heavier stuff

but his vacation books? totally different. usually something super light, maybe a shitty romance book that you find in walmart which are clearly just results of book packaging, or a some booktok recommendation he got for shits and giggles because it just was so laughably bad, maybe even a childhood feel-good book like percy jackson or the little prince (mostly just books he would not grieve over if sand permanently got in between the pages)

he tried reading a colleen hoover book once and honest to God wanted to toss it into the ocean HE WOULD HATE HER BOOKS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

but out of everything he likes watching you enjoy yourself, his book wasnt that important anyways. show him that funky sand dollar you found or that really cool piece of seaglass, he’s probably gonna bring it home with him. a little keepsake along with the millions of grains of sand that never seem to go away

Tim Drake

Burns so easily

At first its kinda cute, like hes asking you to help him get that spot on his back he just cant seem to reach and its just a little sweet moment between you two as you rub the sunscreen into his sore muscles

But then it happens again. And again. And again to the point when he goes up to you, you automatically reach for the tube of SPF 100+ 

I just know his vitamin d deficiency goes crazy

Leaves the beach looking like a lobster, sunburnt, a crazy bump on his head from getting hit with a volleyball, and some god awful sunglasses tan lines

Overall, beach activities are not really his thing bros job is NAWT beach

Enjoys the boardwalk a lot more than the beach itself, likes the touristy stuff but still goes to the beach because dick loves it and he loves his older brother :(

Damian Wayne

i feel like he wouldn’t care too much for typical beach stuff. like at every beach that has sand and decently clean water you can do most beach activities

one thing that is never 100% consistent at all beaches is what lives on the beaches. this boy will spend hours staring into tidepools 

bruce was lowk concerned because his son did not gaf about normal beach activities that kids do but eventually he reached a point where he was like "i mean at least hes having fun and being safe"

i feel like talia would always show him books of sea creatures when he was little but he never ended up being able to see them in their natural habitat someone take this boy to an aquarium now

tells you fun facts about each creature you come across

will scold you if you take a shell from the beach, definitely says some shit like “how would you feel if someone ran into your house and just took your bed?”  based though, leave shells at the beach yall! taking them is like bad for the ecosystem

brings his notebook around and has little sketches of the sea creatures

even though typical beach activities arent his favourite, he doesnt hate it. he likes that he can catch a break from all the vigilante stuff and spend time with his family as a family and not just as a team

loves scuba diving. idk it just somehow makes sense and i think he would look really stupid in a wet suit

also i feel like he would never mention it but in his mind hes fully thinking "this is just like a beach episode" but he would rather die than say it out loud FUCKING NERDDD

[webslingingslasher]

ok but what if some girl would be saying that she slept with frat!peter after some party (where he was with trouble) and stuff like "oh yeah he had me calling him daddy and he's totally not a boob guy" and trouble overhears her and goes to peter with "you would not believe what i have just heard" and joking that maybe she has magic tits or something

you weren't listening.

minding your own business, pouring liquor into plastic cups, and cracking a can of sprite for a mixer; a group of friends crowded behind you. not listening, but certain words poked out more than others.

"he's fucking jacked by the way, it's like when i hooked up with parker."

your blood ran cold, frozen in place you were straining your hearing for each word to follow, if she didn't add more context you'd be shaking peter by his shirt.

a friend gasps, "you did? when?"

oh, not old news?

yeah, when did she?

flashing your eyes to peter, he's talking to someone and not paying attention. you'll kill him.

"like, around the start of the school year?"

oh thank god, he's in the clear.

"okay, well... spill!"

you can't walk away, your feet are glued to the vinyl floor. maybe, you just want to know if peter's telling the truth when he says you're different than the rest.

"ass man all the way, insisted on doggy. big dick, strong game, threw me around a little, had me calling him daddy and everything. not very affectionate though, i don't think he kissed me, actually. and not a lick of a cuddle after, threw my dress at me and said 'need an uber?' but, hey, i'd still do it again."

another friend cackles, "too bad, nate begged him to do a double date and parker immediately shut it down and said, and i quote, 'no. i have a girlfriend. she doesn't want me dating other girls.' kinda sweet if you ask me."

your heart soars, this is the first time he's ever referred to you as his girlfriend. not that you were, at least not officially, but it's easier to explain than what you actually were, and you had no idea what you were. you assume he doesn't either.

their conversation falls into something else, making you feel confident in moving away from the counter with a full cup in each hand, walking straight to the most interesting man of the night.

peter perking up instantly, leaving his friend with a fist bump, meeting you halfway.

"hi trouble, i missed you." a warm kiss placed on your cheek, you can't help the grin while handing him his drink, "hi handsome, i got a question..." you trail your words off and shift your back against his chest so he'd have a clear view of who you're pointing at.

"see that group of friends, do you know anyone there?"

he barely gives them a look over, one harm slung over your waist, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, "no, don't think so."

nudging him, "no, really. look." a sigh, "looking, no one looks familiar." the back of your head hits his chest, "peter, c'mon. please don't tell me you're one of those guys."

"i don't know what you mean! are you testing me or something?"

turning in his hold, a small pout hangs. "you hooked up with one of them. tell me which one and you earn two brownie points."

that changes things, because now peter knows what the mission is and how to identify previous suitors. mind ticking and eyes running over each body in a different way. watching him analyze is interesting. You wonder what he looks for in a hookup.

"the one in the middle. i'm sure of it, but i can't remember her name. I think it started with an 's' or 'v' maybe 'l'?"

"It's whitney," peter cheers his cup on your shoulder, "oh yeah, that's right."

you spin in his grasp, "liar. i made that up." peter pulls you closer, "you're just so convincing, trouble. call me gullible."

humming, you press a kiss to his chin, "she was talking about you, wanna hear?"

"this feels like a trap, i don't like this idea."

"oh, you should. i heard all about you in bed, and how you told nate i was your girlfriend." peter shakes his head, "i think you've been hitting the sauce hard tonight and you're making things up."

shaking your head like a toddler, "nope, i heard the truth about daddy." peter's head is thrown back with a groan, "alright, wow, we're really doing this. what else did you hear?"

"that you're an ass man, and," you sway on your feet and pretend to twirl a stand of hair, a nasally sarcastic tone rips, "you're like so, super fucking jacked. like, seriously so sexy. ugh! with a big dick too!"

peter presses a kiss to your cheek, "thank you for the compliments, baby." another kiss, the corner of your mouth, "even if you're sarcastic." a delicate kiss to your lips, "and a little wrong."

"which part was wrong? she's right, you've got a fucking wrench."

your cup is pulled from your hand, "alright, it's done. we're done."

a whine, "no! c'mon, please, daddy?"

"i'll silence you and you won't like it."

"will it be with your monster coc-"

a hand is slapped over your mouth, "i'll kill you, and won't have a problem with it."

[pucksandpower]

hi love!! i’m not sure if you’re talking requests so completely ignore this if you’re not but, i’m in love with your grid kids series and i was wondering if you could do something with the grid kids that goes more into readers line of work?🫶🏼

Grid Kids: She Means Business

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your career as a renowned sports psychologist means you often work with your husband and grid kids

Series Masterlist

Sebastian Vettel: Meet Cute

Red Bull Racing’s pit wall is a hive of activity during the practice session for the Monaco Grand Prix. Engineers, strategists, and everyone in between are glued to their screens, analyzing data and communicating with the drivers.

You’re there in an official capacity, hired by Red Bull Racing to conduct a series of workshops to help the team, particularly the drivers, cope with the mental pressures of racing. With a headset on, you’re mostly observing, making notes on communication dynamics, when suddenly a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You look up, slightly startled, to see none other than Sebastian Vettel, the team’s star driver, smiling down at you. His mop of hair sweaty and slightly tousled from the helmet he just took off after finishing up with FP2, the impish twinkle in his eyes making you feel … something.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I was just ...” you stammer, suddenly feeling a bit out of your element.

Sebastian sits down next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think I’m here to see what the mysterious new hire is up to.”

You chuckle, “Well, if you must know, I’m observing team dynamics, communication patterns ... very thrilling stuff.”

He feigns a gasp, “So you’re spying on us?”

“In the most professional way possible,” you reply with a smirk.

Sebastian laughs, the sound genuine and contagious. “Well, I hope we’re giving you some good material.”

You lean in this time, matching his playful tone, “You? Always.”

There’s a brief pause, a moment of charged silence, before Sebastian grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile back, “You should.”

The two of you chat easily, talking about the intricacies of the sport and the importance of mental preparedness.

As the session winds down and Mark Webber also makes his way back into the garage, Sebastian looks over at you, “You know, for someone who’s here to observe, you’re quite the distraction.”

Your cheeks warm, “Is that so?”

He nods, mock serious, “Absolutely. It’s a problem. I think we might need a one-on-one session to discuss it further.”

You laugh, “I’ll have to check my schedule but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Sebastian winks, “Looking forward to it,” and with that he’s off to debrief with his engineers.

As you remove your headset, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This job assignment just got a lot more interesting.

Max Verstappen: Unloading the Past

Ten years later, the Red Bull Racing hospitality suite is buzzing with activity: the clink of glasses, murmurs of conversation, and the distant roar of engines echoing from the track. But in a quiet corner, there’s a space that feels a world apart.

Soft, ambient lighting casts a serene glow, a few comfortable chairs are arranged in a circle, and on the coffee table lies an assortment of fidget tools, from stress balls to sensory mats. This is your corner, specially designed for individual sessions.

Max Verstappen hesitates at the entrance. His eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. It’s clear that beneath that façade of unshakable confidence lies vulnerability.

You rise, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, Max. Ready?”

He gives a tentative nod, following you in. “I’m not ... I’m not sure how to do this,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, guiding him to a chair. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just start wherever you feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Max begins, his words tumbling out, “It’s just ... sometimes, when I’m out there on the track, I feel like that kid again.” His voice cracks and he pauses, searching for the right words. “The kid who always felt he wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue, “Tell me about that kid.”

As Max delves into memories of his childhood, stories of relentless training sessions, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to fit in, you listen. Every word, every pause, every shift in his tone paints a picture of a boy who was thrust into the world of racing at a young age, grappling with the colossal pressure to prove himself.

You gently prod, asking him to revisit specific incidents, encouraging him to express his feelings, and offering insights when necessary.

As the session progresses, Max’s demeanor changes. His initial hesitation gives way to openness, vulnerability transforms into strength, and slowly, the pieces start falling into place.

“You know,” you say softly, “It’s natural to carry the scars of our past with us but it’s important to remember they don’t define us.”

Max looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But how do I move past it?”

You want so badly to reach out and hug him — this young man who you consider a son in all but blood — but hold yourself back. You’re both here for work and, right now, Max needs you as a professional and not a mom.

“By acknowledging it, understanding it, and then channeling it. Every time you get in the car, it’s an opportunity to rewrite that narrative. Not for anyone else but for yourself.”

Max takes a moment, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a weight visibly lifted off his shoulders.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Anytime, Max. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Oh, and remember, we’re all meeting at that little Italian place Charles recommended for dinner.”

There’s a lightness in Max’s voice that wasn’t there before, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Charles Leclerc: Bittersweet Memories

The setting sun casts a somber glow across the paddock at Suzuka Circuit. It’s a track rich with history, triumphs, and heartbreaks. For Charles Leclerc, it’s where he lost Jules Bianchi, his godfather, mentor, and friend.

You find Charles seated alone in a quiet part of the Ferrari motorhome, gazing out the window. The overflowing sadness in his eyes nearly makes you stop in your tracks.

“Hey,” you greet gently, not wanting to startle him. “Mind if I join you?”

He offers a small nod, his gaze still distant.

Sitting down next to him, you allow a comfortable silence to settle, giving him the space to open up when he’s ready. Moments pass before Charles finally speaks, his voice tinged with melancholy.

“Every time I come here,” he starts, “it feels like I’m reliving that day. The memories, the pain, it all just floods back.”

You nod, understandingly, “Grief has a way of doing that, especially when tied to such a tangible reminder.”

Charles looks down, fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s hard, you know? Racing on the same track where I lost him. Every corner, every turn, it’s like he’s there with me.”

Taking a deep breath, you offer, “Maybe that’s a way for you to connect with Jules. To honor his memory, to carry his spirit with you every lap you drive.”

Charles’ eyes shimmer with tears. “I want to make him proud, to show that everything he taught me wasn’t in vain. But sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.”

You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Grief isn’t linear. There will be days when it hits harder, especially in places like this. You just have to remember it’s not about racing against the pain but learning that it’s okay to race with it.”

He meets your gaze, searching for strength, “How do I do that?”

“By allowing yourself to feel, by acknowledging the pain, and by channeling it into your drive. Jules might not be here physically but he’s with you in spirit. And every time you get behind that wheel is another opportunity to show that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes.

You give him a comforting smile. “I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. We’re all here for you every step of the way.”

Lance Stroll: Nepo Babies Have Feelings Too

Inside the Aston Martin team lounge, screens show replays of the latest race, commentators discussing various drivers’ performance. One topic that often comes up is Lance Stroll. The chatter revolves around his father’s ownership of the team and whether Lance truly earned his seat or if he’s just a product of nepotism.

You notice Lance sitting a bit apart from the rest, headphones on but his face is a giveaway. The furrowed brows, the downward curve of his lips —he’s clearly overheard the unsubtle whispers.

You make your way over, gesturing to ask if he’d like some company. He nods, removing his headphones.

“Those comments,” you begin gently, “they don’t define you.”

Lance sighs, his frustration palpable. “It’s just ... no matter what I do, how hard I work, how much I improve, it always comes back to the same thing. That I’m only here because of my father.”

You nod, understanding the weight of such judgments. “It’s tough, Lance. But remember, others’ opinions of you are just that — opinions. They aren’t the truth and they most definitely are not your truth.”

He looks up, eyes searching. “But how do I prove them wrong? How do I show that I deserve to be here?”

“It starts with belief,” you say, leaning forward for emphasis, “belief in yourself. You’ve trained, you’ve raced, you’ve faced challenges head-on, and you’ve earned your spot. Your journey in F1 isn’t just about your last name. It’s about every late-night on the simulator, every risk taken on the track, every lap you’ve driven.”

Lance nods slowly, taking in your words. “But the chatter, it’s just so deafening sometimes.”

You offer a comforting smile. “You can’t control what others say but you can control how you react. Every time you’re on that track, you have the power to redefine the narrative, to let your skills speak louder than any spiteful words.”

Motivation straightens his hunched shoulders, the weight of doubt lifting slightly. “So focus on the drive, not the noise?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “Your talent, your dedication, that’s what matters. Let the world see Lance Stroll, the driver, not just Lance Stroll, the son.”

He chuckles, “Easier said than done.”

You wink, “That’s why you have a stellar support system. Lean on us whenever the noise gets too loud.”

George Russell: Comparing Comparisons

It’s a cool afternoon at the Silverstone Circuit and the entire paddock is buzzing with excitement. There’s an added layer of intrigue to the British Grand Prix this season. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, will be racing alongside his much younger compatriot, George Russell, as teammates for the first time.

In the Mercedes team garage, George is meticulously going over his race data, replaying certain turns and maneuvers in his head. But an undertone of tension cuts through his concentration.

You walk over, picking up on his restlessness. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He glances up, forcing a smile. “That obvious, huh? It’s just racing alongside Lewis … it’s a dream come true but also incredibly daunting.”

You nod, understanding the pressure of standing next to a giant in the sport. “It’s natural to feel that way. Lewis has carved a legacy in F1 and now you’re right beside him, sharing the same tracks in the same car.”

George sighs, “That’s the thing. Everywhere I turn, there’s a comparison. It’s not just about my performance anymore, it’s about how I measure up to him.”

You lean against the worktable, choosing your words carefully. “Here’s the thing, George. You can’t control comparisons or expectations but you can control your race. Every driver brings something unique to the track. Lewis has his legacy, yes, but you have your own journey and story still to build.”

George nods slowly, pondering over your words. “I want to be able to block all of that out. I’ve tried every single weekend so far. But it’s hard. How do I focus on my race and not the looming shadow beside me?”

“There’s no one right answer,” you sympathize. “Look, Lewis is an icon and racing alongside him is an opportunity to learn, to grow. But remember, you’ve earned your spot here. This is as much your race as it is his.”

He chuckles, “You always know exactly what to say.”

You smile, “Just a little wisdom from the sidelines. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and let George Russell shine.”

Lando Norris: Never Grow Up

It’s a warm and bright morning but the mood inside the McLaren motorhome doesn’t quite reflect the sunny atmosphere outside. Lando Norris sits in a corner, earbuds in, lost deep in thought. The usual playful energy that surrounds him is missing today.

You approach, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Room for one more?”

He looks up, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sure.”

You settle beside him, waiting for him to speak. After a brief pause, Lando finally breaks the silence. “Do you think I’m too childish?”

You’re slightly taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

Lando sighs, “I overheard some comments from a few crew members from another team. They said that no one takes me seriously because I’m always joking around, always laughing. They think that I’m not mature enough for this sport.”

You consider his words, understanding where he’s coming from. "Formula 1 is intense. It’s demanding and requires immense focus and dedication. But it’s also about personality, about bringing your unique touch to the grid.”

He nods but still seems unsure. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m not taken seriously because of how I act?”

You lean in, ensuring he listens to every word. “Lando, your driving speaks volumes. Every time you get behind the wheel, you showcase your skill and your tenacity. The playful side of you, the side that loves to laugh and bring joy, that’s a part of who you are. It doesn’t diminish your talent or your dedication.”

Lando seems to ponder your words, “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I have to constantly prove myself. Like there’s something wrong with being myself.”

You take his hand into both of yours, “Every driver feels that way at some point. But remember, the beauty of this sport is that it’s as much about character as it is about speed. Your playful nature, your genuine laughter, it brings a freshness to the paddock. Embrace it.”

He chuckles, the familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “So be me and let my racing do the talking?”

“Without a doubt,” you confirm. “Stay true to yourself. The world needs more genuine smiles and more authentic laughter. Then, on the track, just keep doing what you do best.”

Lando grins, “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

Mick Schumacher: What’s In a Name?

The aftermath of a race is evident inside the Haas garage. Engineers are engaged in post-race analysis, the car undergoing routine checks. A desolate Mick Schumacher sits among the organized chaos, his helmet still on, concealing his face.

Walking over, you notice the subtle tremors in his frame, the weight of something heavy weighing on his young shoulders. Gently, you tap on his helmet, signaling for him to lift it. When he does, the anguish in his eyes is palpable.

“You okay, Mick?” you ask softly.

He tries to answer but his voice breaks. Swallowing hard, he confesses, “I just ... I can’t do it. I can’t ever live up to the name.”

You know the gravity of his sentiment. Being Michael Schumacher’s son in Formula 1 is no easy feat. The legacy, the expectations, the constant comparisons that follow Mick everywhere — it’s overwhelming.

You sit down beside him, “I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you feel but remember this: You are not just your last name. You are Mick Schumacher, your own person with your own journey, your own challenges, and your own victories.”

“But everywhere I go, it’s always about him,” Mick interjects, frustration evident. “The great Michael Schumacher’s son. Can he do it? Will he be even a fraction as good? It’s suffocating.”

You nod, acknowledging his feelings. “Your father is a legend and it’s natural for people to draw parallels. But racing isn’t just about legacy, it's about passion, determination, and personal growth. The shape your path takes in this sport is yours alone.”

Mick wipes away a tear, his gaze distant. “But what if I never truly make it? What if I never even score a point much less a podium or a win? What if I’m always just the son of the legend, never a making a name for myself in my own right?”

You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Then you make peace with that and find joy in what you managed to achieve regardless. You are among twenty of the best drivers on the planet right now. Getting here is no easy feat. Not every path has to lead to the same destination. Maybe you’ll carve a different legacy, one that is uniquely yours.”

Mick seems to ponder over your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just ... I want to make him proud.”

You smile gently, “By being yourself, by giving every race your best shot, you already are. It’s not the titles or the championships that define us. It’s our heart and the impact we make on those around us. And trust me, your heart is in the right place. Your father would only ever want you to be happy, whatever that entails.”

With a deep breath, Mick nods, a content smile crossing his lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You give him an encouraging pat, “I’m always in your corner. Remember that it’s not the shadow that defines us but how we emerge from it.”

Mick stands up, ready to face another day, another race. The legacy of his last name will always be there but he’s slowly learning that his own identity holds value and strength too.

Toto Wolff & Christian Horner: Couples Therapy

The sun filters through the sheer curtains of the sophisticated office, casting dancing patterns on the wooden floor. A blend of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air, lending to an ambiance of calm. But this illusion is quickly shattered by two animated voices engaged in heated debate, echoing from the hallway. The door flings open to reveal Toto Wolff and Christian Horner, each determined to prove their point even before the session officially starts, and the cameras and sound equipment stationed around the room quickly zero in on them.

You sit in your chair, a hint of amusement in your eyes, as you address them. “Gentlemen, welcome! How about we start by taking our seats?”

Toto and Christian hesitantly sit on the couch, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.

“So,” you begin, trying to contain your laughter, “Drive to Survive mentioned you two might need some ... couples therapy?” You add air quotes for emphasis.

Christian immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! We’re competitors, not some bickering married couple.”

Toto chimes in, “Although he does nag like my grandmother.”

Christian retorts, “Oh please, Toto! The way you carry on, anyone would think you’re auditioning for a soap opera.”

You hold up a hand, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath. We’re here to find common ground.”

The two team principals continue their banter, airing their grievances, from stolen engineers to wind tunnels to secret agreements. You listen, scribbling notes, occasionally nodding or offering a “hmm” of understanding.

After what seems like an eternity, you interrupt their tirade. “Okay, I’ve come to a conclusion. You both are quite the pair. But instead of directing this ... energy at each other, how about a united front? Surely there’s something, or someone, you both dislike equally?”

Christian and Toto exchange glances, a mischievous glint appearing simultaneously. “The producers,” they chorus.

You swear that you can hear the men standing out of camera range behind you — the producers in question — audibly swallow.

You lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

Toto grins, “They’ve been poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction out of us. It’s why they set this whole thing up in the first place. And while we do love the drama,” he eyes Christian, “maybe it’s time they get a taste of their own medicine.”

Christian nods in agreement, “A united front to give the producers a season they won’t forget.”

You clap your hands together, “Perfect! So what’s the plan?”

As the session concludes, Toto and Christian leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughter echoing down the hall.

You lean back in your chair, chuckling. “Well, that was certainly one for the books.”

You turn around to face the Drive to Survive crew already packing their equipment and producers looking shell shocked . You’ve never seen grown men look quite so pale. But they only have themselves to blame — the session was their idea in the first place.

Sometimes you really love your job.