#I am a professional and I should probably look semi-like one

[adulthoodisokay]

I work remotely for the most part and I got added to a daily meeting and like if it was just my team it’d be nbd because we’re super close but NO it’s not that kinda meeting so I have to wear DIFFERENT clothes every day, like I can’t just roll up in my giant oversized college hoodie every day ¯\_( ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)_/¯

[ihavethedreamies]

Pool Boy (4) | Hueningkai

Huening Kai - TXT

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.5k o=o

Pairing: Hueningkai x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Small Age Difference (Unspecified, he calls her Noona), Pet Names (she calls him precious), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! & M! Receiving), Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! She's on the pill)

Summary: Losing the chance of closing up the pool for the night, you take advantage of your car being the only one in the park lot… Some plot is there, but it so doesn’t matter.

Author's Note: This originally was going to be part of a really long series with a lot of plot, but it was taking too long and I was putting too much plot, more than I had initially planned. Because of that, I cut nearly all plot out and it's still four-thousands words of just fucking so…

PS. Hyuka is my bias~

None of the parts are reliant on the others, there is just a version for each boy.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Yeonjun <-

-> Taehyun <-

-> Soobin <-

-> Beomgyu <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"You're so freaking cute…" You muttered and his head shot up to gape at you.

"What?"

"What?"

"I-," You were about to take a bite and pretend you didn't say anything. You had been flirting with Hyuka for a few days now, but it seemed he wasn't picking up what you were putting down. Maybe you were wrong because he put his sandwich down and got up from the stool. Wondering what he was doing, you set your fork down. He came closer and you tried to stay relaxed when he went to stand between your legs. He was big, leaning over you, thick thighs, and broad shoulders. His face was so freaking sweet, a stark comparison. Kai leaned forward and you let him do what he wanted. A small kiss pressed to your cheek, then another at the corner of your mouth. You smiled at the gentleness, his big hands coming to cup your jaw softly. Right before he could finally press his lips to yours-

"Uh?" Someone cleared their throat at the front office entrance, and he pulled back aggressively. The coworker smiled, her eyes mischievous.

"I won't tell but keep an eye out." She winked and left.

"Don't worry about it Hyuka." You got off the stool, laying your hand on his shoulder. When his eyes went back to you, they softened back to what you normally saw, the fear gone. You smiled, bringing your hands to play with his hair, fingers rubbing at the back of his neck. His hands came to your waist, and he turned pink when your breasts squished into him. Hyuka nuzzled your ear, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Can we eat?" he muttered, and you laughed and nodded, pulling back. Before he let go, he laid another soft peck to your forehead. You talked about random things, mostly the weird things his friends do, as you ate. Not too soon after you both finished, guests started to come again after the lunch break. While you were helping a group of high school girls get some passes, they were giggling and flirting with Hyuka. Of course they were, look at him. You didn't know though if he was that clueless about flirting or if he was remaining professional.

"Is he your boyfriend?" one of them asked you quietly as you slipped the bracelet on her.

"No. But he is too old for you." You assured her. She was probably fifteen, sixteen at the most. She clicked her tongue, nodding as she resolved that fact to herself. They giggled and waved as they entered the pool, and he sat down with a sigh.

"Do you have girls flirt with you a lot?" you asked him, and he shook his head, looking tired.

"Not really. Normally I'm with my hyungs, so they get more of the attention. I'm a lot shyer in comparison so…"

"Well, their loss is my gain." You went to him that time, standing between his legs. Since he was sitting, you were eye level like this. Huffing in surprise, he had wrapped his arms around you boldly, pulling you closer to him. His hands were still respectful, sitting around your lower ribs, and they shook a bit. Hyuka wasn't used to being more forward, but he felt more confident with you. He took the slight pink on your cheeks as a good sign, hugging you even closer and resting his head in the crook of your neck. The boy just held you like that and you wanted to cry at how cute he was. Car doors shutting pulled you both back to reality and you had to separate so you could assist more patrons. As the shift went on, you both exchanged little displays of affection. The sweetest one was when you were both sitting there, looking at your phones quietly, he pulled his stool to be right next to you instead of across. His head rested on your shoulder, and you cooed, kissing the crown of his head. A bit later you were standing at the register, counting through change.

"Hi, noona." Hyuka wrapped his arms around you once again, hugging you from behind. He rested his cheek on your head, one of his hands going to your tummy. You smiled giddily, pressing your lips together to try and hide it, his hand rubbing circles over your stomach. The move was so sweet, but your stomach was sensitive, and when his hand rested over your belly button, you had to shift. The lower stomach wasn't a traditional erogenous zone, but it was for you. Also, being completely surrounded by his warmth, he also smelled really good, it was hard to not get excited. He pressed closer and your cunt clenched the fabric of your panties sticking to your folds. Glancing at the time, you grumbled, not wanting to wait two more hours for closing.

"Hyuka." you prompted, and he hummed sleepily.

"I need you to let go or I'm going to burst." you whispered, and he startled, pulling away.

"Sorry!" He backed up and you smiled.

"I'll be right back!" You promised, scurrying off to the bathroom. He probably assumed you met your bladder, so you took the chance. You smiled at some patrons as you walked past them to get to the private stall. The bathroom in the back office was probably open, but you weren't for sure and needed to cool off immediately. Shutting the door, you locked it, going to the sink, you splashed cold water on your face. You sighed, grabbing some paper towels, and drying your face. Letting out another more aggressive sigh, you glared at yourself in the mirror.

"Two more hours." You nodded, determined. Going back out you tried to keep your mind on other things but made no move to prevent Hyuka's skinship. You had learned that's what they called it, and you loved the term.

"I'll lock up." One of your coworkers nodded at you in passing and you shook your head.

"Its fine, I can do it!" You insisted, it was normally what you did anyway.

"Just go." He insisted and you huffed in annoyance.

"It's fine, noona." Hyuka whispered and you looked at him. He nodded, trying to convey something unspoken through his look. You nodded, almost disappointed. Was he just going to give up and leave you for the night, try again later? Sneaking past the guy, you gathered your things and met Hyuka at the door.

"Bye." You called to him hastily, and you both scurried to leave. Not glancing back, you heard him pull the shutter for the front counter closed, heading for your car. You parked in the very back of the parking lot, so you didn't hog access for the pool customers. You were even able to park near a tree that kind of shaded your car from the blazing sun. Said sun was starting to set and you stopped at the vehicle, turning to the boy. That was when you got an idea.

"Get in. The back." you told him, and he did so without question or hesitation. Getting in the front yourself, you started the car and cranked the air conditioning, it was hot as balls in the car. Glancing back to the pool shelter, you figured it was far enough away, so you scurried back out and joined Hyuka in the back.

"This okay?" You made sure with him, and he nodded, a bit red.

"If you are." He leaned in slowly and you giggled.

"Of course-" His lips met yours. It started slow; you could tell he was unsure. You weren't sure why though; he was doing very well. You moaned softly to let him know. Smiling against his lips, his hand went to your neck and pulled you even closer. Barely pulling back, still brushing his soft lips over your chapped ones, you breathed harder. Finally kissing you again, it was even more intense than before, and when he sighed you took the chance to sneak your tongue into his mouth. Perfectly content to take the reins, you didn't expect him to fight back against you. His tongue wrapped around yours deftly, and he tipped your head the opposite of his to deepen it further. You barely separated to suck in more air, then went back in. You had no idea how long you two made out, eventually you ended up straddling his lap, hands messing his hair. Despite the heat of the act, his hands stayed on your waist, the furthest down they went was to loop his fingers through your belt loops. Your shorts were high waisted as well, but you wanted him to go lower. Running the tip of your tongue over his teeth, tasting his whole mouth, your hands brushed over his, moving them down. He whined a tad when you pressed, but eagerly shoved his hands in your back pockets, and dug his fingers in. You keened, the strength there as well as his taste and warmth made your head swim. The cold blast of air at your back did nothing to cool you off and you whimpered when his lips left yours. Both of your lips were swollen and red, a trail of saliva connecting your mouths still.

"What do you want to do next, precious?" You both were panting.

"Turn around?" His voice was softer than normal, tinged with nerves still, as if he hadn't just tried to swallow your tongue. You nodded with a hum, doing so, and settling in his lap. You felt his hardened cock straining against his jeans at your back, but you just laid on him, wanting him to do what he wished. One arm wrapped around your middle, his hand once against resting on your stomach. The other was shaking a bit, but he brought it to the front of your shorts. He pressed two fingers right above your clit and you moaned a bit. When his fingers slid down slightly, hitting your nub, you flinched hard, moaning again.

"You're wet." He observed quietly and you weren't too surprised. Even with the barrier of your panties and the denim of your pants, he could still feel it.

"Can I?"

"Do whatever, precious." You ensured and you could hear him swallow. He fiddled with the button but was able to get it open with one hand, and he pulled the zipper down. His hands were warm as the ones on your tummy snuck under your shirt to rub the soft skin of your belly. The other buried into your panties so he could stroke his index and middle finger through your cunt. You whined and he marveled at the slick pouring from your core.

"Noona~" He cooed, his nose brushing at the back of your ear.

"There." you told him when the pad of his finger hit your clit. It seemed he was more knowledgeable than you first estimated. You sighed as he didn't even hesitate to bury his long finger into your cunt, his thumb circling your clit. Your body twitched and your head rolled back to rest on his shoulder. You were so wound up, even just his slight touches made you shiver. A second finger joined his first and he scissored them against your fluttering walls.

"Here?" He made sure, one finger pressing against the rough patch in your cunt, and you nodded, gasping. The pressure increased and he rubbed and wiggled his fingers inside you. His palm brushed over your clit, and he played you like a guitar. You made noises as well, whining and moaning, panting, and sighing.

"H-Hyuka!" It was like you couldn't breathe, your orgasm approaching so fast. Normally just fingers couldn't make you feel that way, so either he was really that good or you were just that horny.

"Cum, noona." His voice lowered, right in your ear, and you obeyed. His eyes widened as your cunt clenched his fingers, he didn't think you could get any tighter. He desperately wanted to know how you would feel around his cock. Though, he was worried he wouldn’t last too long. As the waves calmed down, he kissed over your neck and once you were done twitching, he pulled his hand away. He marveled at the shine and amount of your release, and you watched him bring his hand to his mouth, flicking his tongue to taste. Kai groaned and immediately swallowed both fingers to suck your juice from them.

"Fuck…" he whispered and you chuckled a bit.

"Can I…?" His voice was still quiet, but it was more confident. You let him direct your movement into the place where he wanted you. Luckily, you were quite small, and your car was spacious, so when he laid you on the center console, the seats were able to slot in the dip of your waist. Not tightly, they held you somewhat in place, and at least the console was padded. You had him pass a blanket you kept in the back seat, and you rolled it, resting your head on it by the radio controls. It was more comfortable than you thought it would be. His hands were still shaking some, but they acted fast, completely undoing your pants, and helping you remove them. He swallowed hard before you led him to remove your panties as well. When the younger man could finally see your bare cunt, shining with your arousal, he groaned.

Large and strong hands gripped your hips and you yiped when he shoved you further back, the blanket preventing you from hitting your head. Unfortunately for him being so tall, he still had to bend a bit uncomfortably, but your whole body twitched when his tongue flicked over your clit. You were glad the A/C was blowing straight on you, because he dove back in, licking over your cunt once then shoving his whole tongue inside. His nose brushed against your clit perfectly and his strong hands held your thighs apart, your muscles twitching under his grip. He placed his hands carefully on your thighs, not wanting to hurt you, just to hold them still. You would have preferred him to be rougher, but in the moment, you were too focused on his mouth on you. Wanting to whimper in protest when his tongue left your core, it instead swirled your button, and his two fingers went back in. You sighed and swore slightly when he pressed against your spot hard, smirking at your little flinch. He was gaining confidence the more you moaned and mewled, so you exaggerated just a tad. More so you didn't hide it any. A car door slammed and you both startled, he pulled away and you sat up to look out the window. It was the coworker getting into his car that you hoped was far enough away that he couldn't see. He was a good distance away, the sound had just echoed through the empty lot. He also didn't need to drive past to leave. Still, you both waited to make sure, and once he was gone, you rested back.

"I'm sorry, noona. I can't wait." He pulled his fingers out and helped you sit up. Smiling, you removed your top and let him pull you back to his lap. Trying not to laugh, he was struggling to undo your bra, so you reached around back to help.

"Fuck." Hearing his soft voice swear like that was cuter than anything, but the look on his face was anything but cute. Kai brought you back down to his lips and your hands met his on the button to his jeans. You gasped a bit when your hands reached in to pull his cock out. Whatever he was getting fed didn't just make his body big. Groaning, his hands gripped your bare ass, hauling you to grind your slick cunt on his dick. You both sighed at the feeling.

"Have you done this before, precious?" you asked him. He was a bit embarrassed that you were just starting at his cock like that, enthralled.

"Um…no. Just, um, touching…" He drifted off.

"You want my pussy or my mouth first?" you asked next, kissing his cheek, then jaw, and down his neck, your hands creeping under his shirt. When you pulled back aggressively, he was a bit shocked, but your hands were rapidly trying to get his shirt off. You let out a groan as he let you rip the garment off. Why the hell was he hiding his body when it looked like that? Not as harshly defined as some others, there was clearly muscle there. He blushed, goosebumps rising on his skin as your soft and small hands wandered his torso.

"Noona?" His voice was rougher than before, and when your eyes met his, they were sharper than before. Not overly so, but he looked more determined.

"Oh, uh-"

"I want your pussy, then I want your mouth." He couldn't meet your eye, trying to stay confident and bold. Instead, his eyes ran over your naked form.

"If that's what you want, precious." You smiled and nearly yelped when he easily lifted you, his mouth sealing around your nipple and the tip of his cock prodding your cunt. He groaned at the wet heat on him, his mouth sucking on your peak. While his mouth on your tits felt good, you needed him to split you open, and you knew he would. Slowly you began to sink down, and your breath hitched at the stretch. Even with how wet you were from the orgasm you had on his fingers, he was just that big and seared through you with a pleasant burn.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You repeated, your eyes clenching shut. You tried to relax, knowing that he hadn't done this before, and you didn't want him to cum right away. More for his pride than your pleasure. Considering you had already came, you shouldn't have been so close, but his fat cock felt so good. You DEFINITELY would need a new vibrator, if one would ever work again. Hyuka's shoulders were shaking a bit at the vice of your cunt. His arms held you tight, helping you sheathe his dick inside you, and he was worried you were hurting.

"Is it too much?" he asked, and you shook your head.

"Fuck, no, it’s too good." You panted, resting your now sweaty forehead in the crook of his neck. He was relieved by this and when he finally bottomed out, you both shuddered. It was hard for him to not start pumping his hips up into you, and you were glad, needing to get used to him more. He couldn't believe how wet you were, it seemed you slicked up easier and more so than normal. Not that either of you were complaining.

"H-Hyuka~" You moaning his name was enough to make his head swim.

"Noona, (Y/N), I can't hold back-" He grunted, and you shivered, but nodded your head.

"Okay, you can." You wanted to sit up and move your hips yourself, but you suddenly had no strength. Not only was your body not working, neither was your brain. You were even about to repeatedly thank Kai for rearranging your guts, and that was before he had even moved.

"Fuck-" He groaned, and his hips jumped, his arms helping you bounce as well. Immediately you threw your head back, your back arched and you fell apart again. He grunted as you squeezed him even tighter, but he kept going. You keened as he pounded through your orgasm, which seemed to last for hours. Your nails had dug into the skin of his shoulders and chest, and he was gripping bruises into your hips. Having no strength, you slumped to lay on him.

"Hold on…" He tried to slow down, and he adjusted you to sit up, before laying you back down onto the center console. Your head found the blanket there still and he was able to sit up more. His cock almost left you when he adjusted himself, his knee finding the floor of your car and the other was up on the seat. When he got the right leverage, he gave a full thrust and you nearly screamed. Your car was most likely visibly shaking as he blew your back out. He smiled smugly as your eyes, unfocused, stared at nothing, your hands loosely holding on to the lip of your dashboard. Every time he pulled back you whimpered, and each thrust back in made you yipe. So as to avoid bruising your thighs, he gripped right under your knees. The younger man was more aware of your surroundings than you and he was proud at how much he made the vehicle shake. There was so much wet dripping from your cunt it was making a mess of your back seat and the front of his pants. He had felt you clench around him several times; pretty sure they were small orgasms he just kept plowing through. Both of you were surprised at his endurance and his eyes flashed to the clock of your radio. Most men couldn't last nearly as long, let alone those so inexperienced. It helped that he focused more on your expressions and body's reactions than the sensations wracking through him.

"Ah~ (Y/N), can I come inside?" He had a feeling you would say yes, but he had to make sure.

"Plea~se!" You mewled and he was shocked by how aroused he was by the tears flowing over your cheeks as well as the whining tone your voice had adopted.

"Ah, noona!" He groaned, clenching his jaw tight and gave another hard thrust, then spilled inside of you. The heat flowing inside of you triggered a much stronger orgasm from you. Hyuka furrowed his brow, feeling a bit guilty as your squirting cunt and his cum overflowing out of you messed your car even further. He was even a bit shocked at the amount he pumped you with, but also wondered how much of the thick liquid was from you. You were both panting as the waves died, you looked so tired, but he was still hard. He hadn't pulled out, but your sanity was returning.

"My mouth next?" He almost didn't catch your breathy question, but he nodded.

"Sit back." You instructed and he did so. Leaning over the driver’s seat from where you were on the center console, you were able to press the lever under the seat and it shot all the way up to the steering wheel. This left a nice big space in front of him, and you shakily sat up. He huffed a laugh and helped you as you kneeled before him. While he didn't understand why you moaned as your lips sealed around the head of his dick, he sighed at the feeling. It was definitely different than your cunt, but it was just as hot and wet. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and your jaw protested as you got the whole tip inside. The taste of his cum mixed with yours was intoxicating and he saw for himself just how much you liked to swallow cock. His breathing picked up, but he could hold back his moans, watching his dick bury deeper into your mouth. He finally couldn't hold back his noises anymore when you kept descending even after the head of his cock hit the back of your throat.

"N-noona~" His head flopped back onto the headrest; your throat fluttered when you gagged a bit. Your own breath was harsh through your nose, bobbing your head, sucking, and licking what you could and stroking the rest. Even if he wanted to fuck your face, it would be too hard in the car, so you decided next time. He would have to be gentler though than when he was railing you into the center console. Another whine vibrated around his dick and his hands came to your hair, not pushing or pulling, just running through the soft strands.

"You're so good." He praised softly and you hummed back. His brow furrowed, his hips jumping up a bit, he was close. You couldn't wait to swallow his cum, you weren't sure if he tasted good because your brain was mush or if it really just did. Later you would joke that just proved how sweet he was.

"Can I cum down your throat?" He grunted, trying to hold back. When your big teary eyes met his, he gasped, and you buried him as deep as you could get him. Swallowing over and over, he gave you more than even when he came inside your cunt. Even when you had to pull off for air, little droplets rolled down the shaft of his cock. Needing to swallow a few extra times, you finally cleaned him off with your tongue. He was slowly getting softer and looked around your car.

"Noona?"

"Sticky~" You got out, reaching behind you to the cup holder. The water in the plastic bottle was hot from the sun, but at least it helped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding nearly panicked. Your face was red and blotchy, sweat flowing from your temple. Your bare chest heaved still; he reached a hand to wipe the tears off your face with his thumbs.

"Never better." You cooed, giving him a wink. Sitting up higher on your knees, you kissed his cheek, and he sighed in relief.

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No, precious. You did so good~" You assured, and he let out a slightly bashful laugh.

"I did?" He chuckled and he was so freaking cute despite what he just did.

"Think you dislodged a kidney." You joked, rubbing your side and his face fell.

"I'm joking!" You laughed and he sighed, laughing himself.

"Let me get dressed and I'll drive you home." You patted his thigh still covered by his pants. That's when you saw the drying stain of your release and his on his pants.

"Oh, jeez." You cringed and he waved it off.

"I can tie my sweatshirt around my waist." he told you, grabbing his bag.

"Um, but…" You followed his eyes to the much bigger stain and globs on the floor of your car. Not having leather seats was not great for that kind of situation. You scoffed at the mess, realizing you would need your roommates help to clean it most likely. You grabbed his shirt, looking it over to make sure it wasn't messy, then he put it back on. Carefully, you got dressed yourself, trying to hide out of view despite no one being around. Adjusting the A/C, you rolled the windows down as you pulled out of the parking lot to air the car out. When you pulled up in front of his apartment building, you kissed him cheek and whispered, "thanks for fucking me in my car." You teased and his face bloomed red, before he was able to give you a cocky smirk.

"Of course, noona. I'll be sure to do it again."

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

TXT Master List

[letstalktea]

Content: amab!medical student!Harper, afab!doctor!reader, dubious consent, hypnosis, medical play, vaginal fingering, mind break

Word Count: 2.2k

You looked over his charts one line at a time. There weren't any abnormalities or concerns. If anything, he was too healthy. Honestly, that was probably for the best given that he was only a few months from finishing his residency, which would really take the piss out of him. Soon he'd have to manage his own caseloads without someone there to help when things got tricky, so it was best he had the mental and physical aptitude to deal with the stress. Hopefully he wasn't one of the many, many doctors that picked up smoking in order to cope. It'd be a shame to ruin those healthy lungs of his.

"The good news is that everything looks good," you told him as you leaned back in your seat. "Same old, same old. You're fit as a fiddle and everything is working right as rain. Your vitals are good, although your heart rate is a little high. Nothing dangerous, but you should probably focus on your cardio a little more."

"Really?" He grabbed a pen from the edge of your desk. "Mind if I fidget?"

"Go ahead." You knew it was a habit of his. He wasn't your only patient who needed something in his hands while he spoke.

But he was the only one that insisted on tapping it against your desk. The slow, rhythmic pattern reminded you of the clock ticking in the background of your office. Steady, calculated, and easy to let fade into the back of your mind without a second thought.

"Of course, the lab still needs to run your blood and urine samples, but I doubt anything out of the ordinary will be found."

"I hope not," he said with his tapping serving as a kind of metronome for his words. "I'd hate to learn I have an issue right before I start a new job."

"Oh? Did you get an offer?" You knew he was looking since he seemed to update you every time he visited, but this was the first time you'd heard about an actual offer.

"As a general practitioner."

"Congratulations." You were genuinely excited for him, even if the sudden tiredness in your head made it hard to express the sentiment. "Where is it?"

When he said the name of the hospital and the town where it was located, you didn't recognize it.

"It's a small town; a blink and you'll miss it kind of place. I used to live there when I was younger."

"So you're going back to your childhood home? You must be excited." Again, you felt an uncharacteristic wave of exhaustion wash over you.

"In a way, I suppose I am. They've already promised me a rather… generous position because of my other talents. But in other ways," his eyes looked you over, lingering far too long on your chest as a small smile crept across his face, "I'm anxious."

You nodded. "That's normal. Moving from your residency to a full position can be nerve-wracking, but you'll do fine. Just keep a level head and do what you think is best for your patient."

"Are you sure, Doctor?" The background noise seemed to fade out as he spoke, leaving only his voice spinning in your head.

"Do you have any doubts in yourself, even after all the work you've already done?"

He chuckled. "No doubts, per se. I still have a few concerns though. Would you mind helping me through them?"

His voice burrowed deep into your mind, drowning out even the one in your own head. Whatever he said, it felt like they were your own thoughts. But… it made sense, what he was saying. 

If he needed help, weren't you the best person to turn to? After all, you were his doctor. You and he had a semi-casual, if albeit professional, relationship.

"What do you need help with?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief for a split moment, but you quickly put it out of your mind. "I'm still not entirely confident with my ability to conduct an examination, especially when it comes to female patients."

"That's a rather large concern given that's a basic skill all doctors should have." It was the very thing you'd just done for him. 

"I'm aware." He sighed. "If only someone more knowledgeable could walk me through it to make sure I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Would you like to practice with me?" The words were pulled out of your mouth before you could process them. 

As soon as they were spoken, they felt wrong. You couldn't quite place it, but the offer left a bad taste in your mouth. Still, it sounded right to your ear. After all, you were a doctor. You knew exactly what he needed to do and could guide him through it step-by-step. Plus, he trusted you. Who better to learn from than you ?

Still, there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that made you question yourself.

But all your doubts faded off somewhere far away as he placed a hand against your shoulder and stared down at where you still sat. "Thank you, Doctor." When had he gotten up? When did the noise in the room disappear? Why did you feel so weird?

"I feel like I should look the part before we begin." He pulled you up to stand on your own feet, unwrapped the stethoscope from around your neck, and helped remove your lab coat before putting it on himself. It didn't quite fit his frame, but it looked right draped over him. "What do you think? I look like someone you should obey."

"Yeah," you agreed without hesitation.

"Good," he hissed as he claimed the seat you had just been sitting in. "Go ahead and strip everything so we can start the examination."

"Traditionally, you would leave the room while your patient undresses. You'd also allow them to keep their underwear and provide a gown for them." Everything you said was the truth, but the throbbing and spinning in your head you felt as you contradicted him made you feel like you were saying something wrong.

"I know that, but this is supposed to be educational. It's better if I see everything." He smirked as he tapped your pen, but you couldn't hear it hitting the desk. All you could hear was him.

And you agreed with what he was saying.

If you were going to help him get more comfortable with examinations, you needed to show him everything from start to finish.

Your fingers fiddled with the buttons running up your midsection until your shirt came loose and you could pull both sides of the fabric apart to let your chest breathe, then you dropped it to the ground. Your black slacks were the next thing you undid, pulling out one leg then the other to let the pants pool on the floor beneath you right beside your top.

Harper inhaled sharply at the sight of you standing in front of him in nothing more than your bra and underwear. He leaned back as his legs spread and a hand came to rest between them. It was when he started rubbing himself while staring directly at you that you realized just how clearly unready he really was. After all, how could he expect to work with female patients if this was his reaction to something so mundane as seeing them semi-nude?

"Continue," he ordered through shaky breaths. "Take off everything before we start."

You reached around behind your back to unhook your bra. The straps went slack so you could peel it off and toss it in the pile with everything else. Then, it was quick work to finish up by hooking your thumbs into your waistband to pull off your panties.

You stood straight before him now completely naked. "Do you know what comes next?"

"Yeah." He was still rubbing the bulge forming in his pants as his eyes flickered across your entire body. "Sit on the table."

It was cold as you took a seat on the paper covered exam area. You were sitting a little higher than Harper now, giving him an eye level view of the space between your legs.

You were a professional, but something about this was embarrassing. All you were doing was helping train him, but the way his eyes ate you up felt predatory. You didn't want him to keep staring. You wanted to get down, get dressed, and scream at him for reasons you couldn't understand.

"Calm down and open your legs wider."

As soon as he said that, all of your anxieties melted away. It was just an exam. You had no reason to be nervous. He was just doing what he was supposed to when he looked you over. This was exactly what you had offered to help him with.

You obeyed and spread your legs further apart allowing the cool air of the small room brushed over your sex.

"I need to see deeper. Spread your pussy for me."

You tsk'd at his vocabulary even as you did as he said and used your fingers to open yourself up for him. "It's a labia. You're going to be a doctor. Call it by its proper name so there's no confusion when you talk to a patient."

"I think we should use layman terms so our patients understand us better." Harper chuckled low in his throat as he stood from your chair, showing off the bulge straining against his pants at he came to his full height. He grabbed a pair of purple gloves from the disheveled box on your desk and slipped them on as he repositioned himself between your legs.

His hot breath ghosted over your clitoris as he closely examined you. "Go ahead. Call it a pussy."

Again, your head was swimming.

"You look wonderful. We should make sure everything works down here though," he said with a smirk on his face as you looked down at him. "This will feel good."

Slowly, he began to rub his gloved fingers over your slit, teasing your folds and prodding at your twitching hole. Your legs began to tremble with only the simplest of touches, as if every part of you was suddenly hypersensitive. Every place he touched sent a hot jolt straight to your brain that had you restraining a cry of pleasure in order to keep your professionalism in tact.

"Don't hold back." He moved his fingers up to stroke your hot, swollen clit in small circles. "Tell me what you're feeling so I can do a proper examination."

"Yes," you sighed in rapture as you dropped the last of your defenses at his command. "My pussy feels hot. You're making me so wet that I can't think."

"Thank you for the feedback." He breathed heavily as he spoke, just before shoving the first of his fingers inside of your heat. "I need to test your stamina, so don't cum. You'll want to though."

"Yes!" You tossed your head back and tried not to roll your hips against his hand.

He was so thorough as he pumped his finger deep inside of you, twisting it around to scrape at your inner walls and massaging any place that had you whining for more. He was so careful with everything he did, but no matter how amazing it felt your body couldn't come. It was tortuous.

"What do you think of my skills, Doctor? Am I ready to see my own patients?"

You nodded. "You're amazing. After this, you shouldn't be nervous about your skills. You're going to be a great doctor."

"Thank you for the compliment." He shoved another finger inside of you and it felt like heaven and hell were fighting over your body.

"Your pussy is always so pretty," he mumbled as he leaned in to bury his face against your abdomen and run his tongue over your greedy clit. "Thank you for working so hard to train me."

That… didn't sound right. You were his doctor, but this was the first time you'd offered to help him.

Wasn't it?

"Instead of cumming, you'll go limp. Then we'll start the last part of your exam."

Fuck it.

You didn't care if you were forgetting something right now. Harper was doing such a good job at making sure your pussy worked that you didn't care. You were proud of him putting everything he'd learned in medical school to good use.

That's why you didn't fight it when your muscles suddenly stopped working and you fell backward against the exam table. It felt too good to worry or question anything.

You wanted to pout when he slipped his fingers out of your hole, but you couldn't muster the ability to. Instead, all you could do was watch as he stood up between your legs and removed the gloves coated in your juices.

"I'm going to miss you, Doctor," he said as he reached down and unzipped his pants to free his throbbing cock. "I need to use this to reach even deeper and make sure you really are healthy. It's perfectly normal to feel good during this exam, so don't worry if you end up cumming once or twice."

Then, he shoved himself inside of you and you could only feel endless pleasure and he rubbed along your soft, squishy, sensitive walls and overwhelming pride in just how dedicated he was to being the best soon-to-be doctor he possibly could. If this is what he was going to be like in his own practice, you knew he'd be someone of great renown.

[kristinamae093]

Hello and happy Sunday, friends! I hope it's been a great week for everyone! It's been hot as balls here with humidity to match, so I've been holed up inside perfecting my hermit-ism (I am a legendary hermit, I legit have messages in my inbox asking if I'm still alive.😂)

With that being said, I've been working on a lot in my moments of mental clarity! Not only with stuff here, but I'm getting back into photography as well, so I guess that's exciting 😬. I'm also working on a character profile for Kyla, my OC from HCTS that I'm fairly pumped about.

Okay, below is the stuff I beckoned you for 🤣😘. I guess you could expect at least one of these this coming week, hopefully maybe probably. Per usual, there's more than six sentences and everything is subject to change and probably will because helloooooooooo, it's me. 🤷‍♀️

One bad word below (thanks, Kyla.)

In this part of HCTS, Bastien asks Liam if he'd like him to contact authorities (regarding Constantine's whereabouts), Liam says we don't want the same thing happening as last time. So, I wrote a little one shot to fill in that blank. 😬 It's called An Apple A Day.

After a time, a loud engine could be heard in the distance. As it got closer, Liam realized it was a semi hauling something to them. The truck stopped a ways away and started backing up. He saw what it was that was being carried, but had no time to register it as the trailer started heading directly for one of the statues at the entrance to the garden.

"No no no–" Liam started, but the loud shatter as the marble hit pavement cut him off. The driver got out and apologized profusely, to which Liam could only clench his jaw and nod. It wasn't that the statue was important, the issue was the gathered press still taking pictures of the ordeal; he knew he was going to have to get creative to try and explain this.

Next, here's a peak into the next part of Here Comes The Sun ☀

Kyla handed Constantine his pole and he took it with wide eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were a professional! That was record time!”

Kyla shrugged. “I guess it’s one of the only good things I picked up from being raised in Farmville.” She chuckled.

A bark of laughter escaped Constantine, but he started coughing immediately after. Kyla quickly grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to him with a concerned expression. He took a swig, inhaled a few deep breaths, and finally calmed himself. He sat his drink down, grabbed his pole, and launched his line into the water as if nothing happened at all.

Kyla stood watching his every move, unsure of what to do. The pollen probably isn’t doing any good for his lungs. We should go back. Constantine sat back down in his chair and rested the pole close beside him; he let out a content sigh, closed his eyes, and raised his head to look up at the sky. He looks so fucking relaxed… Trent didn’t come down here, so maybe this is fine. Yeah… this is fine. I’m not going to mess this up for him.

Last, here's a excerpt from Ghosted titled The Apple Banquet.

“No.” Bertrand firmly responded as he pulled himself from Maxwell’s embrace, “You are not to blame here whatsoever Maxwell… In fact, I may be more at fault here than you..." He took a deep breath and quietly said, "I… I'm afraid I may need to come clean about something…"

Maxwell immediately moved and stood next to Liam with a furrowed brow. Liam felt his heart rate increase and stepped forward instantly. "What do you mean?"

"I… I worry you may find out anyway during your investigation, and I feel after my other atrocious actions I may as well come clean and take my punishment."

Bertrand was suddenly yanked up from his seat by Liam's strong hands. Liam held Bertrand by the collar of his sweater and pulled his face to eye level, nearly lifting him off his feet. "What did you do?"

-------------------------------------------------------

I don't know who I'm supposed to tag, so everyone is getting it lololol. However, please consider this your open invitation to share anything you may be working on, and please make sure to tag me in return if you do! (No pressure, but FEEL ALL THE PRESSURE 🙃)

Ghosted tags - @ao719 @txemrn @imashybish @queenrileyrose @kingliam2019 @riseandshinelittleblossom @dcbbw @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @amandablink @cordonia-gothqueen @sfb123 @jared2612 @harleybeaumont @bebepac @charlotteg234 @busywoman @malblk21 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @mysticalfangirl @umccall71 @fuckitweball0000 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @lovingchoices14 @emersyn-in-cordonia @aussiegurl1234 @karahalloway @the0afnan

HCTS tags - @ao719 @queenrileyrose @tessa-liam @angelasscribbles @kingliam2019 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @bascmve01 @busywoman @belencha77 @mysticalfangirl @nestledonthaveone @lovingchoices14 @lunaseasblog @malblk21 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys

[typekiku]

TSUKIHIME FASHION REVIEW 3!!!

under the dark crimson moon, i write this newest entry of the much awaited much beloved tsukihime fashion review.

it's a duty i must carry out for the sake of the generations of lost sheep both before and after my time that have yet to truly appreciate the true depth of style that is contained within the single greatest visual novel known to mankind (according to me)

yet, i feel as if i am not doing my duty to its fullest... how can i possibly adequately sum the glory of todays fashionista? how can i dare attempt to sum that up?? no! i cannot waver in my faith in my incredibly lacking writing skills nor fear people figuring out this barely has anything to do with fashion... I WILL PERSEVERE!!

on with the show as the youth say!

(SPOILER ALERT: i should mention ill probably end up spoiling a shit ton of oghime and whatnot here so watch out)

so without further ado todays subject is:

drum roll

MORE DRUM ROLL

thanks uhh whatever you are from

MICHAEL ROA VALDAMJONG

yes the one and only roa

BROA

the legend himself, the Serpent of Akasha, Uroboros, the founder of the burial agency, the infinite reincarnatior, and professional Arcueid simp.

we have gathered here today to judge his design and uh fashion ig and whatever else i feel like ranting today about.

lets get right to it.

look at this dude all shirtless and shit like cmon so shameless... cover em up damn. seriously tho this man has a thing for showing off his (or should i say others) bodies like you will see soon.

i guess this comes down to him enjoying the freedom of being fully in control of whatever body he is currently occupying actually?

maybe this is some super deep look into the merits of semi nudism or whatever idk im not smart.

probably takeuchi just wanted an excuse to draw some seriously ripped abs actually i mean this might seriously be the most abby abs we ever see in any TM work. its fucking shredded and roa probably knew that. weirdo

on the flipside that majestic hair is simply incredible. DAMN thats some 10/10 hair. only other hair in this series that compares is my wife arcueid's long hair before her mean little (Older actually but idc) Altrouge got all mean and shit.

umm who is this? what happened to my incredible haired roa?? TAKEUCHI WHERE ARE YOU??? someone please give me back long haired roa... this isnt funny...

do you see what we lost? long gorgeous haired roa should've stayed and im genuinely upset we lost him to this admittingly much better dressed roa. im ashamed of you serpent of fraudkasha

fr tho where tf did he even get this rockstar ass drip anyways? we know SHIKI has been locked up in the outside house for awhile before released thanks to a certain maid... did he just drop by the local hot topic or whatever? did he manifest it through sheer willpower and arcueid simpery?

understandable tbh i too acheive things through arcueid simpery such as dirty stares and social exclusion!!

for reference, here is SHIKI

yea

i guess he just uhh changes him which in hindsight is really fucking sad to think about so lets not

uhh ANYWAYS

ok so ignoring ciel on the right elesia or should i say roa decides the very first thing hes gonna do in poor elesias body is to strip it naked

huh?

yea roa is definitely a weird one. no wonder the other ancestors hate him (besides nero because he is #HIM)

sick cape tho

why is he so hot here actually? what the hell? i underestimated his looks like damn

no really why is he so hot anyways he should look like an absolute freak like he actually is. i see you roa. i see you got that long braid wrapped around your neck like damn son... you may have fallen in love with a literal killing machine and never even got to speak to her till the very very end but i see you.

rizzless bastard.

well thats enough from me so ill drop this classic mahoyo line because i found it very funny without context.

ciao!

[chimchiri]

omg HII 2, 3, 8 & 9 and also how are you doing? :D

Ah, thank you Calisto! Doing great with bitten hands from the pup lmao. Hope you're doing great as well! <3

2. How long have you been drawing?

When I started to get interested in anime (my first anime was Dragonball Z). I only drew occasionally and only in 2007 (17yo) drew regularly - anime style of course. I even remember the very first 'serious' drawing. Unfortunately I don't have it, but at that time DBZ was so popular, there were stickers in gums. And I scaled one of Krillin up to A4, just copying it. I was so proud of it at that age (roughly... 14? 15?). I drew traditionally for very long until my brother gifted me his wacom tablet. It's super interesting to look back on how much I improved. There's still so much I see that could be better, but I also love seeing all the old art. (I even made a post about it)

3. How many classes have you taken?

Besides the mandatory school lessons - none. Sometimes I wonder if I should have, but I'm not really interested in classes. I think the only one I'd actually like to do is figure drawing. I just like to analyze my art and my own mood/interest at a time and then actively choose to work on something. I know it's probably not as efficient to improve like that and I could be further ahead if I took classes and structured it more, buuuuut moving over to the next question -

8. Do you draw professionally, or just for fun?

- I draw for myself. As in, I just love drawing and mainly do it for the fun. I am by no means a professional, but since I'm taking commissions more or less regularly and am getting paid for them, I'd say I'm semi-professional? I guess that depends on how you define 'professional' lmao. Since I didn't take classes I'm very, very hesitant to use that adjective on myself.

9. How much time do you spend drawing on an average day?

When I'm having a good run I draw after work for ca 2-2.5 hours on average. Maybe 5 out of 7 days? 4? On the weekend roughly 3-5 hours in total? Depends on my plans and at the moment I'm having a lot of them and can't get in as much art as I used to. I'm also getting back into running again which takes up some time, so I'd say 1-2 hours after work at the moment :( I'm looking forward when I can get in more again.

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

I've been thinking obsessively about my gladiator!Hunter au for the past 24 hours straight- so take some random plot drabbles!

Hunter is sixteen/seventeen ish at the start of the story, although he doesn't know his exact birthdate or age. He has been a professional gladiator for at least a year, training at a ludus gladiatorius (a gladiator training school- currently unnamed) in a province countryside near Rome/

He was abandoned by his mother at the age of seven or eight, and was picked up a few years later by a group of slavers, and sold to very small gladiator trainer/manager- called a lanista- to compete as essentially canon fodder in small provinces.

He survived somehow, and began getting more skill and kinda-sorta-almost fame, and around the age of 13 was sold to the ludas gladiatorius just outside of Rome.

What type of gladiator was he? I'm glad you asked! but this answer is gonna get a little long, so I'm putting it under the partition.

There were several types of gladiators, all of which had different fighting styles and armament, and were suited to different opponents. At the moment, I am unsure which type of gladiator he was. His combat style in canon is very light and agile, and he is semi-lightly armored; I want to represent that in this au with giving him those same traits and abilities.

-the lightest and most agile gladiators were the Retiarius; these guys:

They wore next to no armor besides a manica (arm guard) on one arm and a galerus (shoulder-guard) on the other. They fought with a trident, weighted net, and dagger, and were largely looked down upon, even more than already sub-human gladiators, especially if they belonged to the specific subset of retiarius, called: retiarius tunicatus, who were especially "shameful" and "effeminate" because they wore (can you believe it??) clothes. For shame.

Their main paring in the arena was the more heavily armored: secutor

However, I'm not sure if I like the look for my boy, Hunter- and the fighting style doesn't super call to me, so I'm not sure.

The second option is a rarer type of gladiator called a veles, or velites (skirmishers, in English). Because they are so rare, information on them is a little lean, and most mentions of them are from the Total War Wiki, soooo. I'm going to do my best with what I know.

They fought with a small, round shield and a six ft long spear (hasta in Latin), and were lightly armored. They were also given a sword as a backup, should the spear fail or be lost. They were a latter addition to the gladiator games, based off of a subset of the Roman infantry of the same name. In contests, they would be paired against other velietes.

Like I said, there's not a lot of information on them, which is definitely a con, as it makes design a lot more difficult. But-

Look! Wolf Boy! That is definitely a plus.

As I mentioned, the velietes are based off of an actual subclass of soldier in the Republic, pictured above on the left. We can see the spear, sword, and shield, and he also has a tunic and the wolf cap thing which slays. The right one is a warhammer figurine, but listen, supplies are thin. I can assume, using my very limited historical knowledge, that, as gladiators were, essentially performers of the likes of the despicable actors, they would dress as some sort of caricature of the actual soldiers, with the same weapons, and I propose keeping the wolf beanie as it slaps, but the tunic probably would have been ditched for something more revealing, like on the right.

(gosh that was long why didn't a make this a separate post good heavens why)

Whichever type of gladiator Hunter was, over the course of one or two years he would have sparred 5-7 times in an arena, as well as several times at private functions/ banquets depending on his popularity (spoiler: he is pretty popular). He's also the youngest (scout to be made-) professional gladiator, which is very appealing for a lot of people. Everyone likes an underdog, right?

When not sparring, he endures a harsh training regiment at his ludas gladitorius (still unnamed) under his lanista- who I think should be a character from the show but I do not know who at the moment. Although popular and well-liked, he's a very high flight risk, so his freedom is extremely limited. He basically lives and works and exists at the school, except for when he is rented out for contents and arenas 3-4 times a year.

Sometime during the story he gets spotted at a contest by Belos, (that's right lads you knew he was going to show up. You knew it). Belos is a affluent, high-ranking general in the Roman Army, and attends the contest, and becomes very interested in Hunter.

A few months later, Belos celebrates the ten year anniversary of his brother's death with a gladitoral munera, three days of gladitoral combat and feasts, and rents out gladiators from Hunter's ludas gladitorius, mainly because Hunter looks very similar to his dead brother,(wink wink) and Belos is the emperor(ha) of healthy coping. At the end of the munera, Belos buys Hunter from the lanista to become his personal guard, and boom- we have the Golden Guard dynamic from the show!

Small baby headcanon's that don't really relate:

Hunter is a pretty good pickpocket, from those few years on the streets, but if he got caught he was royally screwed because he can't lie for the life of him.

His favorite color used to be red, but since his time as a gladiator he doesn't know his favorite color anymore. During his time under Belos, it becomes yellow.

When he was younger, he tried to run away twice, and because of that was branded on his arm or neck (maybe with the letters FVG, for fugitive??). With Belos's permission, he cut off/hacks it off after he's bought.

His favorite foods are those little honey cakes sometimes served at the banquets the night before gladiatorial contents. The first time he was important enough to go to a public banquet, he ate so much food he got himself sick, and now at banquets he doesn't eat much, to give himself a better chance the next day, but he does have a honey cake if they are provided.

He thought gladiators were super cool until he became one. Think like, a little kid's obsession with superheroes.

He's still sort of scrawny, especially for a gladiator, who were fed a lot of bulky food to give them some fat to cushion blows in the arena, but he has a good amount of muscle, and after he leaves the arena (and maybe after Belos???) he starts filling out more.

Lastly, at sixteen years old, he still hasn't lost all his baby teeth! (even with how many times he's been socked in the jaw)

I'm hoping to work in more characters later, right now I am frankly obssesed with gladiator!hunter and gladiator!hunter only, but I do have some ideas for Hexsquad + the CATT's, so hopefully I'll be able to expand on that.

Anndddd that's that babbbby take the my disorganized rambles for 24 hours of hyperfixation. And yes, I am writing this because if there's one thing I'm good for it's hyperspecific au's of my loveliest boy.

:D

[eldritchmochi]

since shit continues to be wild, as evidenced by the oingo boingo voice WEIRD CANCER posts, heres.....

mochi, what the fuck is up with that?? (guts edition) 3.0

1.0 ; 2.0

i apparently have not seen enough specialists so i have an oncologist now. gotta catch 'em all and shit

tl;dr mystery mass did turn out to be technically cancerous. i do not remember the specific type off the top of my head yet but its a weird rare one, because of course it is. luckily its a kind that stays very localized, so it's not gonna pop up anywhere else in my body, and my surgeons did manage to remove all of it with good margins. i am now down the 3rd and 4th part of my duodenum and my gallbladder (which, fun fact, did have signs of chronic gallbladder disease, so i guess i didn't escape that family trend lmao). like all cancers, theres a chance it'll grow back, but if it does, it should be in roughly the same place and is unlikely to be fatal, just annoying

i've got a fuck off big scar building down the centerline of my abdomen, from sternum to groin. it is gnarly as fuck and i am excited to see how it heals. i already have some ideas on how to incorporate it into my tattoos. you can see pictures of it here if you're a morbid freak like me. be sure to look at my reblogs for updates, there will probably be several contained there down the line, for posterity :>

the first like 18hrs post surgery were uh. not fun since it took A WHILE to find some sort of non oral pain management that would actually work for me, so thats great, but sans ng tube, i'm getting by pretty okay with ibuprofen and tylenol with the occasional non-standard opioid. i've been home since tuesday, oct 10th; had a check in with a gp yesterday, oct 13th, and i'm healing well. staples will be removed on the 18th and theoretically i'll be able to keep them >:3c

i'm back to eating semi-normally. still on bowel rest, but it's not as strict as it was before and it's mostly because i am paranoid vs anything required by my doctors. i haven't been nauseous since i went under on oct 4th which is absolutely wild, and i've been experiencing hunger at normal, regular intervals including being able to eat breakfast shortly after i wake up, which i haven't been able to do without a high chance of barfing it back up immediately since i was a teenager

first oncology appt is on oct 23rd. sounds like itll be mostly setting up a plan and schedule for things like regular scans to watch for regrowth and possibly referrals for genetic testing

my pfml back pay came innnnn god only last week holy shit, and my wife got their big chunk of school loans for living expenses so we are mostly fine there. i am arranging with a local queer to come a couple times a week to help with regular chores and stuff at 40 bucks a pop. if anyone would like to sponsor one of those visits or some take out for us, i'm @/sumomomochi on both pp and vnm0

at this point the sort of stuff that would serve us best is GEEFTS. not like, physical things you pay money for necessarily, though if you're a custom dice maker and wanna send us clacky math rocks, i would not say no. things like comments on our fics (mochi's ao3 ; cherry's ao3) or fanart for em, should you be so inclined, would be incredible. cherry is very low key on the internet but i'm chronically online, so other stuff like asks about worldbuilding or fic process or fashion opinions or whatever would be fantastic for me. i am...... incredibly bored after sitting in the same spot for four months now, and i've got another 4-5 weeks of it (:

but! i have a good support system, personally, professionally, and medically, so i'll be alright in the end, just hmm. sure has been a fucking year jesus christ

[system-of-a-feather]

Lovebird Observation Notes Day 1

I have never actually had or handled a lovebird specifically, cockatiels, parakeets, zebra finches, ducks, chickens - heck actually handled a macaw and cockatoo more than I did a lovebird. Though I have done a lot of reading and know a decent bit on them from an academic and "birder" community stand point.

Generally speaking, lovebirds are pretty hyperactive and tend to make really strong bonds either with their human or their forever bonded partner which was largely why I was pretty concerned when my neighbor said "You can have her, I honestly have two parrotlets and I like them better" - which I was originally pretty mad and annoyed about, and still am a bit even though I think it comes from the place of having done the very common issue of a stupid and uneducated purchase on a "cute and pretty pet"

Thankfully, I'm also very needy of a bird human that needs bird company and have a corner in our bedroom near my PC where my cockatiels get to be right up next to me and space on the desk for a second cage. Additionally, I ALSO have cockatiels that could live across the desk as a cage neighbor for her to passively socialize with when I'm not home (asked a professional semi-local rehabilitate their opinion on if I could / should take the lovebird and if I should get a second to give her company as I was thinking of adopting a second lovebird from an official rescue center if it would have been better for her)

I think shes a yellow mutant Fischer's specifcifcally, she overpreens and has a slightly over grown beak (though not so much I would consider it a health issue, but enough so that I notice it as an orange flag)

The cage she came in isn't the worst I seen as - for one lovebird - it does give her some space to fly and move around. Her toy selection is really not the best for a lovebird and looks more catered to a parakeets needs. She needs more stuff to shred to maintain her beak and her general behavioral needs and she does need more space to move to accomodate her hyper active nature. Her food was largely to be desired - millet and what I think was probably parakeet food or cheap lovebird food at best

She has a tendency to bang against the corner of the cage a lot which is probably due to it being 1) slightly too small 2) her having no real toys that she could destroyed and break.

She's pretty hesitant towards people but as far as birds that need rehabilitation or socialization, she's honestly pretty quick to warm up and trust at least to the point of being relatively close to me when in the cage and her also lowering her head for longer periods when eating without checking up on me.

She seems pretty curious and interested in my cockatiels as well which is pretty cool.

Lucy is curious as well but he is hesitant at this strange birds since I don't think hes really seen a non-cockatiel up close. He's actually decided to sit on my shoulder and watch her from a bit a far since I am safe but also closer.

I also appreciate him doing this cause he's basically also showing her that I absolutely am fine to jump on and climb over and trust (he's taking the time of being on me to preen me too XD He's not frequently a shoulder bird cause he's got an ego and would rather be a FREE boy who NEEDS no owner) but she seems to be warming up to the new location pretty quickly and well. I'm keeping her in the safety of the cage until I learn her better and she gets comfortable to lower the stress on her, me and my cockatiels (plus the risk - however low considering neither flocks seem to have any illnesses - of avian flu so good practice to keep them apart for a bit).

Tomorrow I'm gonna go see if I can get her a cheap but better sized cage and Lucy / Avery have been needing new toys anyways so getting them both some new toys - fixing some of the core basic physiological needs and issues before going off and trying to tame her and get her used to people.

I'd be willing to return her to her owner after she's tamed and all under the conditions she follows a list of welfare and care suggestions cause honestly, rehabilitating and helping parrots is just a fun pass time personally for me. I'm more than happy to do so XD

That plus she did seem well intended after getting more information on her situation and if she is willing to comply with care and welfare conditions and suggestions, it could probably also improve the life of her parrotlets as well.

Apparently she regularly takes them both to and from the office where they can fly around more freely which is such a good idea and concept so I do have respects there. The issue just is that its clear she didn't do her research before buying a lovebird nor did she really learn much on whats needed AFTER buying one. Either way, Imma give this lovebird therapy.

She's also like "You know shes not tame AT ALL" and "Are you SURE? I feel like I might just be over encumbering you"

And Im like one, I've lived with parrots my entire life, my two cockatiels here used to travel between living with me and living with a flock of 7-8 cockatiels at a time in the past. One lovebird more than my two cockatiels is not too much. And TWO, she's an untamed mild over-preener.

Avery over here was probably from a breeder mill where she was probably taken from her parents too soon and as a result doesn't know how to preen right, doesn't know how to bathe right, didn't know how to fly right, either has a neurological issue from crashing when young or from being inbred, and when we got her my mom gave up on her after a year plus of her biting her fingers off and flying off when anything that might LOOK like a hand was within 10 ft of her.

I think I can handle an untamed slightly stressed lovebird 😂 Plus I'm literally an animal behavioralist and work in animal research in two months I think I'm good.

*also im internally crying at the opportunity to save a mentally ill birb, its so theraputic and lowkey I think I've been mildly triggered since I havent been able to take her in even though I know shes a bird in need since I kept missing my neighbor*

Either way, she's looking very happy and pleased with the current situation which is A LOT more than I had expected, so I think she likes the casual companionship I've given her the past hour with my birds and me at my desk + the slightly improved food quality (let her have my cockatiel seeds, they rotate between two different pellets, a pretty good mix of seeds and get regular fresh fruit and veg whenever I put them in my meals which is near daily)

She's already sleeping and I've seen her happy fluff about this which considering this is a new home with new birds - I'm extremely shocked to hav- I HEARD HER BEAK GRIND IM GONNA CRY

Anyways, day one update on Raya the Lovebird.

[jayahult]

So, I've been thinking a bit about TTRPG design again - when am I not these days? - and one thing that's sort of occurred to me is that classes / splats are a bit underexplored in some mainstream TTRPG spaces. Because I do think there are some interesting principles you could open up when designing them. Recently, @txttletale mentioned her opinion that warlock is the best D&D 5e class - not only because it was designed better for the system, but because it comes with an inherent implication of a story. Taking a level in warlock doesn't just require training or knowledge, it requires a pact with a supernatural entity with whom the character has a relationship with, whether strained or unstrained. That's a plot hook! An interesting, specific story that must occur for a warlock to exist in the world, and that story will implicatively advance as the warlock continues to gain power from their supernatural patron.

I like this idea, and I think we can keep going with this. Here are my personal principles for an ideal class / splat:

The splat should provide something of a distinct mechanical identity. They should have some area where they specifically excel or abilities not strictly available to any other class. I think a neat example of this is Lancer's talents, which are sort of mini-splats in a sense. They flesh out the specific roles and styles of play; is the character a flashy, high-flying Ace who uses fast and maneuverable mechs, or a clever Hacker that has a lumbering e-warfare machine? What talents a player chooses really amplifies and clarifies where they shine in the game's primary mechanical area, which is combat.

The splat should provide a distinct story identity, but not so distinct that every person in that class is identical. Weirdly, looking at some older editions of D&D shows this off pretty well. At the game start, all the players are in the same general social status and story status; they're scrappy adventurers of some kind, looking to make their fame and fortune. But as they advance, some very noticeable disparities start to occur in the way that they interact with the world. After a certain level, a fighter is supposed to be given a keep or barony to look after, indicating that they've been rewarded for their valor and riches with a semi-noble title. A thief acquires a coterie in the form of a guild; in some editions, druids have their own weird hierarchy where a druid can't advance to the next level until they beat one of their superiors in combat. There are implicative stories that have to happen there as a result of character advancement.

So like, if I was to design a D&D-style dungeon crawler, I'd probably run the classes down by these principles in a way somewhat like this:

The Monster Hunter is mechanically the "consistent fighter guy." They're sort of a paring down of the ranger and fighter into a single class; they belong to a specialized in-world class of people that are brave, strong and stupid enough to hunt down all the highly-dangerous megafauna (or megaflora or megafungi as the case may be) that happen to naturally exist in this universe. Think somewhere between an ecological manager, a field biologist, and a professional big game hunter. They can acquire special training that makes them better at hunting down monsters in their downtime as a gimmick. Their big story advancements are trophies and acclaim. As the Monster Hunter becomes more and more skilled and has more kills under their belt, they get become famed specialists that budding hunters come to for training, and they can take trophies that give them social clout with specific groups.

The Berserker is mechanically the "risk-reward fighter guy." They can enter into a state where they get a lot of benefits, but the longer they stay in it, the worse the backlash when they get out. They're a barbarian-equivalent, but we can safely drop the whole noble savage / barbarian rage / proud warrior culture angle. Instead, we can go for the more interesting option of having them be haunted more or less on purpose. Because they've killed so many things, they're just sort of accumulating ghosts around themselves, who collectively possess the Berserker when they enter into a battle fury. They don't have to be human ghosts either. You can essentially enter this profession by being a particularly ambitious butcher or hunter at first. Story-wise, as they progress they acquire hauntings and great ghosts. The hauntings are unique effects that follow the Berserker wherever they go even when they aren't being possessed, and the great ghosts are essentially dead NPCs whispering advice or curses into the Berserker's head.

The Blackguard is mechanically a rogue-equivalent. They're a sneaky, specialized guy who helps the party deal with traps and can attack enemies from unexpected angles. Given set-up and some resources, they can also create some traps themselves, turning the tables on the enemy. Because the Blackguard's skills are mostly illicit - stealth, lockpicking, trap-making, etc. - and their equipment is often dubiously legal at best, they generally exist at the fringes of society. As they advance, they start to acquire underworld allies that eventually develops into a network. These are fences, specialists, bruisers, informants and other criminal elements that the Blackguard has a connection with. These will prove invaluable to the party if they need to sell off loot with a dubious provenance or if they really need a guy who can fit into somebody's wardrobe.

The Knight-Errant is our last real "martial" class, and represents a sort of paladin of a different shade. They are a warrior sworn to a supernatural higher order, but that order is generally left up in the air. To this end, they have strictures - a set of rules that gives them supernatural power so long as they're followed, specific to the patron and their relationship with the Knight. You can take some inspiration from myth and religion here; this Knight has their strength so long as they never cut their hair. This Knight cannot be permanently wounded except by weapons made from wood, or made from a specific kind of metal. These powers can give them versatility and staying power in combat, but they also start to impose more and more limits on the Knight in the story because as they advance in power the strictures put on them become more and more demanding.

The Thaumaturge is sort of a warlock / cleric hybrid. They're the party's big magical support, the person that can sling out combat spells and figure out that curse and all that sort of thing. Like the Knight, they're also borrowing power from a patron, but instead of strictures they have rituals and eventually a temple and acolytes. The rituals are essentially the day-to-day processes of worshipping their patron, which are eventually taken over by the acolytes in the temple. The temple can also serve as a base for the party, but the acolytes also might have their own demands, and the fact that the Thaumaturge is a literal miracle-worker will attract crowds who will want help. After all, is that disease-curing miracle worth more to your Berserker, or to the dozens of people who have leprosy at your door?

The Occultist is more of a classic wizard. They're mostly-solitary weirdoes with magic powers acquired by deeply studying the world. Because of this, they have to be a specialist. Choosing a specialty opens up a lot of options to the occultist in terms of gameplay, and loses them a lot of other options. As time goes on, they develop a workshop - a place to experiment and research new parts of their specialty, which may attract customers or apprentices seeking knowledge in the Occultist's specialty.

And you could keep going like that with the mechanic-story interlock. I think it's a cool idea.

[v0idheir]

PROJECT ANNOUNCEMENT: VOICE ACTORS WANTED

Hey all! I’m starting some work on a podcast project, and am lacking a few key voice actors. So you get a special sneak peak at what I’m working on, because I’m hoping some of you may be willing to help out! 

PLEASE NOTE that this is very much a passion project. If you are a professional VA, you’re welcome to audition, but I do not want to waste your time with a vague promise of money in the future. *Currently*, this is not a paid gig. 

**Show Description:** 

Ari Beck was living an unfortunate life, until the day he was hit head on by a pizza delivery truck. Now, he’s living an unfortunate afterlife as a white-collar worker in Purgatory, deciding the eternal fates of souls surrounded by angels and demons. What better way to judge someone’s character, than to have them judge others? 

**Characters needed:**

EZEKIEL - A soft-spoken angel, and the angel representative and overseer of Purgatory. A mysterious character, he’s always watching. He also probably takes himself too seriously, speaking in the royal “we”. As far as voices go (this is incredibly cringe, I know), I’m looking for a Kyle McCarley sorta voice (Ryo in the english dub of Devilman Crybaby). But in general, a soft-spoken “male” voice. 

DAMIEN - The sarcastic, somewhat jaded office-gossip, and demon co-worker. He does not take his job seriously, and probably spends more time by the water cooler than he does his actual desk. That, or leaning over the cubicle partition to talk to his office-neighbors Ari and Sarah. Pretty generic voice, one voice inspo might be Lyle Rath (VA and youtuber). 

**Auditioning:**

If you’re interested in either of these roles, please submit this information through DM (any social) to me:

Full name

Part you’re auditioning for

Email address

Audio files of your audition

You do not need any audio editing skills for this, but you do need to be able to record at least semi-clean audio in some way. Here are the lines I would like to hear in auditions:

EZEKIEL: 

1 - “You were hit by a Papa John’s delivery truck and… expired… on impact.”

2 - “You will work among the angels and demons we have employed here in purgatory for as long as we need to… figure you out.”

3 - “As a human, I’m sure you’re familiar with the bureaucratic process? It takes at least 10 business days for paperwork to be properly processed, and yours is going to have to circulate the office at least once more.” DAMIEN: 1 - “Ooh yes, I should! But alas! I'm committed to procrastinating for all of eternity, so I don't think I could possibly fit that in my schedule!”

2 - “Don't doubt my skills Sarah, you know I pride myself in being the #1 office gossip.”

3 - “Yep. The day is randomly chosen. Usually it’s pretty boring, but sometimes you get a good one! Last week I had one from some woman who scratched her mother-in-law’s eye out!”

Thank you to anyone who decides to audition! Also, I may decide to offer you a minor role if I end up finding the VAs, but enjoying your audition. And feel free to inform other people you know about this! I will be posting this on other socials as well. 

[ginzburgjake]

Ghost AU (4/?)

Martin liked his job. He did.

Tim was a nice coworker, and Sasha a good boss. Elias was intimidating and often frustratingly unhelpful, but he rarely wandered down into the Archives. The pay was alright, the hours standard, the tasks mostly mundane with lots of perfectly boring filing involved. So yeah, Martin was pretty content in his current position and very unwilling to change it once again so soon. Looking back, most of his adult life’s decisions always had been heavily influenced by someone, something else outside of Martin’s control. For once, he could push back. The ghost could eat dirt.

Martin started his vengeance plan by locking all of his supplies in the top drawer of his desk (which was an option he failed to consider before the Hand Incident, to his eternal embarrassment). Out of pettiness, he filled his pen cup instead with exclusively non-working pens, empty markers and broken pencils, scattering a couple of jammed staplers and blunted scissors around for good measure. Maybe Martin couldn’t stop the ethereal thief, but he sure as hell could make it regret staying on this side of the veil.

He also began eating his lunch in the Archives, hoping to catch the stationery in the process of floating away. So far, Martin had been unsuccessful — either the ghost was too much of a coward to face the consequences of its actions, was simply ashamed, or had become better at going unnoticed. Which option he preferred, Martin couldn’t say.

The day after the Hand Incident, Tim brought in and installed a semi-professional camera, which he’d initially bought for his nature trips. The camera was positioned on one of the shelves, and its angle allowed decent coverage of the whole bullpen office — although Martin now had to be more conscious about his nail-biting and skin-picking. If the evidence ever made its way to the officials, he wouldn’t want them to examine a shot of himself with an arm elbow-deep up his nose.

Sasha hacked the database and dutifully printed anything she could find on the previous archival employees, whose photos and personal information she arranged on a big clipboard. She reasoned that if the ghost had manifested in Gertrude’s time, the old woman would’ve left notes on it somewhere in the mess that was the Archives. Gertrude’s assistants (all of whom went MIA) at least had the decency to check out the last day before their disappearance. It didn’t mean that they couldn’t have eventually ended up dead and tied to the Institute’s basement, but it significantly lowered their chances.

“Gertrude and her successor, Jonathan Sims, were both at their workplace before seemingly vanishing into thin air,” said Sasha on her fourth cup of coffee. “Which means they are our most likely candidates, and that’s not taking into account all the blood found in Gertrude’s office. If ghosts do indeed linger in places of violent crimes, then Gertrude is a good bet. Maybe she’s also the reason Sims disappeared.”

“Fantastic,” said Tim, twirling (and periodically dropping) a pencil in his hand. “Not only does this thing steal our stuff, but now we’re at the risk of being AWOL-ed.”

“At least we have each other,” Martin added. “Both Gertrude and Sims were alone, right? It’s easier for something to catch you if no-one comes to check on you, I think.”

“Yeah,” Sasha sighed. “I really don’t like this, but if there’s even a slight possibility of getting kidnapped by a malevolent spirit… I should probably tell Elias.”

Telling Elias, as Martin came to understand, was not as hard as getting him to actually believe them. The day after Sasha sent Elias a detailed explanation (with a brief recount of Martin’s statement and her own ideas on the topic), the whole archival team received a reply:

“I am terribly sorry for Martin’s, undoubtably very distressing, experience. In the best interests, I can advise a good counsellor and perhaps taking some time off work to promote stress management. Please see the files attached. Unfortunately, I am unable to offer any additional funding or satisfy transferring requests at this time. I trust your sensibility, Ms James, and hope that your noble intentions will not interfere with the voice of reason.

Best wishes,

Elias Bouchard.

P.S. Please inform Mr Stoker that crop tops are not workplace appropriate. Thank you.”

Tim looked down at his yellow crop top saying ‘Don’t study me. You won’t graduate’. “Shit. Must’ve seen me entering the building.”

“He’s convinced I just had a nervous breakdown and want out,” Martin lamented.

“We need more evidence.” Sasha frowned. She glanced at the clipboard, where two photos were positioned at the centre: one of an old woman, with her grey hair up in a bun and a cold, stoic expression on her face; one of a bespectacled man, seemingly in his thirties, with short black hair and tired eyes. “Let’s hope we can catch the ghost moving on camera.”

Martin looked at the photos as well. Both of them held short descriptions scribbled on post-it notes. Gertrude Robinson, former archivist; reported missing May 15th 2015. Jonathan Sims, former archivist; reported missing January 9th 2016.

Tim said earlier that he’d met Sims once or twice in Research. They’d never properly talked, and the whole time there Sims had been withdrawn and brusque, uncomfortable with other people. He and Gertrude were apparently somewhat similar in that regard: both independent and uncaring, almost existing in a vacuum. Strangely, though, as Martin looked at Jonathan’s last taken photo (cropped from his work ID, with his Facebook having been inactive for three years), he didn’t see the face of an uncaring man.

Maybe it was just Martin’s imagination playing tricks (because, well, Jonathan was attractive, and Martin was very, very gay), but he thought Sasha’s predecessor, with his lip corners pulled down and an unfocused gaze, simply seemed rather sad. And lonely.

< part 3

[selectivechaos]

anticipatory anxiety, and why people with sm can be talkative

long post⚠️

“we went skydiving and that anticipatory anxiety when i was sitting there in the plane with the door open at 15,000 feet with the wind blowing. that fear that i had was the exact same feeling i had when someone tried to get me to speak with them when i was in kindergarten and if you kind of think about it in that way it kind of makes sense, that a lot of these behaviours make sense, that when you see a kid with sm they look totally avoidant, totally scared out of their minds because they feel like they’re about to jump out of a plane from 15,000 feet. and going back to kindergarten we ended up seeing a few more doctors but each diagnosed me with something different - autism, generalised anxiety… because they didn’t really know what was happening either, their therapy wasn’t helpful and after a while with no real progress the school told my parents that there was really nothing more that they can do and that i would probably never get any better and i would have anxiety for the rest of my life, and they didn’t see me getting over that.

but i think the real reason a lot of these people have never understood it was because the kid that the school saw, the kid that even these doctors saw, was not the real me; it was just the kid that they saw in public. none of them saw the kid who was at home: i was talkative, i was friendly. even with family friends or some relatives, if it wasn’t crowded: i would be talkative and i think this is something very unique to sm, where somebody acts completely differently in one situation versus another.” source: ‘My Journey Through Silence: A Young Adult's Perspective on Selective Mutism’ by selective mutism association on youtube

this shows again why professionals in education and healthcare can’t fully understand sm. in a disorder so focused on the mute situations, they can’t see what we’re like in safe situations. im like a completely different person, like the people im mute around would not recognise me. a few years ago i had a friend who got shocked when i smiled, apparently she’d never seen it before. another time, someone i was semi-okay-semi-anxious around got shocked when i spoke because she didn’t think i could.

im working on being kind to myself when im in mute situations, so that i don’t consider myself any less of a person or any less valuable when im mute (bc that’s harmful ableist shit), but i do think that who i am when im not mute is so important to see, because it’s who i am when im not suffering and terrified, when im not lonely or anxious, and when my i can be sure my needs will be met, not only because i can ask for things then, but also because people treat me as human when im not mute and inhuman when i am (and that’s also ableist shit).

who i am when im not mute is the story of how i could and should be All the time. 🌹🌹

[pretendicanwrite]

Something Happened Pt. 5

Here it is! the last part.

I have decided to open up this universe, and I've decided to call it the Something Happened Universe, or SHU.

Feel free to drop prompts or suggestions. It's encouraged!

Character credit to @lumosinlove

CW: Semi-graphic descriptions of s*xual assault, and mental health issues.

**********

Suddenly, Heather was right in front of him, and he had no memory of how she got there. 

“Alright Leo, I want you to list 5 things you can see.”

Leo worked his way through the whole list, 5 things he could see, Heather, the lights, the lockers, skates, and clothes left on the floor. 4 things he could touch, the bench, his soft sweatshirt, his hair curling over his ears, and he could feel the floor beneath his feet. 3 things he could hear, the guys outside of the locker room, Heather breathing in an exaggerated way, and the music someone was playing as they were changing. 2 things he could smell, sweat, and Heather’s perfume. And one he could taste, Finn’s strawberry chapstick that Leo loves, probably more than Finn.

His breathing had slowed down a little, but now he was crying and shaking. He couldn’t look Heather in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry. I was feeling okay this morning.”

“It’s okay Leo. Nobody has a-”

“I’m sorry. Nothing even happened. I didn’t mean to-” Leo's words cut out again as his breathing picked up. He moved to get up off the bench to continue getting ready, but Heather sat down on the bench and patted the seat where he was previously sitting. 

“Practice has started already. I’m sure Sirius has told Coach why you’re not there yet. And I am sure that nobody is going to care if you’re late, or if you miss. This may be a professional team, but the coaches and the owners care more about their players than they do about an extra practice.”

“I know, but I feel like I should be out there practicing. I missed two practices last week for reasons, and now I’m missing this one. I’m going to lose my place on the team. I just got out of my rookie year, and I can’t afford to be missing practices like this. I could be dropped, or traded, and I don’t want either of those things.”

Heather turned her upper body entirely toward him and rested one leg on the bench. 

Leo had tears running down his face as he turned back to Heather. He looked downright terrified as he looked at her. “It’s been my dream to play in the NHL since I started playing hockey. I just can’t bear the thought of thinking that that man ruined my chances because I can’t handle a little bit of human contact. I was so proud this morning, that I actually gave Finn a hug, but one joking comment from Talker, and I couldn’t breathe. I just want to get better so that I can go back to the things I love.”

Heather thought for a moment, staring at the bench she was sitting on. Leo had been very clear and open about his goals and wishes since their first appointment, but he hadn’t really expressed his fears about what happened if he didn’t reach them.

“Leo, I’m about to make a weird analogy, but I want you to just take a moment to think about it. Recovery is like giving a five-year-old a crayon and asking them to draw a straight line. Sure, a few could do it first try, and others might be able to give you a line that is mostly straight with maybe a few bumps, but a majority of the time, it's not going to look straight. That line is your recovery. It might have bumps, curves, and maybe even paths that go completely out of the prompts, but somehow, the line starts at one side of the paper and ends on the other. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Leo wordlessly nodded and moved to sit on the floor. He had always been more comfortable there, where he could stretch out and felt like he wasn’t crowded. “I get that, and I know that, but I just wish I could feel like I did before this happened. I want to be able to give my boyfriends what they want, and I want comfort from them, but as soon as I try to get it, something happens and I can’t even think about it without getting panicky. I want to get better, and I want for that man to get what he deserves for what he did to me, but I don’t want to face him again, and I don’t like that I want revenge. I feel like there are so many people out there who had worse things done to them, and they never get the chance to do anything about it. God, he just touched me, but I feel like this? It wasn’t even that major in the grand scheme of things.”

“Leo, what happened to you is important. Just because people go through different experiences, it doesn’t make this any better or worse. You are entitled to how you feel about this, and I’m not going to tell you that wanting revenge is a bad thing, because this man hurt you. Maybe not physically, but he hurt you emotionally, and you get to feel how you feel about this. Now, I will sit with you however long you want me to, and I will get you out of practice today, or you can go practice, but I need you to make a decision so that we can inform Coach. Deal?”

“I think I want to practice. Skating always helps me to calm down my brain.”

“Alright, but I want you to know that the guys were terrified for you. None of them knew what was going on, and they didn’t want to leave you. I’m not going to tell you to tell them what’s going on, but I do think it would be a good idea to just remind them of your boundaries. I’m not trying to make excuses for them, but a lot of them are used to being touchy, and chirping each other, so they more than likely just forgot about what you told them. I can be there with you or explain it for you if you’d like, but you don’t have to.”

Leo sat in silence thinking again. He wanted the team to understand what was going on with him, and he wanted to share what had happened, but he felt ashamed. He felt ashamed that he let it happen, and he hated that he wasn’t strong enough to save himself. “Is the team going to hate me if they find out that I let this happen to myself? Are they going to hate me for keeping it from them for so long? I know they won’t but maybe hearing it from someone else will help my brain comprehend it.”

They continued discussing Leo’s plan for the next 15 minutes and having some idea of what he was going to do formulating in his mind was calming him down significantly. He had always thrived off of organization and scheduling, so the spontaneousness of his anxiety attacks was messing with his already anxious brain, making him more likely to devolve into an attack.

By the time Leo had his gear on for practice Coach had the team gathered around him to work on their next play. Coach had noticed him walking towards the group, and dismissed to the team to work on their play while he joined Heather and Leo in the tunnel.

“Hey, Sirius told me what was up. Is everything alright?”

Leo stared at Coach Weasley, figuring that he had never seen the coach mad and that it would be okay to talk to him. Coach Weasley always had the team's best interest at heart and was very understanding.

“Um, I was- I was sexually assaulted a few weeks ago, and I’ve been trying to process everything, and trying to heal from it. I had an anxiety attack in the locker room, and the reason I missed those practices last week was that I was in appointments with Heather, and I wasn’t comfortable being with the team just yet. I’m trying to overcome my issues with people right now, and I honestly just want to play hockey, so…”

“Absolutely. Do you plan on telling the team? I can call a team meeting if that’s what you would like, or you can tell them individually. It’s up to you how you move forward.”

They talked for a few more minutes about Leo’s plan, and soon he joined them for the rest of the 1-and-a-half-hour practice. 

At the end, the team gathered in the locker room and got ready to head home, but not without glancing at Leo often. He could feel their eyes on him as he changed, electing to shower at home, rather than be naked in a shower full of his teammates.

“Um, is everyone here?”

The team responded with a collective yes and sat down while they looked at the rookie.

“Um, I know that I scared you all earlier with the anxiety attack, and I just wanted to explain a few things, so just bear with me. After that home game against the Golden Knights, I was in the parking lot of a grocery store, and I- I was assaulted.” Leo was interrupted by a soft, ‘Oh my God’ from Talker, but continued anyway, “A man snuck up behind me and groped me, but I got him off before anything worse happened. I have been talking to Heather, and I was hesitant to tell all of you this, but I feel like having you all know would be easier than dealing with all of you sending me worried glances you think I don’t notice. I’m still not comfortable standing in front of people, and now I think you can imagine why, and I still don’t want to be touched, but I will initiate contact, so just go with it, please? I know it’s a lot, and probably not what you were expecting when I asked you all to listen to me, but you guys are basically my family, and I need you. I trust you, and Heather, and I think that having more people on my side is vital for my mental recovery.”

“Did my stupid comment cause your anxiety attack? I’m so sorry Leo. I didn’t mean anything by it!’ Talker’s eyes were glossy as he spoke looking directly into Leo’s. “I swear, I never would have said it if I knew that it would make you uncomfortable.”

“I know Talkie. I didn’t even know that it would make me uncomfortable. I’m still learning what qualifies as triggers for me, and how to respond to them, but I’ll let you guys know as I figure it out.”

The room went silent for a minute, everyone staring down at the floor, and Finn and Logan were silent crying, along with Leo.

Sirius glanced up at the goalie and smiled softly at him. This not-so-little teenager had been through so much, and still found the courage to stand here in a room full of big strong guys, and tell them about his experience.

“Leo, I can not express how incredibly privileged I am to have you on my team. I know I speak for all of us when I say that you are not alone. We will always be here for you, whatever you need, whenever.”

The guys let out words of agreement at Cap’s words, smiling at the rookie.

Leo smiled, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. His team had always, and would always be there for him. He was unsure why he had ever thought that they would hate him, or think he was disgusting. They were his family, and he would always love them.

**********

Agh! It's over :(

[jbreenr]

Stunt –Sebastian Stan

Pairing: sebastian stan × reader

Summary: shooting a fight shouldn't be as difficult for two professional actors.

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: poorly written smut (+18 only, please), mild degradation, choking, oral sex (f receiving), explicit language, semi-public sex (???), unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), this is a rpf so don't read if you're not comfortable with it.

A/N: after watching the assembled of tfatws and olli haaskivi's post about being chocked by the metal arm, inspiration hit me so, yeah. also, this is for @buckyownsmylife because she insisted that i should start writing and, how am i supposed to say no to her? i hope this thing makes sense and you like it at least a little. Lack of vocabulary, grammatical and orthographic mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*.

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

“It is simple,” Kari, the director, started explaining. “while Anthony struggles to separate John from Karli in the background, you and Sebastian will have a little fight over here.” she gestured with her hands as she spoke. “After she tries to knock you out, you take her with you and corner her against that wall…”

Sebastian’s eyes followed every move the woman did, absorbing the information she was giving.

You were about to shoot a scene for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and you were nervous. Not only because it was your first fighting sequence ever since you landed in Prague, but also because you were supposed to do all the maneuvers of your character. According to Kari, it was going to be a single, long and intricate shot, which made it impossible for the stunts to do it themselves.

After talking to the choreographer and making one vague demonstration with Sebastian, you practiced all week, moving left to right in the reduced space of your room, kicking the air, jumping around and failing miserably when you slipped off the edge of the bed more times than you cared to admit.

Only when you understood that you wouldn’t be able to do it alone, you tried asking Sebastian to help you with some movements in which his body was required. Of course, he was busier than he'd be in other circumstances, now playing one of the biggest roles of the show, and told you that he'd for sure help you later.

Later quickly turned to tomorrow and then to next week but you were fine with it, you knew his schedule was tight and if he was not working, he was probably getting some well deserved rest.

Insisting was something you thought of doing, of course, but changed your mind the day you bumped into John, his stuntman, and he offered to help you.

He was really funny and you enjoyed spending time with him. He knew his job. He taught you some tricks for when you needed punch someone or when you had to fall backwards and not break your neck in the process, but most importantly, he knew how to make the practicing seasons less awkward in that singularly difficult part.

“… And then you throw her to the mat. Got it?”

“Yeah, it's gonna be fun.” 

Kari turned to you with a smile on her face. “Are you ready?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that you had been lost in your thoughts for the last few minutes. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm ready.” You reciprocated her smile.

Your eyes followed her as she walked away to sit on her chair. Behind her, you visualized John waving at you and giving you two thumbs up, signaling that he was there to cheer and support you.

“Hey,” Sebastian’s voice caught your attention. “Are you okay?” You looked at him in the eye and nodded. You were okay, only not sure if you were going to do a good job. “Don't worry, just imagine you're doing it with John.” And with that, he left you to go to his initial position.

His words stuck in your head for longer than they should have. The way he said them was… how was it? Strange was the best definition you could think of.

Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you walked to the blue X marked next to a wooden table in the other side of the room.

“And action!” Kari said, bringing the set to life.

Erin and Wyatt started with the last part of their argument when Anthony appeared to start with Sam’s speech about knowing what Karli had been through. “Captain,” said the director. “your turn.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Wyatt spat a tired comment and went to take the non existent shield in his back, unleashing hell… at least for the characters.

Their fight had just started when Sebastian approached them, prosthetic metal arm and all, to make his part helping Sam.

“Now!” Erin’s, well, Karli’s order worked as your clue to enter the scene, running straight to Sebastian to put him away from the others.

Unlike Erin, you were not wearing a mask. Your character was supposed to be hidden, ready and waiting for Karli’s instructions in case things went wrong.

Grey walls and blurry faces spun before your eyes as you whirled and jumped, pretending to punch and kick Sebastian.

The camera moved from Wyatt’s face to Erin who took off her mask and threw it to your direction, bringing the attention of the camera to you.

It went from your feet to your arms that grazed Sebastian's as if you two were in the middle of a dance. The lens, now focusing on Bucky’s arm.

Your hair, that had started tied up in a bun, was now loose thanks to the choreography and its intensity.

One of your boots touched Sebastian's ankle and he fell to his knee, you went back a few inches.

“Two more steps and your fist, Y/N.” Kari indicated. The colorful marks on the floor, agreeing with her.

You did as she said, moving your arm towards Sebastian’s face. He took your fisted hand in his, stood up and easily dragged you with him near to the closest wall. After all, he was too, playing a super soldier.

Your knuckles barely touched his chest and he staggered as if it actually had hurt him.

“Yes!” Hearing John saying that in the distance, you did your best to hide a smile. That part had been complicated while rehearsing but you just managed to make it look real.

With more straight that you anticipated, Sebastian's hand, the one with the fake metal arm, gripped your throat and walked you to the wall, slamming your back to it with a dry thud. A heavy and almost inaudible whimper fell from your lips, surprising both Sebastian and you, your eyes connecting instantly with his.

His palm was firm on you, the supposed-to-be vibranium glove slowly warming against your body heat and the end of the sleeve pressing against your pulse point.

Despite the barrier between his fingertips and your flesh, he could feel your rapid heartbeats and the way your breathing increased in speed by the second. His eyes, now following a drop of sweat that rolled down your cheek and fell from your jaw to the shirt you were wearing.

His fingers tightened their grip on you so mildly that the rest of the crew didn’t register it. For a split second you felt like your body was burning, as if he had poured gasoline on you and threw a match at your feet, waiting for you to turn to ashes.

“Now, straddle him.” That was the second time Kari’s voice brought you back to reality that day.

If you were not sure you’d be able to perform what was next before, you now knew you were about to screw it up.

The camera guy walked a few steps back to have a better view and when he stopped, you sweeped your arm under Sebastian’s to free yourself. He looked as deconcentrated as you were seconds prior.

He was quick to come to his senses and moved his leg to the front to help you climb his body like a koala. His right hand, hidden from the camera behind his torso, held your hip to keep you from falling.

Putting a leg on his shoulder, you pushed yourself up to bring your whole body to be on top of him, quite literally.

When you executed that part with John, there had been no problems; no complications while climbing him, no accidents while putting you down, no your inconvenient and unexpected arousal pooling between your legs almost touching his nose thanks to the closeness your current position had you in.

You tried to keep your intimate parts as far from his face as possible, with your ankles buried near his neck, the sides of your parted legs held by him and an annoying pang on your lower back caused by the, in your opinion, extremely necessary lean of your torso.

He walked a few steps away from the wall, trying to stop you from strangle him with your thighs.

One of your hands was on your knee steadying yourself, the other was taking a handful of his hair in a desperate attempt of your character to make him let go of your legs, and your hair kept covering your peripheral sight when you heard Sebastian inhale. A sharp and deep breath that ran down your spine. The moment he exhaled and looked up at you, your legs lost strength instantly. 

“Shit” was all you said before you lost balance and felt your back hit the cold concrete, kicking the air out of you. 

The entire set froze, people stopping whatever they were doing as soon as Kari screamed “Cut!” She and a few others approached you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” John asked as he leaned to help you get up. “What happened? You nailed that part this morning.” 

Gazing at Sebastian, you saw him looking everywhere but in your direction. 

“Well, it was just… not the same.”

“Timing is everything in these cases.”

You heard Sebastian telling Kari that he’d be right back, to which she said, “Alright, people, let’s take a break and then we’ll try it again!”

“I’ll go to fix my hair for take two.” You informed your friend and headed towards the dressing rooms, he went right behind you.

The walk was not long, and still, John found the time to scold you for not following his instructions in your last jump. Little did he know that was not the problem. 

“Let’s just say that it is easier to do it with you.” You said, walking inside the room, leaving him laughing as you closed the door.

You were the only person there, the hair and makeup team nowhere to be seen. Sighing, you took off the hair tie and with a comb, started brushing your tangled locks.

Without warning, the door swung open revealing an exasperated and apparently angry Sebastian. With the look he was giving to you, he only needed the black mask to be the Winter Soldier.

“So, is that it?” he shortened the distance between you two with slow steps. “You prefer to work with Nania than with me? Is that why you were so uncomfortable while we were ‘fighting’?” his fingers making quotation marks.

With every step he took, you did the same, except backwards. When the back of your thighs hit the table in front of the mirrors, you moved to the side, approaching the door, ready to excuse yourself and run back to set.

You should have been faster, though.

Just as your fingers grazed the knob, his were already on you, holding you by the neck and slightly depriving you from your air supply. Only then you realized he was still wearing the metal arm.

“Is that why you'd rather it being him you're shooting that scene with?” his eyes were on fire, his beautiful features distorted by a grimace. “You like having his face between your legs?” Your breath hitched, this time for a reason beyond his fingers touching you. His words, having an effect they shouldn't have had in your body. 

“Why do you care?” Your question, followed by his grip loosening a bit. “You didn’t have time to practice with me so he did it for you.”

His mouth molded into an incredulous smile and the laugh he let out had no humor on it.

“You really think that, don’t you?” With the back of his other hand, he caressed your cheek. The difference between his touches, making you tremble. “I kept delaying our practices because I knew that once you got your legs on my shoulders again, there'd be no going back.”

Your confused expression seemed to amuse him. He reduced the distance between your bodies to zero.

Bucky's suit was cold against the thin material of your shit, you felt his belt pressing in your stomach and something else right below making contact with your lower belly.

“And apparently, you felt the same way.” The hand that was tracing your jaw descended to your clavicle, passing by the space between your breasts and went down until reaching your cargo pants.

Your head was spinning, how did you get in that position? Why were you trapped against a wall again? But the most important question was, why were you enjoying it? “Sebastian--.” 

“Shhhhh.” he shushed you. “Instead of saying whatever you were going to say, tell me,” his fingers found their way under your panties. “do all men that ever had you wrapped around them get you this wet?”

You snapped out of your trance. Bringing all your strength to your arms, you pushed him back successfully, no super soldier serum needed. “How dare you?”

“I dare.” The bluntness of his voice was shown when his fingers found your throat again and squeezed harder this time. “Don't act like you didn't like it when I did exactly this back there.” He repeated the action and your hands caught his wrist. A whimper, betraying your resistance. “Was it what made you all bothered that you couldn't handle me being so close to your sweet little cunt?” Cold air hit your legs. He somehow managed to unbutton your pants and drag them down until they were pooling around your boots. “Or was it the memory of John doing it what baffled you?” 

You were out of words. Not only because his grip on you was still there, but also because you couldn't find a coherent answer to all of his questions. Not that it'd matter.

“I think I hit the nail on the head. ”His fingers moved your underwear to the side and parted your lips to start rubbing your clit in slow circles.

Your head turned to the right trying to suppress a moan, and you panicked. The door was still opened. Even when you two were covered behind it, someone could so easily enter and witness the show.

“Please.” You murmured.

“'Please', what?” You didn't know. You didn't know if you were asking him to stop his hand or to keep it moving. 

Adrenaline ran through your veins, the idea of someone walking on you, moistening Sebastian’s hand more. His low chuckle hitting you in the face.

“Just… please.”

His fingers left your center and you almost yelled at him, the only things stopping you were the sight of him taking them in his mouth, groaning as he did so, and the force his other arm was still holding you with.

"You know?" His fingers slowly left your throat and traveled down your body until reaching your panties. "When I first saw you, I never thought you'd be so desperate to be filled up that you'd let the first guy that was nice to you have a taste." He yanked the piece of fabric down. “Let alone the one that bruised your beautiful skin and gets paid for it, too.”

The implications of his words should have made you kich him for real and leave him there to think about how he was going to apologize, but they didn’t. Instead, they planted you in that room like a tree, waiting for his next move.

You felt numb, your arms and legs tickling in anticipation as he fell to his knees.

“Who would have thought that you were such a whore?” He didn't even give you time to refute with his soft lips already pressing against your needy clit. 

His hands opened your legs as far as possible and brought one of them to his shoulder, bending it and hitting the wall with your boot sole, surely leaving a dark stain.

At this point, you were probably delusional, too caught up in the pleasure that you could have sworn he was drawing the alphabet with his tongue. 

A loud groan rumbled in the room the second his teeth lightly bit you. You covered your mouth with the back of your arm and prayed that there was no one outside to hear.

“Quiet, sweetheart.” His hot breathing hit your nub as he spoke, his lips grazing your sensitive flesh. “Don't want anyone knowing we're in the middle of a…” He left a soft kiss in your inner thigh. “conversation.” 

“Ironic,” You almost whispered. “Considering how much I want you to shut up right now.”

The expression on his face had your hips involuntarily reaching for him.

“Your wish is my command.”

He resumed his assault with sloppy kisses and long stripes of his tongue from your center to your clit. The wet sound of his lips covered in your juices, obscene. The scratch of his beard having you seeing stars. The low cries leaving your mouth and the grip of your hand in his hair, motivating him to keep going.

Out of the sudden, his tongue entered you, making you jump and ripping a groan from your insides. You bit your lip to prevent it from happening again.

“Y/N, you there?” a fememine voice called for you. 

Your shocked eyes found Sebastian’s, who, unbothered, continued with the task in hand, as if he didn’t understand the dangerous predicament you were in.

“Yes. Yes, I'm here.” You said, with the steadiest tone Sebastian's tongue allowed you to.

“Karli's looking for you. You better be ready in five.”

You could see her shadow peeking inside the room. She was four steps away from finding out. Three, the slight growth of it told you.

“Yeah, I'm--” Sebastian drawed away and you felt relief. But it didn’t last long. His finger quickly replaced his tongue and began moving in and out, hitting that spot everytime, making you gasp. Soon after, he added a second finger, making sure to be as silent as possible. “I'm coming.”

“Sweet!” the girl said. “Hurry up.” 

You heard the door closing and internally thanked her for it as the sound of her footsteps faded.

“Shit.” You rested your head in the wall. “That was close.”

“Not the only thing that was close, though.” He observed, scissoring his fingers inside of you. The spontaneous action, surprising you.

With renewed speed, he moved his arm, circling his wrist and bringing his mouth to your clit once again. Your hips involuntarily jolted forward and his left hand went to rest in your stomach, pushing and stopping you from moving. He licked and slurped with such a ferocity that your release hit you with no warning. A silent scream reduced to a mewl ringing in your ears. Your body on flames again. It was as if he had activated the fire alarm but closed the windows to prevent the smoke from leaving the place.

For the first time that day, you didn’t question the fact that you were against a wall. Actually, you were happy it was there to hold you.

Sebastian stood up and with the back of his sleeve, cleaned the mess around his beard. You just pulled your clothes up.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m not done with you yet.”

He towered in front of you, trapping your smaller body and hindering you from getting properly dressed again.

“B-but, I have to go back to the set and…”

“‘And’ nothing.” He reached for his belt, having it gone in a second and lowering his own pants along with his pair of boxers. “I told you there’ll be no going back.”

“No, I'm serious.” Your trembling hand set on his chest, trying to maintain some necessary distance. “I only have five minutes to get ready. Plus, I'm sure they're looking for you as well.” 

“Five minutes?” he asked with a chuckle, ignoring the rest of your babbling. “I can make you cum again in three.”

“But--” His lips were on you before you processed it. 

The kiss was sloppy, full of need and desire. The taste of yourself in his tongue, making you forget why you were so worried.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you placed them in his shoulders, gripping the thick material of the suit. Meanwhile, he blindly got rid of your right boot, took your foot out of your pants and yanked your leg to rest it on his hip.

“God, I have wanted to do this for so long.” he said in between kisses. 

You giggled, catching his attention. “We've only known each other for two months.” 

“Feels like an eternity to me.” The sincerity of his words caught you off guard, you were not expecting him to say something like that, not while the tip of his length was already brushing your swollen lips.

“Then, what are you waiting for?” 

Neither “longing,” “rusted,” “furnace,” nor the rest of Hydra's code to activate the Winter Soldier could have provoked the brutality with which he entered you as your words did.

His palm covered your mouth, making sure to muffle your otherwise loud scream.

The rhythm of his thrusts was fast, ruthless, desperate; eager to fulfill his promise, and do it in less than three minutes.

“C’mon!” He whisper-yelled, duplicating his efforts and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. When you clenched around him as his lips played with the soft spot of your neck, it was like a bulb lightened above his head.

He separated his face from your skin and, maintaining eye contact with you, the cold of his gloved fingers found your throat once more. The force applied, led you to your second orgasm like a tidal wave. Your teeth biting your lower lip and your eyes shut. Your body, floating in pleasure.

“Fuck.” His head fell back and his erratic movements weavered, your spamming walls bringing him closer and closer. All it took for him to finally release inside of you, was the tug of his hair that you used to connect your lips to his to silent your low cries.

Touching your forehead with his, he put an end to the kiss and drew out of you. Both, your juices and his seed going down your thighs.

You stood like that for a few seconds, trying to recover.

“Typically, you take the girl for dinner first.” You commented jokingly, in hopes to fill the silence before it became uncomfortable. He went to a drawer and handed you a towel for you to clean yourself.

“That’s the plan.” He smiled at your impressed look. “If you’re willing to let me have dessert after we leave the restaurant, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but nodded your head nevertheless. “I like the idea.”

“Great! Uhm, I’ll go now. You better fix your hair fast.” He said as he fastened his belt. “Kari is looking for you.”

He grew closer to give you an unexpected fast peck and then walked to the door, opening it.

“Oh and, I think there's no excuse for you to stay away from me now, uh?” he winked at you and made his way back to the set.

“I guess not.” You murmured, knowing that he wouldn't listen.

Needless to say, the shot went perfect in take two.

[trentaafcsblog]

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter. 

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need. 

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid. 

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing. 

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name. 

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies. 

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise. 

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body. 

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight. 

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread. 

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say. 

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement. 

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N. 

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward. 

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you. 

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.