#i just sit around wasting time on the internet not really learning anything

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Yandere! Rintarou Suna General Profile

Yandere! Rintarou Suna x fem! reader

Cw: kidnapping, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of hypothermia/death, rin locks you in a freezer but don't worry it hurts him too </3, stalking, voyeurism, non-consensual recording/photography, harassment, possessiveness, mentions of non-con, Stockholm Syndrome, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10.0 K

DARLING PROFILE:

Social

Despite Rintarou’s usually quiet, apathetic personality, he finds himself drawn to people who are more talkative and outgoing.

It’s not that he necessarily wants to converse himself, but it’s a relief for him to know that his darling is able to express themself, and is able to carry on a conversation with little to no unease.

He likes listening to their words, letting himself be entertained and guided along in a conversation. He’s not normally the instigator in conversations; he prefers to chime in when he feels like it, and while his darling doesn’t need to be constantly talking, he’d like a darling that can take the lead in a conversation.

Honestly, it’s almost impressive to Rintarou, and the fact that his darling doesn’t mind being the talkative and social one in the relationship only feeds his more obsessive tendencies - the more they talk and ramble about what they love, the more information he learns and is able to store away for future reference.

He loves learning about his darling, and he honestly could sit for hours and just listen to them talk and talk.

It’s therapeutic in a way to the middle blocker, and he absolutely adores this aspect of his darling.

Smart

Rintarou himself is quite analytical and intelligent, and as a result he has little patience with those who might not be as blessed. He was somewhat lazy throughout his schooling; always slacking off and falling asleep in class, but only because his natural smarts saved his ass and allowed him to be lenient on studying and listening to the teachers.

And even throughout his professional career, Rintarou’s had to rely on this intelligence to help him perform and successfully read his opponents in the midst of points.

And while he doesn’t need a partner that’s a genius (though, he doesn’t mind), having a partner who is at least knowledgeable is a requirement for him. He doesn’t have the time and patience to deal with people that he has to explain his jokes to, or that aren’t able to keep up with conversations happening around them.

He finds it to be a major attraction when his darling is able to contribute meaningful things to a discussion, and in particular if they were to showcase their knowledge in their given field to Rintarou.

He'd stare with such intensity as they explain the foundations of their job and field, him hanging onto their every word as he notes the way they look so happy and excited, how their face brightens up and fuck he wants to kiss them so badly.

He just really likes the idea of a smart, capable darling, and while he likes the idea of taking care of them, he wants to know that he’s not wasting his time on a complete idiot.  

Playful

He can be quite teasing and witty, and having a darling that can go along with his jokes and deadpan comments would be an immense turn on for the brunette.

He likes the idea of someone that can keep up with all of the shit that comes out of his mouth; he’s selective about his words, but often they’re said in a teasing way, and having a darling that’s too sensitive to this would likely not pan out well.

He needs someone who is able to take it and dish it out back - they don’t have to be the funniest or the quickest thinker, but a darling who will laugh at his words and throw in a remark here or there to counter him would be wonderful.

People who are more meek and nervous when talking to others aren’t his ideal type, and while it’s possible for his darling to have aspects of this in their personality, Rintarou mainly falls for those who are more assertive with their words. And while his darling doesn’t need to be the most confident in themselves, they need to be able to put up with his rather snarky attitude.

Knowing that his darling has his back is something that Rintarou thrives on, and it only further proves to him how perfect they are for one another.

Kind

While Rintarou isn’t inherently mean, there’s just something about the honesty of compliments when they leave his darling’s lips that makes him smile.

His own personality is snarky, full of teasing remarks and a rather objective view of the events around him, and so to have someone who is naturally more adept at being honest and welcoming towards others is stubbornly adorable to him.

Of course, he’s internally a flustered, dazed mess when they tell him how talented he is at volleyball, how smart he is, how his hair is so uniquely him. His heart is racing in his chest and his palms are growing sweaty, the sound of his darling’s voice complimenting him permanently etched into his memory, but on the exterior he stays the same blank faced man he always is.

There’s just something so disarming about what his darling says, and just when he thinks his beloved can’t get any better, any more perfect, they let something slip out that makes his heart melt, and he’s once again struck with the question of how he got lucky enough to have a soulmate so wonderful.

His darling inspires him to try and compliment them more too – he certainly notices all kinds of beautiful, attractive things they say and do, but as soon as he goes to say the words they get stuck on the tip of his tongue.

He wants to tell his darling that they’re gorgeous when they wear that shade of blue, but despite the number of times he practiced mentally and in the bathroom mirror that morning, he never seems to be able to.

And so, Rintarou would love a kind darling because they inspire him to be kind as well - Rintarou doesn’t know why it makes him happy, but he’ll be damned if he lets them slip away.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Possessive

While Rintarou isn’t particularly insecure, he’s more than aware that he isn’t the ‘ideal’ man.

He’s quiet, snarky, lanky, someone who prefers to simply watch and be more in the background. He knows he’s different from someone like his teammates, like his long time friends the Miyas, even as irritating as it may be to admit. He may be a professional athlete now, raking in money with every ball he hits, but he knows there’s more flashy, cooler players even on his own team.

He’s fully aware that he isn’t every girl’s dream guy, and this knowledge along with the sheer amount of desperation he feels for your love is a bit of an ugly mix.

He’s hyper aware of the fact that you likely aren’t aware of the depth of his feelings for you. He's sure that you’re blissfully ignorant to the way his heart nearly beats out of his chest the moment your name is mentioned, how his cheeks flush pink when he’s laying in bed imagining your soft body is in his arms, when he’s gulping harshly and trying to discreetly fix his pants before he walks into the café and sees you.

You likely aren’t aware of the way he’s taken to following you and thinking of you every moment of the day, but it doesn’t change the fact that Rintarou is thoroughly and completely hooked on you, utterly enraptured by every little thing you do, every little part of you that adds up to the woman he thinks he loves.

You may not know, but Rintarou wants you to be completely and utterly his, solely and only his girl, just as his heart is so desperately yearning for, just as he thinks of you in his mind. He’s sure you aren’t aware of his feelings because he purposefully tries to keep them concealed, but it doesn’t change the way an ugly feeling of rage simmers in his chest when another man approaches you, how his fists grow clammy and his eyes narrow when another guy is looking at you, when you get brought up in conversations that he happens to overhear.

He knows he doesn’t really have any grounds to feel jealous, that his hold and claim on you is purely in his mind, but Rintarou doesn’t fucking care. It’s still painful to imagine you with another man, to think of you smiling and laughing and getting flustered at the hands of someone else.

It makes him ill to think of you with someone who won’t love you like he does, who doesn’t know the real you as well as he does, who can’t provide for you and protect you like he can. It’s irritating as hell, and so Rintarou tries his best to keep other guys from being interested in you, to keep all other potential competition at bay so that when he’s finally ready to make a substantial move, you’ll feel that he’s your only choice.

He’s managed to weasel his way into your personal life, becoming a friend and accompanying you to nearly everything you do in public.

He’s subtly dropping hints that you’re not interested when he overhears others’ conversations, mentioning off-handedly that you’re already talking to someone (she’s always looking at her phone and smiling, you know what that means), that you’re not interested in a relationship (there’s this guy from her work who’s a volunteer firefighter that keeps trying to get with her – really hot, and if she’s saying no to him, then why would you ever be a yes?).

He’s even going so far as to lie about your sexuality just to get guys off of your trail, to keep you reserved for him and only him once the time is right.

Jealousy hits him in waves, difficult to ignore and counter once they’ve taken root in his gut, and while it’s a preventative measure more than anything to tip off those other guys who express interest in you, it’s still not enough.

Its never enough, if he’s being honest, because each time he sees someone like Atsumu or even Osamu approach you and look like such a better option, he’s seeing red and panicking, his mind running a mile a minute as he desperately tries to conjure up a plan to stop the impending doom, to keep you single and his.

Sabotaging any possible relationships is better than nothing, after all, but Rintarou still isn’t satisfied – he won’t be, really, until he’s finally stolen you away, made you his for the rest of your days, but in the meantime, he does what he can to keep the horribly overwhelming possessive thoughts at bay, to keep the urge to wrap you in his arms and hide you away from the world as dormant as possible.

And in doing this, a few new habits form – namely, he notices that the possessive and invasive thoughts tend to be stronger at night, when he’s lying alone in bed missing you and your body, wishing you were there to warm the sheets and press soft kisses against his jawline.

He’s missing you, finding himself using his pillow as a substitute for your body, even as pathetic and weird as it makes him feel. He notices it’s strongest then, which is why his whirling brain suddenly appraises an image that has his face turning pink, his body warming up, a small patch of sweat forming at his temples as he imagines the way you’d look with a network of small, dark hickeys against your neck and collarbones.

They’d be deep, sprinkled from behind your ears to the tops of your breasts, impossible to hide and marking you as fully, utterly his, his lover and partner to kiss and worship, his to mark up and claim, just as he so urgently wants to.

It’s a nice thought, really, and as his hand slides down his abdomen and he shakily exhales, Rintarou is content with the thought that one day he will paint you with his hickeys, that you’ll be wearing his marks like a necklace, the dark bruises decorating your skin like a fucking painting so that the world knows for absolute certainty that you’re the property of Rintarou Suna, that he owns you now and always.

So really, when you catch him staring at your collarbones the next day with his lips parted and his pupils blown wide, don’t be surprised – just as you shouldn’t be when you wake up in his basement, those fox-like eyes staring at you while his fingers itch with the urge to touch you.

He finds himself drifting into delusions about you much more than normal as his obsession carries on; ideas of keeping you locked away in his apartment, your pretty face smiling at him and hugging him when he comes home from practice, dinner on the stove and the TV already cued up to his favorite movie.

He’s imagining the way you’d tell him about your day and how much you missed him, how you’d smile at him and let the ring on your finger sparkle in the light as you ask him how his day went.

You’ll notice the way his eyes start lingering on your ring finger when you’re together, how his fingers seem to just be there, always nearby.

Don’t be surprised about how he starts referring to you more with ‘my’ in front of your name, calling you his friend, his coffee mate, his his his.

Don’t be surprised, because this isn’t anything new – Rintarou has always wanted to claim you as his, but now that he can?

Well, how can he not let all his possessive tendencies flourish once you’re all his?

Stalker

While he isn’t explicitly scared to talk to you or approach you, Rintarou is self aware enough to know that he isn’t exactly an extravert, that talking and making conversation isn’t his specialty.

He enjoys conversing with you, truly, but it’s hard to know where to take the conversation, how to make you laugh and smile (because fuck do you look pretty when you chuckle, when your chiming giggle hits his ears, and while Rintarou isn’t one to normally be easily flustered, there’s something about the pride that swirls in his chest when he makes you smile that has his cheeks flushing ever so slightly pink), how to flirt with you and make you flustered and sad to see him go.

He isn’t too confident in his abilities to woo you (despite Atsumu’s frequent and unsolicited advice and offers to teach him how), so he falls back on a different method of being in your presence, of spending time with you.

That is, it might not be as consensual or interactive as speaking with you, but stalking you gets the job done too, and that’s all he can really ask for.

Besides, there’s something to be said about getting to enjoy you in silence, of getting an unobstructed view into who you really are, when you think you’re alone and safe and having privacy in your own home.

You’re vulnerable like this, your true self as you slip into bed or cram for an upcoming project at work, and in a lot of ways Rintarou believes that this is a more valuable and real way of getting to know you, of getting to feed the insatiable desire in his heart to see you.

It’s more effective, in a lot of ways, if only because this way he spends prolonged periods of time observing, those narrow eyes fixated on your form as you hum and stretch after sitting a while at your desk, allowing the middle blocker to analyze the way your face scrunches up momentarily, how your shirt jumps up to expose a line of midriff above the hemline of your sweatpants, how you sigh and make a noise much too provocative for him to handle innocently.

(He’s gulping harshly, his fingers twitching and his knees feeling oddly weak as he relives memories of you way you gasp and cry out when you’re touching yourself, how your lips part into that pretty ‘o’ and your thighs twitch).

It’s more effective as he gets to watch the way you put together meals for yourself, leftovers from the night before and freezer-bake food items, quick and easy things that part of him wants to split with you (maybe, as you slice up the freshly oven-cooked frozen pizza, he could even feed a piece to you and tease you for having melted cheese on your cheek), while the other part wants to scold you for eating food that doesn’t benefit you much nutritionally.

He feels connected to you like this, like you’re really getting to spend time with one another, like you’re in your own little world and inviting him into your life, into you. It’s sweet, in a way, which is why Rintarou feels the need to document each little moment that has his heart clamoring in his chest, his throat feeling dry and his stomach fluttery.

His phone is always on standby, a huge portion of his camera roll devoted to videos and pictures of you living your life, doing domestic things that have him softly sighing and imagining the way you’d welcome him home after a long practice, how you’d get on your tip toes to press a peck against his lips, how you’d scrub the loofah along his chest when you shower together.

It’s sweet and whimsical, in a way, and while he’s careful to never have the flash on or make a noise, his collection of memories of you span to capture everything – you brushing your teeth, folding laundry, scribbling math equations, scrolling through your phone, using the restroom, sleeping and rolling over with a soft huff.

You’re just adorable, beautiful and wonderful and everything that Rintarou could hope for, and so while he doesn’t particularly like the fact that he doesn’t interact with you as much as he could, he’s satisfied – after all, watching you through your bedroom window is more intimate than talking about your day, right?

Listening to the way you talk to yourself as you work through the complicated work problems (thanks to the bugs he places in your room) is more personal than asking you if you’d like to come to his next volleyball game, right?

Rintarou thinks so, and with each new expression and reaction you make to the things around you (sometimes he’ll even fabricate a situation to examine your response to – nothing big, maybe leaving a small sign that he’d been in your room earlier, or leaving the door unlocked, or leaving the TV running), he learns more and more about you.

He’s good at reading people, and you’re his biggest challenge yet – and truly, he wants to know everything about you, to learn what makes you tick, what scares you, what makes you so happy you’re in tears.

You’re a mystery to him, but one he oh so desperately wants to solve – so try to ignore the feeling of those sharp eyes on you, yeah?

It’s just done out of love, so what is there to fear?

Selfless

Where your happiness is concerned, a lot of Rintarou’s more emotional tendencies come out. He lives to see you smile, as seeing you beam or giggle or stubbornly snort makes his heart practically beat out of his chest, the sound and sight addicting in a way he knows he’ll never be able to quit.

He’s normally not the most motivated, someone who puts in minimal effort unless he’s inspired, but his determination to get you smiling and happy is really quite something, really quite overwhelming –

Frankly, he’s desperate to be the cause of your happiness, to know that he’s the one who’s responsible for making your face light up, that he’s the one that turned your shit day into a decent, enjoyable one. It’s a boost to his ego, and it makes him feel a bit better about the whole stalking thing, the obsession thing, the way he’s latched onto you without any hope of ever letting go.

The knowledge makes him proud, has him feeling like a partner, like someone who can truly love you and care for you, but the thing that sets Rintarou apart is that he doesn’t particularly want you to know that he’s the one responsible, that the reason why you're doing so well in university or your job is all him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want the credit (because god, just the thought of you smiling up at him and hugging him, telling him you’re so thankful and happy for him and maybe even rewarding him with a kiss is enough to get his Adam’s apple sharply bobbing, his eyes darting around the room and his fist clenching), but the reason that he keeps his acts of service regarding you more on the down-low has to do with the way he doesn’t like to bring attention to himself.

Obviously, your attention and time and care are things he craves like a drug, but there’s still a certain amount of slight insecurity that washes through him as his thoughts overwhelm him, the possibility of you being creeped out by just how often and thoroughly he helps you out hitting him square in the chest.

The last thing he wants to do is alienate himself, to get you feeling uncomfortable around him, to make you scared of him, hence why he decides it’s better to stay in the dark than have your lovely warmth and radiance no longer be partially directed towards him.

And while the acts of service start small towards the beginnings of his obsession with you, with time they grow more elaborate and more invasive.

In the beginning, Rintarou is doing things out of the kindness of his heart; you’re looking a bit down, more stressed than normal? He’s quick to run to the store and buy your favorite snacks, making up some excuse to leave them on your desk before your classes or shift starts, so that once you walk in you’re met with a pleasant surprise and a short but sweet note from an anonymous sender.

(Writing the notes always feels so cliché, but Rintarou finds that once he sits down with the pen and paper, the words just keep coming – obviously he can only write so much without giving away the depth and extent of his infatuation, so the letters get stored in his desk while the more simple you look tired, try to sleep more and take some time for yourself get attached to the goodies).

In the beginning, it’s Rintarou still having a strange internal battle about whether or not he should be going out of his way to help you, but always finding himself unconsciously moving to make sure that your bag doesn’t touch the area of the school carpet with the mysterious stain, that your food doesn’t get accidentally contaminated by anyone else’s germs. He's moving to make sure that you’re still smiling and happy, because while you’re still beyond gorgeous with a frown etched into your features, it’s nothing compared to that flustered little smile, the bashful crinkle of your nose, the way your eyes flutter.

It’s simple in the beginning, and he swears it’s innocent – until suddenly, he’s finding himself slipping further and further into the odd, self-induced responsibility of making sure your life is as easy as possible. Instead of simply double checking that your laundry is done before you get home, he's doing basketfuls, bringing his very own laundry detergent - it smells like him, and while you don't seem to notice the change in scent yet, he's hoping some part of your subconscious will enjoy the smell and associate it with him. Maybe you'll even have little, embarrassing fantasies about him as a househusband - something that isn't entirely off the table, if he's being completely honest.

What starts as him leaving you little snacks (mostly comprised of chuupets of his favorite flavor, if only because it seems weirdly intimate to be sharing something like that with you) to keep you pleasantly surprised turns into him reluctantly and nonchalantly begging Osamu to teach him to cook, leaving you anonymous bentos with your favorite foods and cute little drawings that always make you smile and get embarrassed, your friends hovering and bombarding you with questions about your secret admirer.

(And of course, you always leave the box pristine, with the chopsticks neatly stacked on top at the corner of your desk for the owner to reclaim, and while Rintarou isn’t proud of the way he spends hours sucking on the used chopsticks, tongue sucking and sliding over the metal to taste every possible piece of you he can, he’s not disgusted enough with himself to stop.)

What starts as him simply trying to make you less stressed and your life easier slowly turns into him breaking into your home to complete your chores, to tidy up your room, to sift through your closet and replace your old, used panties with brand new pairs in colors and shades he thinks you’ll love and that he fantasizes about them so much that he has his own matching, identical pair who’s sole purpose is to absorb every drop of cum he wrings out just for you you you –

He becomes your lapdog, in a way, though you won’t know it – frankly, you’ll know something is going on, but why would you ever suspect snarky, introverted Rintarou?

Why would he ever go out of his way for you, do anything so time consuming for you?

You’ll push aside the nagging feeling, trying to play it off as you being overly aware, but once Rintarou has you locked into his basement, your favorite foods and items surrounding you like a strange sort of offering, his narrow yellow eyes lighting up at the mere opportunity to make you smile and thank him?

Well, it gets more difficult once you’re able to see just how pathetically desperate Rintarou is – but really, can he be blamed?

Can he be blamed for wanting to make you happy?

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Despite having adopted the ‘cool boy’ guise for as long as anyone can remember, Rintarou is very much not ‘cool’ when he’s placed into situations where you’re being chased by another man.

He absolutely detests the prospect of another man trying anything at all with you – he’s not horribly delusional, but he still thinks of you as solely his, just as he is solely yours.

And so, the moment that this notion is challenged, Rintarou is suddenly shutting down a bit, his heart racing in his chest and his veins feeling like they’re on fire because who the hell is trying to steal you away from him?

He’s got a bit of a possessive streak, and so he’s actually quite used to being jealous because of you.

He knows he’s not the most social or outgoing guy, and as a result you’ll often end up in conversations with people that aren’t him, no matter how badly he wishes it weren’t true.

It’s too scary sometimes to simply walk up to you and begin chatting, but for other men this doesn’t seem to be an issue – and so, often when Rintarou is jealous, it’s a combination of being both jealous of how you’re responding to this man’s flirtations, along with frustration at himself for not being man enough to just fucking talk to you.

He’s terrified you’ll find someone you like more – maybe he’ll be funnier, nicer, better at compliments, able to get you laughing in the blink of an eye. Maybe he’ll be bulkier, have a better fashion sense, have soft, curly hair instead of the somewhat wiry brown locks he’s always been stuck with.

Insecurities get the best of Rintarou when he’s faced someone challenging his spot in your life, and while you may never know, he’s absolutely enraged when he sees others interacting with you.

He isn’t the most bold yandere, and so while he rarely ever directly interferes, those golden eyes will be watching you constantly when you’ve captured another man’s attention.

He’s watching like a hawk, trying to read your every movement, expression and word, hoping and praying he’ll find some sign that you aren’t reciprocating the man’s attraction.

He’s still too nervous to actually confess the horribly strong feelings in his heart about you, and so he’ll try to work himself into finding flaws in the way you’re interacting with whoever is trying to steal your attention – you never laugh that hard at puns, so obviously you must be faking it.

You’re never this kind and pleasant towards people you actually like, so you must be sugar coating your words in an effort to remain strangers.

You wouldn’t be smiling apologetically and telling him you’ve got to get running if you actually wanted to stay and talk to him. He can see it all on your face, plain as day – and that’s part of why Rintarou loves you. You’re just so easy to read and analyze, and yet every day he finds new layers to you that he just falls more and more in love with.

You’re perfect, which is why it’s so much harder than he can handle to watch you interact with other men. It physically hurts, his chest aching and his muscles tensing to the point of cramping as he stares holes into the both of your bodies, watching and waiting with baited breath for you to get the fuck away, preferably into Rintarou’s arms.

And so, while he’s familiar with the jealousy that seeing you with other guys brings, he’s never, ever been good at dealing with it – something you’ll learn fairly quickly.

Rintarou’s eye twitches as he watches the way the stranger’s form slowly comes closer to the both of yours. It’s a train platform – he knows that, rationally, you’ll be standing next to strangers, men, people with intentions that could be nefarious towards a cute thing like you.

He’s not being paranoid by thinking that those standing around you aren’t good people – he’s just being realistic. He knows from experience with his own sister and female friends that men are horrible, invasive, creepy, violent, dangerous, and he doesn’t think it’s so bold of him to say that his concern for you is well-placed.

At least, his concern about your danger – his brows furrow a bit as the man beside you reaches into his pocket for something, and every muscle in Rintarou’s body tenses as he stiffens up against the wall of the platform he’s leaning against, some ten feet away.

His whole body is prepared, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice on the off chance the man pulls a knife or camera or something bad –

Your pretty voice cuts off any panicked thoughts racing through the brunette’s head, your words startling him. Is that a charm on your phone case? I love that character! Is he your favorite from the show?

Rintarou’s defenses relax slightly, but at the pleasantly shocked expression on the man’s face, he’s immediately tensing up again.

However, as the man responds with a modest affirmation, Rintarou finds himself tense for an entirely different reason – you’re smiling at this man, chatting with him of your own volition.

There’s a gold watch sitting on the man’s wrist, and with a downturning of the blocker’s lips, he notices that the man’s white dress shirt is perfectly pressed, his sleek navy dress pants following suit. His hair is neatly combed back, perfectly messy, and his features are attractive as he smiles down at you. Rintarou’s stomach turns, nausea settling in his gut.

Fuck.

His own boring brown sweatshirt and cream cargo pants look stupid in comparison to this man’s professional, clean appearance – and maybe you’d like that more?

Maybe you’re interested in men with real jobs, not just a sport.

Maybe you’re interested in men that attend business meetings, have clients, have framed degrees sitting on the walls of their offices. Rintarou bites his lip, his teeth threatening to break the skin as his fingernails dig into his palms.

Fuck.

It’s torture, watching as you converse with the man, the train taking forever to arrive – the conversation turns to other shows the both of you watch, and while Rintarou is pleased to learn you don’t have many others in common, it doesn’t stop the way his throat is drying up, his tongue feeling heavy.

He’s sweating underneath his clothes despite the cold air of the train platform, and with growing worry he watches the way the man takes a step closer to you, showing you some photo of a stupid animated character on his phone and god, Rintarou’s gonna be sick, how do you look like such a good physical match fuck fuck fuck –

He stands up stick straight as the man’s arm comes around to wrap lightly around your shoulder, the side smile he sends you as you look at his phone making Rintarou’s veins alight with fire because how fucking dare he?

He’s just touched you, without your invitation or permission, and it seems you’ve noticed this too – you immediately stiffen up and shuffle back, shaking off his arm and sending him a very obviously uncomfortable look.

The man falters slightly, the smile threatening to slip off his face, but at your curt I just realized I’m on the wrong train, it disappears entirely.

Internally, Rintarou debates his next course of action – you’re hurriedly speed-walking away, making a point to keep your head down and shuffling through the crowds of people that have gathered (distantly, he hears the chimes of the train arriving). Should he follow you, or should he sock that creep in the face?

The man touched you without your permission, made you obviously feel scared and uncomfortable, and that’s utterly unacceptable. Rintarou may be somewhat physically pacifistic, but he will not stand for anything attempting to infringe on your personal space.

You’re his girl, and he’ll let no one make you scared or make you cry – speaking of which, as you quickly pass by him, the brunette spots your eyes reddening, your sniffling alerting him that fuck, you’re about to cry.

His decision is immediately made, and as he follows you up the heavily packed flight of stairs, it’s all too easy to get around and ahead of you, making sure you don’t notice him as he uses his athletic abilities to wait at the top of the stairs.

It’s easy to pretend to bump into you, his hands steadying your shoulders as you squeak out an apology, your eyes widening as you recognize him. And as you utter the small R-rin, he feels his heart break.

You’re his, dammit, and he won’t let some well-dressed, sleazy business man treat you like some common whore – the coffee shop he takes you to has your favorite drink and he knows it, and as you sip on the warm beverage he bought for you, Rintarou feels his heart finally calm.

You don’t want that stranger – you want him, otherwise why would you let him be so familiar and caring towards you? Maybe you’re finally starting to love him, too.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

For Rintarou, he genuinely wants your relationship to be as close to normal as possible.

He wants the two of you to fall in love, date, get married, have a family and grow old with each other, and he knows that kidnapping isn’t exactly the most conventional method of doing this.

He’s more than aware that if he were to steal you away and forcefully relocate you by his side, you’d probably be less than pleased. You’d probably be afraid of him, hate him, want either him or yourself to be dead, and just the thought of that honestly breaks Rintarou’s heart.

He hates the prospect of you being displeased with him; he lives to please you, his every thought revolving around seeing you smile and hearing your pretty voice whisper that you love him, and if you were trapped under his roof, would you ever smile again?

Would you ever make (adorably) stupid jokes that get Rintarou’s eyes rolling and his heart pumping out of his chest?

Would you let him brush his hand against yours, fingers reaching out just slightly in the barest hint of attempting to interlock your fingers?

He knows the answer, of course: no, you wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t expect you to. He wants you to love him, not placate him by pretending to be in love.

Of course, he can’t deny that the idea of keeping you with him at all times, dependent and paying attention only to him is really quite appealing.

There’s something beautiful about the idea of you always being there when he needs you to be; your pretty face always available for him to reach out and cup, your cheeks in his hands as you stare up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted slightly as you whisper his name.

There’s something incredibly enticing about the prospect of bringing home takeout for the both of you (maybe he can even commission Osamu to give him a discount at Onigiri Miya – he’s not holding his breath), your eyes lighting up as you see the door open, quickly throwing your arms around his shoulders and peppering his face with kisses as you tell him thank you, this was exactly what I wanted!

There’s aspects about kidnapping you that are so, so wonderful, but it would take quite a bit for him to actually steal you away. As a result, he’ll push off the intense urge to just wrap you in his arms and keep you there forever for as long as he possibly can - that is, until something happens that pushes him to the limit.

Say, for example, you develop a liking for another man - given how Rintarou’s eyes are on you at almost every moment of the day, he’ll notice the way you start staring, leaving lingering glances at a certain someone, how your voice gets higher and you clean up your appearance when they walk by.

It hurts, and he can only take so much of you fawning over another man before he snaps - and so, he’ll be climbing into your room in the wee hours of the morning, pausing for a moment to stare down lovingly at your sleeping form, a heavy blush and gentle smile playing on his features while he caresses your hair.

He’ll cover your nose and mouth gently with the chloroform soaked rag, before he’s lifting you into his arms and leaving, marveling at how your body fits perfectly against his own. In that moment, he’s absolutely sure that it’s the right decision to steal you away - after all, the two of you are just so fucking perfect for one another.

Plus, if he acts correctly, you’re bound to fall for him – Stockholm Syndrome, even if it takes a while.

Right?

As a captor, Rintarou isn’t terrible - he’s still very quiet, but he’s attentive to your needs, almost so much so that it’ll scare you.

He always seems to know what you need or want before you do – almost like he can read your mind, which you’re almost convinced he can. Those narrow eyes will watch you as you bite your lip and contemplate, practically seeing the gears turning in your head as he simply stares from across the room.

He’ll be by your side with a glass of water before you even realize you’re thirsty, telling you to drink it all, you’ll get dehydrated if you don’t.

He’s giving you an extra hoodie before you even register that you’re cold, nimble fingers trembling slightly as they brush against the soft skin of your shoulders, brushing aside your hair so that the hood rests comfortably against your neck.

He knows you like the back of his hand, and it really shows once you’re under his control. And while it may be disorienting and creepy that he seems to know everything about you, even things you’re absolutely sure you’ve never told another soul, somewhere in the back of your mind you’ll slowly begin getting more fond of the middle blocker.

Slowly, you’ll start warming up to him, his monotone voice and blank looks growing on you the longer you’re trapped with him. Because really, while he kidnapped you, he’s not that bad – you could be dead and tied up in a ditch somewhere if it had been someone else to break into your home that night.

You could be gagged and tied to a post, your body violated and abused to the point of nearly dying if it wasn’t Rintarou that developed an obsession with you.

He could be much, much worse - he doesn’t lay a hand against you, and while he may force you to cuddle with him, eventually your hatred for him will lose against the overwhelming need for human contact and affection - something that he is more than willing to give you.

Honestly, you’ll be scared of the middle blocker and his vast knowledge on you, but the more you find yourself wrapped up in his arms and resting against his warm chest while he whispers sweet compliments and words of love in your ears, you’ll grow less and less scared and more and more happy to be with him.

Because when he’s promising you the world, telling you he’ll give you anything and everything you could ever want (besides your freedom, of course), you’ll never feel more desired, valued or cared for. You’ll discover a few weeks into your captivity that he desperately, desperately craves physical contact with you.

There’s a reason all his touches are light and gentle, his fingers almost afraid to touch you, and the first time you let him hold your hand or hug you you’ll understand why immediately – and how can you not?

How can you not realize the depth with which he's wanted to hold you when you feel the tear drip onto your shoulder from his cheek the first time he caresses you against his chest?

How can you not be aware that he’s wanted to horribly to kiss you when he lets out the most wanton, pathetic moan you’ve ever heard the first time you place a kiss against his cheek?

And although it’s fucked up, you’ll come to enjoy the way Rintarou is so dependent on you, the way he’s so clearly gone out of his way to make sure that you stay with him, and you’ll grow to be just as in love as he is - Stockholm Syndrome will set in, and really Rintarou couldn’t be happier.

Because when you’re telling him you love him back, cuddling him with your own free will, kissing him and running your hands over his body, he thinks that there’s nothing in the world better than this. Even if he did have to unfortunately kidnap you, it was all worth it; because now, the two of you can live out the future he’d always hoped you’d have.

PUNISHMENTS:

Similarly to his reluctance to kidnap you, Rintarou absolutely does not want to punish you in any way, shape, or form.

The possibility of hurting you makes him physically ill, whether it be emotionally, mentally, or physically. He can’t rationalize the idea of hurting you simply to prove a point to you – he’d be a monster to do that, right?

He’s already gone too far by kidnapping you, so he’s extremely reluctant to undergo any sort of discipline towards you. Frankly, the punishment would hurt him more than it would hurt you – he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror for days, instead only seeing flashes behind his eyelids of the way you’d cry and beg him to stop, your broken sobs and pleas haunting his nightmares.

He doesn’t think he’d be able to physically do it, anyways – he’d have to quit halfway through, his nose tingling as tears threaten to slip down his cheeks while he sprints out of the room. He’d have to compose himself, to put on a mask and pretend to be someone he’s not; he’d have to pretend to be someone who enjoys seeing you in pain, who likes to see you upset and sad, as if he doesn’t live for you laughter, smiles and loving touches.

The whole concept is just too much for him – however, that isn’t to say that Rintarou is entirely lenient. He’s forgiving as far as captors go; it takes quite a bit to upset him, and while he’s always silently disappointed when you refuse to hug him or acknowledge his presence and words, he’s not driven to the point of abusing you.

He’ll just stare at you with that same impassive gaze he always seems to have, though if you look closely you’ll see the way his brows are tilted upwards in the middle, his lips parted slightly, devastation plain as day in those calculating eyes.

He doesn’t get mad at you when you lash out at him – he doesn’t enjoy when you hit him, swinging your arms wildly as you cry and plea with him to let you go, but he’ll just let you smack him, maybe dodging a few swings before ultimately deciding he deserves this, you should be punishing him for his wrongdoings.

He doesn’t even get mad when you try to escape – he understands why, even if it hurts him. He’s always plagued by doubts when you attempt these escapes, though; wondering what he can do to make you happier, if he can make you happier. He’s wondering how to get your old personality back, because this new somewhat shell of yourself isn’t the woman he fell in love with and he’s scared that if he doesn’t get you back now, you may be gone forever because of him.

He doesn’t even get mad when you lash out and tell him that you hate him, that he’s despicable and a terrible person! I wish I’d never met you, I wish I’d met a normal man who wasn’t a pervert psychopath!

Your insults hurt, of course, but Rintarou has tough (ish) skin when it comes to you – he’ll maintain his composure, trying to not let his voice waver as he insists you eat the food, please, you need to.

It hurts so fucking bad, but he can take it – however, the one thing he can’t take is when you say you don’t need him.

It’s his selfless tendencies, really, that make this very specific attack so hurtful and dangerous for him. It’s the months and months of trying to make your life easier by doing your daily tasks for you that make him snap, his jaw clenching so tightly you can see it, his hands shaking as rage rolls through him. It’s the only situation in which he’ll genuinely feel enraged at you – how dare you?

He’s spent countless thousands of hours trying to help make you happy and save you work, and this is how you repay him? Ungrateful, even if you didn’t ask for his help.

Even if you didn’t want it. It strikes a chord within him, and as you whisper the words while you shrink away from him at the dinner table, Rintarou drops his utensils against the ceramic, making a noise much too loud in his silent condo.

He’ll stare at you, a thousands emotions flitting through his eyes, and for a moment you feel genuine, unbridled fear – he’s never looked at you so shocked, with so much visible emotion on his face.

He’s never uttered out the words he speaks in that moment – get up. You’re coming with me.

You’ll be scared, shaking your head and trying to backtrack from what you said because there’s something about this new side of Rintarou that’s making your heart race, that’s making goosebumps appear on the back of your neck and down your spine.

Rintarou feels a flash of guilt at the way you’re cowering away from him, your pretty face all twisted up and fear and confusion, but your words keep ringing through his head.

I don’t need you. I don’t need you. I don’t need you.

It drives his legs to move, his arms reaching out and lifting you up, despite your pleas and attempts to wiggle out of his grasp. He’s always been strong, and no matter your weight he's carrying you down the stairs, listening with a heavy heart as you start to cry, shaking in his hold as you slowly give up on fighting.

He carefully sets you down on the sofa in the basement, the small space only furnished with said sofa, a chair, a TV (that has been locked with a password only Rintarou knows), and a bathroom with a sink that only ever spouts cold water.

With a heavy sigh, Rintarou looks at your quivering form and reaches above you to grab the stringy blanket he keeps draped over the couch, noticing your confusion as you watch.

This hurts to do, really – he’s already feeling the guilt as he moves towards the door separating the basement from the stairway up to the rest of the condo, a frown on his face and his eyes softening. You do need me, he says softly, almost hesitantly, before closing the door, seeing your panicked face staring at him from the couch.

The thermostat is right outside the doorway, and with a heavy heart he’s turning the settings down, applying the air conditioning at such an extreme level that he’s worried for a moment you’ll freeze to death.

He hadn’t wanted to do this, truly – keeping the basement freezing cold while stripping you away from any source of warmth hadn’t been his most pleasant idea, but it was the most useful.

You need to understand that you need him – he’s taking care of you, and he's been taking care of you for much longer than you know.

You need to understand that you must rely on him – he’s your protector, and while he’d never enjoy hurting you, as he continues to turn the settings down until the sliver of cold air from underneath the doorframe touches his toes, his resolve slowly weakens.

He can hear you crying now – it’s been a good fifteen minutes, surely long enough for you to notice the dropping temperature, and he can hear your pleas of his name to let you out.

You must be cold – you’d been wearing only his t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts, hardly the clothing for nearing freezing temperatures.

He stands outside the doorway for the whole thirty minutes he leaves you in there, a silent tear trail running down his cheeks, his heart aching as he forces himself to wait just one more minute, so that you can understand that he’s serious.

He needs you to realize he’s not joking; you do need him, and as he exhales sharply and raises the heat up, swinging open the door, he nearly gasps at the cold temperature of the room.

He’s quick to dart in and find you, who’d moved to try and wrap yourself with the couch cushions, only to find their flimsy, cheap quality did next to nothing to insulate you.

You’re shaking, your jaw clattering as your eyes slowly move to his, and for a horrible, horrible moment Rintarou wonders if you’re going to die – you look frozen, as if hypothermia had already claimed your life. But then you shakily, hoarsely whisper out his name.

He lets out a near-sob of relief and scoops you into his arms, the guilt weighing even more heavily on his heart because he did this to you. He’s sprinting up the stairs with you, wrapping you up in the mountain of blankets and pillows he’d prepared, wiping away the nearly frozen tears on your cheeks as he coos your name.

You snuggle further into him, desperately seeking his warmth, and as the both of you lay on his bed, Rintarou can only pull you closer to his chest, letting his tears flow freely now, his lips moving as well.

Please, please don’t ever say that again, please understand that you need me and I need you. Please. Tell me you understand me.

And when you shakily whisper out that you do, you’ll find that you actually mean it – because if he’d left you in there longer, maybe you would’ve died.

He’d never let you actually pass, but still – maybe it’s best to just listen to what he says, yeah?

And as you slip into a dreamless slumber, you find yourself settling into his embrace, deciding that yes, you’re nothing without him.

OVERALL DANGER:

4/10

In general, Rintarou is much more of a hovering love struck fool rather than a genuinely dangerous man.

Of course, he’s constantly watching you, following you home and observing your every move, but he honestly has no ill intent.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, to play with you or cause you any kind of negative emotion; you mean the absolute world to the middle blocker, and he’s waited all these years for the one to show up. And now that you have, he’ll do everything in his power to keep you with him, to keep you loving and happy and dependent on him.

He wants the two of you to have a flawless relationship, and although it’s obviously not the case considering the fact that he knows the location of each and every mole on your body before he’s even held your hand, he wants to get it as close to the real deal as possible.

He wants you to love him and want him, and while his methods aren’t ideal, Rintarou is determined.

He’s your silent shadow, doing you favors without expecting anything in return and keeping track of your whereabouts. He’s making sure you get home safe everyday without a hair touched on your pretty head, those narrow eyes watching you and everyone around you’s every move.

And at some point, his soft touches and thoughtful gestures will get to you - after all, wouldn’t it just be so much easier to give in? To give him the love and life that he wants?

You’ll convince yourself that he isn’t that bad, that he’s just blinded by love and his desire for you. And although it’s wrong, you’ll grow flattered by his devotion, and you’ll come to love him as well - and really, Rintarou couldn’t be happier.

You’re his dream, and he’ll never give up on you.

[bunchacrunchcake]

I got off the internet, mostly, and it's been great. Here are some reasons.

Social media companies keep you on their sites by showing addictive content. They sometimes trigger fight or flight. They often trigger social anxiety. They are literally modeled after slot machines (low risk, variable reward) You will constantly crave dopamine, never get enough, feel awful, and never know why.

Staring at the ceiling or reading a book isn't hard anymore. It took about a month, but... if I can't figure out something to do for this very second, I just kind of look around until I figure something out. Sometimes it's boring, that's okay. Being bored just isn't the psychic torture it used to be. It's pretty mundane.

I do all my chores. I used to have to block time out to do this or that. Then force myself to stop what I was doing (which was often using multiple apps and websites as well as watching a movie or playing a game,) to go do something incredibly boring. I don't have to combat that level of inertia anymore. If I'm microwaving or cooking something, I just do a few dishes here or there, or do some sweeping for a couple minutes. It all adds up and my house is cleaner and more organized. What I used to do while my food was cooking was scroll through reels until I could break away to keep cooking.

I consume less, but retain more information. Let's be honest, you've gone by probably 100 posts today. What was the last one about? Okay, what about 10 posts ago? I can read half a book in a day if I want to (don't always want to,) because I can just sit down and read. I'm not constantly fighting the urge to go do something more interesting. And I can make up my mind about whether I like it or not, the plot, character development, etc. My attention span is long enough to read 100 pages in the afternoon, go make tea, and mush it all around in my head while the kettle is boiling. I also don't waste my time watching or reading things I don't like. I used to look at youtube and be like "I have to watch something, what am I going to watch?" Now I go, "Is there anything interesting in my feed?" The question is different, and I've learned that often there is not. I used to watch and watch and watch just to fill time. Now that I don't have to, so much less of it is actually interesting. Reels and TikTok are actually painfully boring. They're huge huge dopamine hits, but about 1 in 50 are actually interesting and even less of them really add much to my life. I used to binge watch them for hours.

I worry less about what other people think. Top comments are always someone arguing. Comment replies on reddit and almost every other platform are arguing. If they're not picking apart a thought you casually came up with on an evening off, they're actively throwing hate at you. You might get adoration too. But none of it is really constructive. It doesn't really help you develop your thoughts or grow as a person. Plus, not everyone is going to like what you do or who you are. Part of growth is not trying to avoid negativity, but understanding where it comes from and whether you think it's a legitimate thing to work on or not. Social media just hurls unconstructive negativity at you 24/7. The amount of times I think about whether someone else would like what I'm doing in the current moment is dialed down from a 10/10 to a 1 or 2. Yes it's okay that you were a jerk to the cashier because you were having a bad day. It's not a good thing. Please learn from it and try to figure out how to not do it in the future, but you're not irredeemable. The internet tends to throw the baby out with the bathwater as far as personalities and people go. It's hard to walk around in life trying to be morally perfect when everyone's opinion of what that is is so drastically different.

In short, I am patient, I don't second guess myself, and I'm happy. It didn't happen immediately and it might not to you, but it was my experience and I am not sure I will be a regular social media user any time soon.

[maurenislife]

i hate tiktokers and mf lifestyle youtubers

now before i say anything im not hating

im not even really hating on what you think cause i dont wanna be or have a desire to be known for anything cause thats not even my mode or my goal in life and i dont idolize anything cause im not a sad 16 year old who yearns for a image that i liked and bookmarked on the internet ANYWHO ...

everybody thinks your a instant hater cause ur just jealous...... umm newsflash u fucking junkie whore, whats not meant for me isnt mine to have and whats not done for me i can do myself it takes nothing to get a few coins and prance around in a marble counter cosplay

trust.

Moving foward this whole brigade of wannabe lifestyle whores

they all immolating and channeling which i think is quite impressive down to the candance and lingo etc. its impressive :) all the copy and pasting they do is quite impressive to see, and ill sit with a popcorn bucket and vape to laugh at it all cause its a waste of time.

a long time ago i stopped being jealous of certain lifestyles and things cause once u can attain them or find a way, or figure out how the sausage is made its not that hard and that isnt impressive or even likeable in any sense

people are immulating at a high frequency and the universe can sense imposters and non believers who do not live in. their truth and go cower in fear and just simply conform one thing they will never know if nobody can smell it the universe can sense it even if nobody can see, universe sees, it feels, it calls out, it grasps you

Everybody wants to potray and cosplay a shitty portray aina but what u dont know is lets say even if u make it big, get the sponsorships, the trips reap the benefits of u raping your own life with cameras and tripods what is it all for? fuck money, fuck the gift. fuck the family feeding for just 45 seconds what are you gaining in spirit?

like what in your femmine spirit and the many who have died along the way for you to get here are you proud the answer might still be yes just to stick it to me or it might be genuinely yes cause you in turn think you are very much a success i mean thats what you have been showed and by scoreboard standards band 4 band u beat a bitch >

you didn't though lame you didn't, the inner work didn't completed and i honestly dont give a fuck if a bitch got a isn't for me of why i dont know her and im not in her household,

bitch with your content I AM IN YOUR HOUSE, I AM IN UR BRAIN, your constantly gagging up information every-time u take a bite into a stupid food u bought cause of your audience and everytime u gag up information when you say spend the day with me

we see inside your frame even if its all a act what does that inherently say about you???

You give us yourself and think we got no right to comment

okay enough of jealous prefacing and putting the condom on for yall

Wannabes

These women grew up being ridiculed or extremely loved theres no inbetween because both have the ultimate libido and desire to be seen and heard and viewed in a certain light to get illicit reactions out of other people... its odd ngl

i look at my tiktoks and its all been jokes i crack on me or stuff me and my friends did drunk and just goofing im not saying everybody gotta take that route i do appreciate lifestyle influncers who serve the purpose of showing us the viewer and cost breakdown of spas or vacations or maybe even a resturaunt or things i might wanna go do

like who am i to get mad at them for the sake of curiosity and further knowlege on a place i intend to visit i never been like dope case closed type shit

But if you a wannabe ..........................................................

its a waste of time and energy and your soul and we see it bleeding out for a "look at me mommy" like its sad.....

you can tell the want the mommy to compliment their outfit and the sister to ask where did you learn to do your makeup? and the auntie to ask where can i get that slice of pizza

they want the overall appeal of who is gonna ask me

who is gonna notice me and with each clip you see apart of them kinda just yelling out to the universe not only notice me but award me for being noticed and nobody is gonna do that not even 1 million viewers can set you free,

COPIER

you know the one philposhy thingy of the barnyard picture and like idk ill have to look this up but basically to break it down simply

theres a pic of a farmhouse and soon it gains popularity every mf wants to go and soon its like a disney w a giftshop its copied and copied till it loses its meaning idk look that shit up its a real philosphy and its deeper than what im saying but i ont got time for allat yo

bitches copy till they mf face turn blue and they want it to have the same effect the 1st one did

but the reality remains your immulation ends there

your cleaning the same marble counter like everybody else

taking the same pic on that goddamn boat like everbody else

wearing the same oufit bookmarked and tagged on pintrest like everybody else

its a waste..... why do we need 567,000 copies of the same bitch doing the same shit its lost its meaning besides "you did it"

like ................... no

and i dont wanna be different either and throw my hand in and see who can do it better cause why its so dumb

live ur life like ??? u gone spend ur 20s and 30s chasing after whats not yours ............... no thx

[grahamstoney]

What To Do When You Don't Know What To Do

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/life-coaching/what-when-you-dont-know-what

What To Do When You Don't Know What To Do

Not sure what to do with your life? Or do you have a grand vision for your future but don’t know where to start? Stressed out because the way forward isn’t always clear?

Confused?… Me too!

Yeah well some days I wake up with no clue what to do either. These tips haven’t worked a damn for me, but I’m sure you’ll find them helpful:

Move Your Body

That brilliant mind of yours doesn’t exist in isolation you know. It’s connected to your body via a network of 100 billion neurons, so if you need some mental stimulation there’s no easier way to get it than getting that body moving. Go for a walk, ride your bike, lift some weights or go to the gym. Get some endorphins flowing through your system and you never know what ideas might pop into your head.

Do Some Brainstorming

Sit down and start brainstorming random ideas: make a list of a thousand things you wouldn’t do in a million years. Whatever comes into your head. Don’t judge them, just write them down stream-of-consciousness style. Just let it flow:

Learn sign language

Visit a nudist resort

Quit my job

Learn to play guitar

Become a comedian

etc, etc

You may not come up with any sensible ideas, and even if you do you’ll have so many options to choose from that you won’t know where to start and will be more confused than ever. But at least you’ll have filled in the day doing something.

Phone A Friend

Try calling one of your no-good down-and-out friends who hasn’t a clue what he’s doing with his life either. You won’t get any good ideas from him obviously, but at least you’ll have someone empathic to listen to your whining about how shit your life is because you can’t decide what to do with it. Then try phoning Oxfam and donating some of your spare cash to help someone who’d swap their life for yours in a heartbeat, you lousy ungrateful SOB.

Try Something You Loved As A Kid

Childhood hobbies can be a rich source of adult inspiration. Have a go at riding your bicycle, pulling girls hair, or looking at your friend’s dad’s collection of naked girly pictures. Come to think of it, there’s more than enough porn out there on the Internet to keep you busy all day, every day; and since the Internet wasn’t invented when you were a kid you’ve got a lot of catching up to do before you reach the level of today’s average teenager.

Make Something

Get your creative juices going and try making something. Build something out of wood, metal or electrons. Start a blog. Or a porn site: Get some repressed ex-Catholic girls with low self-esteem and a video camera, you’ll hit the big time in no time. Why waste time and money funding criminals when you can shoot your own?

The Washing

One reliable constant in life is that there’s always washing to do, so if you’re just not sure what to do this is as good a start as any. And if by some freak of nature you don’t seem to have any washing to do, there’s plenty around at my place that you can come and help out with.

Meditate

Try doing a stillness meditation: just sit completely still in a chair doing nothing for 15 minutes. Don’t focus on your breath or watch your thoughts fly by like clouds or anything; just do absolutely nothing. If this doesn’t drive your restless ass insane and prompt you to take action, I don’t know what will.

Give Someone Else Advice

So what if you can’t seem to make your own life work: try helping someone else. Become a Life Coach. Write articles on your blog giving unsolicited advice to all and sundry. Make shit up. It doesn’t matter if you’re completely unqualified in the field. Just do it, they’re not going to know the difference.

Lie In Bed Worrying About It

My favourite! If you really can’t decide what to do today, you could try just lying in bed all day worrying about it. This way you’ll avoid taking any action at all, meaning you’re in exactly the same position tomorrow and get to do it all over again.

[thefanficmonster]

if it's okay and won't trigger you could i get an emetophobia comfort fic with joel/roomie? going thru it rn. just had a panic attack :(

Oh I'm so sorry to hear that darling. Emetophobia is an intense phobia from what I've heard and what my research showed me and I'm really sorry you have to deal with that. I wrote a little drabble I hope will help comfort you (if there are any inaccuracies, I'm really sorry, I navigated the writing by what the internet told me when I looked up the term, feel free to correct any shortcomings in the comments)

Enjoy 💕

Pairing: Roomie (Joel) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Emetophobia, Vague mentions/allusions to throwing up, sickness, illness, the flu etc. Panic attacks

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

The previous two weeks have been super freaking stressful as is, the last thing you needed was this.

Even as a kid you'd noticed how you'd become physically repulsed by anxiety inducing or tense situations and with the amount of stress you've been under this entire month almost, your stomach's been tied in a countless amount of knots that have become very sensitive to specific foods. You learned that the hard way when you ate leftovers from two nights ago after dragging yourself home from another endless shift. Typically, you'd be able to stomach them down with no issues considering the food was neither spoiled nor had gone bad in any way. Why it'd triggered such a bad response from your system is a guessing game but one thing's for certain - you've been in shambles since you woke up.

The twisting and turning in your guts had you on edge the moment you got out of bed. You tried breathing exercises, chewing gum, taking in some fresh air, anything and everything you could do to suppress the restlessness in your belly from climbing up your throat.

But it didn't work.

That's why when your boyfriend Joel came by your apartment like he'd typically do on the weekends, he was rightfully concerned and downright terrified to find you sat on the bathroom floor by the toilet bowl with your back against the tub. Your face was hidden in your hands as small sobs wracked your chest, your entire body trembling. You couldn't stand it. The sensation, sight and smell of it and the burning pain it left in your throat. It triggered a series of panic attacks from you every time your guts tightened with another wave of repulsion.

Of course, Joel dropped everything and immediately ran to you, removing your hands from your face to be able to peer into your eyes as he questioned you on what had happened. He got no answer until you slowly grasped control over your lungs and their function. Although your answer was chopped up by small sobs and sniffles, he understood exactly what you meant and wasted no time helping you up so you could sit on the rim of the tub, moving your hair out of your face before rushing to grab you a bottle of water. While you rehydrated yourself, he took action in decontaminating the bathroom so there wouldn't be any remnants of your phobia in sight - he flushed the toilet several time and sprayed an extra dose of air freshener around. With that being done, he took a pack of wet wipes from your cabinet and proceeded to help you get cleaned up, all the while whispering reassuring little words and phrases which managed to get a smile on your face.

Seeing you slowly returning to your element sent a wave of relief washing over Joel whose heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, "There you are, you're ok. I won't let it be any other way."

And he stayed true to that, lifting you in his arms and carrying you to the living room couch where he tucked you in with a warm blanket and that water bottle handy before running out to the pharmacy down the street to grab some medicine in case your stomach decided to start disagreeing with you again. Upon returning, he found you asleep and felt himself finally at peace as well, only then realizing how heightened his own pulse had been.

With his best efforts not to wake you, he slid under the blanket beside you, securing you in his embrace, letting you know, even in your slumbery state, that you have him by your side. Always.

[t-lostinworlds]

Truth or Drink (Tom Holland)

[YouTube AU: Video 2]

a/n: this took a while asdfghjkl this was in my drafts since oct. at 7k already (but got distracted with other WIPs as always) and was suggested by this anon back in aug. so i’m sorry this took a so long hun. also, the gif took a fucking while too ‘cause we are extra in this house haha (i mean, i wanted the time in the vid to match the wc so ha). anyway, enough babbling and let’s get into the video! lol, i hope you guys enjoy this one!

summary: You and Tom do a couples Q&A where you spilled steamy secrets with the help from alcohol. pairing: tom holland x fem!reader warnings: dialogue bonanza (lots of laughing and asking), alcohol consumption, secret spilling (from both parties), teasing from everyone (will include dirty jokes from the lads), mentions of smut & risque aka sex-themed questions. word count: 14.2k+ (aha enjoy!)

☰ youtube channel | previous video << ǁ >> next video ☰ masterlist on bio & pinned post

⚠ DISCLAIMER: this is a multi-part (not a series) which is basically one-shots happening in the same universe meaning you don’t need to read the previous one to understand this one since they are not heavily connected plot wise. although each fic does happen chronologically, you don’t need to read them in order much like how you don’t need to watch youtube videos in order.

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You knew something was about to happen the moment you walked into the dining area, the way Tom immediately went to latch onto you like a koala bear—as if he hasn't seen you just minutes before—tells all.

"What are you up to now?" you asked with a playful scrunch of your nose.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, the fabric of his pink hoodie—while you wore his other pink hoodie, outfits not at all planned since you just took the first thing you saw in his closet—soft to the touch as you took a glance at the camera that was set up at the head of the dining table. The greenery of the outside world behind the glass doors served as a backdrop to the shot.

The crease between your brows deepened at the sight, gaze landing back on the boy attached to your hip who was hugging you sideways with a certain glow in his eyes.

"I'm not up to anything," Tom denied, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck to litter the skin with sweet and soft kisses. Although the gesture made your heart melt, it also made your suspicion grow. You just know there was more to this than meets the eye.

Strong arms staying around your torso, Tom pulled away slightly so he could meet your gaze again, a certain smile growing on his lips, one you know too well. It was the usual smile he wears whenever he wants something from you, a favor perhaps. An all too powerful grin that had you made him get away with things—mostly stupid ones—easily that you aren't exactly proud to admit.

"Tom," you warned with a raise of a brow, enough seriousness and command in your tone that he was quick to give in.

"Okay, okay, we're shooting the next video," he chuckled, tracing your jaw with the tip of his nose before giving it a soft peck. "Which I am hoping you'll do with me still," he murmured, placing another kiss on your cheek before pulling away to look at you fully as he flashed you a not-so-innocent smile.

Bingo.

Tom just doesn't suddenly become so clingy—well, he normally is but more than usual anyway—especially out of nowhere without it having an underlying reason.

You narrowed your eyes at him skeptically. You stayed silent as you weighed your odds, if the enjoyment of making the video was worth it for you to endure the obvious embarrassment that would come with it. You do love this YouTube thing he's got going on, you truly do enjoy being a part of it. But with the things he's spilled in the last video, you just want to make sure that this time won't be too much, though you highly doubt it.

It was hilarious how his bottom lip started to go at your reaction, eyes turning rounder, cuter that would give Puss in Boots a run for his money. And just as you counted in your head, three, two, one—

"Please, darling? Do it with me?" Tom cooed, placing his head on your shoulder as he gave your waist a loving squeeze, fluttering his eyelashes at you in the most adorable of ways with that cute pout to match. It was his signature look whenever he wanted something, the look of handsome and adorable persuasion. "I'll keep the secret-spilling at a minimum, love. And besides, we can always edit it out."

You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head at the fact that you're saying yes either way. You can never say no whenever he puts on that very persuasive face of his, can never resist him even if you tried. And of course, Tom knows this power he has over you, and he's mastered a way on how and when to use it to his advantage.

You aren't exactly proud to say that he has never failed once, his tactic very effective and that's putting it lightly. It's sneaky and annoying sometimes but it's still cute nonetheless.

Though, never did he once abuse this weakness of yours, only using it with the little things—like letting him sneak in some snacks on set when he was instructed not to or when he wants to do certain stuff—because when it's something serious and you say 'no,' then he's quick to listen and settle when you've made your final decision. He knows you only have the best intentions when it comes to his safety and just him in general, so there's really no doubt on Tom's behalf when it comes to following you on that.

"Why me? Why not give the other boys a chance to be in the spotlight?" you proposed, not giving him the satisfaction of winning just yet.

Tom shrugged with a wide smile. "The fans love you," he hummed.

The reception of the last video was mostly positive. Maybe it was the fact that you've been with Tom for a couple years already.

Your relationship was private of course, but it wasn't a secret. It was relatively the both of you showing glimpses of it every now and then online. So, compared to when the news first broke out, this time was a bit calmer. There are still trolls and haters—they're always going to be there unfortunately—but you've learned to shut them out, turning your focus more on the ones who are very positive and supportive. They should be the only ones who should be given attention to, no point wasting your energy on random keyboard warriors.

"You mean they love it when I make fun of you?" you said, laughter escaping your lips soon after when Tom buried his face back on the crook of your neck as he groaned in dismay.

Let's just say his fans quite enjoyed how you handled him in the last video, the teasing, the banter, the whole lot. Tom hasn't been able to escape the countless clips that are circulating the good old internet. No matter which platform he uses, a clip or meme is always there to haunt him. Most of them vary from him screaming and wriggling in pain; laughing like a hyena while also wriggling in pain; the random facial expressions he's made; and even sometimes, a snapshot of you looking at him in great disappointment and/or embarrassment. That's just some among the plethora of other memes.

Tom had seen it coming of course, but it doesn't mean it's any less embarrassing, especially with how clueless he seemed when it came to women.

"Unfortunately, that too," he grumbled.

"Okay then, might as well give them more content," you teased, Tom pulling away again to gawk at you with a look of feign betrayal crossing his features. You could only laugh at that, giving his jutted out lip a kiss to replace it with one of his many sweet smiles. Despite you saying it in a joking manner, he can't really deny that that would happen either way. After all, no matter what he does, he will always be a walking meme.

Tom finally lets you go after one more peck on the cheek, guiding you towards the seat by the other end of the table soon after. He helped you in like the gentleman that he is, a kiss landing on top of your head once you were seated before he made his way towards his place.

"What are we doing this time?" you asked when Tom sat down on the chair across from you.

And as if on cue, Harry walked into the dining area with two bottles of gin on hand, Harrison following suit with a bowl of half-sliced limes along with Tuwaine with a bucket of ice and two Collins glasses.

"Truth or drink," Harry said with a wide grin, lifting the bottles of Aviation gin to further prove his point.

"You guys chose me to do this with him because I'm a lightweight, which means I'm more likely to talk, didn't you?" you said, narrowing your eyes at each of them as they placed their respective items right in front of you in the middle of the table.

All three boys gasped exaggeratedly at your accusation, shaking their heads as they made their way behind the camera, chorusing a bunched of:

"Oh no, of course not."

"That was not the plan."

"We would never."

You could only roll your eyes at them, playfully of course, turning back to Tom who was quick to throw his hands up in surrender once he took in your expression of pure suspicion.

"I swear, I just want to do this with you, plain and simple," he confessed, though his follow up sentence made you think that it wasn't as plain and simple. "But you are very funny when you have alcohol in your system."

"Does that mean I'm not when sober?" You raised your brow at the man across you, sitting straight up as you clasp your hands together, resting it on the table to seem serious.

Tom shook his head frantically. "No! You're still very funny sober!" he rushed. "Love, you know what I meant," he added with a whine, head dropping low once you let out a laugh, only lifting it back up to shoot you another pout. He can be quite gullible sometimes and you honestly love it, love teasing him about.

"Besides, it's a couples Q&A and the only couple here are you two so there aren't really any options. The only difference is that it has alcohol to spice things up a little," Harry said, now in his place behind the camera just like before.

"With equally spicy questions," Harrison added with a wriggle of his brows, coming back up on the head of the table to place a stack of white cards to which you assumed was where the questions were written.

"You guys wrote the questions didn't you? Okay, this is a set up," you joked.

"They're harmless questions I swear!" Harrison defended with a laugh before returning back to his place by the camera. Though knowing them for as long as you have, you've learned to never trust those words fully. It was highly expected that the questions aren't going to be simple, let alone safe for work.

"But if you're not comfortable doing it, it's totally fine, darling," Tom said, smiling sweetly as he grabbed your hands across the table and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He knows you have never been an avid drinker. As you've said, you are lightweight. So, if ever you wanted to back out, he's just making sure you know that you have the option to.

"No, I'm fine with it. This will be fun," you said, flashing him a true, reassuring smile of your own, squeezing his hand in return for good measure. "But can I at least have some juice or something? I'm not drinking gin straight," you added.

"Figured you'd say that," Tom said with a wide grin, rushing up from his seat and disappearing into the kitchen. He came back not long after with a bottle of orange juice on one hand all while holding a spoon and paring knife on the other. "Rollin' down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice," he sang the good old Snoop Dogg classic no matter how corny, placing the bottle juice right beside the gin on the head of the table.

You narrowed your eyes at your man. "You seem prepared Tom."

"Nope, I just know you too well," he hummed, giving you a sweet peck on the forehead before he was back on his seat across you.

"Right, let's give the people what they want," you said, rubbing your hands together with a wide smile.

It was Tom's turn to look at you skeptically. "Why do I have a feeling that we'll just take turns in exposing each other?"

You tilted your head at him with a grin, shrugging your shoulders and said,

"How bad can it be?"

***

"And we are rolling."

"What's up guys! Tom Holland here," he introduced with a loud clap. "I'm back with another video joined by none other than the gorgeous Y/N." You waved at the camera with a sweet smile at the mention of your name. "The rest of the gang are behind the camera as per usual," Tom added, the lads cheering at their cue unenthusiastically and totally not in sync, chuckles and giggles following soon after.

"You can feel the excitement in the room," Tom said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "Anyhow, since lovely Ryan Reynolds sent me a case of gin just recently, I thought; why not put it to good use?" Tom shot the camera a knowing look. "Hashtag not sponsored but should be!" he yelled, making you jump slightly at the sudden loud sound.

"Do you have to be so loud?" you grumbled, playfully covering your ears in the process.

"Oh, sorry love," Tom chuckled, shooting you a sweet smile before turning back to the camera, finger pointed at it as he said, "But Ryan, my DMs are always open."

"Always looking for someone to replace me," you sighed, shaking your head dejectedly as you turned to the camera with a deep frown.

"Ah, here we go," Tom groaned, shooting you a playful glare because he knows that the teasing would only get more and more prominent from here on out.

"What? You and I both know I've got a lot of competition," you said as a matter of fact, leaning back on your seat with arms crossed over your chest. "Mainly Jake G. and Harrison, with a couple of variations here and there but you get what I mean."

Tom shook his head at you with a teasing roll of his eyes. "Once again, my girlfriend everyone," he said to the lens with a tight lip smile before turning back to you with a deadpan expression. You only shrugged in response, flashing him an innocent smile.

"Anyway, a fan suggested this in the comments of the last video so today, we're going to be doing Truth or Drink," he continued, turning back to face the camera. "Rules are simple, we take turns on reading out the questions that are written on these cards right here"—Tom lifted the stack of white, rectangular cards before placing them back on the table—"and we either answer them truthfully or we take a drink."

"Oh and a little disclaimer," you paused as you looked at the camera. "The lads wrote the questions so we have no idea what's in the cards nor did we have any involvement in the choosing of certain topics which are possibly going to be discussed in this video," you added, feeling like it was a fact that needed to be said.

"Parental guidance is advised," Tom chuckled.

"They're not that bad you divs," Harrison grumbled.

Now you're certain on who wrote most of the questions, he's been keen on taking offense whenever anyone gets suspicious over them. "We'll be the judge of that," you stated, raising a brow at Harrison before turning back to Tom.

"Let's get right into it shall we?" Tom proposed. You gave him a nod in response, jutting out two thumbs up for good measure. "Ladies first," he said, flashing you a charming grin as he gestured towards the pile of cards.

You reached over to the pile, making sure to pick the card in the middle just to make sure that it was completely random. You adore the lads, but knowing how mischievous they can get, you've learned to always keep one eye open with regard to everything that they do. Plus, it was so easy to set it up for you to pick a certain question given that it was only you and Tom taking turns on picking a card.

"We are starting off with something a tad bit dark huh." You gave the lads a swift glance before turning to the card you had on hand. "If I killed someone would you help me cover it up?" you read out loud, placing the card on the discarded pile before your gaze landed on Tom who gave you a small, secretive nod 'yes' which only made you giggle.

Tom leaned forward as he rested his elbow on the marble surface, hand playing with his chin with his eyes on the ceiling to seem that he was deep in thought. He turned back to you and said, "Do we not get any context? Was it an accident or was it on purpose? Was it due to hate or fear? Was it justified?"

"It's a yes or no answer Tom," you laughed.

"Well then, you already know the answer but for legal purposes," Tom paused, reaching for the bucket of ice and putting some in his glass. He poured the gin on top of that and then added a dash of lime, swirling around the glass to mix them all together. "My lips are sealed," he chuckled, lifting the glass up to his lips and taking a drink. "Oh, that's good stuff," he commented, taking another sip before putting the glass back down.

"Hypothetically, if you were going to help, you'll probably be the one who'll get us caught if I'm being honest," you giggled to which Tom threw his head back with a laugh.

"Yeah, you'll tell me what you did, I'll get shocked and as we're getting stuff to you know, hypothetically hide the body, I'll go 'I can't believe you killed someone' in public and then someone will hear and call the police and we're done."

You burst out in a hearty laugh at that, nodding your head in agreement. "That's exactly how it's going to happen."

It was Tom's turn to pick a question, his grin growing wider as his eyes scanned the card in his fingers. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've done in front of me?" he asked, his features brightening in excitement because he already knows the answer. There wasn't really much to begin with other than that one incident that will always haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Do you want me to tell them the story?" you sighed, leaning back on your chair with palms flat on the table. It wasn't one of your finest moments that's for sure and Tom hasn't been letting you hear the end of it. In fact, it was one of his favourite stories involving you both.

"It's up to you, love. You don't have to if you don't want to." Tom shrugged with a smirk, reaching for your glass to get your drink made. "But that moment was so adorable for me though, embarrassing for you but very adorable for me," he added with a wink.

"Adorable or ego boosting?" you pointed out with a raise of your brow.

"Both," Tom laughed, adding some ice in your glass and pouring just the right amount of gin soon after.

You watched with an adoring smile as he poured in the orange juice, the sound of silverware and glass clinking together filling the air as he mixed up the liquids. He then squeezed a bit of lime in your drink, taking the paring knife soon after to slice up another lime in a thin circle, making a small slit in the middle so he can put it on the rim of your glass easily. Tom can be extra at times, of course he felt the need to decorate your drink, even when it wasn't exactly necessary but you wouldn't want it any other way.

"Look at you being a bartender," you teased, Tom looking up from his task to shoot you playful wink with a smug smirk to match.

"You love to see it."

You shrugged, not at all denying his claim because well, you do love seeing it.

"Here you go, mi lady," he hummed, handing you your beautifully decorated drink with a proud grin on his lips.

"Thank you, kind sir."

As much as how refreshing the cocktail looked in its cold glass and bright, orange colored glory, you know you had to be strategic with drinking. Because alcohol boosts your confidence, it makes you brave, it makes you say things you wish you hadn't when sober. And with you being lightweight, it isn't exactly ideal to be happy-go-lucky with it, especially knowing how these questions can go from one thing to another real quick.

You thought it's best to share embarrassing things that you can live with to keep the drinking at a minimum, rather than take too much alcohol too fast and say worse things down the line because you got somewhat tipsy or downright drunk. There's really no way of knowing how hard it hits given that different types of alcohol affect you in different ways.

"Okay, it was when we first met, which obviously doesn't make it any less embarrassing, first impressions and all that," you started, sitting straight up as your fingers drummed around the cool surface of your glass. "Me and a friend of mine were at this park and decided it would be fun to rent out these bikes to get around quicker, so we did. Lo and behold, Tom and Harrison were also at said park—"

"Oh yeah, I remember this," Harrison laughed. "This is going to be good."

You shot the blonde lad a quick glare before continuing. "Luck wasn't on my side that day—well, depends on how you look at things because I did meet Tom and seem to have gotten far," you laughed towards the camera, giving Tom a swift glance who was quick to lock eyes with you as he nodded agreeably with a chuckle. "But add that to me being very clumsy and simply put, I fell off the bike right in front of him," you sighed dejectedly, heat coating your cheeks as the lads chuckled in their seats, purely in amusement and not at all in a demeaning way.

"Go on love, let's hear the full thing," Tom encouraged, sitting back on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest to relax, attention fully on you as if he hasn't heard this story many times before. He genuinely does love hearing it. As you've said, it was one of his favourites.

"I'm getting there," you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at Tom who only flashed you an adorable, bright smile, knowing that if he does that, you can't stay mad at him. With a another sigh, you continued, "As we were riding our bikes, we saw him and Harrison sitting on this random bench from afar doing, I don't know, maybe they were on a date or something—"

"Darling, don't try and steer the topic here," Tom laughed. You stuck out your tongue at him—yes, very mature—his laughter only growing louder at your reaction.

"I'm a big fan of the Marvel movies, so obviously, I knew who he was. I was trying to keep my cool, you know, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him and thought I'll just ride pass, don't want to disturb whatever they had going on. But as soon as we got near to where they were sat, he looked towards my direction and we made eye contact—"

"The power I have," Tom crooned with a smug smile, earning a pointed eye-roll from you.

"Oh shut up. You know that wasn't the sole reason why I fell," you scoffed. "The chains on my bike went loose so I had no full control over it. We weren't going slowly as well because this friend of mine thought it was a good idea to one up each other so we kept going faster and faster, racing towards who knows what.

"So, my next option was to just plant my foot on the ground to stop it right? But as I've said, luck wasn't on my side that day. Before I could even do it, a rock went under the front wheel—which I didn't see given that I was distracted, you lot know why—and completely took me off balance and the bike went sideways real quick that I didn't have any time to react at all. And...did I roll a few times?" You turned to your boyfriend.

"Twice," he confirmed, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he tilted his head at you sweetly.

"Now, I don't see why you find this story adorable." You narrowed your eyes at your man.

"Not the actual accident, darling. It's what happened after that I found adorable. You were so cute being all shy and embarrassed," Tom defended with a pout. "And you know for a fact that whenever I see you with the smallest scrape or cut I panic and fuss over you immediately."

"You do. A bit too overdramatically," you giggled. It was a bit much sometimes how he worries but that's just Tom being the caring and overprotective boyfriend that he is. "Anyway, so yes, I rolled on the ground twice but all I remember was that I was already lying on my back, watching the sky while my knees, forearms up to my elbows and palms were burning. Then I saw Tom approaching and I swear I was just wishing that the ground would swallow me up right then and there," you finished.

"I quickly rushed to her aid, because you know, I'm Spider-Man," Tom added with a cocky shrugged, arms open wide as if to showcase himself.

There was a loud, collective groan from the lads which earned a laugh from you and a sound of pure protest from Tom.

"It's true!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, she then went, 'oh, my knight and shining armour, my handsome Prince Charming'," Tom gushed, voice at a higher pitch with the utmost exaggeration as he placed the back of his hand over his forehead. "And I went, 'don't worry princess, I'm here to save you,' and then we kissed and lived happily ever after," he concluded with the cheekiest smile.

"We remember this story very differently." You shook your head at him with a hearty laugh. This boy is always something else. "But fine, I'll give you the Prince Charming part because you did look like it.

"What you said was, 'miss, are you alright?' which was very formal of you, especially with the accent." You turned to the camera with a suggestive wiggle of your brows, making Tom drop his head shyly with a chuckle as his cheeks turned slightly pink. "And no, we didn't kiss. You don't kiss people you just met Thomas, get a hold of yourself. He helped me up and was kind enough to offer to take me to the hospital which wasn't needed since it was just a few cuts and scrapes but still insisted that I get checked. Who knew you'd be overprotective since day one," you laughed.

Tom shrugged with a chuckle. "We got to know each other while in the hospital and after she got cleaned up, I thought, I liked talking to her and I really don't want to say goodbye just yet. So, I invited her to lunch which she surprisingly said yes," he teased, sarcasm laced in his tone at his last sentence as he shot the camera a knowing and smug look. You kicked him lightly under the table, the action catching him off guard making him let out a yelp.

"It was more of me being polite because you helped and that. Didn't want to seem rude by saying no," you said, Tom gasping in full offense at your words. You let out a laugh as you rushed, "I'm kidding! Of course I wanted to go to lunch with you. It was impossible to say no because you've been really sweet and a real gentleman that day. And well, it was fun hanging out with you."

Tom smiled widely at that, nothing but pure love coating his features as he held your gaze, hand sneaking over to yours that was on the table and giving it a quick but loving squeeze.

"Where did Harrison go?" Harry wondered, the blonde boy suddenly turning silent and surely enough when you gave him a swift glance, he was already blushing.

"I had my friend with me, Tom had Harrison, you do the math," you said plainly, laughter laced in your tone.

"Oh, so you got some that day," Tuwaine chuckled, nudging the boy beside him with his elbow.

"Shut up, Tuwaine," Harrison grumbled, swatting away his friend lightly.

"But in conclusion, I am a superhero in real life," Tom stated proudly, swiping away the imaginary dust that was lying on his shoulder. He turned to the camera with a bright and wide smile. "But I do thank that bike every day."

"A bit sadistic but okay," you added, looking at Tom skeptically with a scrunch of your nose.

"No! I meant we wouldn't have gotten to know each other if that didn't happen," Tom rushed, lips turning into a pout when you only did nothing but laugh. "You're mean."

"You're just too adorable not to pick on," you giggled, his pout turning more prominent at your words.

You so badly wanted to get up off your seat and give him a proper kiss, but those things are always reserved privately. You two had never been big with public displays of affection, just the casual holding hands and occasional hugs. There are a few instances where you'll sneak a quick kiss while hanging out with friends but that's different compared to it being on tape for the whole world to see later on.

"Anyhow, what's the most embarrassing thing that you have done in front of me?" You asked back, your turn to grin wide because you know which story it was going to be, the way Tom's cheeks were quick to be dusted red was a clear indication that you were right.

"I'm smooth as hell, would never embarrass myself in front of a lady," he said casually, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his chair, all cool and suave.

"Oh shut up and tell the story," you said with a playful roll of your eyes, Tom letting out a shy chuckle before he leaned on the table.

"Right, it was our second date and I split my trousers open," he said, short and sweet, though his blush was already deepening because Tom knows the sharing won't stop there.

"Wait, how open?" Tuwaine asked.

"Like full on, centre to back, underwear and inner thighs with a bit of butt showing open. It would have been a bit better if I wore black pants—boxers to the American people—and black trousers right? But me being unlucky, I went for light-coloured denim jeans and black pants that day so it's fully obvious that I did ripped my trousers open," he chuckled shyly, hand going to rub at his shoulder, body slightly crouched as he refused to look away from his glass of gin.

"Go on Thomas, let's hear the full thing," you prodded, throwing his previous words right back at him.

He lifted his head up to shoot you a playful glare, though sat straighter anyway, elbows now on the table with his hands clasped together as he got ready to tell his story. "We were well underway our second date, a simpler one which was a walk in a somewhat less crowded park—"

"What's with you two and parks?" Harrison pointed out with a chuckle.

"Disaster just waiting to happen as you can tell," Tom laughed.

"We've steered clear from parks after all these incidents," you joked with a giggle.

"I did a flip and didn't land the right way was basically what happened," Tom continued, turning to the camera with a look of dismay. "We were walking by a couple of street dancers who were practicing a routine and they were doing all sorts of flips and tricks. She stopped walking completely and watched—wait, correction, stared at this certain bloke who was doing backflips—"

"I was not staring," you butted in. "I was just watching him do his thing and said how cool it was. And why are you making it seem like it's my fault?" you gasped, placing a hand over your heart, feign offence crossing your features.

"I'm not!" Tom laughed, hands up in surrender before he crossed his arms over his chest. "All I'm saying was that I was trying to impress you, which is why I offered to show you a flip. And as everyone in this room knows, I do the stupidest things when trying to impress a girl, especially when I like her that much."

"I was already impressed by you as is Tom, you didn't need to do a flip," you said as a matter of fact, small giggles escaping your lips as you looked at him with nothing but pure adoration. Tom felt his heart melt at the sight and more by your words. "And besides, I already knew you could do it. But somehow you felt the need to prove yourself after you saw me complimenting that dancer," you added.

"It's what you call ego, Tom," Harry laughed.

"Shut up, Harry." Tom shot his brother a glare though chuckled right after because it was in fact a bit true.

It was the silliest thing thinking back on it now, how he just said 'you want to see me do a flip?' out of the blue. You furrowed your brows at him in response, though your smile was laced with amusement. He just wanted to impress you as he'd said. And fine, maybe his ego got struck at teeny bit, and maybe he felt a little jealous that your attention got torn off of him because he truly did like you that much.

But at the end of the day, even though he had a little mishap, it all worked out so he wasn't at all complaining. "Anyway, so I did the flip, completely disregarding the fact that my shoes were slippy and my trousers were tight. I did land upright and not on my face this time so that's something," Tom chuckled. "But my right foot slipped so I was full on going on a wide split which I normally can't do since I am not flexible enough and proceeded to fall on my bum.

"The moment I heard the sound I instantly knew and just went, 'oh no' and remained on the ground because I didn't know what to do then. I was already embarrassed because I slipped, do I really want to tell her I tore open my trousers too?" Tom laughed timidly, the blush on his cheeks turning redder as he rubbed the back of his neck in utter embarrassment.

"I kind of knew right away though because I did hear something rip," you giggled. "He then just slowly stood up, hands behind, flat on his bum and said, 'I split my trousers open' in the smallest voice like a kid who's scared to tell their mum they fell or they'll get scolded. Plus his face was beet red, just like now." You pointed towards your boyfriend, who in turn stuck his tongue out at you as his blush turned into an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Thank God I wore a jacket that day and I was able to at least hide it until we got back to the car or else someone would've clocked it, took a picture, posted it on the internet and it would've made things much worse," Tom pointed out with a chuckle, glad that there was no paparazzi or it would've been a nightmare. "And the fact that you tried so hard not to laugh but still failed made me feel so embarrassed that I was quick to think that that was it. I ruined my chances, no more third date," he added as he turned to you with a small pout.

"I couldn't help laughing because it was the most adorable thing how you went from being all confident and cocksure on doing a flip to this shy boy who refused to look me in the eyes without turning even redder," you said, pure amusement laced in your tone. "But no, that incident made me like you more, it was just too endearing. Third date never left the table after that," you concluded with a sweet smile which only made Tom's grin grow wider.

"Even though she laughed, she was so sweet and kind about it. We had to cut our date shor—actually no, we didn't. We went back to your place and decided to do a movie marathon instead," Tom said fondly, face glowing with joy as the memory brought nothing but warmth across his chest.

"Yeah, with you wearing a pair of my sweatpants," you giggled, mirroring his expression as your mind recalled the sweet moment of you and him, simply cuddled up on the couch.

"And that's on getting the girl by splitting your trousers open," Tom said with a smug smile, pointing at the camera as he shot it a knowing look with a wriggle of his brows.

"And getting the boy by falling off a bike," you added, doing exactly what he did as you turned to face the lens.

"Look at us," Tom gushed, looking back at you with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. "Hey, look at us."

"Look at us. Who would've thought?" you giggled, giving his hand a squeeze in return.

You were always quick to catch on what he was trying to do that Tom couldn't help but smile widely, heart melting ten times over at the thought of you knowing him so well. "Not me," Tom chuckled, letting go of your hand and holding up his palm for a high-five to which you gladly obliged with laughs of your own.

"You two are made for each other," Harry chuckled with a shake of his head, now just getting that you two were recreating the famous Paul Rudd meme.

"My turn right?" Tom asked. You nodded with a hum as you pushed the pile of cards towards him. He let out a loud scoff once he read the question, his reaction making you raise a brow in both curiosity and slight dread. "Be honest," he said as he looked up from the paper, gaze landing on you. "Who do you love more, me," he paused for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes at you before continuing, "Or Tessa?"

You let out a small groan as you hang your head low, fingers tracing the side of your cold glass. You let out a sigh of defeat before you met Tom's expectant gaze. "I can't possibly answer that question," you grumbled, bringing the glass up to your lips as you took a swift drink before placing it back down.

"That was such a tiny sip," Harrison pointed out.

"Alright, alright, I guess we can tell who the bad influence here is," you said with a teasing roll of your eyes, but still took another drink anyway, taking in more of it this time around. You just want to play the game fair and square. "You actually made that really well. It's really good," you hummed at Tom as you placed your drink back down, the lad grinning widely in response.

"Why thank you, darling," Tom crooned, voice smooth with a pride-filled smile, pushing over the pile of cards back in the middle of the table to get you to ask the next question.

"Okay, who wrote this?" You turned to the boys behind the camera with a raise of your brow. "If the alcohol wasn't going to do it, then this will definitely get the video restricted, unless you're going to bleep some words out?" You turned to Harry.

"I've got that covered," Harry laughed.

Glancing back at the card you had on hand, you asked, "If our sex life was porn, what genre would it be?" You looked up at Tom to see him try his best to hold back a smirk.

"Nope, not answering that," he laughed with a shake of his head as he lifted his glass off the table. "Mainly because there are too many genres that it would fit for me to only pick one," Tom muttered softly against his drink as he looked at you through his lashes. His words were muffled but you still heard it, you were closer to him after all. You felt your cheeks heat up at that, even more so when your man shot you a teasing wink before downing the shot of gin not long after.

Tom set his glass down and reached over to take another card. "What does your family think of me?" he asked with a clear of his throat.

"Well..." You slowly dragged your drink closer to you, Tom's mouth falling agape that you couldn't help but burst into a hearty laugh. "I'm kidding! You already know how much they love you," you said. "I mean, my parents call him 'son' so." You shrugged as you turned to the camera. Tom puffed out his chest all proud with a very smug smile on his lips. You rolled your eyes, sighing as you added, "They probably even love you more than they love me."

Tom chuckled, "My family loves you more than they love me, too—"

"I can vouch for that," Harry intervened.

"Thanks, Harry," Tom said sarcastically, flashing his brother a forced smile. Turning back to you, he finished, "So, I guess we're even."

You could only nod with a soft giggle, reaching over to the stack of cards to keep the pace going. "Lads! What's with these kinds of questio—you know what, I don't even expect any less from you guys," you sighed, pursing your lips as you re-read the question again before sitting straight up and looked into Tom's eyes. "What would you do if you caught me watching porn?" you asked.

"Watch it with you and help get it done, duh?" he answered without hesitation, leaning back on his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Have done a couple times actually," Tom murmured, somewhat to himself, though not really since everyone in the room—and pretty sure the camera—heard it.

"Tom!" you hissed.

You felt your body tingle, legs instinctively closing together as the countless moments it happened replayed itself inside your brain. Although what he said wasn't false, it wasn't the full truth either. He didn't exactly catch you red handed, never did since you don't watch porn often.

All you did was asked him—merely out of curiosity—what type he mostly watches. Your question sparked an idea in his head which led to you sitting in between his legs, bare back against his naked chest as the laptop sat right in front of you both with the video of his choice.

Tom then made his way with you while you watched, making sure you never take your eyes off the couple on screen or else. He was always fully in control over you every time you do it, his fingers sometimes delicate, mostly rough, touch hot and heavy all over your skin, lips warm on your neck, teeth sharp against your bare shoulder as he brings you to the edge over and over and over with nothing but his hands. And once the video ends, Tom will take it upon himself to re-enact the whole of it with you—if you could still take it of course—bringing what was on screen to real life, full recreation from start to finish.

Best believed you're properly blissed out at the stop of every play.

Your boyfriend's eyes widened once he realized the actual volume of his voice, face turning a deep shade of red, sitting straight abruptly as he rushed, "No! Wait—dammit." Tom casted his eyes down shyly when the boys let out exaggerated gasps and sounds of disapproval, a telltale sign that they already heard it. "I'm sorry, darling." He met your gaze again as he shot you a sheepish smile, his head tilted to the side guiltily to which you only responded with a shake of your head.

Typical Thomas.

"Bleurgh, too much info," Harrison gagged, the other boys following suit with their own sounds of repulsion.

"Oh fuck off you divs. You guys wrote the questions so obviously, you wanted to find out," Tom countered, shooting the lads a glare each.

"We didn't expect you to actually answer it!" Harry defended.

"We're cutting that whole part out, no way that's going up online," you grumbled, eyes staring at nothing but your drink as you tried to hide the obvious embarrassment that's coated your features.

Tom reached across the table to give your hand a squeeze, you meeting his gaze to see him mouth a gentle 'I'm sorry.' You flashed him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand in return to tell him that it was alright. It wasn't live so there wasn't any real harm done, aside from future jokes from the boys. That you can deal with than having that confidential information on the internet which will then follow you around for the rest of eternity.

Letting go of your hand, Tom sat straighter and turned to the camera. "If you guys are wondering why there's a jump cut and my face is suddenly so red, it's because I spilled something I shouldn't have that we had to cut it out. And no, it's something you'll never find out," he chuckled shyly, knowing that once the video goes out, fans are going to be so annoyed and will pester him—and everyone in the room—nonstop to try and find out what was cut.

Better that, than embarrassing you in front of millions though, so he'll deal with them no problem. Because as promised, if you weren't comfortable with it staying in the video, then it gets cut out, no questions asked. You and what you're comfortable with always come first in Tom's book.

"Yet again, thank God we didn't do this live," you muttered with a playful roll of your eyes.

Tom shot you one last apologetic smile before he cleared his throat, "Right, moving on." He shifted in his seat and took another card from the pile. "What's the one thing you'd change about me?" he asked.

"Your height," you answered without missing a beat. You chewed on your lip to suppress a grin but still failed miserably, especially when Tom looked at you with his jaw hanging and his eyes wide open.

A chorus of 'ooh's erupted from the boys which only prompted a laugh from you, the joyous sound growing louder when they started to rub it to Tom even more.

"Pfft, apply ice on the burnt area," Harry said as he blew out his cheeks.

"Mate, she's just bodied you with that," Tuwaine tutted at Tom, rising up from his seat soon after to offer you a high-five. You gladly obliged with a laugh, Tom gawking at you with utmost betrayal on his face.

"You're lucky you're very cute, especially when you laugh," Tom grumbled as he shot you a playful glare. The crinkles on the corner of your eyes deepened as you only smiled brightly at him with a tilt of your head, which honestly made you look even more endearing. He could never be mad at you, too whipped to hold a grudge no matter how much you tease him. And besides, that's all there is to it, nothing but teasing jokes and banter.

"If I were you, Tom, I'd start taking those growth pills before she starts to question why she's even with you," Harrison proposed jokingly which earned boisterous laughter from the rest of the gang.

"You lot are so fucking overdramatic. I'm not that short," Tom quipped with a roll of his eyes, gaze landing back on you with his famous pout now in play yet again. "And babe, it's a truth or drink video, not a roast me video," he stated, palms flat on cool marble as he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm joking! I'm joking," you rushed with a giggle. "I wouldn't change a single thing. You know I love you, just the way you are," you sang the last line, though your voice held nothing but sincerity as you reached over to give his hand a loving squeeze. Tom nodded with a sigh, though never did he doubt your words, knowing it deep in his bones that physical traits would never outweigh how much you love him, no matter what.

"Right, let's keep this going," you said as you took another card. "Who is smarter, me or you?" you asked.

"Me," Tom said proudly.

"Well, that's a lie," you objected.

Tom couldn't help but laugh at that, nodding at you as he chuckled, "It's you, obviously. Have you seen the last video?"

"Hmm, I don't know, I think Tom's smarter. I mean, you decided to date him, Y/N, which isn't exactly the brightest decision," Harry inferred, earning a loud gasp from his older brother.

"Excellent point," you agreed, your boyfriend's head whipping towards your direction with nothing but absolute offense written on his face.

"Babe! You're supposed to be on my side!" Tom exclaimed. "Why are we roasting me all of a sudden?" he complained.

"You're just too fun to pick on," you laughed, Tom's bottom lip jutting out at your words. "Especially when you do that, too cute," you pointed out, the apples of Tom's cheek turning pink as a smile grew on his lips at the compliment. "But I am smarter," you concluded, shooting the camera a wink.

"Will not refute," Tom chuckled, keeping the flow of the game as he took another card. "If you weren't with me, who of my brothers would you consider dating?" he said, voice pitching higher at the last few words. A look of downright disgust covered Tom's face immediately as he looked at the boys behind the camera who were snickering like the mischievous little shits that they are. "You lot are grim."

You matched Tom's expression, scrunching your nose as you shook your head quickly. Having been with Tom long enough, you now see the three of the Holland boys as your own brothers, so the mere thought of dating any of them is just—

"I'm not even going to think about it," you grumbled as you took a sip of your cocktail and then picked a card right away. "Who's the celebrity who you were the most disappointed with when you met them?" you continued swiftly, a smile on your lips as you looked at Tom who let out a sigh.

"You know I can't answer that," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, your smile growing wider as you picked up the bottle of gin and refilled his glass. "Thank you, darling," he chuckled with a shake of his head, taking a drink right after.

"Is there anyone in my friend group, famous or not, that you do not like?" Tom continued with a raise of his brow, gaze steady on you.

You emptied your glass—that was still half full—without a single word and placed it back down with a small burp. "Oh, excuse me," you cleared your throat with a laugh.

Tom's brows furrowed at you in mere curiosity, gesturing for your glass so he can remake you another drink. You slid it over to him with a soft 'thank you' and a sweet smile. He started opening up the bottle of juice though his eyes were still on you, narrowed in pure skepticism.

"Who?"

"Not part of the question, Tom," you said, flashing him an innocent smile

"I know who it is," Harry coughed fakely.

"Me too," Tuwaine added with a fake cough of his own.

"It's Harrison because he's trying to take you away from me," you commented, laughing at how the blonde lad gasped in utter protest.

"That's a lie because I know who it is too," Harrison defended.

"So, everyone knows except me?" Tom mused, rolling his eyes in the process.

"What else is new?" you giggled with a shrugged, Tom only sighing as he shot you yet another pout. This boy never ceases to use it since he knows you always swoon whenever he does. 'I'll tell you later,' you mouthed, making him nod with a proud smile.

You gently leaned back on your seat, closing your eyes when you felt a little woozy. You took in slow, deep breaths, the marble cold against your palms as your body started to grow warmer from head to toe.

Maybe downing that drink wasn't the best idea.

"You okay, darling?" Tom asked sweetly, tilting his head at you in worry as he went to take your hand in his. His brows knitted together when your skin felt unusually warm in his palms.

"Yeah," you giggled, opening your eyes to meet his concern-filled brown ones, flashing him a reassuring smile and a nod to match as you gave his hand a squeeze. "Just the alcohol slowly kicking in."

"Want to take a minute, sweetheart?"

"No, I'm good. Go on and ask the question bubba," you prompted as you beamed at him, Tom's heart melting at the beautiful curve on your features and more by the sound of that sweet nickname. Although, he knew that you'd reached your calm before the storm.

You're always smiley and extra sweet when you start to get a little tipsy. But from here on out, especially if you decide to take even more alcohol, you start switching from calm to giddily energetic. That's when the words would start flowing out your lips before your brain could even register what you've just said.

Tom replaced your hand with a white card once he was sure you were fine. A cheeky grin erupted on his face as he asked, "What's your favourite sex position?"

You pursed your lips, eyes landing on the ceiling, fingers drumming on the marble surface of the table as you pondered on it for a second. Tom watched you intently, a soft chuckle escaping him when you met his gaze again with a sweet yet shy smile.

"I've got three though," you said, mostly to him but in a not-so-hush tone. Your mind and your mouth don't cooperate sometimes when there's alcohol in the mix.

"Different one for a different mood," Tom hummed with a smirk, finishing up your drink with a squeeze of lime, mixing it up before sliding it back towards you. "Just say one or take a drink, darling."

"I need to slow down with drinking or else I'll be saying much worse things. I can already feel my filter shutting down," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at Tom for a bit of help. "But do I really want this out in the world?"

"Oh, go on Y/N, live a little," Harrison prodded with nothing but utter mischief in his eyes.

You don't know why but somehow, Harrison words were the last straw for that burst of confidence to suddenly overflow. Boldness coated your every nerve as you squeezed your eyes shut and straight up blurted,

"Doggy."

Tom's eyes grew wide, both of his brows rising as he looked at you surprised. Yes, doggy was one of your—and his—favourites, he already knew that, what surprised him was you actually saying it out loud. Although he was swift to turn cocky as he leaned back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest while he kept his gaze steady on you.

As you peaked one eye, you saw that certain smirk of his now playing on his pink lips, one you only ever see privately. You felt your face heat up at that, added from the alcohol and embarrassment. The warmth was quick to spread to the rest of your body though, with the way he was looking at you, it was so hard for it not too. And as your eyes fully soaked him in, gaze traveling from his handsome face sporting that teasing smirk to his bulging biceps, the temperature could only rise. Your senses was now somewhat heightened that you were able to notice every single thing that made your man so fucking attractive and downright hot.

Since when did his hoodie grow even tighter? And damn, why is it so hot all of a sudden? It's probably the alcohol, or mainly just Tom, or simply both.

"Favourite type of porn!" you hear someone from the gang call out—probably Harrison since he's been causing trouble from the very start—interrupting your thoughts. With the alcohol in your system, just as expected, your brain genuinely forgot to take control of your tongue before you could even tell yourself: 'don't!'

"Sometimes hardcore," you let out, slapping your hand over your mouth immediately as your eyes grew wide. You quickly met Tom's eyes, his brown orbs glowing with shock, amusement and a sprinkle of lust. He gave you a soft nod with a soft smile in response, confirming that yes, you said it out loud, and yes it was already too late. "Oh no, this was what I meant when I needed to slow down on alcohol," you groaned, rubbing your hand over your warm face before looking back across your man with a pout.

"Aye! Hardcore doggy yeah?" Harrison cheered teasingly, moving towards Tom and giving his best friend a pat on the shoulder. Tom threw his head back with a laugh, face red but the look of utmost pride was also there. Harrison swiftly offered his fist to Tom, to which the brunette gladly indulged, their knuckles colliding as chuckles escaped the two mates.

You let out a choked laugh as your eyes widened in surprise, jaw going slack with your face heating up even more. "Did you guys just fist bump to that?"

"I mean." Tom shrugged, throwing his hands up with the smuggest grin, causing you to shake your head dejectedly with a groan. You shot Harrison a pointed glare when he went back to his seat, still snickering to his heart's content as if his master plan was in the works.

What a little shit.

"I'm definitely not going to let my parents watch this video," you mumbled with a roll of your eyes.

"I've got a question for Tom though," Tuwaine started, though the glimmer in his eyes told you it wasn't a clean one. "Do you grab it or do you smack it?"

Tom wheezed before erupting into a very rowdy laugh, hands slapping on his thigh as his body shook in nothing but pure enjoyment, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment, glee and the alcohol.

"Oh my—right! Next question!" you squeaked, not giving your boyfriend any time to answer as you attempted to swiftly move on.

"Wait, wait," Tom breathed out as he slowly calmed down, getting up from his seat as he went over to your side. "Harry stop recording for a sec," he called out to his younger brother before he gestured for you to turn until your back was facing the camera.

Tom crouched down in front of you, hands on your knees with a sweet, reassuring smile on his lips. "We'll edit out the parts you're not comfortable with to stay in the vid, alright?" he stated softly.

You nodded with a smile of your own, taking his hand in yours as you played with his fingers. "I'm not opposed to keeping the last two questions since everyone has their favourite position and type of porn. It's normal," you hummed, tilting your head at him as you added, "You saying you've helped me with, you know, that was much more private though, 'cause it's our thing."

"I know, I'm sorry, love," Tom apologized, voice soft but coated with sincerity as his hand went up to cup your face lovingly, brown eyes gazing up into yours with just the same emotions. "We're cutting that part out, I promise."

"But you think your fans would take these questions well?" you queried, leaning into his touch in a way that made Tom's heart do flips inside his chest.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think it's fine. The video is going to be age restricted anyway. And besides, we're both adults, so there's nothing wrong with it," he explained. You hummed in agreement, leaning your head on his hand as you closed your eyes with a soft sigh, your skin very warm against his palm. Tom moved closer to give your lips a sweet peck. "Want some water angel?"

"No, I'm good." You smiled, Tom nodding as he mirrored your grin, giving your lips another kiss before he stood back to his full height and then sat back on his seat.

Shooting Harry the go signal to start recording again, Tom chuckled, "Sorry, needed to cool down for a sec after that." He turned towards the camera, tugging at the collar of his hoodie as he blew out his cheeks to get a point across.

You could only roll your eyes at your man, his laugh growing louder at your reaction. Swiftly taking a card from the pile, you continued with the game. "Is this going to be the theme from here on out, lads?" you asked, eyeing the boys behind the camera suspiciously before you turned back to Tom. "Is there something in the bedroom you'd like to try that you haven't told me?"

Tom's cheeks turned even redder at the question, completely shying away now as his hand went to rub at his shoulder. "I can't think of one right now," he muttered as he looked at you sheepishly. "But no, I'm not answering that since we talk about that off camera anyway," Tom settled with a timid chuckle, refilling his glass and taking a drink of the gin soon after.

"Your turn," you giggled, pushing the pile towards him.

"Oh, okay. What a way to shift the topic," Tom breathed out, scanning the card one more time as he sat up straighter. "If I was in a coma how long would you wait for me?" he asked, meeting your gaze with a tender smile.

"I'll keep waiting for you until you wake up, no matter how long," you answered, without even a single inch of doubt, despite the slight shake in your voice as your eyes started to well up. "Never giving up on you."

"Darling," Tom cooed softly with a pout, the screeching sound of his chair echoing around the space as he pushed his seat back. He went back over to your side quickly, remaining on his feet as he leaned down to engulf you in a tight and warm embrace, swaying you side to side in the most comforting way as he whispered sweet nothings against your hair.

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath, the material of his hoodie soft against your cheek. You willed your brain not to think much of it, to not dwell on that thought and focus more on the Tom's warmth that's coated you right now. Or else you'll end up a bawling mess, and with the alcohol in your system, it's not a good idea to start crying now.

Your man pulled away gently with a charming smile, cupping your face with both hands as he towered over your seated form. "I'd do the exact same, just so you know," he hummed, brown eyes locked with yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks fondly before he dipped his head to capture your lips in a loving kiss. You let out a sweet sigh as you melt at the feeling of his soft lips on yours, mind and heart at ease at familiar warmth. The gesture wasn't fully caught on camera though given that you were turned at the opposite direction.

"I love you," you hummed against his lips.

Tom chuckled sweetly, giving you a few more pecks on the lips before pulling away completely, staring right into your eyes as he whispered, "And I love you."

With that he went back to his seat again, flashing you one of his many charming grins before he turned to the group behind the camera.

"You lot are onto something I can tell," Tom said as he raised a brow at the lads who suspiciously grew quiet, looking everywhere in the room but at you two.

Not thinking much of it, you swiftly took another card and read the question. "What would you do if you suddenly get a call that I was gone?" you trailed off at the end of your sentence, brows knitting together as you turned to the group behind the camera. "Guys, this is a cruel question."

"Oh," Tom faltered, smile slowly slipping away from his face as he casted his eyes at his drink.

"Tom, you don't have to answer it," you called out softly, frown deep on your lips as you reached over to take both his hands in yours. But it was already too late when he squeezed your hand tightly, lifting his head back up to meet your gaze and you felt your heart ache. That's when you saw that his mind was already there, brown orbs glossed up as he let out a shaky breath.

"I'd literally shut down," he croaked. "I-I don't know what'd I do if that happens. I just can't imagine my life without you. I—" he stopped, head dropping as his voice broke.

"Oh Tom, come here," you cooed as you immediately got out of your seat and rounded the table, turning him around and away from shot for a bit of privacy. You squatted in between his legs that were spread apart to be much closer to him, gently cupping his face with both your hands so that you were now within eye level. "Hey, look at me," you whispered when you were met by eyes that were screwed shut.

With a deep intake of breath, Tom willed his eyes to open. He looked at you with a small smile playing on his lips, heart steadying at the sight of your beautiful orbs boring into his own. He leaned forward to close the distance between you two, just so he could feel your lips on his. Tom badly needed to. A soft satisfied sigh erupted out your chest as your hand took home on his warm cheek.

"I'm still here bubba. I'm not going anywhere," you hummed against his lips before giving him warm kisses all over his face that made him stifle out a small laugh. You pulled away a little with a loving smile, wiping away the few tears that sat on his skin with your thumb, your touch gentle and warm.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Tom whispered as he looked at you fondly, nudging the tip of his nose with yours in a wholesome manner.

"I love you too, you sweet, soft boy," you giggled, placing a sweet peck on his lips before pulling him in for a hug. You lifted your head up to shoot each of the boys a sharp glare, the three cowering away in their seats as they each said their soft apologies.

Pulling away with a smile, you cupped Tom's face with a hum, "Better?"

"Loads," Tom sighed with a sweet smile, leaning in for one last peck before he lets you go back to your seat. "You purposely put that in there to make me cry didn't you?" Tom spoke, narrowing his eyes at boys who only shrugged in feign innocence. "You lot are evil I tell you."

"Now let's get back on a lighter note!" you exclaimed, pushing the cards towards Tom since it was his turn to ask.

Tom pursed his lips as his brows furrowed at the question. "If you could sleep with any person in the world, who would it be?" he wondered, eyes locking with yours in warning. "Now, careful with your answer, love," he hummed.

"Is that a threat Holland?" you challenged with a raise of your brow.

"I'm just saying, I may already know or will meet this person in the futur—"

"Chris Hemsworth," you blurted, Tom's mouth falling open as he gawked at you in shock. "I'm kidding," you rushed with a hearty laugh.

"Are you though?" Tom doubted, squinting at you suspiciously.

You bit your bottom lip as you held his gaze, Tom letting out a loud gasp when you suddenly took a drink all while maintaining eye contact with him.

"I'm going to have a word with you later missy," he grumbled, voice suddenly an octave deeper, somewhat a soft growl, one that you felt down to your core.

You shifted in your seat with a clear of your throat, shooting him an innocent smile as you said, "To be fair, you did say—publicly may I add—that you'd sleep with Hemsworth too when you did fuck, marry and kill with the three Chrises so, roll the clip!"

Tom shook his head at you with a playful roll of his eyes. "Touché," he sighed, brows furrowed in confusion when you suddenly covered your mouth.

"Oops, I just realized I said the F-word, sorry Harry," you said meekly, a certain smile on your lips which guaranteed that you were now dancing onto drunken territory. Tom knows you like the back of his hand, if the way you were smiling wasn't enough then, the simple look in your eyes would let him know that the alcohol has fully hit you this time.

"It's alright. One bleep word is nothing compared to last week's video. And it's not like this video has been clean anyway," the young twin chuckled.

"So, Fuck Hemsworth, who are you marrying and who are you killing?" Tuwaine asked.

"Marry Evans, Kill Pratt," you answered promptly.

Tom leaned back on his seat as he crossed his arms over his chest, running his tongue over his teeth slowly all while staring you down. "That's a quick answer Y/N," he hummed, shooting you a teasing glare.

"Oh please, yours was quick too, Thomas," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest as you mirrored him, never backing down from his stare even though it was making you feel certain things.

"Wait, if you're marrying Evans and killing Pratt, and I'm marrying Pratt and killing Evans, does that mean we're set out to kill each other's husband?" Tom started as he leaned forward and towards the table.

"So, if you were successful in killing Evans, and I was successful in killing Pratt, that means we're both widowed," you continued, laying your hands now flat on the marble surface.

"Meaning there's still a chance that we will still end up together. Meant to be if you ask me," Tom concluded, lifting up a hand.

You moved forward to give him a high-five, missing his hand by a lot which made you let out a loud, hearty laugh, Tom following suit with laughs of his own.

"What are you two on?" Harrison said with a crinkle of his nose.

"Alcohol," you and Tom answered at the same time. Both of your mouths turned into the shape of O's as you looked at each other properly delighted.

"Jinx!" both of you exclaimed in unison. "Jinx again!"

"Our mental synchronization; can have but one explanation," you and Tom sang in harmony, never breaking your gaze as you both smiled proudly.

"You—"

"And I—"

"Were—"

"Just—"

"Meant to be!" You two ended with fits of laughter, raising your hands to go for another high five. You missed Tom's hand again which only made you wheeze, tears of joy brimming in yours and his eyes as you tried for the second time, both of you cheering loudly when it finally landed.

"Cringe, really made for each other," Harry gagged teasingly with a grimace to match.

And then Harrison intervened. "How about fuck, marry, kill, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Felton and," he paused, grin turning wider like a Cheshire cat as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. "Tom Holland?"

"That's not part of the game," you protested with a pout.

"Answer the question, darling," Tom encouraged, looking at you expectantly.

"I'm taking a shot," you muttered, going for your drink but before you could even do so, Tom had already taken it far away from your reach. "Hey!" you whined.

Tom chuckled softly as he shook his head no. "You said it's not part of the game so no, you have to answer," he said. "And that's enough alcohol for you, my love," he cooed, tilting his head at you knowingly with a sweet smile. If Tom will let you continue with the drinking then you'll surely be complaining nonstop about the throbbing headache you'll get and the constant nausea after all this.

You sat back on your chair with your bottom lip jutted out, arms crossed over your chest to match, much like a child as you started to think about your answer. Although the process took way longer than you'd expect it to be and the boys were quick to notice.

"Uh oh, she's having a hard time," Harry teased when a few long seconds has gone by and you still haven't given an answer.

"I don't know how I feel about the hesitation here," Tom admitted as he looked at you curiously, brows furrowing with a chuckle when you were still deep in thought after a few seconds more.

"She genuinely is having a hard time," Tuwaine laughed.

"This is so unfair," you grumbled dejectedly as you looked at your man with a sweet, adorable pout, silently asking for help.

"What'd you do with me first to make things easier," Tom offered with a chuckle.

As if there was a hidden message to his words—there wasn't—your face suddenly lit up, slapping your palms on the table excitedly as you sat straighter. "You know what, kill the other two and I'll fuck and marry you," you declared heartily, eyes locked securely with Tom's with the proudest grin playing on your lips.

Tom's heart did somersaults at the mere fact of you wanting to marry him, grin wide and bright as he stared into your orbs, utmost love glowing in yours that was wholesomely mirrored by his brown ones.

It wasn't long until Tom felt his blood rush down though, heat dancing on his skin as his brain got occupied with the thought of you fucking him too. Certain memories flooded his mind, one after the other that it was getting harder for him to stay calm in his seat.

You are honestly giving him a whiplash with how you make him feel one emotion to another in a span of seconds, though Tom wasn't at all complaining.

"That's not how the game works!" Harrison exclaimed.

"I'm pretty happy with that answer," Tom shrugged with a wide, cocky grin, eyes never leaving yours as he raised a brow at you suggestively. You held his gaze with a tilt of your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing.

The interaction didn't go unnoticed by Harry though. "Okay, stop eye-fucking each other you horny teenagers," the younger brother complained.

Tom laughed at that, shifting in his seat as he turned towards the camera. "On that note, we're ending the video there. This has been Tom Holland," he paused, giving you a nod as a cue.

"And Mrs. Holland," you blurted at the camera with a smile, eyes widening once you realised the choice of words you've just used. "Oh wait! No! Fuc—I don't mean no as in 'no,' I meant not yet," you fumbled. "We're not even engaged yet! Don't start with the headlines you." You pointed at the camera in warning.

He shook his head with a chuckle, red tinting his cheeks but pure admiration glowed in his eyes. "You own my fucking heart, you know that? You make me melt all the damn time," Tom gushed through gritted teeth, and it was taking a whole lot of his self-control to not jump over the table and just kiss you senseless. You felt your heart grow at his words but you could only bury your face in your hands with a groan of pure embarrassment. "She's drunk, my apologies," Tom added with a laugh as he turned towards the camera.

"Tipsy, there's a difference," you corrected as you shot him a glare.

Tom chuckled, smiling at you widely before turning back to the lens. "Anyway, see you on the next one and peace!" he finished with the sign and then a salute, Harry throwing out an upturned thumb to signal cut.

Once he saw that the camera was off, Tom was out of his seat in record speed, moving over to your now standing form as he swiftly wrapped both his arms around your waist and crashed his lips onto yours with a low groan. His arms tightened around you as he relished the feeling of finally having you so close.

You giggled against the kiss, resting your arms over his shoulders as you leaned back on the table to keep your balance, your bum half-rested on the marble while your foot stayed steady on the floor, legs apart so that Tom can situate himself between them easily.

"So, fuck and marry me huh?" Tom hummed deeply against your mouth, playfully nibbling at your bottom lip before pulling away so he can see your gorgeous face fully.

"Out of all the things I've said, that's what stuck with you?" you giggled with a shake of your head.

"I mean, you fucking me will never fail to sound very hot, reminds me of the few times you did." Tom wriggled his brows at you suggestively, hands giving your waist as teasing squeeze. "Though I don't know which one's hotter, that or you marrying me," he said with the proudest smirk.

"Will you two take this somewhere else?" Harry complained, always the last one to be left in the room given that he's mostly in-charge with taking care of the camera. Harrison and Tuwaine were already gone, continuing whatever they had to do that day.

"Don't think that would make a difference though," Tom chuckled smugly, looking back at you with a knowing grin.

"Which reminds me how we need to sound proof the fucking walls you nasty rabbits."

"I was kidding. We're not that loud fuck off," Tom remarked, rolling his eyes at his brother.

And to prove how wrong Tom's point was, Harrison suddenly started moaning so piercingly right in the next room, his voice a bit muffled but you can still hear him, loud and obnoxious.

"Fuck! Love! Fuck yes! Just like that, darling! Shit baby I'm gonna—"

"Fuck off Harrison you fucking twat!" Tom yelled at the top of his lungs, the blonde lad's boisterous and annoying laugh echoing soon after.

Tom turned crimson red as the embarrassment coated him from head to toe, head dropping for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck with a groan. You let out a soft giggle, hand landing on the back of his head as you ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly. Your face was warm as you were embarrassed just the same, although there was more of a sense of pride on your behalf because yes, Tom does get a bit loud sometimes, all courtesy to you.

It wasn't always of course, both of you aren't evil enough to torture the lads that much. Aside from the fact that Tom is rarely even home—meaning you don't do the deed that much in this house—the two of you had made a pact to make sure that you're completely alone before properly going at it. Admittedly, it does get a bit hard to keep the noise down sometimes, so the boys have to endure it every now and then. They do get back at you guys soon after as they are quick to be little shits with the teasing and dirty jokes, much like now.

"Maybe we do need to soundproof our walls," you teased once your man pulled away to look at you with a soft sigh, hands running up and down your waist sweetly.

"Or we could finally look for our own place to move in?" Tom proposed with a charming smile, your heart melting at the sight and skipping a beat at his words.

Granted, you've been with Tom for a fair three and a half years already, but neither of you had gone to take that step of actually living fully on your own where it's just no one but him and you in your own home. You've been living in this house for roughly the same time—maybe a year or two less—and you've got no problem living with the lads, you consider them as your brothers now. But you won't deny that having a place exclusively for you and Tom only would be pure bliss.

Of course you've talked about getting your own place and neither of you were opposed to it. It all just came down to Tom being constantly busy and barely even home. You'd rather live with the boys for the mean time than sulk all alone in a house while slowly being buried in the emotions of missing your boyfriend.

Tom also wanted to be there for the most of it—choosing and buying furniture, decorating a thing or two, moving, the likes—but with his schedule, it was hard to find the perfect time.

But now he's promised you that he'd slow down for a bit.

He genuinely hasn't done anything but work nonstop. It was just projects upon projects with only so little breaks in between, a month if he's lucky. Tom is one hardworking man, that's one of the many things you love about him, but he sometimes doesn't realize when he's pushing himself too far.

That's when you step in.

You'd encouraged him to take a breather, even if it's just for half a year or so but you never did pester him about it constantly as you weren't one to take him away from doing what he loves. Unless it gets way out of hand, then that's when you'll be putting your foot down. You know he'll do it whenever he's ready to slow down and now with most of his projects wrapped, he's finally decided that it was the right time to take that much needed break.

"I love the sound of that," you giggled, treading your fingers through his hair before tracing it down his chiseled jaw. "Not as much as I love the sound of you moaning though," you hummed teasingly.

"Well then, let's find our own place so you can hear me moan all for you and as loud as you want, darling," Tom purred lowly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his darkened orbs bored into yours, his hands sliding down to rest on the swell of your bum. He fondled the flesh hotly as he started to lean closer to capture your lips. But before Tom could even do so a loud voice made you both jump away from each other.

"For fuck's sake guys! I'm still fucking here!" Harry yelled, throwing both his hands in the air in downright annoyance and disgust as he screwed his eyes shut. "Go to your fucking room for the love of my sanity!"

You didn't even get a chance to apologise to the young lad as Tom swiftly grabbed your hand and rushed to your shared bedroom.

Nothing happened though apart from a couple minutes of making out, Tom deciding not to take it further given that you were all tipsy and intoxicated. Him deciding since you were persistent on saying you were fine even though you were giggling nonstop, easily tickled no matter how feather-like his kisses were. Not to mention how you could barely even keep your eyes open. So, both of you ended up taking a warm bath and then a nap right after that, instead.

Although the minute you sobered up, Tom made sure you weren't at all quiet this time around. It was due to the pent up tension that's been building since that somewhat steamy Q&A. And maybe, just maybe to get back at the boys a teeny bit for being little shits with both the teasing jokes and the dirty questions.

The two of you went out of your bedroom only at dinner time, stepping foot in the dining area where Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison were all situated. You felt the embarrassment coat every inch of your body when you took sight of the boys, more specifically, their expressions. Tom, on the other hand, had the cockiest smirk playing on his lips as he held his head high, tauntingly chuckling at his mates.

The three lads were sitting around the table with nothing but grimaces and downright disgust on their faces as they all grumbled in unison,

"Rabbits."

-:-:-:-:-

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[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 2

Race day. The whole track was buzzing with excitement. Over the last two weeks, Zemo had been working hard and improving his car. Between all that, he was thinking about you.

It was strange how someone you met once, and hardly knew, made such an impact on your life. He wondered if you got the ticket. Would you even come?

He stood by his car. People had come to see him, but his eyes were only looking for one person. You had yet to make an appearance. Disappointment hung heavy in his chest.

Tony Stark stood across the way from him. He was chatting to his fans, smiling smugly and relishing in all the attention he was receiving.

If Zemo knew one thing, he wasn't going to let Stark win today. He glares at him as he takes a seat. He sighs. He had hoped you would have come. The thought of you helps cool his thoughts of the other driver.

It won't be long until they are called to the starting lane.

Zemo gets up and grabs his helmet, thinking to make a few last minute checks before they're needed. He would deal with the fact you were a once in a lifetime meeting and get on with the day. The disappointed had settled hard.

He turns his back and was about to make his way to his crew when a voice stopped him.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

He turns around quickly, relieved at the sound of your voice. He grins when his eyes land on you.

"You did, but you're here now. Though, I think you owe me for keeping me waiting."

You smile. "I'm sorry. Getting here was a hassle. I was worried I was going miss the race entirely."

He couldn't stop smiling.

"I'm glad you made it."

The cheering behind you caught your attention. You turned to see Stark climbing into his car. The crowd around him was being asked to disperse.

"I won't let him win today."

You turn to see Zemo looking at you, completely ignoring what's happening behind you.

"He really riles you up, doesn't he?"

"How could you tell?" He asked, not meaning for a reply, but surprised by your response a the same.

"You're clenching your fists and jaw. Is he, like, your enemy?"

Zemo gives a heartless chuckle.

"Something like that."

You stepped closer to him and smiled softly. This closely, he could smell the fragrance you had put on today. You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"A good luck charm. I'll be cheering for you."

You're not sure where your bravery had come from, but you wanted to do something to get his mind off Stark. He looked a little surprised, but he looked more smug than that.

"My own little good luck charm? Perhaps things will be different today."

You smile as you step back. The drivers are being called to the start line. Zemo doesn't quite want to leave you yet, but duty calls.

"That's your stand," he says, pointing to the seating area above him. "I'll be back here when the race ends, meet me."

"Alright."

Zemo has someone help you up to your seat in the stands. He gets into his car as you go, looking up once before driving his car over to the start.

You don't take your eyes off his car.

That tense atmosphere seems to fall over the whole racetrack. It was just like last time. Only there was something more here for you. You were here for Zemo this time, at his request.

The silence was thick. All you could hear was your breathing, and then that beautiful sound. Those engines revving. It was as if at that moment you forgot how to breathe.

They were off.

You were already clutching your seat.

You had a little bit of research on Helmut Zemo. He had won a couple of races before, but had never beaten Tony Stark. There was a rivalry there. This had been going on a few months. Zemo was insistent on beating him at least once.

Maybe, just maybe, today will be that day.

Your eyes flick to the screen where the cars will be picked up now they're out of sight. You can feel your stomach dropping as you watch eagerly. Zemo and Stark are once again locked in battle with each other. They are ready so far ahead of the others and you wonder how they do that so fast. You bite your lip as you watch the purple car.

This would mean so much to Zemo if he beat Stark. It would put Tony down a few notches, maybe then he wouldn't be so high and mighty.

You have no idea what happened. It was as if you suddenly zoned back in to the race. Attention brought back to the screen at the sound of screeching tyres.

You tense up.

Luckily no damage had been done, but both Stark and Zemo had spiralled out of control, both cars now facing the wrong way. You could see them on the screen.

The others will catch up soon. They don't have much time to keep their places if they're going to get back into the race.

Stark's car sparks to life. You feel your heart drop as he takes off again.

Zemo cannot get his car to start again.

Banging his hand against the steering wheel he glares after Stark. Another race he will not win. No doubt Tony will have something to say later.

You can only watch as Helmut climbs put of his car and walks off the tracks. All the other cars speed past him. His car won't be crossing the finishing line today.

You don't care about the rest of the race, you leave tour seat and hurry down to the barricade. You would wait for Zemo like you said you would.

He doesn't return to the stop until the race is over, Stark's name being hollered from every direction. He comes over with a hard look on his face, jaw clenched in anger. His helmet was in his hand, hair slightly messy from it's removal.

He stalks over to where you are waiting. He doesn't even look at you as he drops the helmet and sits down, head in his hands.

"Zemo?"

He doesn't say anything. He just sits there and sighs. Your lucky kiss didn't bring him much luck.

There was no way you could be impressed with his skills after that. He had wanted to impress you today. He had wanted to cross that finish line for you. He failed.

He swears it's Stark's fault they collided like that. Now his team had to go fetch the abandoned car and fix it.

One day. One day he would beat that man.

"Zemo?"

He lowers his hands and turns his head to the side, looking at you with gentle eyes. He has a little smile on his face, but you could tell he was utterly defeated.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" You ask, confused by the sudden apology.

"For wasting my lucky charm."

You chuckle softly and sit down on the tarmac by his chair.

"It's not a big deal. I'm just glad you're alright. I know how dangerous this can be."

He nods. People can die in this job.

"You have been doing some research?"

"Yes. I wanted to understand your world better." You look down sheepishly. It felt strange confessing that to him.

"My world is fast," he says, voice dropping in volume.

You both ignore the cheering happening in the distance. Tony was receiving his reward as his team parks his car opposite you.

"I like the fast lane, I found out. I'd like to stay in it a little longer."

Zemo's gaze landed on you.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" He asks, wanting to take his mind off the race.

"I would love to," you smile up at him.

"Wait for me by the gate, I'll pick you up once I've changed."

You nod and stand up. You make your way to the exit of the racetrack, waiting by the gate. Zemo goes to get out of his racing gear.

As you wait, Stark makes his exit. He spots you, grinning.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Yes," you reply curtly.

"You're wasting your time on him. You know that? Not only is he a danger on the track, but off it too." Tony peered at you over his shades, "consider that a warning."

"I think I can judge him for myself, but thank you."

Tony shrugs and drives off.

The nerve of that man! Granted, he didn't sound he meant ill feelings as he said it, but that fact he even felt the need to say that angered you. Sure, you hadn't known Zemo all that well, and everything you did know you got off the internet, but you felt more than capable to make a judgement yourself.

Tony was out of sight now.

You turned when you heard another car approach. It was a different one from the one he had two weeks ago. You smile as he pulls up in front of you. You climb in.

Zemo drives you both away from the track.

"What happened to the race car?"

"My crew will take it back and look at the damage. I'll check in with them tomorrow. I have some changes to make to it."

"What happens now? I mean, since you didn't cross the line," you ask, wanting to know more.

"I'll be set back a bit, but I'll overcome it. One day I will beat Stark. His winning streak will have to end at some point, and I would very much like to do it before the racing season ends."

"How long do you have?"

"There are three more races before the season ends."

"I believe in you."

For some reason those words set off something inside of him. He glances at you briefly as a smile spreads across his face. Perhaps it was fate that brought you to him. He would like to think that.

Zemo knee exactly where to take you. A good quiet place for drinks.

The bar was nice. Nothing flashy or loud, just a casual place for drinks. Zemo and yourself sat in the back, out of immediate eyesight of everyone else. He wanted to spend this time with you, and only you.

"What else did you learn in your research?" He asks, wanting to kick off the conversation.

"You've only been racing a handful of years, only being racing professional a few months, and yet you're super talented on the track. I had to look up some of the racers, most of which have been racing professionally for years. Yet, you're up there with them," you say, sounding impressed.

"I'm good at what I do, no doubt about that."

"How did you get into racing?"

"I love cars. Back home, I have a collection of classic models. You have only seen two of the cars I own. One day I decided to give racing a go. The thrill that runs through your veins when you're speeding around that track, it is unlike anything I've ever felt before. Adrenaline takes over once your foot is on the pedal. All you see is the track ahead."

You smile as you listen.

"I could get used to going to races."

Zemo looks at you with soft eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I would very much like it if you would."

"I can't guarantee I can be at them all. I have to work too. My job isn't nearly as cool as yours though."

"How about this, for every race you come watch, I take you out for drinks after," he offered.

"Are you... asking me out?"

"Only if you attend the races," he states.

You look down at your drink.

"I'll see what I can do, I suppose."

He chuckles, "I'll take it."

"So, there's only three races left, right?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"You have to win all three to beat Stark this season?"

"Yes."

"Can you do it?"

Zemo looks at you with focused eyes. His lips pulled into a smug grin.

"I'm going to do it."

"When is the next race?"

"Two weeks. They are two weeks apart each."

"Right." You read that online. "What's the plan from here. How do you spend the time between races?"

"Improving. Tomorrow I will meet with my crew and see the damages done to my car. I will do whatever I have to do to get it back in top form. I will improve it and test it. Over and over if I have to. I will beat Stark."

You smile.

"I know you can do it. You can."

"Well, if you keep saying it, then I know I can too," he winks at you. You chuckle and try to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

This was nice. You would get to do this again as long as you attended the rest of the races. You made a silent promise to do whatever you could to attend the remaining races. Work be damned!

When you finished your drink, Zemo drove you back to your hotel. Much like last time, you both lingered in the car before you went inside.

"Would you like to come to the garage tomorrow? I could show you what we do behind the scenes," he offers. If he was being genuinely honest, be just wanted to spend more time with you.

"Sure. I'm free tomorrow, but then I'll have to catch the next train home."

"I'm honoured you went to all the trouble to come see me race again," he smiled.

"You invited me. I wasn't going to pass up the chance to see you again," you blurted out.

You sit there in shock. Zemo looks extremely proud and smug.

"I mean-"

"No, no. Don't say any more," he laughs.

You're a blushing mess as you climb put of his car.

"See you tomorrow then?"

You just nod and head inside, embarrassed beyond belief. You can't believe you said that.

Zemo drives away with a smile.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb

[chilly-me-softly]

Lifespan • Mason Mount

Warning: mention of death, other than that I hope you like it x

-

When you started to think that something was wrong, that you were different from everyone else, you were afraid. Whenever you were on the verge of talking to someone about it, you simply couldn't; the fear of being seen as crazy or not being believed was always in the forefront of your mind.

It all started when you turned twenty-one, before that you had never had a chance to believe that something was wrong with you. Your sister had just become a mother and everyone in the family was so happy with the new arrival, including you, that you went to see them with your hands full of presents as soon as you could.

That little bundle was so small and defenceless, in his cradle carefree and ready to live all the life he had ahead of him. You took him in your arms, careful not to be too rough, cuddling him for a while, captivated by that little miracle and swearing to yourself that you would do anything to be an example to him.

Something shiny on his leg had caught your attention, a series of numbers running backwards like a countdown had you raising an eyebrow in confusion. 89:54:12...11...10...09... you had brushed it tentatively but nothing happened.

"You're all right (Y/N)? Is something wrong?" the new mother had asked, seeing you focused on looking at her son's skin and knowing how you were always looking for the smallest details.

Looking up at your sister and back down at the little leg, it was all gone. Just as it had appeared it was gone and you shake your head, "Nah don't worry about it. I'm just still in shock from this beauty"

Over the next few days that episode buzzed around in your head annoyingly, you were curious wanting to find out what it was but at the same time it scared you. What if it was a curse rather than a good thing? Several times you had gone back to visit your nephew and each time the number was different, lower. And you found you could only see it once a day, the sign disappearing just as it appeared. At its own pace. You could only see it on the side of the left leg, it was hard to see when covered up and you couldn't see it on yourself.

That thought now took up all your spare time, you had even researched it on the internet but had not been very lucky. You had found out what it was at your own expense.

You had errands to run that day and got up early, it was a nice day and you thought you'd leave the car in the garage and go for a nice walk. You look down at your phone as you wait for the pedestrian light to turn green and as you do so you realise your shoe is untied. You lean down to fix it and a sparkle draws your attention to your right, a little girl apparently alone with a backpack bigger than her on her shoulders is waiting beside you. 00:00:06 is written on her leg.

The light turns green and lots of people start walking quickly before getting stuck in the red light again. You hurry walking but when people start shouting to be careful you instinctively grab that little girl by her backpack pulling her to you avoiding an accident, a truck that didn't even stop.

"Thank you, ma'am"

"Oh my god are you alright?" you murmur shocked walking the child to the other side of the pavement safely as she nods and then goes on her way, you following her with your eyes. Until she collapses to the ground and you swear your heart skipped a beat as your legs start running towards her, 00:00:00 in red on her leg.

-

Mason immediately notices something is wrong with you as soon as he opens the door, your expression blank and your face almost colourless. He immediately wraps you in a hug closing the door gently and your grip tightens when he would like to pull away to look you in the eye.

"What's going on (Y/N)?" he asks worriedly, stroking your hair as you shake your head, you held on as you tried to resuscitate that little girl in vain; as they loaded her into the ambulance with the sheet on her tiny body and even as you answered the police's questions. And you're literally exhausted, tears start to roll down your cheeks as Mason forces you to look at him, laying his hands on your cheeks gently but firmly. "You're worrying me"

"There was an accident today" you murmur with a broken voice and he takes a step back to look at you entirely and make sure with his eyes that nothing is out of place. He pulls you to his chest again as he tries to get you to move towards the couch.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks softly not wanting to push you, you sit by his side leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. Your tongue goes to stop a tear that is falling down powerfully at that moment.

"There was a little girl" you tremble at the mere memory, "she was maybe twelve. And we were... there was a red light and then we crossed and she was alive"

"Oh babe" he sighs stroking your back, watching you shake your head.

"No Mase, she was alive on the other side of the road. Then... then she fell to the ground and-" a sob shakes your body as he looks at you helplessly.

"I knew it"

"What? Babe it was a random accident, you couldn't have known"

"I knew it Mason! I knew something was going to happen but I thought that having saved her from the truck she was going to be saved and instead..."

"What are you saying (Y/N)?"

"Mason, I'm losing my mind" you look at him genuinely scared and he wastes no time in wrapping you around himself again. "You just went through a traumatic event, it's normal for you to feel upset honey"

"No I- I need to tell you something" you sit up properly not breaking eye contact, watching him swallow but waiting for you to continue. And you tell him everything from the beginning trying to be as accurate as possible, from the birth of your nephew to the shiny writing on his leg; the research and testing to find out more and more every day, to that day when you really realised what it was by learning that you can't change fate.

"What's the point if I can't do anything to change it?" is the first thing you ask to a silent Mason, trying to absorb that strong informations all at once. And you can't blame him if he doesn't want to believe you, I mean it's kind of surreal, isn't it?

"You can see the date of people's deaths?"

"Apparently. But please call it a person's lifespan instead" he nods, his hand touching your knee to make you feel his presence and his thumb stroking you gently.

"Wow all this is just... wow. I wonder if there are more of you out there"

"You believe me?" you're on the verge of tears again as he smiles softly.

"Why wouldn't I, you have magic" he manages to make you laugh in spite of everything, a tear escaping your control but you promptly wipe it away.

"How does it work? Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, "I don't feel anything, just this light which is then replaced by numbers... I should have realised sooner" your gaze ending on Mason's legs who is thankfully wearing long trousers, no more numbers for today.

He follows your gaze, "Have you seen mine?" the question pops up and you quickly shake your head closing your eyes. "I can't see it if you've got it covered and I don't want to please"

"No hey it's okay, it's okay" slowly he pulls you with him until you're lying on the couch, you sigh settling yourself better in his arms focusing on his beating heart and nothing more.

"Have you tried searching on the internet?" you nod, "Yeah but I haven't found that much"

"Yeah but maybe now that you know what it's for you can look more properly"

"Some other time. I can't do it now"

"We'll do it together when you want to" he leaves a kiss on your temple as you give him a first sweet smile after all those tears.

-

Having someone to share all this with turned out to be a godsend. Just as he had said, since the accident Mason had been with you through everything and you had almost moved in with him.

You would have liked to say that you had learned to live with it, but the truth was that since that day you had been so afraid it might happen again that you no longer looked down. Mason had researched it for you, urging you to try this and that, sometimes much more excited about discovering new things about it than you were. But at the same time he'd also given you your space to decide how to deal with it all and you'd simply decided not to deal with it; not being able to do anything to avoid the inevitable had stopped you from studying how to live with it.

Your phone vibrates and Mason's name appears on the screen after a moment, your smile disappearing little by little as you accept the call. Hearing his voice calms you a little, but that doesn't mean you don't feel your heart in your throat when he tells you that he's in the hospital and that he and Declan were in an accident.

He needs you and you don't think twice about getting in the car and driving to him, phone to your ear as your eyes work further than your legs to try and find him as quickly as possible. And when you do, the relief is so intense that you hold him tightly to you as he groans slightly.

"How are you? Declan?"

"Just a few scratches. He was unconscious when they took him away" Mason sits back in the chair and you at his side stroking his back as you let him run through what happened with his mind, holding him in your arms when he breaks down just like he did to you when you needed him.

"(Y/N) I need you to do something for me" you don't need to make him continue any further to understand what's going through his head.

"No Mason" you shake your head seriously, "don't make me do that"

"Please (Y/N), I need to know" he murmurs looking into your eyes.

"Why? Even if it was you couldn't do anything so why would you want to know?"

"I'd like to make sure he's going to be okay and because I could be around if him..." his breath dies in his throat at the very thought.

"I can't" and you try to stop him as he shakes his head walking away to get some air, putting a glass divider between you and him.

Your gaze drifts from him to the door where nurses come in and out, your leg shaking rhythmically. You don't want to be the one to tell him that news, it would destroy him. But then why does it have to be bad news? Yeah, but what if it is?

You look at Mason one last time before getting up, your mind not even registering what you ask the nurse in the hallway; her sweet smile leading you past the room you seek.

"I'll only stay a couple of minutes, thank you very much" the nurse walks away and you watch your friend from a distance, still undecided as to whether that's the right thing to do. Silently you step into the room moving closer until you're beside the bed, Declan has a few scratches on his face and an injured shoulder at first glance but the fact that he's been unconscious for so long doesn't give the doctors the green light to dismiss him at the moment.

His legs are covered by a sheet and for a moment you think it's a sign. Your hand freezing in mid-air on the first try. And then the glow starting to appear even from under the sheet, your hand moving on its own to uncover his leg and your eyes closing at that light more brightly than usual. Your heartbeat the only thing you can hear for a moment until you open your eyes. A few tears escape your control as you pull the sheet down as if you got burned, your hand going to cover your mouth as you hurry out of that room.

"Oh (Y/N) what have you done?" you almost clash with Mason and he's quick to wrap his arms around you as you try to pull yourself together. When he hadn't seen you where he'd left you once he'd gotten back, he'd known immediately and the guilt had hit him hard.

He shouldn't have asked you, not knowing the emotional effort you have to put into all that. Declan was going to be fine and even though his fate may be another, knowing that beforehand wouldn't have changed anything; he'd be by his friend's side no matter what and putting you in that position...

"It's okay, I had to do it. If I can't use it to calm those I love, then when?"

"So...?"

"I can't know what's next for him but Declan still has a long life ahead of him" despite everything it's a relief to hear and the boy cheers slightly, his gaze inevitably shifting to his bed visible from outside.

And maybe that's what it's used for, knowing to be able to spend most of our time with someone we love; no regrets.

"Go to him" Mason leaves a kiss on your lips before going to sit next to his friend. A solid 62:03:20 runs down his leg.

[collisiondiscourse]

Man, why does it feel like the threshold for success has a time limit? I always feel like if I'm not an insanely popular artist or powerful influencer by the time I turn eighteen, then I am an utter failure and a waste of my teenage years. I think one of the biggest pitfalls of how the generation of kids today has been raised is that we've basically been socialized to think that our best achievements have to come in our youth or else they become virtually worthless.

Like... Oh? you're a talented pianist and played in front of an auditorium of hundreds at an opera house? how old were you when that happened?

A forty-seven-year-old would be met with a few impressed nods, maybe, and people congratulating them for all their hard work and experience.

A fourteen-year-old would get news articles. they'd go viral on the internet and thousands of people would be clambering over each other to sing praises of how they were blessed with such innate talent.

I get it. It's impressive, right? Because they're young and haven't had plenty of years of experience. These kids, by all means, deserve all the praise and attention for working hard to get where they were!

But that's not the case, is it? And the culture of people putting more credit for young people's achievements doesn't even fuckin end there.

Because not only does this exact same pattern happen with literally every single thing ever, even totally non-competitive hobbies like painting, it happens with such frequency that it's considered normal. Articles use age markers about successes to serve as clickbait for their articles. Cable companies start shows purely about young prodigies and how they've beaten their adult competitors. Because who wouldn't wanna hear about a ten-year-old chess champion, right?

And what's even worse is that it then becomes a competition even among young people themselves! You scroll down on a video of a pre-teen playing Winter Wind and I promise you there will be at least one asshole saying shit like "This kid is not impressive. I saw a nine year old do the same thing the other day!"

It eats away at you! It really fucking does! because we go down this stupid rabbit-hole wherein younger and younger kids get paraded around and raised to be prodigies and meanwhile here you are, sixteen, and having a panic attack because you can't go back in time and force your eight-year-old self to keep playing the violin. It's stressful. It aches. Instead of bringing up younger people around us, we're stuck in this miserable zone where we constantly get compared and pitted against each other because we couldn't "maximize our childhood".

Isn't it enough to just... exist?

There have already been many conversations on the nature of college. How it's utter BS that people have to choose what career they want for the rest of their lives as early as junior year in HS. But what a lot of people don't talk about is just how early people are forced to decide what hobbies they want to do for the rest of their lives. People who start learning how to play an instrument at 28 can't do so without constantly being questioned why they started so late. A drawing with decent coloring garners more credit and attention for the average tween than the struggling middle-aged woman, despite both having an equal amount of experience with visual arts.

Parents constantly tell their children to study harder, to practice more--to just keep on work, work, working until their children become the perfect model dolls they use flex to one another over brunch. It's constantly having your name be followed up by your latest achievement and not anything about who you are as a person.

"This is Codi. She is a straight-A student and got invited to compete at Harvard."

"This is Codi. She is on her school's math team and knows how to play the piano."

"This is Codi. She is--"

I am a human being, thank you.

It's never "This is Codi, and he loves fashion and losing at video games." or "This is Codi, and he likes listening to annoying pop songs from the early 2010s and laying down in the rain."

Why? because none of that matters! None of that is worth listening to because anything less than what I can do to represent my family, my school, my team, my country will never be anything more than a waste of time. It's toxic, how today's generation of teenagers have to be celebrities or important figures or champions or prodigies before they are people.

It gets worse, though.

People start counting your talents like tally marks for points. You can't "just be an artist" anymore. If you draw, then you also have to be good at writing. And poetry. And graphic design. And a sport. Oh, you only know one language? Oh, you've only learned the basics of the guitar? It's like a fucking marker, ticking off boxes to determine the worth of these teenagers on the marketability of their achievements.

And, okay, it's a misrepresentation to only blame parents, right? Because it's a systematic thing. A new societal expectation for kids to be the next fucking Renaissance--with peer pressure for things like relationship experience and wild stories too. We kids now worry about not being special enough, not phenomenal enough, or beautiful enough, or talented enough, or smart enough, or experienced enough. And it's weird!

It's weird how teens now flex how tired and burnt out they are! It's weird how I've had conversations that turned into competitions of how many bullshit responsibilities we have on our plate. It's weird how I've met kids on the honor roll that are so adamant to prove to people that they've gone to parties, had alcohol, and slept around.

It's a goddamn tragedy, watching so many of my peers turning into burnouts before they've even graduated high school.

We are expected to be the most. If that one singer could do it, if that one global warming activist could do it, if that one Olympic athlete could do it--then why can't you? Why can't you have over 20.7k followers on Twitter? Why can't you have started your own band and release a popular album? Why can't you have published your own book by now? Why can't you be good enough?

I sit here, typing away at this stupid post and being unhappy and feeling like I am not good enough. I am an artist. I am a writer. I speak more than one language and play more than one instrument. I used to be a straight-A student and nationally competed in maths and sciences competitions. I am an international finalist for my sport and have multiple gold medals from foreign countries.

Yet still, I feel like my timer is running short.

[lexosaurus]

Upload Complete

A late fic for day 3 of dp side hoes week!

Character: Wes Theme: Denial

---

Wes held his breath, watching the upload bar slowly increase.

Uploading 94%

Anxious energy buzzed in his veins, but he was still. Frozen. As if a single muscle twitch would bring this all crashing down.

Uploading 95% 

It wouldn’t have been the first time his plans were thwarted at the last minute. Just last week he had been on his way home, camera in hand, when suddenly he felt the familiar chill of intangibility pass over him and his camera swiped from his clutches. He looked up to see Phantom, in all his egotistical glory, reach inside the camera, grab the memory card, and melt it in his palms.

Uploading 96%

But with each failure, months of countless iterations of the same plan, he had grown. He had learned. He had become more cunning, more discrete.

It really was only a matter of time before this day would come.

Uploading 97%

He was so close.

So close.

Uploading 98%

His mouth was a dessert. His hands clutched the edge of his desk, shaking. He couldn’t remember when the last time he blinked was, but it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered right now except how close he was he was so close. 

Uploading 99%

So close.

Finally.

After all this time.

It was happening.

Upload complete

A breath escaped his lips. And then another. And another. Until the breaths quickened, and sound followed. A laugh. A breathy, weightless laugh.

He leaned back in his chair, allowing hilarity to overtake his body. This was bliss, it was pure bliss. 

Wes stretched his arms out and stared up at the ceiling. 

He had won. 

After months of trying, he finally caught the perfect video showcasing the tail end of Phantom’s fight today with the infamous mecha ghost Skulker. Phantom sucked the ghost into his ghost thermos, flew behind a tree, and glanced around suspiciously for a brief moment before triggering his transformation sequence. Then, like icing on the cake, Foley and Manson appeared and had a conversation with Danny Fenton about the fight that Danny Phantom had just gone through. Fenton displayed the ecto-thermos and uttered the perfect lines about needing to “get him back to the Ghost Zone,” before turning his hand and the thermos intangible and shoving the object into his backpack.

The video was, by all accounts, perfect. Simply perfect. It was the exact undeniable proof that Wes had spent months trying to capture.

Now it was online for the world to see.

All he had to do now was share the link to the popular Phantom fan forum, sit back, and watch the internet work its magic.

If Wes was right, Phantom would be trending in an hour. News sites would be covering him by tonight. By tomorrow, everyone would know who—or what—Fenton really was.

A liar. An abomination. A danger to society. 

All because of Wes.

He was victorious.

This was—

---

—wrong.

Wes pressed a hand against the glass, his eyes wide as he watched as red streaked against the green splatters dotting the panel.

This was all wrong.

“Come to gloat?” an icy voice sounded from beyond the glass wall.

“I never wanted this,” Wes whispered. He couldn’t take his eyes off the green stains on the glass, on the wall, on the floor. It popped against the otherwise barren room, painting the bleached scene with a terrifying story.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” The voice coughed, and then groaned. “You did this to me, Wes. This is your fault.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up.”

Wes’s eyes snapped over to the figure beyond the glass. It was sallow, decrepit. Nothing more than a bony mess of black, white, and green in a torn jumpsuit.

And it finally connected in Wes’s brain where he’d seen Phantom’s uniform before. It looked exactly like the suits worn in ecto-science labs.

Because when he saw the ghost now, Phantom looked right at home. He looked like he was made to be a lab rat.

And that made Wes nauseous.

“I didn’t ask to be this way. I didn’t want to be—to be a freak.” Phantom’s head lolled back against the wall. A trickle of ectoplasm dripped from his chin, peppering the floor with even more green, but he made no move to clean his face.

Wes’s hand fell to his side. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here.” His voice didn’t sound too convincing. It sounded pathetic, weak.

Phantom snorted, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“I will,” Wes reiterated.

“Whatever you say.”

His pulse quickened, and before he could stop himself he choked out, “I just need to know. I need to know. What—what are you?”

Phantom’s eyes narrowed, snapping onto Wes. 

Wes could have forgotten how to breathe. “Please, I need to know. Are you dead?”

“No.”

Wes’s blood ran cold.

“As in no, you don’t get to know what I am.” Phantom said. “You don’t get that privilege. Do you understand, Weston? You posted that video knowing that everyone, everyone, would see it, including the federal organization established to capture me. You knew deep down that this was going to happen. You just didn’t care because the only thing that mattered was that you were right and everyone else was just in too deep denial to see it, am I right?”

It was so hard to breathe. 

Phantom leaned forward, his head drooping down to his chest. “You took away everything. I have nothing left. So now you can just sit there for the rest of your life and think about the fact that you have no idea if the person who you condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment was human, or ghost, or something in between.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing, you know,” Wes said, frustration seeping into his tone. “I just threw away my life too by doing this. I can’t exactly go home either.”

“Oh what, am I supposed to thank you now? For ruining my life but then coming back to ‘save’ me?” Phantom snapped. “Shut the fuck up.”

He could have left. He could have just turned around and left Phantom to rot in this compound for the rest of his afterlife.

But no, he’d come so far. And as today, he was officially a criminal. 

He could never go home now. He couldn’t waste this trip.

And besides, he knew that he needed Phantom’s help in escaping the compound. This plan was a one way trip, put together after months of planning. Months of working with one of the most notorious hackers Wes knew online.

This was the best plan he had. But it wasn’t foolproof. 

“I can get you in,” the hacker said from the other side of the screen. “After that? You’re on your own.”

Wes nodded. “That’s all I need.”

Silas was silent for a moment. “You know, when you reached out to me on Reddit, I thought you were delusional at first. I thought that this plan would never work, that you were out of your mind. But I figured I’d entertain you for a minute. At least hear you out before I wrote you off completely.”

“And I’m grateful.”

“But now, Wes? Now I just think you have a death wish.”

“You don’t understand,” Wes said bitterly. “This is my fault. I need to get Phantom out.”

“You’ll kill yourself before you make it out of there.”

“Please, just tell me what I need to know.”

There was a fingerprint scanner mounted on the wall next to the glass pane. Wes approached it cautiously, trying to ignore Phantom’s eyes that tracked his every move, and stopped before the wall. 

“The hacker I’ve been working with programmed my thumb into this lock,” Wes said. “I’ll unlock it, then we run. Once we clear the door, you phase us out of here. Okay?”

Phantom didn’t say anything, but Wes didn’t need him to. There was no alternative plan, no other way to make it out of here intact. It was either this, or they both die.

Wes lifted his trembling hand, pressing his thumb to the scanner. The scanner came to life, lighting up green as it read his finger print.

For a moment, nothing happened. Deafening silence permeated the room, the mounting pressure slowly suffocating Wes’s lungs. Each millisecond that the scanner spent on his thumb felt like an eternity.

And then, just when he felt like he was about to collapse, the scanner turned red.

Time stopped. Wes’s eyes widened, and he drew in a short, shuddering breath. 

No. 

The blaring started.

NO!

The room filled with red light and high-pitched wailing. Wes’s legs cemented to the ground, and all he could do was turn his head and watch in horror as Phantom’s terrified eyes rolled to the back of his head before the ghost collapsed on the ground.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t have been real.

How did their plan fail?

Wes heard the door open, and the sounds of footsteps filled surrounded him. He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t watch as his worst fears unfolded in front of him.

“So you were the rogue fingerprint,” a deep voice from behind him said. “You know, we thought it was odd when all of the sudden one day, a twenty seventh fingerprint suddenly was logged into the scanner seemingly overnight.”

No…

“Teenager, huh? Always think you’re invincible.”

Wes opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His body was numb. He couldn’t feel his limbs. His brain was screaming at him to run, get out of here, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, not because of anything the government had done to him.

No. It was fear.

“Too bad for you, you’re not as invincible as you think you are.”

---

Thanks for reading!

[feralaot]

What do you headcanon the characters do on a day off?

simple yet eloquent, my dearly beloved.

AOT characters + what they do on a day off

warnings: mention of alcohol

eren: tries to play roblox but gets bullied offline. it would also seem that there’s nothing in his search history for the past 24 hours, good for him for staying off the internet 😌

mikasa: binges the twilight series alone in her room and every time she sees robert pattinson she sighs and mumbles something along the lines of “my dark knight...”

armin: gets a burst of motivation and completely organizes and cleans his room then realizes he no longer knows where anything is so he tears it all up looking for his things and ends up back at square one

jean: tries out that new recipe that he’s been meaning to get to, “spaghetti o’s” sounds italian

connie: takes the opportunity to polish his resume because he’s 19 and “I can fit my entire fist in my mouth” shouldn’t still be one of his special skills

sasha: takes the day to hunt in the woods but is too excited for it the night before so she doesn’t get enough rest and ends up sleeping while camouflaged in her tree stand all day

historia: learns the process of soap-making and makes various bars of soap in questionable shapes. reiner was gifted dick-shaped soap but it smells like sage and apples so obviously he’s not gonna waste it

ymir: bullies some kid on roblox until they go offline

levi and erwin: they sit and watch how the grinch stole christmas (2000) and take a shot whenever someone says “grinch”

hange: goes to the dentist. but like, not for a check up, just for the conversation. you can't really have a conversation with a dentist during a normal visit since, you know, it’s hard to talk to them when they’re digging at your gums

reiner: just has a really good cry. cries maybe four or five times. he feels clean and better and like he has cleansed his emotional palette after a long day of crying that was the fallout of months of repressed emotions

bertholdt: will take a shot at reading the book that he’s been promising to himself that he was going to read for seven weeks now

annie: skins and dissects the inner machinations of furbies to customize them, perhaps elongating their body to make a furby centipede or attaching several new legs to its underside. what amalgamation of parts will this furby become? fuck around and find out

porco: spends the entire day reading up about funny and obscure tales from the internet then rambles about it to whoever will listen porco: “anyway, the pony figure is still probably in that jar buried somewhere.” pieck: “dude, what the fuck?”

pieck: marathons the home alone franchise while laying flat on the ground under her ceiling fan wondering if it might fall and kill her. she doesn't move though

zeke: steals his dad’s car and drives into the city with his best friends to go to museums and baseball games then sneak onto a parade float. then goes home and watches ferris bueller’s day off (1986)

[iamnotparticularlyproud]

PPB Square: Kink Discovery | @peterparkerbingo

word count: 2.7k rating: mature warnings: none ao3 link: https://bit.ly/3xpiBdx

Summary: Bucky and Peter have been together for a while, but Peter can’t bring himself to talk to his boyfriend about how their sex life is a bit - uh, well, boring. Instead, Peter searches Bucky’s laptop while he isn’t home for any sign of kink whatsoever. To say it doesn’t go as he planned would be an understatement.

Bucky’s amazing. So, so amazing, and Peter could go on about it for days - about his silly nicknames, the way he makes the Brooklyn drawl sound adorable, his unexpected dorkiness and razor sharp wit, how his hands are so calloused but he holds Peter so softly--

Days, Peter could come up with these for days. 

So, it’s not like there’s anything he wishes he could change about their relationship. It’s - they’re - perfect, everything’s been perfect. Bucky’s just so nice, and after Beck, Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be in a relationship again, let alone one so - so good. So healthy, and so supportive. 

It’s just--

Their sex is so vanilla. Painfully vanilla. The most unconventional Bucky gets is with his dirty talk, and, yeah, Peter loves how his boyfriend will call him his sweet lil boy, and tell Peter how good he takes a thick cock in his tight ass, but that's about as far as Bucky ever goes. 

And that - that isn’t a bad thing, Peter knows that, it’s just. Boring, sometimes, is all.

Peter wishes he could talk to Bucky about it, because the man always stresses communication and talking problems out, but it’s just so embarrassing. Peter’s just thinking about it and he’s flushed, so how could he say the word kink out loud? 

He can’t. He really, really can’t.

So Peter does the only other thing he can think to do.

He steals Bucky’s laptop and rummages for any signs of kink - anything to suggest his boyfriend isn’t as vanilla as it seems. Peter knows he doesn’t have long - Bucky’s out getting takeout from their favorite Thai place, and it isn’t too far - so he doesn’t waste time as he searches all the keywords he can think of in Bucky’s unorganized folders, his internet history that’s never been cleared, the hard drive Peter got him because he complained about memory but Peter was 99% sure he never touched - he was right - and then tries his luck with the recycle bin, but--

There’s not just no sign of kink.

There’s nothing. There’s no porn at all.

Peter’s mind is blown. He hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t find porn, he thought that everyone watched porn - and unless Bucky knew how to delete specific pages from his browser history, which Peter heavily doubts, because, c'mon - but apparently, Bucky doesn’t.

He considers that, maybe, since Bucky is nearly a decade older than him, he consumes his porn in a different way. Maybe physical movies or, godforbid, magazines.

Peter’s considering looking through Bucky’s drawers and closets until he finds proof of pornography consumption, but then someone’s clearing their throat behind him.

“Jesus, how do you--” Peter exclaims, because it’s nowhere near the first time this six foot hunk of a man has snuck up on him. Then, he glances at the clunky computer in his lap that is obviously not his, and back at Bucky, who’s looking at the laptop, and then at Peter.

“What’re you doin’ with my computer?”

Peter panics, not because Bucky seems upset, because he doesn’t, just - confused, but it’s such a weird thing to be doing, and he can’t lie at all, and this isn’t--

“Does that say porn?” Bucky asks, suddenly leaning over Peter’s shoulder, and he just sounds amused, but Peter goes on the defensive anyway.

“I-It’s just, you never, and I - this isn’t me wanting you to change, or--”

Bucky moves quickly when Peter starts that familiar stress-ramble; he circles around the couch, puts the plastic bag filled with food down on the coffee table and sits next to him, wrapping an arm around his back and shushing him kindly.

“Slow down, doll.” Bucky smiles, sincerity etched in his crow’s feet, “Can’t understand you when you’re talkin’ too fast, remember?”

Peter stops. He nods, then he takes a breath. When he lets it go, Bucky tells him to take a deeper one, so he does, and as he breathes it out, he feels the alarm fade.

Not completely, though. Not with the evidence of his snooping in his lap.

With a glance back at where porn is still typed out in the recycle bin’s search bar and a chuckle, Bucky asks, almost laughing, “What were you doin’, sweetheart?” 

Peter doesn’t expect it, but the fight drains from his body. It’s him accepting his fate, he realizes belatedly.

“I, uh,” Peter pauses, because it’s still so difficult to say the words, “was looking for porn.”

Bucky laughs for real this time, and Peter closes his eyes with a sigh. That wasn’t what he meant to say, at all.

“No - I was looking for y-your porn, like, what you watch,” Peter explains, and Bucky is still laughing, but he waves a hand.

“Yeah, I got that.” He says, making an effort to curb his laughter, “Why, though?”

Peter bites his lip. "Do you watch porn?”

He was scared that meeting Bucky’s question with a question would frustrate the man, but he only looks more amused.

“Why would I?”

Huh?

“What?”

“Why would I watch porn?” Bucky sounds genuinely confused, “We have sex almost everyday.”

Almost, Peter nearly stresses, but catches himself. Obviously, he’s dramatically misread the situation. 

“Y-Yeah, but,” Peter tries to come up with something, anything, “like, maybe, before we dated?”

“I know it’s kinda old, but I got the thing not too long before we met, actually.”

That bit of information also sends Peter reeling, and he almost argues about it - because the laptop isn’t 'kinda old,' it’s ancient - but Bucky speaks before he does.

“Were you lookin’ for the kinda porn I’m into?”

Peter nearly sags with relief. How does he always manage to get it before Peter has to explain? 

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s smile shifts, and it’s - he likes that, Peter notices, and, it’s - it's sexual.

“What, did you wanna tease me?” Bucky licks his lips, “Rile me up?”

Oh. That works, and it’s pretty true, even. Peter can work with that.

He nods. Bucky continues, and he looks so pleased.

“It’s you, sugar,” Bucky brings his hand to Peter’s cheek, and his hold is so gentle, but the calluses are rough, and it’s such a satisfying dichotomy that Peter can’t help but lean into it, “You get me wild.”

If only. Peter’s never seen him be wild. 

But he couldn’t say that. Not when Bucky sounds like he absolutely means it, and it makes Peter’s heart flutter.

Peter has been a bit weird lately. 

Well, Peter is always a bit weird, but it’s a part of his charm. He’s been acting extra weird lately, Bucky’s noticed, and while it’s just as endearing, it’s confusing, too.

He almost calls Peter out on it after he’s found him searching for porn on his computer - more than he had already, anyway - but he just gets so tense when Bucky tries to make him really talk about something. He doesn’t want to bring up that energy - not so late, anyway. 

So Bucky plans to talk to him about it tomorrow.

And Peter thwarts that plan as soon as they wake up. Usually, he’s eager to spend the last day of their shared weekend off together, but before they’ve even had their coffee, Peter’s rushing out the door with the excuse of meeting up with his college friends at a cafe. Not too long later he texted they were going to do an impromptu study group for an upcoming quiz, then, after five hours, texted him they were going to hang out more.  

Bucky tries not to be suspicious of or retaliatory to Peter even more than he’s learned to be with his partners, because the kid’s not had a great track record with boyfriends, to say the least, but this is ridiculous. When he’s been gone for a whole seven hours, under the guise of shoddy excuses, Bucky decides his curiosity needs to be sated more than Peter needs to be coddled, and his new plan is to snoop into Peter’s computer like the kid tried with him. Obviously, if he assumed Bucky would have porn on his laptop, Peter’s got some on his. 

Bucky doesn’t plan to look until Peter texts that he’s on his way home, though. He thinks it’ll be funny if the kid finds himself where Bucky stood last night.

So, after Peter texted that he’s omw, Bucky pulls out his computer. It’s so sleek, thin and light, yet wide, and he hates using it, but he’s dying to know. How much porn could Peter possibly watch, considering how much they have sex, and how busy he’s kept as a student and part-time employee?

Not very much, Bucky assumes.

And holy fuck is he wrong.

He takes a wild guess and searches porn in the convenient - but too bulky, and ugly - search engine in the toolbar, and a stupidly obviously labeled folder, not porn don’t look, comes right up. There’s several subfolders - distinguishing the videos by kink, dear God - and dozens of videos in most of them, over a hundred in a few.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s surprised - Jesus Christ, so surprised - at so many things, but - where the fuck does Peter find the time to watch so much porn? What does it mean that he’s amassed such a collection? How has Bucky never walked in on him watching it? Is there a way to see how many hours of it there are, because it’s a stupidly high amount, definitely--

Bucky takes a breath. He leans back, too, because the little previews are too much to look at, and he takes a moment to appreciate just how understandable it was that Peter was so confused yesterday. It must be unthinkable, to not watch porn, to him. But - Peter’s never even mentioned porn before, not in the half-a-year they’ve been dating, so what was so different about yesterday?

The question has Bucky sitting back up, ready to delve deeper. He starts by reading the names of the folders closer, finding it’s not just organized by kink, but by his favorite pornstars, too. The kid’s got several, all with typical pornstar names, and according to the previews, he’s got a type for big and buff. Checks out.

With another deep, grounding breath, Bucky clicks on the folder name Ultimate Favorites. It’s only got thirteen videos in it, but all the titles are a fuckin’ doozy. It’s shit like Small Twink Fucked Hard, and Daddy Pounds His Boy Until He Cries, and - Jesus fuck - Dom Verbally Abuses Sub While Anally Abusing Him. 

Bucky’s nauseous just reading that last one. He never would’ve guessed Peter was into such rough sex. Not just because the kid gets all wide-eyed and stuttery whenever sex is even mentioned, but because Peter’s just so - soft. In all the ways a person can be, really.

Bucky doesn’t know how to reconcile what he knows Peter to be like with this new information about him. He distantly knows that he doesn’t have to - that Peter’s kinks don't reflect anything about his personality, and acting like they do is only reductive - but the instinct is so strong, he can’t help but fruitlessly try.

Before he can reconsider, Bucky’s clicking on one of the more mildly titled videos - not that any of them are mild at all - just to understand better what Peter’s so into. 

The video loads almost immediately, and it doesn’t waste time with any kind of introduction - there’s suddenly two men on the screen, their size difference resembling Bucky and Peter’s to a ridiculous degree, and the larger one pushes the smaller onto a bed carelessly before climbing on top of him. It’s a bunch of shoving and aggressive groping along with cruel words and name calling, and Bucky’s never been more turned off in his life. He can’t believe this porno is among Peter’s favorites - his boyfriend’s never once let on that this is the kind of sex he’s into.

While he’s staring, Bucky’s on screen lookalike finally quitting with the rough teasing and moving onto the brutal fucking, he hears Peter enter his apartment. Bucky doesn’t mute the video, and Peter’s light footsteps stop immediately. Bucky can just see the look on his face - that caught-in-the-headlights one that makes Peter look more like a deer than Bucky thought a person could - and he stifles a laugh as the steps pick back up, this time much more hesitant. When Peter’s a good foot into the living room, Bucky turns around, acting as if he hadn’t heard him coming in.

With the computer filling the room with sounds of slapping and exaggerated moans, Bucky greets, struggling to keep a smirk off his face,  “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

Peter doesn’t answer him and - yep, there’s that look. Instead, he gapes like a fish at where his computer is steadied on Bucky’s lap, eyes wide and frantic.

“Why’d you never mention this, doll?” Bucky asks, dropping the act as Peter keeps looking like disaster is seconds away. He pauses the video and sets the laptop to the side, motioning for Peter to join him on the couch.

Peter does join him, albeit uncertain and his eyes still trained on the graphic image on the computer screen. He’s quiet as he sits as far as he can from Bucky.

“I--” Peter starts, gaze transfixed on the laptop. “Can you - close that?”

Bucky does. Peter keeps looking at it.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

Peter finally looks at him. He seems scared, Bucky realizes. He closes a bit of the distance between them, leaving some incase Peter feels suffocated, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, a touch Peter always leans into.

He does this time, too. He relaxes some, and Bucky prompts, “Were you scared to tell me?”

Peter relaxes even more, his shoulders falling. He nods. “I know you probably don’t care--”

Bucky interrupts to confirm with a nod of his own, “I don’t.”

“But it’s just--” Peter huffs, eyebrows furrowing, “Embarrassing.”

Bucky nods more. “It doesn’t change how I think about you.” He reassures Peter, “At all.”

“That's good.” Peter breathes, and Bucky can’t help but laugh softly. “I was starting to think it would gross you out.”

It kinda does, but Bucky doesn’t say that. It isn’t important how the porn he’s into makes Bucky feel. 

“No, baby. It doesn’t.”

Peter leans into his side, and Bucky shifts to embrace him. Silence attempts to settle around them, but Bucky can’t help his need to tease.

“So… where’d you find the time to make such a collection?” 

Peter cringes. “I, uh, started it years ago.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t know why he didn’t assume that - it’s a seriously massive collection - but thinking of how far back years suggests, and how Peter is just twenty-two, he can’t help but ask for clarification.

“How many years you talkin’?”

“Uhh…” Peter trails off, seeming to really think about it. Bucky can see the moment he finds the answer, and his expression closes.  “...several.”

Bucky decides to wager a guess. He doesn’t really know why he wants to know this answer, but he thinks it might help him understand just how into kink Peter is.

“Sixteen?”

Peter whines. “Jamie.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Fifteen?”

Peter pulls away a bit to cover his face with his hands, and he whines unintelligibly this time.

“Christ, it wasn’t younger than thirteen, was it?”

Peter shakes his head. “N-No, I--” His words are muffled by his palms,  “I was fourteen.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Peter can’t lie for shit, so Bucky can tell he isn’t just appeasing him. 

Then it hits him just how long Peter’s been fantasizing about this kind of sex.

“You’re really into this stuff, huh?”

Peter burrows further into his hands. Bucky rubs his back, and considers his next words carefully.

“If you want, we could explore some of the tamer stuff you have in there.” 

Peter drops his hands from his face and he looks excited for all of two seconds. Then, his expression falls. “None of it’s… tame. I mean, I guess--” Peter cuts himself off to cough, wincing as he tries to get the words out, “uh, im-impact play isn’t, you know, hardcore, I guess.”

“Spanking and stuff?”

“...and stuff.” Peter says with a flush. 

“We’ll start with spanking,” Bucky laughs, adding just in case, “if you want to.”

But it wasn’t necessary, because Peter brightens immediately. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” 

Peter smiles wide, and Bucky can’t help but return it with one of his own.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Advice Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains spoilers for a date, 讨教之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Outside the window, the wing of the plane slowly glides past layers of clouds, and glaring daylight illuminates the clear skies above the clouds.

Retracting my gaze, I look at Victor as he sits beside me. He’s wearing a formal suit, and is currently flipping through LFG’s annual report.

A week ago, both Victor and I received invitations to attend the annual media meeting in a neighbouring city today.

Among the list participants, there are a number of big shots in the business, as well as rising stars in the media industry. Victor and I are included. 

While I’m heading there with the goal of exchanging pointers with those in the same industry, Victor is making an appearance in the capacity of an investor.

Watching how attentively Victor is examining the report, I quietly turn off the video.

Just a while ago, the company produced a program which created lively discussion on the internet.

Even though a majority of the audience and those in the industry found the theme of the program original and with interesting content, a senior from the industry left feedback to the contrary.

In an “Aspects of the Film and Television Industry” interview , Producer Xia mercilessly criticised the sizeable number of issues in the industry.

While I originally agreed with whatever he said, I didn’t expect that in the next second, I’d appear in the list of examples given by this senior...

He commented that my program was sensationalised, purposefully created controversy, and that producers have completely lost their personal integrity and their "original aspirations” when making programs.

There were people who stood by me, mocking Producer Xia for simply resting on his laurels, and not following the times and being creative.

Yet, his words caused my heart to feel heavy.

At this thought, I release a sigh.

MC: Maybe I’ll be able to get some advice and experience from people in the same industry at the annual media meeting later...

Victor: Why aren’t you resting a little more on the plane?

Without warning, Victor’s voice sounds at my ear. Even before I have the chance to turn the video off, his line of sight has already landed on my screen.

MC: Cough. I’m learning from a senior in the industry, and also thinking about how to seek advice from those in the same industry during the annual meeting.

Hearing this, Victor lightly shuts the report in his hands.

Victor: Did you know that this producer would also be participating in tonight’s annual media meeting?

MC: !?

Victor: You could learn from him in person.

Outside the window of the plane are pleasant weather and blue skies. At this moment, however, there’s lightning, thunder, and torrential rain in my heart.

MC: ...Victor, could I stay in the hotel and re-conceptualise the variety show proposal you shot down last week?

Victor: No.

Before I can fleece all the possible excuses from my brain, Victor reaches out, pulling my knitted hat over my nose.

Victor: If it’s a problem you can’t resolve, don’t waste time on it. Who was the one who boldly said she’d gather her energy to get advice from those in the same industry?

MC: ...it was me.

Victor: In that case, set aside the program, and think about what you want to ask him later.

With this, Victor closes his eyes, minding his own business.

But he pushes the arm handle in between us, and reaches out to lean my head on his shoulder.

MC: Victor, you...

Victor: Close your eyes and think.

-

Mentally preparing myself to make conversation with people from the same industry, I step off the plane worriedly.

The private car arranged by the organiser of the annual meeting sends us directly to the venue, not giving me the slightest chance to struggle.

Stepping into the venue, the staff hurriedly rush over and speak to Victor in hushed whispers.

Victor nods at them slightly.

Victor: I’ll head over there with them, and will look for you later.

MC: All right. I’ll meet those in the same industry myself, and hope I can have the “luck” to interact with Producer Xia...

After Victor leaves, I stroll around the venue aimlessly.

I meet quite a number of familiar seniors in the venue. During our conversations, I obtain a lot of practical and useful suggestions.

Talking about the conceptualisation of works, and their experience preparing a program from start to finish... I learn quite a lot.

But the conversation topics inevitably end up with that dispute weighing on my mind.

Producer A: Producer Xia is just too inflexible. That’s just the style of current times. It’s not as though one’s “original aspirations” can rake in money.

MC: Actually, what Producer Xia said is correct. I’m still very green when it comes to going in-depth for programs...

It’s just that the reason why I’m brooding over this is because I don’t wish for the senior I respect to misunderstand that I’m a producer who has lost my original aspirations.

Producer B: Young Lady, being able to accomplish so much at this age, and being able to grab the attention of the audience is already considered a success.  

Faced with the kind consolation from everyone, I can only wave my hands in front of me awkwardly.

After bidding farewell to a few people from the same industry, I plan to make another round, but I feel vibrations in my pocket. Taking out my phone, I realise that Victor is calling me.

Victor: Why are you hovering around?

MC: Huh?

I instinctively turn my head to look around, but can’t see a trace of Victor.

Victor: Stop looking around. Lift your head.

After my eyes roam the venue, they finally halt on the French window of the private room on the second floor. I can’t help but wave in small motions towards Victor, who is standing behind the glass.

MC: I can see you now. But what do you mean by “hovering around”... I’m clearly learning very diligently, okay?

Victor: So, how’s your learning?

MC: It’s not bad. I just met a number of really incredible producers. They shared lots of tips when it comes to preparing and conceptualising a program!

Victor: Why don’t you talk to that producer you admire most?

Hesitating for a moment, I express my dispute with Producer Xia in a roundabout manner.

MC: Actually, I had some divergence in opinions regarding the production of programs with this senior a while ago... It wouldn’t be that good to go over so abruptly.

Victor: So, you feel nervous in such situations. Why don’t you think about how it wouldn’t be that good when you’re being fearless and bold in front of me?

MC: That’s not the same thing!

I retort him without hesitation, and a soft “hmph” can be heard at my ear.

Victor: Does he look even scarier? Or is he more worthy of you trying to figure him out carefully, and pondering and worrying about being too abrupt? 

MC: ...of course not! Just you wait - I’m going over there right now!

Taking a deep breath, I’m just about to hang up when a staff’s voice drifts from the other end of the line. 

Staff: Mr Victor, you’ll have to be on stage in about ten minutes.

Astonished, I lift my head in Victor’s direction.

MC: You’ll be on stage in a while? Why didn’t you mention it?

Victor: The organiser invited me at short notice. I just have to share my experience simply.

MC: Short notice??

Behind the glass, I see him lowering his hand to look at his watch, as though preparing to be on stage.

Victor: All right, it’s time for you to return to your seat.

-

When Victor heads to the stage, it dawns on me that I haven’t looked for my seat ever since entering the venue.

I hurriedly open the invitation card, looking around according to the seat number stated on it. Surprised, I realise that I’m actually sitting next to Producer Xia!

MC: It can’t be that coincidental, right?

Eyes widening, I once again verify the seat number. Even if I don’t wish to admit it, the person seated on my right is Producer Xia, whose words have troubled my heart.

But logically speaking, my seat should be a little further behind...

Watching as the guests take their seats in succession, me standing here is even more conspicuous.

I have no choice but to summon my courage and walk towards the seat, pondering on this unexpected “surprise”.

??: Is that the producer from [MC’s Company Name]? Tch tch, the one next to her is Producer Xia with the big temper.

Maintaining a smile, I greet the seniors at the table, pulling the chair outwards incredibly softly.

But hearing my movements, Producer Xia turns his head. The eyes that pause on my face put an end to my chance of feigning ignorance.

MC: Hello, Producer Xia. I’m MC, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you...

Just as the rumours have said, his temperament is odd, and this senior simply nods. 

The atmosphere reaches an impasse. Slightly sullen, I recall what Victor said earlier-

“What’s so scary about you?”

That’s right. I’ve already signed a five hundred million dollar contract with Victor, so what else is there to be afraid of!

Perhaps the little Victor in my head gives me a buff, and I steel my heart, speaking bluntly.

MC: Senior Xia, to be honest, a large part of the reason why I attended this annual meeting was to obtain your advice. Of course, what I hope even more is to dispel the misunderstanding you have about me.

Producer Xia doesn’t say anything, and I’m unable to read his emotions on his face. But saying these things makes me much more light-hearted.

MC: You criticised my program before, saying that I’m too fickle, wanting to chase after trendy topics, and have lost the “original aspiration” of what it means to make programs. 

Producer Xia: So, what are you trying to say?

MC: There are indeed many flaws in my programs. This is an issue arising from my own inabilities. But “deliberately creating sensational topics”, “chasing after views”... These aren’t my intentions, nor my motivation for entering this industry.

Mustering my courage, I tell him about the very first conceptualisation of the program he criticised, and the difficulties faced in the implementation process.

After a very long time, he sighs.

Producer Xia: Is the old-fashioned opinion of someone like me very important to you? 

I’m stunned for a moment, not understanding the meaning in his words. However, judging from his tone and expression, he doesn’t seem enraged by my abruptness.

MC: That’s right. Because you’re a senior I respect very much, and I grew up watching your programs. As compared to those programs which are trendy for a while, your works are classics which have withstood the test of time.

Even before I finish speaking, the stage is suddenly illuminated. The surroundings quieten down, and everyone turns their gazes to the middle of the stage.

Under the eyes of the audience, Victor walks onto the stage. 

He’s attending the meeting in the capacity of an investor, and his speech represents the choice of the market, and also represents the hopes of the audience.

Victor’s voice is neither too fast nor too slow, and is steady with strength. 

Victor: ...they key to a successful program lies in being able to continuously release a different voice in this diverse world.

Victor: Innovation will bring friction, but when interacting with all sorts of perspectives, it could create space and opportunities for thought within the industry.

Victor: Always accommodating to the market and following trends could erode a program and make it lose its initial style, rendering it into yet another industrial product with no originality.

Perhaps talking about the current situation in the industry, a few seniors from the older generation who weren’t paying attention at the start have their attentions piqued.

Victor: But to strike a balance between following trends and maintaining valuable opinions...

Victor: This is a difficult aspiration that every producer has to face and be unwilling to give up on.

Victor pauses for a moment. In a trace, I even have the misperception that he’s looking straight at me. 

I instinctively start clapping, but the surroundings are completely quiet.

It’s only at this point that I realise the speech isn’t over yet. According to the plan, an expression of gratitude and concluding remarks follow after this...

But I didn’t expect that Producer Xia would follow me in applauding, very quickly dispelling my awkwardness.

With this senior leading the pack, the applause offstage very quickly turns enthusiastic.

On the stage, Victor politely expresses his gratitude. When the applause fizzles out, he ends with the concluding remarks. 

At this moment, Producer Xia, who has been silent all this while, speaks.

Producer Xia: A while ago, I heard that after a young junior heard my criticisms, she quietly went around interviewing all the related audiences and guests again. I initially didn’t believe it, but I can see that it’s true now. My views were too one-sided.

My face flushes.

MC: ...just as you said, my works don’t relate enough to real life, and lack insight. After calming down and pondering over it for a very long time, I could only think of this stupid method.

Producer Xia: Perhaps just as that young man said earlier, I should change the way I think.

-

The afternoon sunlight is leisurely, and the fragrance of coffee ferments in the air, leaving me in a daze.

After the annual media meeting, Victor and I have come to a nearby cafe. 

MC: I heard that the speech on stage was requested by the organiser at short notice. If it were me, I’d definitely be unbelievably nervous. As expected of you, Victor!

Victor: I could see it very clearly when you were making small talk offstage.

MC: ...those were just normal greetings between me and those from the industry. Producer Xia even said that you’re very accomplished. 

Victor: Didn’t you say that his temper was as equally large as his popularity?

MC: Those were all just misunderstandings. Senior Xia even answered many questions that I didn’t get an answer to even after cracking my head over them.

In our seats in the cafe, I’m engrossed in sharing what I heard earlier, and Victor lets out a resigned sigh.

Victor: ...you said you were going to treat someone to coffee, so why are you only sharing your own experiences?

His reminder brings me back my senses, and my gaze once again lands on the menu.

MC: But...

Victor reaches out to take the menu from my hands.

Victor: It’s just ordering coffee. Why do you look like you’re in misery?

But when he sees the words on the menu, he purses his lips.

Victor: ...

MC: Do you know why I looked like I was in misery now?

Victor: Are you sure these are names of coffee?

MC: Of course!

Picturing Victor reading out the names of the coffee with a dead serious expression, I await for that image to turn into reality with much anticipation.

So, I deliberately clear my throat, leaning closer to him.

MC: So, Mister, may I know if you’d like “Sweet Sweet Milk Coffee”, or “Puckery Pure Coffee”?

[Note] In Chinese, the names of the coffee are meant to be sound cutesy - “甜甜嗲嗲奶咖” (“tian tian dia dia nai ka”) and “涩涩呼呼纯咖啡” (“se se hu hu chun ka”)

Victor: ...

Victor’s brows furrow indistinctly, then he shuts the menu.

Victor: The second.

As expected, he doesn’t fall for the trap. I can only let my enthusiasm wane, and I order two cups of coffee.

-

Completing the day’s itinerary, Victor and I return to the hotel early.

After washing up, I’m just about to blow my hair when I realise that there’s an issue with the hair dryer in my room, and no one at the reception counter is picking up my call.

After a moment of hesitation, I drape on my jacket, and knock on Victor’s room next door.

Victor opens the door quickly. He has already changed into casual homewear, and the room is in a state of complete darkness, as though he’s already preparing to sleep.

Victor: What’s wrong?

MC: I’m here to borrow the hair dryer. The one in my room can’t be used.

Victor turns his body to the side, letting me in. When I step into the room, I sneeze.

MC: Achoo! Why’s it so cold here? Didn’t you turn on the heater?

Victor: I just had a bath. I found it a little warm so I turned it off.

While he speaks, I turn the heater and lights on in the room. Borrowing the bright lights, I notice the grey circles underneath his eyes. 

The end of the year is LFG’s busiest period. He definitely didn’t get proper rest over this duration.

With this thought, I pick up the hair dryer on the coffee table, planning to blow my hair dry in my own room. But when I turn around, I bump into his chest.

MC: Why are you standing behind me so quietly?

Victor: Who’s the quiet one?

Probably finding my stunned expression humorous, the corners of Victor’s lips curl upwards.

Victor: You’re borrowing a hair dryer, so why are you acting so suspiciously?

MC: ...I’m worried that I’m disturbing your rest! So I plan to dry my hair in my room.

Without a word, he takes my hand, pulling me to sit on the sofa next to the coffee table. Then, he sits behind me.

Not understanding what’s going on, I twist my head to look at him.

Victor: Be good and sit.

He takes the hair dryer in my hand, lifting the ends of my hair out from my jacket, then stops.

Victor: Take off your jacket.

MC: ??

Victor sighs in resignation, then pulls gently at a corner of the sleeve of my jacket.

MC: ?! 

Victor: Your jacket’s drenched from your hair. If you don’t want to catch a cold, take it off.

MC: [blushes] I see...

Victor: Don’t let your imagination run wild.

MC: I did not!

Face flushed, I remove my jacket. Suddenly, I feel a cold shiver, and realise that I'm only wearing a spaghetti strap top.

I can feel the blood on my face rushing to the top of my head.

MC: [blushing] I... I should keep it on! Or I’ll feel very cold...

Before I even finish speaking, I feel a warm, broad chest pressing against me.

Victor: Are you still cold like this?

MC: [blushing] ...nope.

Victor switches the hair dryer on, gently fiddling with my hair. 

My back rubs against his cotton t-shirt, at the area close to his heart. It seems as though I can vaguely feel his heartbeat. For a moment, I can’t differentiate if it’s my heartbeat or his.

He holds up the ends of my hair tenderly, his fingers occasionally touching my scalp gently. 

My hair dances in the air in a disorderly manner, following the direction of the hair dryer, and they fall on my cheeks and neck.

A ticklish sensation surfaces from behind and in front of me. I bite my lip, but finally chuckle, unable to hold myself back.

MC: Hahahaha -- it’s so ticklish!

Victor’s actions pause slightly. Then, he bends his forefinger and taps the top of my head softly.

Victor: Even if it’s ticklish, bear with it.

I tense myself up, sitting in Victor’s arms, trying my best to level my breathing.

Victor: Relax. Why are you so nervous?

MC: ...It’s not like I can relax just because you tell me to relax. Oh yes, Victor, did you assign someone to handle today’s seating arrangements?

Victor: Mm. Didn’t you find it a pleasant surprise that you could interact with the producer you admire?

Recalling the nervousness and awkwardness of conversing with Producer Xia, I can’t help but mutter softly.

MC: Yes yes yes, I’m grateful for the serious scare you prepared for me...

Victor: Looks like the both of you had a joyful interaction, and that you’re no longer preoccupied by the matter that troubled you.

Hearing his teasing remark, I lift up my head, the back of my head almost bumping into Victor’s chin.

MC: How did you know that? Did you watch the “Aspects of the Film and Television Industry” interview?

The hair dryer hums at my ear, but I can still capture the soft “hmph” he leaves in the air.

Victor: Whenever that senior was mentioned, your expression would turn very nervous. When other people brought up their opinions on your program, you’d start tweaking your ears and scratching your cheeks in anxiousness, deliberately evading the topic. The program proposals you’ve been giving me have fewer errors. But at the same time, your ideas have become increasingly conservative.

Victor speaks unhurriedly and with reason. When I hear this, I break into cold sweat, and shirk my neck in guilt. 

MC: So you could already tell since early on.

Victor: At first, I thought such changes would be beneficial to your growth. But when I saw a certain dummy becoming more and more roundabout, and having a more negative attitude, I thought she needed someone to give her a push.

MC: ...aren’t you worried that with such a violent push, I’d fall?

Victor: If that producer insisted on being at odds with you, what would you have done?

Victor’s counterquestion sounds above my head. For a moment, I’m left in a daze, and I give it serious thought. 

Actually, I’ve long since known the answer to this question. After all, from a very long time ago, Victor already told me that the opinions of others aren’t that important.

It’s just that when applying it to myself, I realise how difficult it is to follow through with such words. 

MC: It just means that I ought to work even harder, and use my subsequent works as proof... no, as a counterattack!

Victor: Being able to think this way means you aren’t beyond cause.

He taps the top of my head gently again.

MC: In that interview episode, Producer Xia said that the most important thing in making programs is to maintain that “original aspiration”. I think what that meant was - as producers, we not only have to maintain professionalism, but have to persevere in our own steps. The production of programs has always been an open-ended question. If I were to cater to the opinions of others, it would be going against my own “original aspiration”. So what I’m thinking is that perhaps from the very beginning, the question I should pondering on is how to better express and convey things.

Out of habit, I lift my head to meet his eyes, wanting to seek Victor’s affirmation.

Victor lets out a breath, gently tidying my hair. The friction from his finger pads brings with it an almost indistinct tenderness and patience. 

Victor: All right, your hair’s dry, and you’ve thought through the problem. You should go back.

MC: Huh?

Victor grabs a blanket from the side, covering my exposed shoulders tightly.

Victor: Or do you want to laze here for an entire night?

Tugging the blanket over myself to cover my scorching cheeks, I speak boldly.

MC: But the notebook on your desk is still lit. Are you planning to continue working? I want to advance together with CEO Victor, and re-conceptualise that proposal you find too conservative. After all, if Producer MC makes an excellent program, it’d be a good thing for its investment partner LFG, right?

I speak earnestly and sincerely, but Victor is tickled by my dead serious tone.

Victor: Lacking great wisdom and knowledge, but clever in trivial matters.

From the reflection in the glass of the French window, I can vaguely see a small smile on Victor’s lips. 

Victor: Since you said you want to “advance together”, you aren’t allowed to be timid. Being bold in front of me - isn’t that what you’ve always been good at?

-

Moments and Texts: here

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[jinkicake]

Periods Don’t Stop Nothing But A Sentence

Bokuto, Kuroo, Ushijima learn about the benefits of having sex while you’re on your period and offer their help. 

Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

For you, lovely anon~~ I wrote a majority of this at like 5 am so maybe that’s why it may sound a little crazy, hehe. (･ω･)v Also to all my loves who also experience periods, allow me to offer a great investment! A heating pad, I’ve been using the same one for years and it’s so worth it like it helps sooo much with cramps and aches. I recommend!

S M U T </3

WC- 1,974

~~~

Bokuto Koutarou 

Bokuto would not be afraid to bring this up, he wants to do whatever he can to help you~

He would never talk about having sex on your period in a gross degrading way or any way that makes you uncomfortable because Bokuto respects women

It would be so casual, like when he sees you hurting because of your cramps he would offer you an orgasm, ugh how sweet right?

And even though, who would want an orgasm during their period when they are feeling so gross and sick…. But who could say no?

Bokuto would plan this out and do it exactly the way you want to achieve the orgasm, making sure you are well-situated the entire time

Again, Bokuto would only do this if you were okay with it like poor thing just wants to make you feel better

Since he does not understand the pain and horrific feeling that comes with having a period, Bokuto wants to help you however he can and in the best way

He is such a sweet boy, please

Sex is sex, I don’t think you being on your period would make it any different for him

Expect the sweetest cuddles and shit afterward ~~~

Bokuto’s hands grip your hips gently, his thumbs caress your sides as he stares down at you. His golden eyes are full of concern and he watches your every reaction as he drags his clothed cock over your center. The simple motion has you weak, despite the layers of clothes between the two of you, you feel everything. The pleasure is immense, the tip of his cock rubs your clit in just the right way to make you close your eyes in relief.

“A-are you okay?” Bokuto whispers, not wanting to disrupt your moment. He lowers his lips to kiss your temple, the soft action is drastically different from the way his hips are moving. It’s almost sinful.

“Don’t stop,” You pant into his neck as your back arches into his chest. Your hips rise and you start to grind into him. It should be illegal, how he feels as you clutch his back. You can feel every muscle rippling under your touch, he is so warm, so hard that it makes the overall experience ten times better. His large arms make you feel so protected, so cared for, that you just want to hear him cum already. Your hands slide up his back to his hair and you fist the grey strands between your fingers. Bokuto keeps knocking his hips into yours and tries to silence his grunts, but you won’t have it. “let me hear you Koutarou.”

You tug roughly on his hair and moan loudly when he ruts against you, Bokuto leans down closer to you and braces himself on one of his elbows beside your head.

“Ah, baby you can’t just do that,” Bokuto warns and you ignore him, instead you focus on his hand that is cupping your breast. His large palm gently works the soft flesh and is sure not to be too rough with your sensitive nipples. You tilt your chin up and press your lips to Bokuto’s, moaning when he kisses you back. It’s almost as if any restraint inside your boyfriend snaps and he is straight into fucking you like he normally would. The hand on your hip holds you still as his cock grinds into your clothed core, over and over his hips continue to move. As your mouth falls open at the moans slipping past your lips, the ones that Bokuto is selfishly taking as his own, your boyfriend wastes no time in sticking his tongue in your mouth. It almost works as a gag, silencing any noises you make even as you cum in your panties.

Kuroo Tetsurou

PLS KUROO WOULD SO BE INTO IT

“Periods don’t stop nothing but a sentence babygirl” -Kuroo Tetsurou

This information would probably always be in the back of his mind every time you got your period,,,,

Kuroo would only bring it up if you brought it up because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, like push anything on you

Yeah, Kuroo would not care if you are on your period, if you’re horny and he’s horny like?? What is the issue, what is stopping you two?

As long as you’re okay with it and want it, of course, he will do whatever you desire~

Sidebar. Wait, isn’t Kuroo like in med school? Or he’s studying biology or something….. so even if he did not find it appetizing he wouldn’t care and would still do it. Biology students have seen worse already….

He supports the natural pain reliever that is solely giving you orgasms

Would he make period jokes? Lol yeah he would, but all in good fun, just to cheer you up and make you laugh~

In the end, Kuroo just wants you to be comfortable. If you feel more comfortable doing it in the shower or wherever, he would follow. He’ll treat you so delicately like he will take such good care of you~~

The warm water completely soaks you, feeling amazing against your skin as it takes away some of the aches you are facing. You’re leaning back against Kuroo’s chest as he washes your hair, his long fingers massage your scalp and the heat against your lower back almost makes you quiver.

“Tetsurou,” You call and give in to each of his touches, pressing your thighs together subconsciously.

“Hmm, what is it kitten?” Kuroo coos into your ear, lightly kissing up to your neck while massaging the shampoo throughout the bottom of your hair.

“Please fuck me.” You beg, your voice coming out breathy and you feel your boyfriend halt his fingers in your hair.

“Are you sure baby? That’s okay with you?” He asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to turn you around so he can look into your eyes. When you nod, you saw something flash in his eyes, a cocky smile lights up his face.

“Rinse your hair out, I’ll be right back,” Kuroo promises and kisses the corner of your lip before stepping out of the shower. As you stand under the showerhead, you listen as your boyfriend rummages through the cabinets. No doubt, setting up towels for after you’re all done and getting you clothes that you had forgotten to. When he comes back in front of you, you can’t help but frown at the condom he has on but your core jolts nonetheless. “how do you want it kitten?”

You back into one of the walls, hissing at the cool temperature against your shoulders. Kuroo stands on top of you and you can’t help but spread your legs as you look up at him.

“I’m just going to go for it, okay?” He checks with you once more and you nod, closing your eyes when you feel one of his arms wrap around your waist. “Look at me.” His tone is more demanding this time and you whine before opening your eyes. Kuroo is staring down at you, his lips hovering over your own and as soon as he presses them together, he slides into you. 

His moans are muffled against your lips, the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly nearly breaks him out into a sweat. Kuroo continues to work your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth to rub against your own.

You can already feel most of the pain diminishing as he thrusts into you, the pleasure being the only thing you can focus on.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

This sweet baby, ugh, he would find out the whole ‘benefits from having sex while on your period’ after he deeply searched the internet on ways to help you

Ushijima hates seeing his sweet love in pain, okay? He was very worried and decided to do research, mentally noting that heat can help relieve your cramps the moment he found it out

He’d bluntly bring it up, like if you’re curled on the bed in a ball, Ushijima would just sit down beside you and recite everything he remembered

“Orgasms might relieve your cramps and headaches” “Having sex can shorten your period” “It’ll help you relax and soothe your moody mind”

It might be awkward at first, like why is he bringing this up? Does he really want to have sex while you’re on your period? You’d just have to smile and nod

“I want to help you, if you’ll allow me” Ushijima would offer whatever he can to help you feel better

Personally, I don’t think he would care at all that you’re on your period. It’s just sex to him, or a means to help relieve the pain you’re facing.

He’d take full control, you don’t even have to lift a finger. Ushijima is all about YOU!

Yes, he would look up and do extensive research on what he can do to make you most comfortable and of course he would communicate with you to see what you want

Ushijima is just such a big sweetheart and would take so much care of you, even if it would be so hard for him to take it slow, hehe

“You can take one more,” Ushijima tells you as he brings the vibrator back down to your clit. “Right, my love?” He pushes when you don’t respond and even though he has the small device hovering over your clit, you can still feel the vibrations. You manage to give him a weak nod through your post-orgasm clouded mind. “No, use your words.” Ushijima continues to run one of his hands alongside your inner thigh, massaging the soft skin.

“Yes, I can. Please Wakatoshi.” You beg and Ushijima glances up at your eyes before back down at your clothed core. He nods and presses the vibrating toy against your clit, gently circling it before resting it once more.

“Orgasms can help your period become shorter.” He tells you and you furrow your brows in confusion, but still nodding at the fact. “Your cramps may lessen too, it can help you relax.”

“Umm, thanks for letting me know?” You hum and try to once again focus on his light touches along your thigh. Ushijima goes to open his mouth again but you shoot him a pointed look. “It isn’t really the best dirty talk, honey.” You smile softly and he closes his mouth, nodding in thought as he continues to hold the vibrator to your clit. You watch as his head lowers to kiss your hip, mouthing at the skin before moving his lips to your stomach, you get a vision full of brown hair. “Wakatoshi~” You breathe and your boyfriend quietly moans against your skin. He runs his nose along your hipbone before pushing one of your legs up. Ushijima stretches the other leg straight out while the other bends up with your knee facing the ceiling.

“Tell me if it gets too much.” His words fall numb on your ears because all you can focus on is the deeper stimulation on your clit. As Ushijima continues to hold the device, that looks quite tiny in his hands, he moves to rest between your thighs. Behind the vibration, you can see the way he is holding the back of your thigh and kissing along the inside of it. The sight alone nearly made you come undone.

“T-talk me through it.” You can feel it creeping but you need more, you need Ushijima so badly.

“You’re doing so good, my beautiful love.” He starts lightly, pushing the vibrator and gently applying more pressure with each of his words. “I can’t wait to eat you out until your legs are numb and then fuck you until you can’t speak. Wouldn’t you like that? I know how badly you want it but you have to be patient.” His voice is so low, rumbling deep from his chest like he is barley holding back from doing just as he described. Sadly you know he can’t, at least not for a few days.

[kinglivv]

Distractions

Whittaker!Master x Reader

Summary: You're trying to participate in a Zoom class and the Master's trying to get your attention.

Warnings: Implied smut, corona virus mention

A/N: For all the people now doing online classes/meetings because they suck bro. Please let me know if you liked it :)

"And that is why, although fusion reactors are a genius solution to our energy needs, they currently don't work."

Your professor flicks over to the next powerpoint slide and you groan internally, willing for the class to be over soon. You were sat in the TARDIS library, attempting to get to grips with online learning - you might be able to escape a pandemic on Earth via the Master's TARDIS, but it was still very much going on down there without you and as a result, your university tutorials and lectures had been moved online.

You're leaning forward to copy something down into your notepad when suddenly you feel arms slide down around your neck and blonde hair tickling your cheek. You tear your gaze away from your laptop to look at the Master, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Morning." You comment.

"Morning." She grins. "What's this?"

"My tutorial."

She frowns. "Isn't that a thing you're meant to do on Earth at one of those... umniversity thingys?"

"University." You correct. "And there's a pandemic remember? 2021? Everything's online for now."

"Oh yeah," She says nonchalantly. "Although you know it's alright in the end, don't you?"

"Spoilers." You reply dismissively.

"Y/N?" Your professor's voice suddenly pipes up and you return your attention to the screen. "Can you give us the two types of nuclear fission?"

Trying to ignore the Master clinging to you, you turn on your microphone.

"Spontaneous and..."

"Induced." The Master whispers in your ear, lips brushing over it and sending a small shiver down your spin.

"Induced." You finish, and turn your microphone off when your professor seems satisfied with your answer.

"I don't see why you bother with this." The Master waves her hand at the screen.

"I started my physics degree long before I met you, and I fully intend to finish it."

"Why do a degree in limited Earth physics when I can take you all around the universe and teach you it myself?"

"Because me saying 'Oh yes, my psychopath alien girlfriend taught me it all!' on my CV isn't going to get me a job." You retort. You lean over and highlight something in your textbook and she follows, still wrapped around you. If it was anyone else, you would bat them away, but the smell of her cologne is intoxicating.

"Humans know nothing about physics, believe me. It's a waste of time." She tells you. "Besides I'm sure there's much more... interesting things you could be doing."

With that, she presses a kiss to your jaw, elicting a faint 'oh' from your mouth, quite involuntarily. You attempt to shake her off, but she persists.

"Master." You warn as she moves onto your throat, nipping slightly, but she pays you no heed, continuing her onslaught. You bite your lip and mentally thank your past self for not turning on your laptop camera for this class - you'd originally thought that the imposing background of the TARDIS library would raise a few too many eyebrows, but you hadn't even considered that the Master might decide to wander into shot.

A hand begins to slide down your front, and you catch it quickly before it can reach anywhere too receptive.

"Master." You repeat, trying to pay attention to your computer.

You lean foward to write something, deliberately attempting to shrug her off. To your relief, she pulls away, but when you sit back again you don't have a chance to stop her before she plonks herself down in your lap.

"Oi!" You hiss, and she just grins back at you sweetly.

Thankfully she doesn't attempt to do anything else and instead just idily flicks through your textbook, scoffing at the content.

"Please - this is first year academy stuff."

Suddenly, one of your classmates pipes up.

"Professor, could you please go over the Nuclear fusion content again?"

"Again?" The Master sniffs. "Human's are such nano-brains."

You swat her and she just smirks, wiggling in your lap.

"I just don't get the chain reaction part." The student says after the Professor's explained it again.

"Oh, for Rassilon's sake." The Master rolls her eyes and reaches out to ummute you, supposedly to tell the student off for being such an incompetent primitive numbskull, but you catch her hand just in time, yanking it away and earning you a glare.

"How can you put up with this?" She exasperates.

"You," You say pointedly, "have the temperment of a child. Or a cat."

Her face lights up.

"I was actually a cat once! Well, not strictly a cat, more of a cheetah-"

"Now... could you tell us Y/N?"

You freeze at the your teacher's voice. You hadn't heard the question.

It's at this wildly innapropriate moment that the Master decides it would be a good time to lean in and begin pressing her lips to your throat again. You bite back a moan.

"Y/N?" The teacher says again at your silence.

"She asked you how to calculate residual energy from a nuclear reaction." The Master mumbles helpfully against your jaw, no doubt smudging lipstick onto it.

Hastily, you reach forward and turn on your microphone.

"Sorry, E=mc squared - ah." You swallow a gasp as the Master bites down. Reaching up, you thread a hand into her hair and pull her away roughly, which only serves to make the Master whimper and her eyes light up. You frantically reach out and put yourself on mute again, praying they hadn't heard that.

"Aren't you meant to be cleaning the rotors?" You hiss. You had barely seen her all morning.

"I was." She loops her arms around your neck and gives you a grin that reminds you so vividly of Missy.

"Why aren't you now?"

"I got bor-ed." She drags out the word and then leans in, red lips finally landing on yours and you let her kiss you all sweet and deep, tongue swiping over your lips tauntingly.

"I really need to finish this lecture." You say, breath dancing over her lips when the kiss breaks.

"I could always just get on my knees for you right here, love." She teases and you feel your cheeks go red.

"I'm not missing class."

"I learned this stuff before I was even a teenager, babe. I could teach you everything you missed in ten minutes."

"They'll notice I'm gone." You try to protest, but there's really no resistance left in your voice anymore, not when her hand's stroking over your cheek and through your hair like that.

"Tell them your internet broke."

"We're on a very well functioning space ship, I hardly think-"

She silences you with another kiss, a hand reaching out behind her to close your laptop. Without another word, you allow her to pull you up from your desk and lead you out of the library.

How could you prioritise a Zoom class over someone like her?

Taglist: @truthbehindthemysteries @queerconfusionthings @xenteaart @actuallyanita @ateliefloresdaprimavera @persephonehemingway @fabulous-jj-style @anteroom-of-death

[rinstudiesthings]

Creating a Routine When You Don't Have Any Daily Structure

So I know that when I have appointments or classes to hold me accountable, I create a daily/weekly routine in order to help myself get everything done. It works every time and I get things done. However, the moment I don't have classes anymore, when I don't have to do anything.... I don't do anything. I can't get anything done unless I'm told I have to.

This has endlessly frustrated me, because I want to be able to accomplish something on my own terms. I also run out of energy (or "spoons") easily since I have to work around adhd, chronic pain, and other issues.

So what's the solution? How do you become productive on your own terms when you're stuck with executive function issues and addicted to short term satisfaction?

A routine.

I used to hate them, because I could never actually stick to them. I found them boring and a waste of time. But there's a way to do it right.

A Five Step Process to Creating a Proper Routine

1. Sit down and plan it out.

With this, get a piece of paper and a pen or create a document on the computer you can print out. (I know handwriting hurts a lot with carpal tunnel/arthritis). Firstly, we need to be realistic with how much you can get done in a day. How many things can you do comfortably without pushing yourself too hard. Remember, you're doing this during a rest period, meaning you don't want to burn out. If that means it's 5 things such as wake up, shower, dress, cook/eat, and one other thing you want to do, then plan for that. For me, I already know I have enough energy in the day to do all of my daily hygiene and needs and have energy to do more things. So this is my outline:

A. Get ready

B. Write at least one sentence in novel

C. Spend one hour studying target language

D. Clean room

E. Spend time reading/knitting

F. Allow time to meditate or journal mood

And that's my goals for a regular rest day.

2. Prioritize every daily goal

You may end up with other things you have to do during a rest day. That doesn't mean you push yourself to do all of those goals on top of whatever else you have to do. It means that you have to let something else fall by the wayside for a day.

Pick and choose what you find crucial to do in a day, and what you're okay with allowing to skip during a busy day. Then, list it by priority. For me, it looks like this:

A. Get ready

B. Clean room

C. Spend time reading/knitting

D. Allow time to meditate or journal mood

E. Spend one hour studying target language

F. Write at least one sentence in novel

I know that if I was busy during a portion of the day, I'm going to want to prioritize tasks that help center and relax me rather than mentally and physically draining ones. I also care about cleanliness and feeling ready to face the day, so the first two are non-negotiable to me.

3. Organize yourself accordingly

What I mean by this, is that you have to execute this correctly to push yourself to actually do it. This means putting that list somewhere you will struggle to ignore it, and if you have adhd like me, I recommend changing it's position once a week, or it will begin to fade into the background and you will forget about it.

This also means organizing supplies for any hobby or task you will be tackling. I recommend keeping these supplies in a nice stack, pile, or box/jar (that's see through) if you have adhd or somewhere easily accessible if you have chronic pain. For me, I keep trays in the area where that task usually takes place so I can see it, and it doesn't physically drain me to get it.

Lastly, this means recognizing what is getting in your way. What is your biggest time waster? For me, it's a mix of tiktok, ao3, and YouTube. But they all have one thing in common. The internet, and my phone/laptop. I open my phone every morning and waste an hour on tiktok because I wake up in pain and freezing. I open my laptop at lunch and waste time watching YouTube while eating, and before I know it, it's 6 pm! You have to identify what wastes your time and how you are going to minimize that issue. In fact, this was so hard for me that my next step is about how to help combat this.

4. Set reminders/alarms

Setting a phone alarm might seem counter productive to staying off of your phone, but it actually really helps. As someone with adhd, I struggle to stop and start doing tasks. I have to start a new task at the right time (ex. 2:00, 3:15, 4:30) usually at 15 minute or half hour intervals and if I miss it, I procrastinate until the next "correct" interval. This is DUMB but I can't stop my brain from thinking this way so I have to accommodate for that.

So, here's what I do.

Let's say my plan is to stop being on the computer at 2:00 pm everyday. This is realistic for me since I wake up at 10:00 and eat around 12:30. I will then set an alarm for 1:50 pm, because that will warn me that in 10 minutes, I have to change tasks, so I can prepare myself for it. I set another alarm for 1:57, just to help myself stay reminded and give myself time to properly wrap up whatever I was doing online. Set my last alarm for 2:00 pm and make sure to close the laptop as soon as I hear the alarm, before dismissing it.

I'm now free to change mindsets to whatever priority I have next on my list, so I make sure to clean my area, and set up for the next task, such as language learning.

These alarms can be really helpful to help you keep track of time, it forces you to ground yourself in the present moment and make sure you can't lose track of time. However, I understand that people with sensory processing issues may not like a harsh alarm sound, or anything loud.

The alarm can be a pleasant sound that will get your attention as well. I like birds chirping or Chopin as an alarm sound.

5. Be forgiving

You won't immediately make this work. You won't just magically wake up and perfect this routine and become super productive. This is a guideline to help make it easier to begin.

There are plenty of other tips and tricks to help focus and get things done, but this is to help create a Routine. This will work best if you wake up and go to bed at relatively the same time everyday. Which for people with adhd, that can be difficult. If you want more tips on sleep and adhd let me know, or send me an ask.

Don't be angry and give up if it doesn't go perfectly. Just keep trying. Don't expect perfection, expect mediocrity. Mediocrity is fine, or really, great in a routine. It's supposed to be a little flexible, you're supposed to fuck it up sometimes. A guideline doesn't understand exactly how you feel that day, how tired you are, or how stressed you are. Be nice to yourself and just give it a try!

Good luck!!