#so i had to do it myself before i started working

[muntitled]

Blink Twice

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: After pushing your body to the brink, it's finally giving out. You're rewarded for all your dazzling work ethic with a “nice” dinner. As ‘nice’ as ‘nice’ gets with him…

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Murder, Abuse, Male Manipulation, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Handcuffs, Exhibitionism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Fingering, Somnophilia, Period Sex, Bodily Fluids.

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

"H-How do you keep breaking into my apartment?" If it weren't for the fact that you were currently being fingered awake, you might have found it in yourself to sound more angry.

But you weren't awake, and he had taken advantage of your unconscious state just enough to bend down over your sleeping frame, and slip his hands between your legs.

You had promised yourself a quick power nap on the couch, anything that might lessen the pain that had been steadily blooming in your left arm. That nap had stolen you throughout most of the day until, here he hovers over you- the man who is undoubtedly the culprit for all this bodily pain you're in- with his fingers inside you.

“There you are, sleepy head,” His face is so close, you can see the smile wrinkling his face. His smile is bright and kind but his fingers aren't. They're stretching your cunt out, wrenching a moan from deep within you as you stare down at your hips moving off the couch.

“Fuck…” Your voice cracks as he scissors his index and middle finger inside you, still on a mission to split you apart. You drown in the scent of his cologne and his perfectly new suit- a black one today.

You throw your head back, feeling the pressure mount as you grind down against his fingers all while he watches with immense satisfaction.

“Can't- just-” you gasp when your wetness seeps out of you and onto the couch. “Can't-Do-This-” For all those moments you forget that you're nursing a sore arm. As you grind down against his ruthless fingers.

You forget that he might have seriously injured you this time.

“I couldn't help myself,” he whispers hoarsely, forcing an orgasm out of you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “You look breathtaking when you're unconscious.”

As the orgasm passes, you try to wake yourself up and become more aware of your surroundings.

Your body is shaking once he's done with you. Your cunt aches and reality sets back in. “Get out of my house.”

He straightens his tie before standing to his full height again, “You say that like I don't own the place,"

He's smiling stiffly as he stands before you, clutching that bloody briefcase, having come to collect you for another round of games...

Something inside your worn-out soul breaks at the sight of him so unfathomably fazed. You were experiencing another round of those 'realization moments'.

You have actually gone and sold yourself to a sadist.

Especially now that he's gone and done it again. After vehemently expressing that he 'please be a little more gentle with you', he insisted on pushing your body to the brink of its abilities. Toying with you and punishing you and releasing all the workings of those sick, sick, sick games on you, and for what?

It hits you more often than not these days.

A paid apartment? Paid university fees?

You try to keep your sleepy eyes unkind as you glare up at him but even you blanch at how much of a necessary force he's made himself in your life.

"And how often are you going to remind me that all my resources are tied to you?" You rise from lying supine, waiting for the world to stop spinning before you start stretching. None of your limbs protest as much as yours left shoulder that practically howls in pain. He watches you with robotic intrigue.

"I thought I should make good on that promise to take you out.”

"Take me out?" He notes the way your good shoulders tenses and smiles.

"I already said I've got no plans to kill you. You're the most fun I've had in years and years." He says "I want you to go to dinner with me."

"You wanna take your abuse victim out to dinner... looking like this?" you try to lift your arm but it protests, sending a sharp pain through your entire left side.

"I think you look rather beautiful."

"You would think this is what beauty looks like."

A tense silence falls.

"You're angry." He tilts his head, "And in pain."

You scoff venomously then, "Whomever might the culprit be?" You ask sarcastically before picking yourself up from the couch. You're cradling your arm, dragging your worn body across the floor to the adjoining kitchen.

"My fucking arm still hurts." You nearly cry as you squeeze the words out. Shooting a teary-eyed glare at your sadist from the kitchen.

"Tonight is your celebration dinner and it's way overdue." He busies himself by folding up the quilt that had been draped along your sleeping frame, "All my virtues rest on giving credit where credit is due, and you my dear..." the gaze he arrests you in is warm, and penetrative, like you were being reminded that he owns your body and soul, "-have done stellar work for me."

It's said in a wave of reverence you didn't really expect.

"Let me take you out,"

Sure he was sociopathic, and deranged, and everything you should most definitely be seeking refuge from, but the sentiment in his voice is genuine. As if, after 40 years on this earth, with the violent tendencies he had undoubtedly been born with, here is someone that's actually helping him. That's what you're doing, you're helping him. But it comes at a steep, steep price.

"You have virtues?" You ask sarcastically, causing the once intense moment to scatter and lighten.

"And your humor would be missed if I killed you. Where else would I find someone with such a stellar sense of humor and almost no sense of self preservation?" He asks aloud, as he walks towards the counter that separates you both. "You should've asked for help the first day you met me-"

"You offered to pay my shit if I played your games, who would walk away from that?”

"You should've." He smiles. "But I'm glad you didn't." His smile reaches those dead, almond eyes, "And tonight we have a celebration dinner."

"I can't go out," you say, turning your back on him to drink water.

His voice is dark when he says, "Can't or won't?"

"Can't." You slam your cup down against the sink, earning a thick wave of silence. You were never angry with him before. Never. "I think you broke something." You say, turning slowly, still cradling your arm like a baby.

There's a jarring amount of care in his voice as he rounds the counter to walk closer towards you. He examines your arm with deceptively soft eyes as he softly says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

You look up at him with blank eyes, "Try not to get off thinking about it," you snip back. Sarcasm was your only weapon.

"I couldn't help myself," He rests his large hand on your arm, "you know that right?

"Y-Yes," your resolve falters and you're back to being his submissive. "I don't blame you."

"In fact." He nods along with you, conditioning you to accept his view of the events as he says, "Our session this past week had been nothing short of magical."

You're not quite sure if that was a reliable portrayal of the events but your weak mind is already fitting the memories to be so.

Somehow, you're thinking of the events with less anger: how he had snapped real, silver handcuffs on your wrists, resting them behind your back while you were being fucked from behind. It had been blissful until he pulled too hard on the left and you screamed and you blacked out.

Now here he stands before you, drenched in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a brand new black suit, smelling of fine cologne, telling you it was magical.

He came when you broke your arm.

"Alright, I'll come with you," he decides with finality, prompting you to snap out of your daze.

"No, I can go myself!" You move around him to gather your things.

"Unless you've magically obtained the ability to communicate in Korean then I suggest I come with you." He watches you race across your tiny apartment, gathering your things.

"There are English speaking doctors I'll be f-uck." As you were searching for your phone between the couch, you angered the arm, causing another wave of pain to blossom.

"I'm taking you." He stands by the doorway, "Let's go."

Your nostrils flare as the real reason for your discomfort rears its head. "B-but what if..."

You let the words die on your lips. Choosing instead to look at him, hoping your eyes relay the severity of the implications that might arise from a simple trip to the hospital. All those questions.

"Don't tell me you're worried about me." He says, still smiling.

"Worry?" You snort as you make your way to the front door where your sneakers sit, "If you go to jail who's gonna make me cum?"

He clutches at the space where a heart ought to be and says, "And here I was thinking you were falling in love with an old man like me."

"You can't love anything," you shoot back coldly.

"I can't," he confirms, "but you can."

You move away from the conversation like It's growing teeth.

"Let's just go," you mumble quietly, heading out the door, not looking back and knowing he'd follow.

𓂃

The hospital is bombarded by the smell of antiseptic and busy bodies in white coats whizzing all around you. It's dizzying actually being here as the severity if it all comes hammering down on you. You didn't like being around so many people at the best of times- even attending university everyday was met with its fair share of anxiety. Almost on instinct, you curl a little closer into his side, letting your right hand slither over his wrist. Surprisingly, he lets you.

"What should I say?" It only strikes you now that you probably should have rehearsed some script since 'I'd like to seek medical attention because I'm meeting with a homicidal sadist weekly who pays my bills and my body is finally giving out,' probably wouldn't be a good way to go.

The confidence in his stride leaves you brimming with nervousness. Your less than orthodox dynamic has already made a few passers by stare but here, inside the hospital, you feel like the only two humans to exist.

"I'll do the talking," he reassures and something inside you sighs. This is what made him such a necessary force for you. He handled way more than you ever could. He moved through the world, headstrong and in charge. He was everything you weren't.

"Good day-" he says to the nurse manning the front desk, "I'd like to get my wife treated for a possible fracture or broken bone-"

Wife.

It rings through your ears.

Meanwhile, kind eyes- genuine, human eyes- look at you from across the desk. You realize then how little contact you've had with anyone normal. Anyone real.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmurs and your heart tugs at the kindness drenched in her voice.

"Alright, Sir, it's just-" the nurse gestures towards the rest of the waiting room, "We're just busier than we usually are for a weekday so you might have to wait a while-"

"You have medical aid?" You enquire softly, letting your side bump against him. "Who the hell are you?"

He stares down the small woman as he reveals a glistening card from his wallet. She quickly looks at you before she tentatively takes the card and types away at her computer.

Somehow, up until this point you had fooled yourself into believing you were on the road to autonomy, that going to university and being a woman in her 20s away from home meant you were finally obtaining sweet sweet independence but in actuality... you were just a little girl, deluding herself into thinking the city might be kind to her. It's swallowing you whole. And you're being left to watch.

It made you aware of how completely vulnerable you had really been. You could barely afford rent, let alone something as luxurious as medical aid. For all your time in this city you tried not to get hurt because medical bills would eat you alive and here he was, whipping a card out.

"Right this way-" The little nurse moves from behind the counter, and almost immediately, you hear a distinct uproar in the waiting room behind you. "I think doctor Park will see you, but we'll first head over for X-Ray and-"

"Hey!" The sound startles you, causing your shoulders to tense as you grip on your Salesman's forearm, making sure he's still there, "We've been here for 4 hours," You meet the haggard glassy eyes of a middle aged man. He's scowling at you as if you've committed a grave murder right before him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The nurse begins, her voice filled with concern, "This hospital is legally obligated to help out those with medical aid first-"

Shoes click against the cold floors. A shadow descends as your Salesman steps forward as if protecting you from the man's vehemence. Time stands still in the moments he makes his venomous proposition. A proposition so vile it nearly had you vomiting here all over the hospital floors.

"My wife needs a new heart-" he begins, gesturing to a woman- a ghost seated in the chairs behind him. Her skin is practically translucent as she stares off into space. "Who knows how much time we're wasting while we're being forced to wait here-"

"Are you up for a game of rock, paper, scissors by any chance?" Your salesman asks, causing your heart to sink. The man examines him as if he's grown a second head.

"If you win a single round against me, I will pay for your wife's medical treatment. New heart." At the peroration of his incredibly insensitive and evil proposition, your Salesman smiles.

"One round." He says, before his eyes snap to the woman pulling at her husband's arm.

"She doesn't look too well," The Salesman pouts and you walk up towards him, limbs shaking as you whisper-yell in his ear, feeling all your nerves being shot out of you.

"Jesus, you're fucking disgusting."

"Birds of a feather-" he whispers back, before refocusing his attention onto the man.

Meanwhile the nurse tries to pull you away but you're rooted to the floors. This whole ordeal makes you realize that you've never actually seen him interact with normal people. It makes you wonder where he goes when he's not with you. You'd almost believed that he's a fragment of your delusions, something your lonely brain cooked up to make you believe someone in this city cared about you. But he's real. And he has a life outside the two of you.

"Don't you wanna help your wife?" He continues to tempt the man, "Look at mine-" the Salesman said, gesturing to you. "She's a little battered and bruised but she's alive. You're not dying any time soon, right honey?"

You rip your eyes away from him just as your nurse returns. She places a warm arm on your forearm and in the midst of the game, she places a card in your hand. "Let's go for your x-rays,"

While they play their game, you look down at the piece of paper.

Blink twice if the man you're with is the one who assaulted you.

Call it female intuition.

You have no idea what could've led to the fact that he was the one but the nurse is watching you with a heavy gaze and bated breath. You almost drown in the concern she holds for you, a mere stranger.

In another life, you might've had a friend like her. She's relatively young, budding with youthfulness, actually. You imagine she has a boyfriend. An actual one. One who holds her bag while she's shopping. One who kisses her. These kinds of people develop empathy. The ‘fixed people’. You can tell she knows love.

“I-”

“Rock, paper, scissors-”

You blink once before looking away and the nurse sighs in relief.

"Better luck next time." You watch with bated breath as the man draws a rock to the Salesman's paper.

𓂃

An oblique fracture, they called it. The thing that's been plaguing your left arm for a week has finally been given its name. You're walking out of the doctor's office feeling light and remarkably relieved to leave this place and all its people. He walks confidently beside you, having sat through the whole ordeal. He had been there as they fashioned the pink cast over your arm and he walks beside you now, like your own personal well-dressed shadow.

On your way out, you pass by the receptionist's desk, she smiles over at you but glares at the Salesman. Just as you're about to make it out, you hear her voice.

“You said she's your wife,” the woman speaks up, causing you both to stop. “I don't see a ring.”

Cold, white, fear runs down your spine and your hand that was in his, squeezes as silence envelops you both.

“Good Day,” is all he says with an amicable smile before pulling you along.

Silence enveloped you on your taxi ride over to the Japanese restaurant comfortably situated in the Gangnam district. He had been remarkably quiet in the taxi driver over and he is remarkably quiet now as you're being led to a booth in the restaurant. It's adequately filled with its patrons. Families and couples like perhaps you two were. You wonder if he has these thoughts…

“She did make a good point,” you mumble as you take a seat in the booth, watching silently as he slips in beside you. “If you're going to be telling people I'm your wife and they don't see a ring…”

He sets his briefcase in the booth beside you both, sighing softly as he mumbles, “People don't usually marry their toys, do they?”

Before you're able to respond, a waiter walks up to your booth, having his pen and notepad at attention as he asks for your order. You watch your Salesman expertly lay down your order, everything from yakitori, to miso soup to onigiri. It's mesmerizing watching him order for you and you suspect it had the same effect on you. His hands on your thigh squeezes slightly, while you silently let him order. In a moment the waiter vanishes.

“You're so old,” you say suddenly, trying to make up for the silence and the nervousness raging through your heart. This is the first time you're out with him in a public setting and its setting you alight with worry. “I'm sure you remember when Korea was under Japanese occupation,”

“Keep making your little jokes,” he says, sipping on his complimentary water as he allows his back to rest against the seat, “And I might not be so forgiving…”

His hand rests his hand on your thigh, it's the only thing you're able to focus on. How his fingers cover so much space. The sheer size of it. The sheer size of him. You feel so completely small beside him, you almost don't realize that he's begun talking again.

“My father fought in the war when he was ‘round about your age,” that brings you clean out of your thoughts. Your eyes snap up to meet his but he's staring aimlessly ahead, as if reminiscing on something beautiful.

“Jesus I-” you swallow thickly, “That was a bloody war,”

He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your thigh to undo the buttons of his blazer.

“More than 3 million dead.” He says taking another sip.

“Right.” You nod, heart hammering when he places his hand back on your thigh. “2 million soldiers and 1 million civilians,” he places the glass back down on the table and he shakes his head slightly, twirling his index.

“Swap the numbers around.”

“Right…” you clear your throat, keeping your gaze locked on your lap, “That's... heartbreaking. I'm sorry.”

He turns his head, finally regarding you under the dimness of the hanging light fixtures. He tilts his head to the side in that way he does when he's particularly intrigued by you. “You are sorry, aren't you?”

You nod.

“But I have no idea why, you're not a Japanese fascist from the 40s.”

“No, but I have empathy.”

“Curious.” He replies back, before letting silence fall.

“Spread your legs,” he says so suddenly it gave you whiplash. Your head snaps up to him as you begin to plead.

He couldn't do this. There had to be some sort of refractory period in which he let your body recuperate.

“I’m in pain-” you grit out through your teeth, but his large hand is already seeping to the center of your closed legs, trying to pry them apart.

“Your legs work just fine.” He whispers, letting his mouth graze your ears, “Your cunt works just fine,”

You place a hand on his forearm. “The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

“Do you listen to the doctor or do you listen to me?” He asks, staring at you deep into your frightened eyes, forcing you into that liminal space of submission. Your eyes were brimming with not only fear but embarrassment.

“Spread your legs.” He whispers,

“I'm on my period,”

Another troubling moment of contemplation falls between you both and you're left to stare deep into each other's eyes as the restaurant's cultural music makes the ambience swell. It could be romantic, this energy that's festering between you two.

Even though you know it's anything but, you allow yourself to dip into those pools of delusion.

“You were fine this morning,” He says, and you note the grogginess that's begun to veneer his voice as he looks down at you.

Young, impressionable, darling you.

“I got it before we left, that's why I asked to use the bathroom again- point is,” you tug on his arm, “We can't.”

His eyes soften and for a split second, you think you see kindness there. Your gaze falls to his lips, anticipating the words they'd form.

“Spread your legs,” he says once more, before applying the necessary force to pry them apart yourself. “Let me in, Doll.”

A small whimper escapes you as you open your legs. You let him drift his hand under your skirt. His fingers are cold to the touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as he inches them towards your cunt.

The second his fingers graze over your mound you gasp slightly before sitting forward with your head bowed. Your cast is behind the table as you hide your head in your hand. He watches you with heavy eyes, “It's rude to have your elbow on the table.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to muffle yourself by the palm of your hand. You feel him swipe your underwear away. You feel his fingers dip into the pool of wetness at your entrance. Wetness you knew was not arousal.

“Don't look at me like that,” you mumble, staring down at the table as his fingers rub against your slick folds.

“Like what?” He asks.

In your periphery you can see him hunched over you slightly, his eyes on you and you alone. It was tiring having his attention. And so incredibly dangerous.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.”

He bends down, letting his fingers graze over your clit as he whispers, “I do. That's all I wanna do.”

The waitress returns with your food and you mumble a quiet ‘thank you,’ While your Salesman keeps his gaze locked on you.

“Grind down on my hand,” he urges and you shake your head,

“Do it.”

“Or what?” That was probably the worst thing to say to a sadist who looks like he's brimming for you to give him a reason to hurt him.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you.”

You were feeling particularly stubborn today. The injury, the nurse, the hospital, the man and his wife… you're disgusted with this man beside. It dawns on you then that you have to get away from him.

“You can't do that-” you begin to whine but his voice is like steel when he reolies, “I thought we've established that there are many things I can do and very few I can't.”

All is quiet.

“Fuck my hand or I'll fuck you, I've been dying to play in your blood.”

You're still wrestling with either of your options, trying to outweigh the good against the bad was impossible when both choices just seemed bad. It puts you at an unfair disadvantage and you are drowning.

“W-Wait-”

“Times up.” He mumbles before removing his hand from your underwear. You're utterly horrified to find it stained in crimson.

He calls over the waiter, at least having the decency to hide his bloody hand behind your back as he politely says, “My wife is quite sick, could I be pointed to the bathroom, please?” He sounds so amicable, so deceptively kind, of course the waitress quietly urges the two of you to the bathrooms nestled at the back of the resturant.

“I'll do it-” you breath heavile as he urges you past tables, “I'll do just-”

“You picked too late," he whispers in your ear as he steers you into the female bathrooms. “Disqualified.” He says before pushing you into a sta. You could only thank your lucky stars that the stalls are empty but that is where you luck runs dry.

It's only you and your monster who's fervently unzipping his pants before locking you both in a cubicle.

“My arm hurts-” you begin but he turns you around, pushing your back against the door.

“Your cunt still works.” He repeats, “I didn't get to drive a knife into it the last time-” he whispers hoarsely as he plays drunken kisses all across your collarbone. You hate to admit how dizzying the effect of his kisses are. How they carry you off into a completely different mental state- where everything becomes morally grey. You felt like you could get off to almost anything in this state and so you don't bat an eye when he says, “I need to see your blood on my cock,”

In fact, you moan, trying to find your bearings as you slip so far into subspace. “You're not allowed to pass out on me-” he says, manically, breathing oh so heavily as he pulls his cock out over his slacks. “I'm not even using any of our favorite toys, you do not get to pass out.” He warns before slotting himself between your legs.

“W-wait- pull your pants all the way down, otherwise-” you hiccup, “I'll make a mess.”

A deep and low groan reverberates through his chest and you watch him lower his pants all the way down, revealing sculpted legs before he brings his cock to your cunt. It's wet enough to allow him to slide in smoothly, and he looks down between you, pressing down on your tummy as he watches your blood soak his cock.

“Here taste your blood,” He's prying your teeth open and you let him. Crimson floods your mouth and you moan around his fingers. There's a manic sort of edge to his laugh as he admits, “I’m not gonna last quick.” before he's kisses you deeply, grinding himself into you

“Fuck- you're filthy.” His eyes are absolutely insane as he drives his cock into you setting an unforgiving ppace. He snaps his hips against you, trying to drive his cock in further and further.

“Cum- I'm gonna cum-” He pulls back to urge, just as you hear someone walk into the bathroom. He's breathing heavily, surprisingly being mindful of your cast as he dips his hand down to your cunt. His fingers drag across the blood like it's the most fascinating thing on earth, and that has you cunt tightening around him.

A toilet flush, just as a whimper seeps through your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you take his brutal fucking, watching him stab your cunt with his cock like he's daring himself to break you.

You place a hand on your mouth, muffling your violent cries as you buck your hips against him. Your own period pains that were flooding your system is beng fucked away. Your thighs and his pelvis are absolutely stained in crimson and his eyes are rolled back. Thankfully, the door opens and closes and you are alone once again.

“I love playing in your blood-” his voice cracks. Meanwhile, he's using you like a ragdoll. Through it all, you manage to ask the question plaguing your mind.

“Did he…” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut as the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, “Did your dad make it back?”

He rears his teeth, smiling in that twisted way that was far different from the smiles he gave everyone else. Only you got to see him like this. “Yes, Doll, he did.”

“W-What happened to him-oh god-” he picks up his pace grabbing your hips and pulling your cunt down on his cock.

“I killed him.” His eyes roll back into his skull and your mouth falls open. His cum floods your system and in that same moment his pelvis grazes along your clit, triggering your orgasm. You cum with tears in your eyes and it fills you with unmistakable dread.

If this man was capable of ending someone in his own bloodline, who were you in his eyes? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Don't look so scared.” He whispers, still grunting as he emptied himself inside you, “He was useless. You- you're not useless.”

He kisses your face. Everywhere he can.

“You look like you're about to have a panic attack. Compose yourself.”

You breathe in thickly.

In and out.

In and out.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Malleus Draconia - New Year's Attire Voice Lines

Due to event restrictions, Groovy related lines are locked until the event has been cleared. I will update once these are unlocked. Login line has been captured.

A Happy New Year to you. I bestow upon you a blessing of good fortune for your coming year.

Summon: If anything catches your eye, you would do well to call upon me without any hesitation. Allow this opportunity to pass you by, and there may never come another chance to experience my personal hospitality.

Groovification: --LOCKED--

Home: And so a new year begins.

Home Transition 1: I see that sales have a way of bringing joy to people. Even a shop mired in the bustling chaos can seem like such fun.

Home Transition 2: All this hindering snow need only be melted with a cast of a spell. Is it simply a human propensity to crave manually piling snow on high mounds?

Home Transition 3: I've had my fair share of attire that require much care to wear, but this garb is unlike any other. This is a rare experience, indeed.

Home Transition - Login: Working at the shop is rather taxing. I've become used to waking up in the mornings ever since I enrolled here, however being required to rise even earlier is taking its toll.

Home Transition - Groovy: --LOCKED--

Home Tap 1: While on break, Leech spoke on the proper way to provide customer service. He said it all comes down to changing up the tempo every so often... What sort of tempo should we be operating at while serving customers?

Home Tap 2: I've laid myself down in a snowfield before at the suggestion of an old acquaintance. I found the way it cooled my body down after breathing fire to be especially soothing.

Home Tap 3: The way Howl starts working waiting for instructions is an admirable trait. He could only be bettered by becoming more flexible in his thinking.

Home Tap 4: The products in this shop are beyond fascinating. I saw Viper gingerly returning to the shelves a magical item that even I know not how to use.

Home Tap 5: Is there something on my head? Ah, you simply find my hairstyle different. ...To be quite honest, I still have not grown accustomed to seeing it this way, either..

Home Tap - Groovy: --LOCKED--

Duo: [MALLEUS]: You should simply sit back and watch, Viper. [JAMIL]: It'll be dangerous if you go overboard, Malleus-senpai!

Requested by Anonymous.

[rosecentaur1916]

The irony is that I kind of had this happen. I worked at a Small Tobacco Shop in my home town for less than a year. The owners also own a party shop on the other side of town so that's why I said kind of... anyway! I had worked for them for 11 months or so and over that time even though it was decent pay (took a little over $600 home every two weeks back in 2018) they gave me a ride home every night (I had to walk everywhere as I had no car or even a license), and sometimes let me comp my cigarettes (I quit in 2020) they were mentally and emotionally abusive. So much so my direct manager, who was the youngest brother was so mentally and emotionally abusive to me a customer came in and asked if he had hit me! When that happened I knew something was wrong. I mean, I had a feeling when I'd have to close up the shop and go have a cry in the bathroom pretending I was using it. I was the only one running the store, but they had surveillance camera's up and would call me if they found any shoplifters (which price of anything that was shoplifted came out of my pay) or I was doing something I shouldn't be, which was barely anything. I was so bored because I had come from a small box pharmacy chain and was used to facing and cleaning quickly. I had gotten so fast at it that I had lots of time to spare and had seen in other small businesses that people read books or wrote or did a myriad of things between customers when the shop was empty. So, I started to read at first - got in trouble... so I couldn't do that anymore. Then I tried writing... had to negotiate to be able to keep that... it worked. Thank God... so I wrote. I wrote a lot. When I didn't have anything in my mind that needed to be written I started to do little exercises to keep the boredom at bay. Got in trouble for that too.

Yes, yes what about professionalism. Exercising, writing or reading in store isn't professional blah, blah, blah. I only did it between customers and when the story was emptier than a ghost town. I'd keep an eye out on the front of the store. There were so many advertisements for cigarettes you could barely see into the store, but I had gotten sharp at being able to see through the cracks when a customer was coming and made sure to make myself available, presentable and professional before they came in. Putting down my pen, or shoving my book under the counter. All of the abuse and boredom came to a head and I couldn't take it anymore. I was so beaten down that I could barely function at home... where I was *also* being abused. Something had to give - so I quit the job. My boss had the audacity to tell me I couldn't quit. He tried to give me back my professional quitting letter and tell me that I couldn't quit. I said okay, and never went back. Leaving behind a refurbished first generation iPod that he said later he threw away. Asshole. Lo and behold about six months later the Tobacco Shop was completely closed, storefront completely empty and every single part of the counter, displays and product stuffed into the party shop which was their first business. I had quit and the shop had gone out of business. I was astounded, because that means they couldn't find anyone else to work for them. I didn't know they were probably going to be unable to find anyone else, I just couldn't take the abuse anymore and quit for my own mental health. ...And that's the story of how I shut down a business by quitting.🤷🏻‍♀️💜

[jamingbenn]

year in review - hockey rpf on ao3

hello!! the annual ao3 year in review had some friends and i thinking - wouldn't it be cool if we had a hockey rpf specific version of that. so i went ahead and collated the data below!!

i start with a broad overview, then dive deeper into the 3 most popular ships this year (with one bonus!)

if any images appear blurry, click on them to expand and they should become clear!

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before we jump in, some key things to highlight: - CREDIT TO: the webscraping part of my code heavily utilized the ao3 wrapped google colab code, as lovingly created by @kyucultures on twitter, as the main skeleton. i tweaked a couple of things but having it as a reference saved me a LOT of time and effort as a first time web scraper!!! thank you stranger <3 - please do NOT, under ANY circumstances, share any part of this collation on any other website. please do not screenshot or repost to twitter, tiktok, or any other public social platform. thank u!!! T_T - but do feel free to send requests to my inbox! if you want more info on a specific ship, tag, or you have a cool idea or wanna see a correlation between two variables, reach out and i should be able to take a look. if you want to take a deeper dive into a specific trope not mentioned here/chapter count/word counts/fic tags/ship tags/ratings/etc, shoot me an ask!

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with that all said and done... let's dive into hockey_rpf_2024_wrapped_insanity.ipynb

BIG PICTURE OVERVIEW

i scraped a total of 4266 fanfics that dated themselves as published or finished in the year 2024. of these 4000 odd fanfics, the most popular ships were:

Note: "Minor or Background Relationship(s)" clocked in at #9 with 91 fics, but I removed it as it was always a secondary tag and added no information to the chart. I did not discern between primary ship and secondary ship(s) either!

breaking down the 5 most popular ships over the course of the year, we see:

super interesting to see that HUGE jump for mattdrai in june/july for the stanley cup final. the general lull in the offseason is cool to see as well.

as for the most popular tags in all 2024 hockey rpf fic...

weee like our fluff. and our established relationships. and a little H/C never hurt no one.

i got curious here about which AUs were the most popular, so i filtered down for that. note that i only regex'd for tags that specifically start with "Alternate Universe - ", so A/B/O and some other stuff won't appear here!

idk it was cool to me.

also, here's a quick breakdown of the ratings % for works this year:

and as for the word counts, i pulled up a box plot of the top 20 most popular ships to see how the fic length distribution differed amongst ships:

mattdrai-ers you have some DEDICATION omg. respect

now for the ship by ship break down!!

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#1 MATTDRAI

most popular ship this year. peaked in june/july with the scf. so what do u people like to write about?

fun fun fun. i love that the scf is tagged there like yes actually she is also a main character

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#2 SIDGENO

(my babies) top tags for this ship are:

folks, we are a/b/o fiends and we cannot lie. thank you to all the selfless authors for feeding us good a/b/o fic this year. i hope to join your ranks soon.

(also: MPREG. omega sidney crosby. alpha geno. listen, the people have spoken, and like, i am listening.)

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#3 NICOJACK

top tags!!

it seems nice and cozy over there... room for one more?

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BONUS: JDTZ.

i wasnt gonna plot this but @marcandreyuri asked me if i could take a look and the results are so compelling i must include it. are yall ok. do u need a hug

top tags being h/c, angst, angst, TRADES, pining, open endings... T_T katie said its a "torture vortex" and i must concurr

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BONUS BONUS: ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA

as an a/b/o enthusiast myself i got curious as to what the most popular ships were within that tag. if you want me to take a look about this for any other tag lmk, but for a/b/o, as expected, SID GENO ON TOP BABY!:

thats all for now!!! if you have anything else you are interested in seeing the data for, send me an ask and i'll see if i can get it to ya!

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART FOUR

paige x azzi

word count: 5.2k

A/N: I’ve been harassed and bullied for the next part so here it is 😭😭. Y’all better be nice to me after this and I expect live reactions 🤨. You can lowkey thank 🍉 since their original live reaction to part three was so good. This not happening again so enjoy it lmao

—————————————————————————

After that night in the gym, it became an unspoken tradition: when Paige couldn’t sleep, Azzi was the one she called. Not that Azzi ever had much of a choice. Paige’s annoying laugh always echoed through FaceTime before abruptly hanging up, leaving Azzi no option but to drag herself out of bed. They’d work out for hours, pushing each other until they were both too tired to do anything but crash. And it was starting to show. At practice, their movements were seamless, a rhythm that left even the coaching staff nodding in approval.

Tonight was no different. Azzi groaned as she rolled out of bed, rubbing her eyes and glaring at the clock. It was 1:12 a.m. She grabbed her hoodie and headed to the gym, still half-asleep, muttering about Paige’s never-ending energy.

When Azzi walked in, Paige was already drenched in sweat, perfecting her finishes at the rim. The rhythmic sound of the ball hitting the floor echoed through the empty gym. Paige glanced up when she saw Azzi, grinning as if she hadn’t just pulled her out of a deep sleep. “Where are your shoes?”

Azzi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her face set in an unimpressed expression. “I’m too sleepy for this today,” she said flatly.

Paige smirked. “Come on, just stand on the block and rebound for me then.”

Azzi didn’t budge. “Nope,” she replied, her voice firm. “What’s got you so riled up today?”

Paige let out a frustrated huff, dribbling the ball hard against the court. “They said I wasn’t efficient enough at finishing at the rim last year.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Paige shrugged, looking almost defensive. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta fix it.”

Azzi shook her head, stepping away from the wall. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re spiraling over nothing, and I’m too tired to watch this tonight.” Before Paige could argue, Azzi grabbed her water bottle and towel. “Let’s go.” Azzi didn’t even look back as she started walking towards the door.

Paige stared at her for a moment, debating whether to resist. But Azzi’s no-nonsense policy left little room for negotiation. With a sigh, Paige gave in, muttering something under her breath as they walked out of the gym.

They strolled through the quiet campus, the summer breeze in the air starting to wake Azzi up a bit. After a while, Azzi broke the silence. “I want ice cream.”

Paige stopped mid-step, turning to look at her. “What?! I thought you were sooo sleepy.”

“I am,” Azzi said with a dramatic yawn. “But I dragged myself out of bed at 1 a.m. for you, so we’re getting ice cream.”

Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “You know that shit’s bad for you, especially this late.”

Azzi smirked. “Hm, maybe that’s why you don’t have a heart—you don’t eat ice cream. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

Paige chuckled, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t even make any sense but alright, fine. Come on.”

They changed course, heading toward the closest Dairy Queen,

When they reached Dairy Queen, Azzi walked up to the counter, ordering her usual double chocolate ice cream. Paige followed, looking at the menu for a moment before saying, “Just vanilla is fine for me.”

Azzi turned to her with an incredulous look. “Vanilla? That’s boring,” she said, shaking her head. Without missing a beat, she turned back to the cashier. “She’ll have mint chocolate chip.”

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t argue. When Azzi started pulling out her wallet to pay, Paige stepped forward, sliding her card to the cashier first. “I got it,” she said simply.

Azzi blinked, surprised, but smiled softly. “Thanks,” she said, her tone light.

They found a booth and sat across from one another, their ice cream melting slightly in the cups between them as they ate. For a while, they ate in silence, the quiet of the near-empty restaurant settling between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly warm either.

Azzi broke the silence first, like usual, leaning back against the booth. “You know, we still don’t really talk outside of the gym.”

Paige glanced up at her, her spoon paused mid-air. “I don’t really know what to talk to you about outside of basketball,” she admitted, her voice honest, if a bit awkward.

Azzi laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You haven’t even tried.”

Paige nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. She ate her ice cream slowly, clearly thinking about how to respond. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Okay, fine. Um… What’s your favorite movie?”

Azzi tilted her head, smirking. “That’s the best you’ve got? A favorite movie question?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, her tone amused. “I’m trying here. Just humor me.”

Azzi tapped her spoon against her cup, pretending to think. “Alright. Frozen.”

Paige blinked, her expression frozen for a second. “Wait. Frozen? Like… the Disney movie?”

Azzi shrugged, completely unapologetic. “Yeah. What’s wrong with Frozen?”

“Nothing. I just… I didn’t expect that.” Paige leaned forward, a small grin tugging at her lips. “What’s your favorite song? Please don’t say Let It Go.”

Azzi leaned back, smirking. “Oh, no. It’s definitely Let It Go.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Azzi said, laughing. “It’s a classic. And admit it—you probably know every word.”

“I don’t,” Paige shot back quickly, but the way her ears turned pink betrayed her.

Azzi grinned, leaning forward. “Oh, you absolutely do. Come on, sing it with me. ‘The snow glows white on the mountain tonight—’”

“Stop,” Paige said, shaking her head but laughing despite herself. “You’re ridiculous and you can’t sing.”

“I’m fun,” Azzi corrected, popping another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “And now you know my favorite movie. Your turn. What’s yours?”

Paige hesitated, not really knowing an answer. “I guess… Remember the Titans.”

Azzi groaned dramatically. “Of course it’s a sports movie. You’re so predictable.”

“Hey, it’s inspiring!” Paige defended, pointing her spoon at Azzi. “At least it’s not a cartoon about a talking snowman.”

“Olaf is a legend,” Azzi shot back, her eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Don’t disrespect him.”

Azzi, continuing laughing as she watches Paige eat her ice cream. “I didn’t think you’d actually like that. Mint chocolate chip is disgusting.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “No, it isn’t. It’s actually pretty good.”

“It’s disgusting, I’ve tried it,” Azzi shot back.

Paige smirked, nudging the cup toward Azzi. “Try this one.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but leaned forward, taking a small bite of the ice cream. Her face immediately contorted into a dramatic grimace.

Paige burst out laughing. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is,” Azzi said, sliding the cup back toward Paige like it was contagious. “First real thing I’ve learned about you: you have absolutely disgusting taste.”

Paige smirked, taking another bite with zero shame. “More for me, then.”

The conversation lightened from there, flowing into an easy rhythm as the two began talking about everything but basketball for once. They laughed about Azzi’s weird food habits, Paige’s inability to sit still, and random stories about their life. For the first time, it felt like they were genuinely getting to know each other—not as basketball players, but as people.

By the time they left Dairy Queen, the distance between them felt much smaller, the tension nonexistent.

Paige shoved her hands in her pockets as they walked back to campus, stealing a glance at Azzi. “Hey… thanks for all of this. I really appreciate it.”

Azzi smiled at her, her tone softer now. “Anytime.”

November 2021

By the time the season rolled around, Paige and Azzi had found a nice rhythm. They weren’t best friends by any stretch of the imagination, but they were definitely friends now—something that had felt impossible just a few months ago. It had become clear that Azzi was Paige’s preference when it came to most things relating to anyone on the team. Their arguments had dwindled, replaced by a steady, mutual respect that carried over into practice and even into their everyday interactions.

The first game of the season highlighted just how much work Paige had put in during the off-season. She was dominant on the court, going 15-for-19 shooting and finishing with a game-high 34 points. Her passes were sharp, her movements decisive, and her presence commanding. It was clear she had something to prove this season.

Azzi, on the other hand, had a rocky start. She struggled to find her rhythm, shooting just 1-for-4 from three and looking a little out of sync with anyone else on the team who wasn’t Paige. She tried not to let it show, but frustration bubbled under the surface.

After the game, Azzi braced herself for Paige’s criticism. She fully expected Paige to pick apart every missed shot or lost opportunity, but to her surprise, Paige didn’t say much. Instead, she clapped her on the shoulder after the game and said, “Shake it off. Next one’s yours.”

It wasn’t until the next morning, at exactly 6:00 a.m., that Azzi got the full Paige treatment she expected. Her phone buzzed on her nightstand, and she groggily reached for it, squinting at the screen.

“Hello?” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

“Gym,” Paige said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“What?”

“Meet me at the gym. I’m here now,” Paige said, and Azzi could practically hear her smirking through the phone.

“Are you serious?” Azzi groaned, pulling the covers over her head.

“Dead serious. You’re a shooter, Azzi. Shooters shoot. And you’re not gonna find your rhythm lying in bed,” Paige said before hanging up, her annoying laugh echoing in Azzi’s ears.

Azzi groaned again, throwing her phone onto the bed. She contemplated ignoring Paige, but she knew better. She knew Paige would make her life her own personal hell. So, with a dramatic sigh, she dragged herself out of bed, laced up her sneakers, and headed to the gym.

When she arrived, Paige was already there, running through a shooting drill like she hadn’t just dropped 34 points the night before. Azzi shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“Morning,” she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Paige looked over at her and smirked. “Thought you’d flake.”

“So you can talk shit, no thank you,” Azzi said, grabbing a ball and joining her.

And just like that, they got to work. Paige pushed Azzi harder than anyone else had ever done, calling out every slight misstep and missed shot, but Azzi didn’t mind. She knew Paige only did it because she believed in her, and that was something Azzi didn’t take lightly now that she knew the blonde more.

By the end of the session, Azzi was drenched in sweat, but her shot felt smoother, her confidence creeping back. Paige tossed her a towel, smirking. “Told you. Shooters shoot.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re not human, you know that?”

Paige just laughed, grabbing her bag. “See you at practice.”

It was moments like these that reminded Azzi why she respected Paige so much. Beneath all the bravado and intensity, there was someone who genuinely cared—someone who wanted everyone around her to be better.

…

It wasn’t until the next game against Minnesota, played under the dazzling sun of the Bahamas, that the old Paige—the one Azzi had known before UConn—made a slight but unwelcome reappearance. Though they had won the game, Paige had an uncharacteristically poor performance, shooting just 3-for-7 and finishing with only 8 points. By her standards, it was disastrous, and as soon as they returned to the hotel, Paige found a way to access the gym.

While the rest of the team celebrated and enjoyed the tropical paradise, Paige was in the corner of a dimly lit gym, drenched in sweat and attacking the basket as though it had personally offended her.

Azzi had a gut feeling Paige would be there. After wandering around, she finally spotted her, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood confirming her hunch. Azzi leaned against the doorway for a moment before walking in, her voice cutting through the rhythmic bounce of the basketball.

“Paige,” Azzi called.

Paige didn’t stop, her eyes locked on the hoop as she drove for another layup.

Azzi stepped closer, folding her arms. “You know we’re literally in the Bahamas, right? People usually relax in places like this.”

Paige finally grabbed the ball as it rebounded off the glass, breathing heavily as she glanced at Azzi. “What do you want, Azzi?” she asked curtly.

“I want you to leave this gym and act like a normal human being for once,” Azzi said plainly. “It’s one game, Paige. You’re allowed to have an off night.”

Paige turned back toward the hoop, gripping the ball tightly. “Please not now, Azzi.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. You’re being ridiculous. We won, didn’t we?”

Paige sighed loudly, setting the ball down with force. “Azzi, seriously just leave me alone today, okay? I don’t need this right now.”

Azzi planted her feet, her expression hardening. “No, I’m not leaving. We’ve talked about this. You’re beating yourself up over nothing. Everyone knows you’re the best player on the court ten times out of ten. You had one bad game. It’s not the end of the world.”

Paige turned sharply, her frustration finally boiling over. “You don’t get it, Azzi!” she snapped. “You don’t have everyone breathing down your neck, waiting for you to fail. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you have to be perfect every second you’re out there.”

Azzi stared at her, unflinching. “Oh, please,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Cry me a river, Paige. Everyone has pressure. It’s part of the game.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

Azzi scoffed, taking a step closer. “What I know is that you’re acting like a complete ass right now. You’ve been doing nothing but working yourself into the ground since the game ended, and I’m just trying to help you before you burn out.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” Paige shot back, her voice echoing through the gym.

Azzi clapped her hands slowly, the sound echoing. “Wow. Congratulations, Paige,” she said, her tone sharp. “I was just starting to think you weren’t an asshole, but you really went and proved me wrong. Great job.”

Paige’s mouth opened slightly, but she couldn’t find the words to respond. Azzi shook her head, her voice rising now.

“You know, for someone who’s supposedly this incredible leader, you’re pretty terrible at letting people in. God forbid someone actually cares enough to check on you,” Azzi said, her frustration evident.

Paige’s jaw tightened, her anger battling with guilt, but she stayed silent.

Azzi turned to leave without another word and Paige watched her go, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Azzi’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving Paige alone with nothing but the sound of her own labored breathing and the weight of the words Azzi left behind.

…

Later that night, Paige found herself outside Azzi’s hotel room, hesitating before finally knocking. She had spent the last hour pacing back and forth in her own room, trying to figure out what to say. When the door opened, it wasn’t Azzi, but Aaliyah, Azzi’s assigned roommate for the trip.

Aaliyah looked confused, her brow furrowing as she saw Paige standing there. “Uh, hey?”

Paige shifted awkwardly. “Uh... is Azzi here?”

Aaliyah blinked but stepped aside, nodding. “Yeah, she’s here.” She gestured toward the bed where Azzi was sitting, scrolling on her phone.

Azzi looked up when Paige entered but didn’t say anything, her face impassive. Paige froze for a second, realizing she hadn’t thought this far ahead. What was she supposed to do now?

Aaliyah stood there, clearly confused by the tension but before she could say anything Paige blurted out, “I’m really sorry, Azzi.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t change, but she glanced at Aaliyah and subtly motioned toward the door. Aaliyah raised an eyebrow, clearly curious about what was going on, but she grabbed her phone. “I’ll, uh, go... somewhere,” she said, slipping out the door and leaving the two of them alone.

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, her arms crossed as she waited for Paige to continue.

Paige sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, Azzi,” she repeated.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, still silent, clearly expecting more.

Paige noticed the unspoken challenge in Azzi’s expression and sighed again, frustrated with herself. “Look,” she started, “I’m not great at expressing my feelings and allat. That’s just not me. It’s never been me and I don’t know how to do that stuff. But I know I was wrong. I was frustrated—about how I played, about everything—and I took it out on you. That wasn’t cool and I’m sorry.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, letting the silence stretch out between them. She simply watched Paige, waiting to find the words. When she finally did speak, her voice was calm but firm. “If we’re going to be friends, Paige, I’m not going to be your punching bag like everybody else. You can’t just snap at me. You need to use your words, like the adult you are.”

Paige remained silent, struggling to find her footing in this new dynamic that she didn’t want to mess up. Azzi could see it in her eyes—the frustration, how overwhelmed she was. She wasn’t going to push, though. Instead, Azzi leaned back slightly, silently gesturing for Paige to sit down. Paige hesitated, then took a seat on the edge of the bed, her hands fidgeting nervously.

They sat there in silence for a while. Azzi wasn’t about to baby Paige—she’d made that clear. She wasn’t going to sugarcoat things or offer empty reassurances. Sometimes, Paige just had to sit with her feelings and figure them out on her own.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Paige spoke up, her voice soft, almost hesitant. She fiddled with her fingers, not looking directly at Azzi. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Azzi looked at Paige, her expression calm but curious. “What do you mean?”

Paige sighed, her shoulders slumping as she continued. “All this attention... the ESPN feature stories, the magazine covers, the media... everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful for everything. I know it’s a privilege, but... it’s just too much sometimes. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. I just wanted to hoop and now I don’t really get a say in it.”

Azzi listened carefully, her expression softening as she absorbed what Paige was saying. She could see how the pressure of everything—expectations, attention, the constant spotlight—was weighing on her all the time.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Azzi said quietly, finally breaking the silence. “But you’ve been carrying it Paige. You’ve been handling it since high school. You just... haven’t been handling yourself very well recently.” Her voice wasn’t harsh, but firm, like she was telling Paige something she needed to hear. “I get that it’s hard. It’s overwhelming. But you can’t keep pushing yourself everyday like you do. And you can’t take it out on anyone else, definitely not me because I’m not going to deal with it.”

Paige swallowed hard, taking in what Azzi was saying. Her gaze drifted to the floor, lost in thought. “I know. It’s just... I don’t know how to deal with it. How to deal with everything that comes with all of this.”

Azzi leaned forward slightly, her voice softening. “It’s okay not to know right now, you’re 20 years old. But you have to figure it out. The pressure doesn’t just magically go away. You can’t just bury it being in the gym everyday or snap at people when it gets too much. And you sure as hell can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t affect you because we all see it.”

She shifted slightly, looking over at Azzi with a more introspective expression. “You understand some of it, though right? I mean, you got hella attention in high school and you still do. How do you deal with it?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, almost amused. “Yeah, a little bit,” she said, a light chuckle escaping her. “But not nearly as much as you. You’re the one everyone’s looking at now. You’re the one they’re all waiting for. Trust me, I get it, but it’s a whole different level for you.”

Paige nodded, knowing she was right.

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation lingering. Paige picked at her fingernails, her thoughts a tangled mess.

After a while, Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle but steady. “Look, Paige... I know we’re not best friends. I know I’m probably the last person on your list when it comes to talking about this stuff.

“That’s not true,” Paige cuts in, her tone earnest, almost urgent. Azzi looks up, caught off guard by the interruption. “You’re the only one I’ve talked to about this. The only one who gets it.” Paige says, her gaze steady on Azzi

Azzi nods as she continues speaking, “Well I’m here if you need to talk. I don’t understand all of it—and I’m definitely not going to pretend to—but I get some of it.”

Paige looked up at her, her eyes softening. “It's just so hard... to know who I can talk to without feeling like I’m complaining. Like I’m ungrateful. So I’ve never had anyone to talk to about it.”

Azzi shook her head. “You’re not ungrateful. You’re just... human. You don’t have to pretend like everything’s perfect all the time and kill yourself in the gym to hide it.”

Paige let out a slow breath, trying to absorb what Azzi was saying. She wanted to believe it, wanted to let go of the pressure that had built up over time. It wasn’t easy, though. She wasn’t used to relying on anyone, especially not someone who probably hated her a few months ago. But somehow, Azzi’s words felt genuine. Like she actually cared.

“Thank you, Azzi,” Paige finally said, her voice quiet but sincere.

Azzi smiled softly. “Anytime. But you have to promise me one thing.” She paused, her eyes serious. “You gotta talk about it now. Don’t just keep it inside. You’ll burn both of us out if you do. I can’t keep working out until 3am.”

Paige gave her a faint, appreciative smile. “I know and I’m really sorry, Azzi. For snapping at you. For how I was acting before, I know I was probably an ass.”

Azzi laughed it off. “You definitely were but don’t apologize. Just... figure it out.” She paused before adding, with a teasing glint in her eye, “And maybe stop making me the punching bag. I’m not that good at taking hits.”

Paige chuckled, the tension between them starting to lift. “Deal. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Azzi smiled, her expression lightening. “Alright, good. Now get some sleep, and maybe tomorrow, we can work on not destroying your ice cream.”

Paige laughed, her shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. “You really can’t let that go, huh?”

Azzi grinned, as she watched Paige stand up. “Nope. But you’ll thank me for it one day.”

As Paige left to get some rest her mind was spinning but slowly she was starting to find clarity. She had a long way to go, but for the first time in a while, she felt like she was on the right path. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in all of this as she’d thought.

…

The next time Paige found herself in Azzi’s room was after their loss to South Carolina in the Bahamas championship game. It was their first loss of the season. Azzi had only played ten minutes because her foot had been bothering her a little too much, and Geno, not wanting to risk further injury, had benched her. Despite the frustration bubbling inside her and the overwhelming urge to escape to the gym, Paige was now standing outside Azzi’s door, knocking softly.

Aaliyah opened the door, her eyebrows raising in mild surprise when she saw Paige. "Azzi’s in there," she said simply, stepping aside to let her in. Without waiting for an explanation, Aaliyah grabbed her phone and walked out, leaving Paige alone to navigate the interaction.

Paige stepped inside cautiously, spotting Azzi sitting on the bed with her foot propped up on a pillow. She was scrolling through her phone, but the moment Paige walked in, Azzi glanced up, her expression unreadable.

"Hey," Paige started, her voice quieter than usual.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, locking her phone and placing it on the bed beside her. "Hey. What’s up?"

Paige shifted on her feet, looking unsure of herself. "Just… wanted to check on you. How’s your foot?"

Azzi gave her a look, the kind that said she wasn’t buying it. "It’s fine. Geno’s just being overly cautious."

"Yeah, well… better cautious than risking you for just one game," Paige said, trying to sound casual as she moved closer.

Azzi’s lips quirked up in a faint smirk. "Since when are you the voice of reason? Shouldn’t you be in a gym somewhere right now, shooting until your hands bleed?"

Paige sighed, running a hand through her hair that she recently took out of her game day braids. "Trust me, I thought about it. But…" She trailed off, hesitating.

"But?" Azzi prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Paige exhaled slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, careful not to get too close. "I don’t know. It didn’t feel right. I guess I didn’t want to shut myself in the gym after that loss. Felt like maybe… maybe I should deal with it differently this time."

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, studying her. "That’s new," she said, her tone soft but skeptical. "So, what brings you here?"

Paige shrugged, looking down at her hands. "I don’t know. I guess I just… didn’t want to be alone tonight."

Azzi’s expression softened slightly, but she didn’t let it show for long. "Wow, Paige Bueckers admitting she doesn’t want to be alone. That’s groundbreaking."

Paige rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Don’t make it weird."

Azzi chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "I’m not making it weird. Just pointing out the obvious."

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension from the game slowly fading into the background.

"Seriously, though," Paige said, breaking the quiet. "You played great in those ten minutes. You could see the difference when you were out there. I just wish we could’ve had you for the whole game."

Azzi’s smirk returned, but there was a hint of gratitude in her eyes. "Thanks. But don’t start getting soft on me now."

Paige laughed, leaning back slightly. "Don’t worry, I’ll still call you out when you deserve it. But you’re stuck with me for the season, so you might as well get used to it."

Azzi shook her head with a smile, nudging Paige lightly with her good foot. "Guess I don’t have a choice, huh?"

"Nope," Paige said, her tone lighter now.

Azzi shifted, patting the spot on the bed beside her. "Watch Frozen with me."

Paige snorted, crossing her arms. "I’m not watching Frozen, Azzi."

Azzi tilted her head, her lips curving into a small pout. "C’mon, it’s a classic," she said, dragging out the last word and jutting out her bottom lip like it would make her argument more convincing.

Paige raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "That’s not going to work on me."

Azzi leaned in slightly, deepening her pout and fluttering her eyelashes. "Pleeeeease?" she drawled, her voice laced with playful exaggeration.

Paige groaned, rolling her eyes as she got up and plopped down on the bed next to Azzi. "That didn’t work, by the way. It was pitiful, and I felt bad for you."

Azzi grinned triumphantly, already searching for the movie on her laptop. "Yeah, sure," she teased.

Paige shook her head, leaning back against the headboard. "You’re a little ridiculous, you know that?"

"Yep," Azzi said cheerfully as the Frozen opening credits began to play.

Paige huffed out a laugh, but she didn’t move, settling into the moment despite herself.

About 20 minutes into the movie, Azzi’s phone buzzed on the bed. She picked it up and saw a text from Aaliyah: "Is Paige still there?"

Azzi typed back, "Yeah, we’re just watching Frozen."

A few moments passed before Aaliyah responded: "You and Paige are watching Frozen?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow and replied simply, "Yeah."

There was a pause, then Aaliyah’s next text came through: "Hm."

Azzi frowned, typing back a question mark: "?"

Aaliyah responded almost immediately: "Nothing. I’ll be back soon."

The two of them continued watching Frozen, their occasional comments filling the room. Azzi, as always, couldn’t help but push Paige’s buttons, nudging her every so often and dramatically singing along to the songs.

"Come on, Paige, sing with me," Azzi teased, completely butchering Let It Go as she waved her hands like Elsa.

Paige groaned, throwing a pillow in her direction. "Azzi, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself."

Azzi clutched her chest, feigning hurt. "What? You’re just jealous of my vocal range."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked, unable to hide her amusement. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Eventually, their banter quieted as they both got more into the movie, the glow of the screen reflecting off their faces in the dimly lit room. Paige leaned back into the pillows, her exhaustion from the day and playing almost a full game starting to catch up with her. Azzi noticed but didn’t say anything, figuring Paige wouldn’t admit it even if she was tired.

As the movie went on, Paige’s head gradually tipped to the side, her body leaning slightly toward Azzi. By the time Do You Want to Build a Snowman played softly in the background, Paige had unknowingly shifted in her sleep, her head resting lightly on Azzi’s lap.

Azzi froze for a moment, glancing down at her. “Seriously?” she whispered under her breath, though there was no irritation in her tone. She sighed quietly and leaned back, letting her hand rest on Paige’s side but not moving it.

When the door opened, Azzi looked up to see Aaliyah stepping inside. Aaliyah paused mid-step, her eyebrows shooting up at the sight of Paige asleep with her head on Azzi’s lap. Her gaze flicked to Azzi, a knowing grin spreading across her face.

“Okay…” Aaliyah said, her voice low but teasing as she closed the door behind her. “You two good?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, keeping her voice quiet. “She just fell asleep. Don’t make it a thing.”

Aaliyah smirked, clearly amused. “I’m not making it a thing. But you’re definitely stuck now.”

Azzi huffed but didn’t reply, glancing down at Paige again. She shifted carefully, trying not to disturb her, and leaned back against the headboard. “Goodnight, Aaliyah.”

“Goodnight,” Aaliyah replied, still grinning as she settled into her bed.

Azzi’s scrolling on her phone slowed as the room grew quieter, her eyelids growing heavier. By the time the credits rolled on the TV, she had dozed off too, her head resting lightly against the wall, with Paige still sound asleep on her lap. The soft glow of the screen bathed them both in light as the night settled around them.

[p0ckykiss]

dream - lee haechan

summary -> kissing you feels like a dream to haechan

-> fluff, a lot of kissing

“haechan,” you murmured, “c’mon, I gotta go back to work.”

he ignored you, obviously.

sure, the back room of the video store wasn��t the most romantic place to make out, but you kept letting him in here, so he wasn’t going to stop coming. you were against a shelf, haechan's hands on your waist under your shirt, letting him kiss you silly despite your protests that you were employed. your hands had been travelling over haechan's shoulders and chest and neck for the last twenty minutes, but they were still now, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck. haechan pulled back, though only enough to be able to speak.

“you can kick me out whenever you want, you know,” he grinned. “you like to make it very clear you work here"

“yeah,” you said, “and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“then tell me to go.” it was a challenge, it was always a challenge. you had gone through the challenge every other time you'd been back there, and one look at the scoreboard showed that haechan was winning by a mile. he added another point to his side when you leaned back in, humming into his mouth.

kissing you was a dream.

it was a weird dream, the kind that seemed normal when you were having it, but once you woke up, you realized how fucked up dream logic is. it was fucked up, in a way, that he was kissing you, and that he was doing so so frequently.

the crush had developed sophomore year, and it had been a gnawing thing, eating away at haechan every time he’d seen you in the halls. maybe it would’ve been easier to deal with had it been anyone but you. it was supposed to fade. it was supposed to mean nothing. haechan was supposed to hate everything about you, but maybe that’s what made it so exhilarating. instead, everything about you, made haechan feel fuzzy around the edges.

he never wanted to wake up.

you cupped a hand on haechan's cheek, pulling him closer. haechan could do nothing but smile against you. he tried to keep kissing you, he really did, but the bubbling in his chest was starting to get overpowering. he pressed his forehead against yours, while you were opening your eyes. those eyes — your stupid, pretty, fucking eyes — were going to be the death of him.

haechan opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a laugh.

“what?” you asked, your own smile growing.

“nothing, nothing. just…” he paused, taking in your features, copying them down to memory in his head. “god, y/n, I’m just—” he kissed you again, softly, purposefully — “i’m fucking obsessed with you, you know that?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re obsessed with me?”

“i can’t get you out of my head, like, ever.”

“well, it’s a good thing I’m kind of obsessed with you too.”

maybe it was the way the corner of your mouth quirked when you said it, or the enticing look in your eyes, or just the fact that it was you, but haechan's legs were turning to jello-o, and he wasn’t sure he could support himself like this much longer.

you both laughed as you kissed, pressing against each other like the only way they could get any closer was by crawling into each other’s chests. haechan's mouth found its way to behind your ear, which resulted in a laugh from you loud enough to make haechan shush you before you fell into another fit of giggles. when your lips met again, your hands found haechan's; your fingers intertwined, and every squeeze of your hands pushed haechan's heart closer and closer to bursting.

they only stopped when there was a knock on the door, but even then, haechan distracted himself with kissing you.

“are you guys done in there yet?” your co-worker called from behind the door. “i can’t do everything out here by myself.”

you looked at haechan, who looked back at you. he knew their time was up for now, but there was no harm in trying to convince you to ignore your colleague. and let you both have another five or ten or twenty minutes alone.

“i gotta go back to work,” you said softly, an apology stuffed inside.

haechan continued kissing at your jaw. “can you come to my place tonight?” he asked, like there was even a possibility of you saying no.

you grinned. “and what would we be doing at your place?”

lowering his voice further, haechan pressed his nose into your cheek. “guess you’ll have to come over and find out.”

there was another knock at the door. “hello? I can hear you guys,” she groaned.

“better get out there before she drags your ass out,” haechan said.

“and whose fault would that be?”

“watch yourself, y/n,” he teased, “or you won’t need to wait to get to my place later.”

“i can’t even look her in the eye after this,” you told him.

with one last kiss, haechan patted you on the shoulders. “go on, then, baby”

“you’re going to kill me one day.”

“can’t wait.”

you opened the door. your co-worker stood there with her arms crossed.

“hey, haha,” you tried.

all she said was, “you guys are so gross.”

while you seemed to be letting your soul leave your body out of embarrassment, haechan just grinned, walking past both of you. “my uncle leaves for work at eight tonight, by the way,” he said, leaning against the counter. the only thing that rivalled kissing, in haechan's mind, was pushing all of your buttons simultaneously and seeing how long it took for you to explode.

“yep,” you said, still flustered, “got it.” haechan added another point to his side.

“again,” said your colleague. she stood on the other side of the counter, across from haechan. “gross.”

to him, she said, “if you keep making me work alone, I will ban you from coming in here. you’re lucky it's a slow day.”

“oh, come on,” haechan mused, “you love me.”

“enough to let you and y/n suck face in the back room, apparently,” she said, bumping him with her elbow.

“and for that, I’m grateful.”

[kedreeva]

They will 100% chew anything that has an edge they can chew, and would likely go right through linoleum (which depending on what the specific kind is made of may not be particularly safe for them to do) if it's where they can access it. Lots of big at-home breeders use cement mixing bins and storage totes, but you have to find brands that have NO protrusions inside because they'll chew out if they can get their teeth on something. You'd slow them down covering the inside with acrylic, and stop them if you could use glass or metal- including if you just cover the interior with hardware cloth. Bonus, they will enjoy climbing the walls and hanging upside down from the ceiling if you use hardware cloth. You can't use screen- they can chew through screen. 1/8 or 1/4” hardware cloth- the 1/2" is big enough for them to escape out of. 3/8" is the biggest gap you can leave with wire. You're less likely to see chewing on a bottom than a side, though, so you can chance it with linoleum and probably get away with it for a while if it was sufficiently covered with bedding such that they couldn't clear a space. You could also look into modifying a cement mixing bin or other tote to slide in, which would be easily replaced if they do chew. Critter nation cages have metal drawers that can be added to the bottom to contain bedding, so kinda like that. You might be able to clear coat the entire bottom in something like epoxy resin, but idk if that would suit the lightweight goal. At worst, you could always just. Do 2-3 layers of linoleum. If they start chewing through one layer, they just run into more, and you'd likely notice it before they got out.

I will offer caution about deep litter- it can't dry effectively, and can mold quickly from urine as well as will hold the scent of waste longer (because waste smells worse wet). I would minimize the amount of deep litter. I will also caution the use of litterless shelving- they will pee on it and it will quickly cake up and smell the worst. Ideally you want an inch or less of bedding for most high-use areas, and then to offer deeper digging areas that are removable or easily cleaned without having to take everything out to do it. So whatever you decide, bear that in mind.

Anything wooden you shouldn't paint in areas they have access to chewing. Sealing or staining, there are natural oils you can use! I haven't had cause to do it, myself, but I know you can do it. You can also use natural stuff like soaking wood in fruit or vegetable juices for colors (not like juice from a container, but like, use the real fruits), which is almost like painting. It might make them more prone to chewing those parts tho (some people do this to "chews" for the mice). But they're gonna chew it either way.

As for the greens, you would want to give in moderation. Honestly you could probably just take a few strands from the other trays and not have to worry about a whole tray for them. They only eat a few grams of food per day, so a little bit goes a long way when it comes to treats (and skewing nutrition). If you're growing wheat grass, you can let it grow and dry it, which they will find really exciting for nesting material, and they will still eat some dry.

They have no human interaction needs! A well bred pet type mouse will have been bred for temperament, which means they should be able to be easily handled every time regardless of other handling amount, so even if you only ever handle them for cage cleaning, they should be chill about it. Their mental health does not factor in human interaction as a necessity. What they DO need, absolutely with no exception, is mouse companionship with other mice. Breeders may choose to temporarily solo-house breeding males or expecting mothers, but they do so with the knowledge that it will not and cannot be permanent and maintain well-being. I used to work in animal husbandry for research and labs had to justify solo housing any mouse because it was considered inhumane without sufficient justification. Human interaction CANNOT make up the difference due to how mouse sleep cycles and socialization works. So! You can happily never have them out and they'll be fine, but you should always keep multiple mice.

The designs look awesome! I'm looking forward to seeing what you do with it! I hope you have too much fun with it all!

If you did build the redwall and get mice, since they dont live for long, how would it work once they all passed? Would you get more or just clean the redwall set up and have it as decoration? If you did get more would you have to sanitize the redwall set up? How would you clean around it when you did have the mice (honest questions, you got a bug in my brain about trying to make a set-up for mice and keeping them, but ive never kept mice before so im wondering your plan)

Honestly, I'm not sure. I've had mice before; they are lovely little pets, but that was when I had the Terror of the Underbrush. She was a fantastic hunter but also had zero interest in my pet rodents, so it was a less risky proposition--I don't trust my current cats to not murder a loose mouse out of pure confusion. I do think I could build a cat-proof enclosure, though.

Anyways--I could sell the whole thing when the mice passed; I could get new mice. Yes, you can just clean the enclosure and introduce new ones. Part of the point of making Redwall out of ceramic is that it can be very easily cleaned and sterilized--it's exactly the same stuff as dishes are made of. I could literally throw the whole thing in the dishwasher, or dunk it in boiling water. Easy cleaning!

The main issue is that I don't want a decorative Redwall, I want a REAL Redwall. With real little guys. So while I could make felt or ceramic mice, that's not the point! I want it to be used.

So I'm probably going to find someone to pass this along to when it's done. Ideally, someone that posts their mouses, so I can see it in use. But there's also a real possibility that the brain worms will Get Me and I will make a whole little Redwall world before I slow down.

[loucifersbitch]

Number 44 Cheap for Bucktommy

"You don't get to cheapen what we had."

Tommy says it evenly, a quiet rage burning in his eyes. He's not angry, Buck doesn't think. More hurt than anything else. And isn't that a punch to the gut?

"I'm not saying that, Tommy. Nothing about what we had was cheap. I'm only pointing out that we were obviously in two very different places when it came to how we felt about each other."

"Hm," Tommy hums noncommittally. "I think maybe you should just go, Buck."

Another gut punch. The only reason he's in Tommy's house is to return the box of things that's been sitting next to Buck's front door for more than two months.

"I feel like I'm saying everything wrong here," Buck tries. "I just want to talk to you, Tommy."

"I don't want to talk to you," he says, ending with a heavy sigh. "I can't do this with you."

"Listen, I know you didn't love me the way I love you, but that doesn't mean w-"

"What?"

Buck snaps his jaw shut, puzzled. He tips his head.

"What, 'what?'"

"You think I don't -"

Tommy has started pacing, running rough fingers through his hair as he gets more worked up. Finally he comes to a stop in front of Buck, nearly panting as he meets him head-on.

"I love you so much that it nearly killed me to walk away - almost literally."

"What?!"

"Let me finish," he says calmly. "I love you so much that I had to walk away. I've never felt this way about anyone, and that scares the absolute shit out of me." He laughs humorlessly. "I knew I'd just keep falling more in love with you, and then where would I be? When you finally realized you were settling for the first guy you dated and dumped me to go find someone better, I don't -" he exhales shakily, "- I don't know if I could've survived that. So I walked away while I could still scrape myself off the floor."

Buck is frozen where he stands. He's trying to process everything Tommy just said, and he allows himself the briefest moment to consider that Tommy's right.

Sighing and turning away, Tommy says, "I think I'm just not made to be loved long-term."

That gets Buck to finally unfreeze.

"You dumbass," he says. Tommy turns back to him as his eyebrows shoot up, but Buck ignores the look on his face. "You're just scared. And you're making us both pay for it." He grabs Tommy's arm to stop him from turning away again. "I'm not some kid who's new to love, Tommy. I'm 33. I've been in love before, and I know what it feels like to lose it. But that's not an excuse not to try. And I'm not saying it'll be easy every day, but I want to work at it with you. Especially with you," he emphasizes.

"Evan," Tommy sighs, "I'm not good at any of this. Loving you? That part's easy. But I don't - I don't know how to let myself be loved."

"Okay, well," Buck pulls him closer, and Tommy doesn't resist, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, "I think you can learn. You'll have to because I'm gonna love you anyway."

Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase

[hw4-l1z]

OMG I JUST REMEMBERED YOU DO ATEEZ TOO

CAN YOU DO OT8 BP! HEADCANONS LIKE YOU DID WITH SKZ

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

BOYPUSSY SUPREMACY 🛐 made myself horny writing the last part 🥲

Sub!bp!Ateez x Dom!gn!Reader

Cw: gender neutral but reader has a dick//boypussy// pussy eating// fingering// use of toys// lingerie// unprotected sex// squirting// overstimulation// bondage// face sitting// thigh riding// public sex// slight dollification// bit of power!bottom!seonghwa

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Hongjoong

Cutest most sensitive pussy ever

He'll always trap your hand between his legs whenever you play with him

You know how sensitive he is so you'd always rub his clit in gentle circles which gets him SO wet

Anytime you do something he finds hot or even if you're teasing him then he'd clamp his thighs together as he feels his panties starting to soak through

And my god he get WET

If he was sitting on your thigh whilst you tried to tease him he'd end up leaving a wet patch behind on your thigh

Sometimes it's so bad he has to actually change his clothing before anyone else but you notices it

It's why he begs you not to do anything when he's in outfits given to him by the staff since it's not his

He has quite a big clit with a hood which you'd surprised at the amount of other guys he's been with STILL couldn't find it...

But you'd always be right on point with it

I would imagine he had quite a bit of hair on top

Not like a bush but still quite a fair amount

He can squirt but it takes alot of time and effort to make him do it so you never do it unless you REALLY want to see him squirt

Salty in taste but you'd absolutely devour him cause you love how he tastes

Seonghwa

OHHHH MOTHERRRRRRRR

He'd wear such BEAUTIFUL panties

Only for them to get completely soaked through...but HEY that's what washing machines are for

Let's just start of to say...he does squirt but like hongjoong it takes him some times to get there

So more of a creamer but god he looks beautiful when he cums

Lip sucked between his teeth, eyes dazed and glossy, back arched as his hips jerk a little

Will moan so pretty for you as you eat him out.

One hand circling his bud whilst the other grips his thighs harshly

You'd eat him like he was your last meal on earth

His clit is small but sensitive asf

He's usually clean shaven but will sometimes let some hair grow out

He likes to shave it into certain styles though if he's keeping the hair

I'd see him more on the brownish side

Like a light brownish colour

He tastes sweet though and you LOVE it

Sometimes you like to make it taste even sweet by rubbing a lollipop between his folds and eating him out after

He can definitely still be on the more dominant side

That pussy can drive you crazy 😵‍💫

He's so tight

And he clenches around you even more when your cock is inside of him

He sends you into another world when he's riding you

He's sooooo fucking good at riding you cock

He'll force about 4 loads out of you before he's even cum once

He likes it raw

Sorry actually

He LOVES it raw

Wants you to fill him to the brim everytime

You'll always need towels under you when fucking cause it gets messy

Your cum mixed with his own release oozing out of him at once

If he's riding you, you'd feel it dripping down your cock and balls

The pussy is FIREEEEE

Yunho

Bald, slender pussy 😋

And oh he is just MADE for your cock

His walls wrap so perfectly around you

Squeezing so tight as you take him apart

Pillow princess part 1.

Let's you do all the work since he gets too weak and sensitive the minute you start touching his pussy

Shakes when he cums

He doesn't get superrrr wet but still enough for your finger to glide between his slit

Tastes like PUSSY

You swear the scent and taste of it is like some kind of drug

Your eyes rolling back as you turn into a fucking animal

Growling and snarling as you vigorously eat him out

The way he reacts to his clit being touched or rubbed is SO adorable

You love to make him cum multiple times with a vibrator held firmly to against his bud

Creamerrrrr

He releases so much cream when he cums

He's not a squirter unfortunately, you've tried many times

Yeosang

Ohhhh make him wear so many cute lingerie sets

He's so embarrassed when wearing them but he knows how much you love it

You'd always ravage him when he's in pretty clothes for you

And especially seeing that little wet patch on the panties

Drives you CRAZY

His smell is quite strong but AMAZING

Makes you feel like your going into rut once you catch a scent of his arousal once his panties are off

Sweet in taste

Too much will make you feel full

SO tight

You've tried stretching him more to get him to loosen up a bit more

But it doesn't work

Always needs a few minutes once you're inside him to adjust

You love how much he tightens even more when he cums

Loves to ride your thigh

Will make a wet mess on thigh

PINK

Cutest pussy ever

Small clit that's very sensitive

Can squirt but it doesn't happen often

Probably waxes, I don't see him being hairy down there at all

San

Where do I even start...

Veryyy sensitive and produces so much slick

His panties are ruined because of how wet he gets all the time

Waxes but sometimes has a small triangle patch of hair when he can't be bothered waxing fully

It's definitely pink

Squirts only when you eat him out or finger him

He's SO good at riding your cock

It's like pure ecstasy

He's got some strength to his legs so he can bounce on it for quite a while until he gets tired

So so so squirmy when you play with him

Holding his hips down against the bed as you fuck him with your fingers

He looks so cute struggling to move :(

Tie him up and tease the fuck out of his pussy

Using vibrators and dildos on him as he just sits there and cries unable to do anything

Would love to ride your face and cum all over it

Rocking his hips back and forth on your tongue as he moans so loud at the feeling

Mingi

Pillow princess part 2.

Will just lay there and let you do whatever you want to him

Usually has no hair but when he does he decides to experiment with it to make it looks pretty

He's dyed it pink before and you thought it was actually quite cute

Although he tried to bleach it blonde once and...yeah bad idea. It hurt alot for him

Shy but a huge cockslut

He's always horny for you and wants you to fuck him almost everywhere you guys are

But he's always do shy about asking

He's almost like a doll when fucking

He's so limp like he's just your doll to fuck whenever you please

You can do anything you want and he won't complain about it

He just lays there whimpering and moaning

You realized why he's so limp all the time one day though

It's because of how sensitive he is inside his pussy

Your cock hits all those prefect spots and makes him weak

You found this out when you fucked him in one of those mini bathroom stalls and he had to stand up for it

He was bent over the little sink as you pounded his hole from behind

His legs kept on giving out and you were basically holding him up the entire time or else he would've ended up on the floor

You found it adorable how weak he got

Pretty pink and sickly sweet

Wooyoung

Pillow princess part 3.

Only does nothing cause he's a brat and wants you to put the work in

So when you're punishing him you lay back and make him do all the work

He can't refuse it either since he's incredibly horny and has nothing else to help him but you

Gets tired so quickly

He's just not used to having to do all the work

He'll end up begging you to fuck him eventually

He's bitter-sweet in taste but you'd never miss a chance to get your mouth on him

Don't see him as a squirter tbh

Big clit big nose 😼

Turns into putty in your hands as soon as your cock is in him

Acts like a brat yet is a little whiny bitch when you fuck him into the mattress

Basically tried to make you suffocate when you eat his pussy

He doesn't mean to but it just feels too good he can't help but push your face into his core and squeezes your head between your thighs

Jongho

Chubby pussy 🙏

He's so cute and sensitive

Super shy super shy

He wants to moan so loud when you eat him out but he's too shy

He just bites his lip and grips your hair tighter

You LOVEA when he sits on your face but he's so scared incase he suffocates you or something

But that's what you want

So once he's finally straddled over your face you slowly pull his hips down until his pussy is flush against your tongue

You get so carried away and pull him down further whilst keeping his thighs locked in place with your arms

Rides your thigh almost all the time

It's his favourite thing to do

It just feels SO good on his little clit. He'll cum everytime

He's so incredible sensitive and cries everytime you fuck that he actually prefers anything but penentraition

Doesn't mean you never get it or it's necessarily a rare thing but he just gets so overwhelmed and he feels pathetic

Doesn't help that the lack of being inside him drives you a little crazy so when you do fuck, you're rough

It doesn't hurt, it's just too much for him to handle

You can rip about 3 orgasms out before you've even came once

Arms wrapped around him tightly as his heads buried into your shoulder

Fucking him so hard and deep whilst he just sobs

FUCK I'M MAKING MYSELF HORNY BYE-

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[glassrowboat]

Burning Desire. Mydei.

Summary: You catch the prince after his training, trying to free himself of his armor.

Warnings: NSFT, mature

Author's note: He pretty. That's my only excuse. / Written before his release

The embers of a fire sparked in your ear, crackling when you walked past it and up the stairs. Mydei stood above. His shoulder rolled, gauntlet catching the light and causing your eyes to squint as the reflected beam flashed in your eyes, leaving the sight of him pulling at a leather strap fuzzy. It was the hazy image of him you saw turn to look back at you.

For a moment, he stood there, muscles flexed as the armor he had been wearing dropped to the chair by his side along with the weapon he so tediously cared for. You wouldn't put it past him to purposefully make a show of himself, not when he was pushing a few locks of strawberry blond hair off his sweaty forehead to properly set his eyes on you. You could have sworn the fire you were standing by only moments before had been ice cold compared to the flames stoking in him as he saw you. It left you almost hesitant, wanting to take a step back as you stalled on the stairs you had only just been climbing.

“Getting shy now won't do anything for you.”

His voice never failed to send a shiver down your spine, especially when he had just left the training grounds leaving Mydei sounding slightly breathless in the worst and best of ways as he wordlessly encouraged you to come close with a wave of his now bare hand.

The moment you finally closed the distance between you, both that same hand settled on your waist to pull you close, leaving you with no escape from the heat he exuded.

“You're sweaty.” You tried to complain, but he laughed in response, leaning into your ear to whisper back a teasing reply.

“You don't usually complain about that.”

You could feel the calluses on his fingers as they dared to sneak up your shirt, barely brushing against your skin. He was clearly in a mood, worked up and high on adrenaline from the sparring match you had watched only minutes prior as he lifted his spear high into the air with ease before bringing it down with a wide slash- and was now trying to drag you into it with him as he pressed you to his chest.

You could almost feel the fast tempo of his heart against your skin, how it beat with a constant thud that refused to calm down even as his nose nuzzled into your neck.

“Would you care to help me change out of my armor?” Mydei asked, far too teasing for a man whose touch was wandering to your wrists to pull your own hands to the sash wrapped around his waist.

“I don't think that's armor, my prince.”

“It is if you want it to be.”

You shook your head, half tempted to say no simply to see him fake a pout, but the image of him with that spear in hand came to mind again as he knocked down the men he usually fights alongside during battle to stand above them wiping sweat from his-

Okay, you were sold.

But you didn't tug on the sash he encouraged you to, even as you felt Mydei pressed against you and half hard just waiting for the attention he was too proud to openly beg for, but up to his shoulders were golden jewelry lay. It too was covered in a slight sheen of sweat, even as you pulled the livery collar off of him and tossed it to the side with a clatter below the fire pit; left to be forgotten about until later as his lips fell back to your ear before slowly trailing down to your neck. It was only when his teeth started to nibble at you that he spoke again.

“I see how it is. You're going to make me take it off myself.”

“Maybe.” You giggled. “I have always loved to watch you. On the field, in the training hall, or…”

“Here?”

“Here.” You nodded.

He parted from you, taking the smell of his musk, the fanning of his breath, and his warmth with him to once again stand before you with a smirk painting him; just like the tattoos you couldn't help but want to run your nails over.

“Then I'll let you watch.”

And just like before, as you had sat in the stands watching him in the gladiator arena, you sat back and drank in the sight of your prince, your Mydei, in all his glory. Only this time it was as his sash and pants were pushed out of the way to fist his cock- and this time it was all for you.

[coolchasteboy]

Before Mina started feminizing me I would always get these strange feelings when I saw her get dressed for work each morning. I just stared at her I was of course attracted to her, but that is not the reason whyI was staring. I had this desire to wear a bra and panty set. And to wear panty hose. I never told her. The desire was so strong. I really wanted to get dressed each day wearing panties, hose, and put on make up. Sometimes I would get so horny from imagining myself in panties and hose I would come up to her. I would press my hard cock against her. She always liked it, but would always say, I can't fuck now, I don't want to get cum on my clothes. She wouldn't give me a blow a job either as she didn't want to mess up her make up.

One morning I was so horny and I was leaking. I so desperately wanted to be wearing her thong panties. I hated my boxers. I got naked and came up behind her. She said no. "But Mina, I am really horny. I need to cum in you." She finally gave in. "Josh, make sure you come inside me. I don't want your cum on my panties or hose. It will get on my dress." So she pulled down her hose and thong to her knees and I mounted her. I mounted her like a dog in heat. I started fucking her pussy like I had never fucked it before. "That's it Josh, give me your sperm. Mark your territory. Make a baby in me." With that I just blew load after load after load. "Be careful when removing your cock from my pussy" she said. "Don't get cum mess on my hose." I was careful. She quickly pulled up her panties up so cum wouldn't leak down her leg. The she pulled up her hose. I was no longer horny but my desire to wear a bra, panties, hose, and make-up was still very strong. She finished her make up, put on her black work dress, put on heels, got her purse and went to work.

We repeated this most mornings. "Josh, you realize that every time you fuck me like this your cum drips out of my pussy all day and stains my panties." That just made me hornier. "Look Josh, you don't understand. It is a real mess down there. Whenever I go to the bathroom I have get your cum out of my panties. So either we fuck before I shower so I can clean your cum out of my pussy or we wait until we get home." I said no. She was pissed, but I didn't care. I fucked her like this every morning. She had to sit in my cum all day. She didn't like it.

A few years later after I was fully feminized and didn't own any more boy clothes, I was getting dressed for work, just like a woman, just like I had always longed to do. Mina and I were still living together but she had a new boyfriend. I was in the bathroom putting on my make-up and this stud of a boyfriend came in, completely naked with a hard 10 inch cock. "Jennifer, I want you to suck me off before you go to work." OMG, I couldn't believe it. I so wanted his cock. But just like Mina, I had to now worry about my make up. "Marquis, I can't I don't want to have to do redo my make up." With that he came up behind me and pulled down my pantyhose and thong. "Then you will just have to take it in your pussy, want you. No make-up there." I was like "I can't, it will leak out." It was just like Mina telling me no because she didn't like cum leaking out during the day. Marquis, just did what I used to do with Mina. He started fucking me. He didn't care about my having to sit in cum. He just needed to unload. OMG, did it hurt. I had never had a large cock like that in my pussy. He just kept pounding. Then he shot load after load after load after load. He pulled out. I pulled my thong up as quickly as I could to absorb his cum. I then pulled my hose up, finished my make up, and finished dressing.

At work that day his cum leaked out of my pussy all day. The thong was so soaked that I finally just took it off. (I actually had to cut it off so I wouldn't have to take my hose off.). The rest of the day his cum leaked out of me. When I got home Mina asked "what happened to your dress." I didn't know what she was talking about. "Your dress, why is it wet in the back." I was stunned, his cum soaked through my dress and left a white wet patch. "I am so embarrassed" I said. "Marquis fucked me before work and his cum leaked out of me all day. I was wearing a thong so I couldn't put in a panty liner. Finally, I just took my thong off it was so soaked."

"So Jennifer, now you know how it feels" she said. "What do you mean" I responded. "You know, taking a man's cum - when he forced you - and having to sit in his cum all day. You used to do that to me." I was stunned. "I am so sorry, but I was so horny." "Yes, and Marquis was horny this morning too. So I told him to go breed you. My days of sitting in cum are over with. But yours are just beginning. But you really should wear bikini panties so you can wear a panty liner. I know you don't like the visible panty lines, but you can't keep ruining your dresses and thongs with his cum."

I just stood there, looking stunned. "Don't worry Jennifer, you will get used to it. It is a girl thing. We all have to get used to being a breeding toy for our men. It is just what we do" she said. "You are right Mina. Thank you for showing me the ropes. Thank you for making me into a real woman."

[scoupsakakitty]

A Beat of Fate | idol!Woozi x idol!Reader | fluff

Y/N stood nervously in front of the door to Pledis Entertainment’s famous recording studio. Today was a big day—her first session with Woozi, Seventeen‘s talented producer and singer. She had arrived a few minutes early, unsure if that was a good or bad thing. After taking a deep breath, she knocked gently.

No answer.

Slowly, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, mixing boards, flashing buttons, and glowing screens filled the room. It was like stepping into another world.

She couldn’t resist walking closer, her fingers itching to touch something. That’s when she saw them, a pair of headphones resting on the desk. Curiosity got the best of her. She looked around once more to make sure no one was there, then carefully put them on.

Pressing the play button, she was immediately hit by a smooth, catchy beat. It was impossible to stand still. Her head began to nod, her shoulders moved, and soon she was dancing softly to the rhythm. She didn’t even notice her smile growing wider as the music wrapped around her.

What she didn’t realize was that Woozi had arrived moments after her. He stood at the door, arms crossed, silently watching. A small smile tugged at his lips as he saw her lose herself in the music. There was something about her energy, her carefree movements, that completely captivated him.

Then it happened…Y/N spun around and froze.

She ripped off the headphones, her face turning red. “I-I’m so sorry!” she stammered, bowing deeply. “I didn’t mean to touch anything! I just—”

Woozi laughed, holding up his hands. “It’s okay. Really. I’m glad you liked it. Watching you dance to it was actually pretty cool.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait… you’re Woozi.”

“That’s me,” he said with a grin. “And you must be Y/N?”

She nodded quickly, still flustered. “Yes, that’s me. I’m really sorry again. The beat was just so good—I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m happy to see someone react like that to my work. It means a lot,” he said.

She let out a small laugh, the tension finally easing. “I’ve actually been a fan of Seventeen for a while. I’m not a Carat, but I listen to your songs a lot.”

“Oh? Which ones?”

“I really like ‘Home’ and ‘Adore U.’ They’re on my playlist all the time.”

Woozi’s eyes lit up. “Good choices. Those are some of my favorites, too.”

They shared a smile before Woozi gestured toward the recording booth. “Ready to get started? I can’t wait to hear your voice.”

Y/N nodded eagerly. “Let’s do it!”————————————————————————————-The session was going well. Y/N’s voice fit perfectly with the melody Woozi had created, and every take felt stronger than the last.

At one point, they took a break, and Y/N sat down beside him on the couch. She flipped through her notebook, reading over the lyrics carefully and mouthing the words to herself.

Woozi leaned back in his chair, intending to check his phone, but instead, his eyes drifted to her.

She looked so focused, her brows furrowed slightly as she studied each line. She tapped her pen against the edge of the notebook and occasionally whispered a lyric under her breath, testing how it sounded. Her hair fell softly around her face, and the faint glow of the studio lights made her features look even more delicate.

Woozi couldn’t stop staring.

There was something about her.. something effortlessly beautiful and calming. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but she still managed to leave him completely mesmerized.

Suddenly, Y/N looked up and caught him staring.

Her eyes widened. “What? Is something wrong?”

Woozi blinked and quickly sat up straighter. “No! Nothing’s wrong.”

She tilted her head, clearly not buying it. “Then why were you looking at me like that?”

He hesitated, then smiled softly. “I guess I was just… admiring how focused you are. You look so natural here, like this is where you’re meant to be.”

Y/N’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked down at her notebook with a shy smile. “That’s… really sweet of you. Thank you.”

Woozi grinned. “It’s not just sweet. It’s the truth.”

She gave a quiet laugh and turned her attention back to her lyrics, but Woozi kept stealing glances at her. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t look away.

The rest of the session flew by. Woozi continued to be impressed by her voice and professionalism, and they found themselves laughing and chatting between takes.————————————————————————————-By the end of the day, Woozi couldn’t ignore the feeling growing inside him. He liked being around her more than he expected.

“Y/N,” he said as she packed up her things, “I had a great time working with you today. Would you maybe… like to grab dinner sometime? I’d really like to keep talking with you.”

Y/N paused, surprised, but then smiled brightly. “I’d like that a lot.”

They exchanged numbers, and as she headed toward the door, she turned back and gave him a little wave. “Thanks again for today. I’ll see you soon.”

Woozi stood there long after she left, a grin spreading across his face.

Wow.————————————————————————————-

[eyra]

stuff what I have learnt about writing good

If you've followed me for longer than two minutes then you'll likely know (because I keep going on about it) that I've been working on a novel for the past year. It's always been a dream of mine to write and publish a book and whilst I still have a long way to go before I can even start thinking about querying (whether on this book, or the next, or the next, etc.) I suppose I can now say that a book Exists. I have written A Book.

Now whether or not that book ever sees the light of day, the process of writing it has been truly eye-opening. I went in knowing virtually nothing and came out, still with a huge amount to learn, but with a whole library of tools that I didn't have before. I'm now putting these to use with the first draft of my second book and already the process feels so much more enjoyable, because I've started to figure out how to make it work for me.

I wanted to jot down what I've learnt purely for my own reference so I can keep looking back and reminding myself what worked for me first time around, but given that I get a nice number of asks picking my brain about my own writing process, I thought I might as well share all this with you lot in case there's anyone out there who finds it useful!

So here are the big things that I've learnt so far...

1. Not every trick works for every writer

This has been, by far, my biggest learning. Starting to plan a novel for me felt SO overwhelming - I felt like I was bombarded on all sides with "this is how to write a novel" content, and it felt like there was just too much to learn and like I would never find my way through it. I spent weeks (months...) doing every worksheet, every outlining method, every chart, anything I could get my hands on. Some of them, by the end, proved themselves very useful. A lot of them didn't. There are thousands of voices online that are telling you "this is the right way to write a book" or even "this is the ONLY way to write a book" - don't listen to them. Try things, but don't feel like you have to fit yourself into every single box. Just find the things that work for you.

2. It's possible to overplan

On a related note - sometimes you just need to start writing. I spent WAY TOO LONG faffing about before I put pen to paper with my first book. So, so long planning out characters and plot points, a lot of which I then had to completely reimagine mid-draft because I realised they just didn't work anymore. In hindsight, some of this was down to me being scared to actually start writing - the planning stage was a bit of a comfort zone for me, despite not naturally being a plotter/architect - I have always always always been a pantser/gardener, but I got sucked into the whole "proper authors do it THIS way" narrative.

With my second novel, I did a nice amount of planning but then just bit the bullet and started drafting. I know where my story begins, ends, what my major themes are, I know all my main characters and I know my key plot points. The rest, I'm figuring out as I draft. If nothing else - I'm having a lot more fun this time around.

3. Think about voice and tense before drafting

Yeah duh obvious right? NOT TO ME. If you were following me around April time, you may have witnessed a series of minor breakdowns when I realised that, having written a whole first draft in third person present tense, the entire book should actually have been written in first person past tense. So that meant, basically, starting over from scratch. This was a big learning for me, and not a mistake I'm likely to make again.

4. Stop looking at your word count

For someone who's never really put much thought into word count before - my approach with fanfiction has already been "it'll be as long as it'll be" - I got OBSESSED with the word count of my first couple of drafts. A lot of people will tell you that any good novel "has to be" under 100k words. I constantly see this one post on Pinterest that says "I promise you that you can tell the story you want to tell in 100k words or under." I'm definitely no expert on this (and I'll eat my words when an agent tells me my manuscript needs cutting down), but I'm sceptical - a lot of stories can and should be under 100k words, sure, but most of my favourite books are much longer than this. However, I did get stuck in a "this manuscript has to be between 70k and 100k words" mindset and felt like a failure whenever it was sitting outside of that bracket. Also - keep your genre in mind. If you're writing a rom-com, 70k could work perfectly. If you're writing fantasy, you're probably going to go over that.

5. Know whether you're an overwriter or an underwriter

And related to the above - know whether you tend to write bare bones-style then add to it, or whether you tend to dump it all on the page then cut back later. I'm the first, and I knew this, but I still panicked when my first draft was only around 70k. I felt like it was rushing through the plot at an unreasonable pace and it didn't feel "finished". This was because it was a first draft. By the time I sent my manuscript to my beta reader, it was around 126k.

6. The dumb stuff works

The title of the document for my first draft was "XXX - worst possible version" and at multiple points during the drafting process I changed the font to Comic Sans size 48. It works. Completely takes the pressure off and gives you full permission to write big, write silly, write unhinged, write mad things that you'll cut back by 90% later. But it gets it all on the page. If you're stuck or cringing at yourself in Times New Roman size 12, try Comic Sans size 48.

7. Don't compare your first draft to your favourite book

Like an idiot, I did this. I still find myself doing it. It's possibly my worst writing habit. I'll type out a page at 11pm after a full day at work and no dinner and then I'll pick up a published book and think "ah man, the page I've just written is nowhere NEAR as good as this." Published books are fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh drafts that then go through months and months of editing. Do not compare your manuscript to a published book. Just don't do it.

8. Don't try to be That Author

Good writers are good readers. Absolutely read broadly, read deeply, just read. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, everything. And it's fine to find yourself influenced by other writers - that's how writing works. But don't try to BE other writers. One of the issues I had to unpick last year was that I was reading a lot of authors whose writing styles are very different to my own. I know my own style fairly well by this point - fanfiction's a great sandbox for figuring that out - but at certain moments during my editing phases I found myself cutting away at my prose because it felt "too different" to the books I was reading at the time. This was a weird thing for me to have done, and I went back and fixed it later.

I think what I'm trying to say with this one is: take inspiration from everywhere, let yourself be influenced by different writing styles, but find your own voice and trust it. Literature already has a Sally Rooney and a Donna Tartt and a Leigh Bardugo. It doesn't need a clone - it needs you!

I'll finish by sharing what I've found to be the most useful plotting template. This obviously isn't the total extent of my planning process by any means, but after trying about a million different plotting techniques for my first manuscript, this is the one:

The 27 chapter method (more examples here)

And finally, two little character tricks that I find invaluable:

AITAH?

Character philosophy

I hope someone out there finds something useful in this post! Although I've been writing in some capacity since I was a teenager, 2024 was definitely the year I realised that I am a writer at my core. I want to be a published author, but I'm already a writer. It brings me happiness like nothing else in the world! And I love to talk about all aspects of writing, so my ask box is always very much open.

Happy scribbling! x

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / A03

Turns out being a mall rat was a lot more fun than it looked.

Or at least it was when Eddie wasn’t dragging them all into his new favorite hobby: salivating over Sailor Steve.

“This feels a little…” Gareth started, sitting at a table behind a massive, planted bush.

“Adventurous? James Bond-like?”

“Creepy.” He finished, as they all watched Steve do some kind of sarcastic looking dance at Robin.

“It’s the binoculars, man.” Jeff added, watching Eddie lean over the bush. “It’s too much.”

“He’s trying so hard to win her over.” Eddie raged on. “He’s like one of those birds looking for a mate, doing all these fancy moves and--and spins!”

He sniffed loudly, offended both at Steve and on his behalf. “We’re getting her fired.”

Jeff gave a long suffering look to the ceiling. “We’re not getting her fired.”

“If we get her fired,” Grant said, in that ‘thinking aloud’ tone he had, “Would Steve be the new manager?”

“We could get so much free ice cream.” Eddie wheedled at Jeff, who frowned back at him.

“Once again I find myself asking how I became your conscience.”

“If the shoe fits, Jiminy Cricket.”

Gareth and Grant cackled, as he returned to staring at his beloved ex-jock’s attempt to befriend (or flirt with, if one asked Eddie) what had to be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

Sans Tiff, of course.

“As much fun as watching Steve work is, can we please go back to what we were actually supposed to be doing?” Jeff tapped on the spiral bound notebook he’d brought with him.

It held the words “potential song lyrics” and absolutely nothing else.

“Aww Jeffrey,” Gareth cooed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you really think that Eddie wanted to work on band stuff at the mall?”

“We’ve got to work on your gullibility.” Grant piled on, as Jeff made disgusted noises in response.

“No, I saw this coming. But we do need at least two more original songs to make an EP.” It was a goal they’d chased all year and spectacularly failed to achieve.

Frustrated, Jeff added; “I don’t care if Eddie’s not on board—you two are helping me write lyrics or I will derail every D&D campaign hereafter with petty arguments."

The unspoken truth was that Eddie, much like with D&D, was a control freak when it came to Corroded Coffin. It was his band, no matter who else was a founding member (Jeff), and the moment actual work began on anything, he’d be drawn in like a moth to a flame.

As expected, Eddie took the bait.

“You’re not choosing anything without me!” He barked, finally abandoning his Steve-stalking. He spun to face Jeff, eyes alight with challenge. “And for the record, I do have an idea.”

“Is it a real one?” Jeff asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook. “Or another round of dick-and-balls limericks?”

“How very dare you make fun of my genius, that was a legitimate song!”

“You rhymed balls with walls, and dicks with bricks--”

Eddie didn’t wait for him to finish. He snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands, earning a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man. “No, this one’s serious! It’s a proper track, I swear, I-- I need a pen. Jeff.” He turned to his bandmate, desperation in his eyes. “Give me your pen.”

“No.”

“Je-eeeff--” Eddie began in a whine before Grant, rolling his eyes, decided to end the nonsense by tossing one his way.

“See? Grant loves me.” He muttered indignantly as he snatched the pen and hunched over the notebook, scribbling furiously.

Words—actual, coherent words—began appearing on the page, and Jeff wisely kept any retaliatory retorts to himself. There was always the slim chance that Eddie was actually taking this seriously.

The others followed suit, falling into a hopeful silence.

Corroded Coffin prided itself on being a collaborative effort, but there was no denying Eddie was the strongest songwriter in the group. When he got inspired—or decided to stop screwing around—he could churn out stuff that felt electric. Like it had a real future and the band with it.

That was what they lived for.

“There!” Eddie declared, triumphantly shoving the notebook back at Jeff, grin practically screaming creative genius at work. “It’s rough—just a few lines and a chorus—but it’s solid. A starting point.”

Jeff snatched it eagerly, scanning the page as Gareth and Grant leaned in, eyes locked on his face.

Would this be something raw and heavy, in the vein of the few solid tracks they’d hammered out before? Something loud, fast, and undeniably metal? Or had Eddie finally given into all his threats and written them a love song?

(Gareth honestly didn’t care if it was a love song. He’d been expecting one for a while, given Eddie’s increasingly ridiculous heart-eyes at Steve.)

Except Jeff’s expression was rapidly imploding. His brow furrowed, lips flattening, until he finally slapped the notebook down on the table and leveled Eddie with an incredulous stare.

“So?” Eddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thoughts?”

“We’re not writing a song about the You-Suck Board.” Jeff deadpanned.

Oh, for the love of—

“Absolutely not!” Gareth cut in, throwing up his hands. “We already hear enough about that stupid thing. I’m not singing about it!”

The infamous You-Suck Board had been a sore spot since its inception, mostly because it involved Robin gleefully encouraging Steve to flirt with every single eligible woman who walked into Scoops Ahoy.

That he was, for what had to be the first time in his life, bombing out, appeared to only be suspicious to everyone but Robin--and, somehow, Eddie.

(“Why did it have to be flirting!” He’d snarled on the day of its creation, as Gareth had struggled to keep himself from jumping ship and hurling himself away from Van Halen. “Why couldn’t they have taken bets on anything else!?”

“I think it’s more that Steve flirts a lot given how many chicks come in to get ice cream--” Jeff had not so helpfully added.

The turn Eddie took in retaliation nearly cracked his head against the window.

“She doesn’t need to be encouraging him!”

“You realize if you just talked to him like we told you too, he probably wouldn’t be flirting with every single women that--”

Eddie took another wild turn, tires squealing in protest. Gareth abandoned any pretense of being cool and latched onto the handlebar, cursing loudly.

“And ruin our fucking friendship?” Eddie spat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Yeah I don’t think so.”

If Gareth hadn’t been busy actively praying for his life, he might’ve exchanged a long-suffering look with Jeff.

Who, unfortunately for everyone involved, was far braver—or stupider—than anyone gave him credit for.

“You know,” Jeff began, his voice surprisingly even despite the chaos, “you can’t be mad at him for flirting if you’re not willing to make a move.”

The van screeched through another corner, tilting so sharply that Gareth was convinced two wheels had left the ground. He yelped, adding another string of curses to the air.

“You can’t be mad at me either!” Jeff’s voice climbed an octave as Eddie took his frustrations out on the accelerator.

I’m not mad. Do I look mad!?” Eddie said, rather madly.

“Yes!” Jeff and Gareth both chanted, before Jeff finally smacked hard at their eldest friend's shoulder.

“That is it, you have lost driving privileges, pull the fuck over--!”)

“I’m just saying--” Jeff was trying to argue in the present, only for Eddie promptly flung himself away from the table, before dramatically stepping atop it.

He cleared his throat as they all groaned at him, Gareth scrambling to get his shit out of the way before it got stepped on.

“I declare a mutiny!” Eddie declared, voice ringing out and startling several nearby shoppers. “Mutiny from my own beloved crew! My brothers in flesh and blood!”

“Oh God, here we go.” Gareth muttered as Grant swatted ineffectively at Eddie’s pant leg.

“Have I not led you into battle? Given you victory after victory in the realms of--” He stopped abruptly, a deer in headlights, before the dorkiest smile Gareth had ever seen overtook his face.

Now the groans were for different reasons--because clearly, Eddie had been spotted by Steve.

Sure enough, when Gareth peeked over the hedge, Steve was staring straight at them.

His face lit up as he gave a small wave, and Eddie, ever the hopeless fool, couldn’t help but wave back.

Witnessing this, Grant turned and leveled Gareth with a flat look. “This is pathetic. I am officially requesting that you do something.”

“What?" Gareth sputtered in response. "Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why not Jeff!?”

“Because I’m his assigned conscience. Grant,” Jeff jerked a thumb in his direction. “got the right’s to his creative side and you," The finger flicked back to Gareth,  "get to tackle romance.”

“When did we all agree to this shit?!”

“Suck it up Emerson, the fates have decided.  Now sort this out before one of them pushes the other over the edge and we end up caught in the crossfire.” Jeff gestured upwards at Eddie, who had tuned this entire conversation out in favor of trading faces with Steve.

Presently his tongue was out, hands up in his classic “horned” pose.

“This is just sad.” Jeff finished, knowing damn well Eddie wasn’t listening.

“How am I supposed to fix it!?” Gareth protested but it was weak. He had a feeling it was going to come down to this--Eddie, for all his supposed edges, sure as shit wouldn’t make a move and Steve…

Honestly, Gareth couldn’t quite get a read on Steve—or whether Steve even realized he occasionally flirted back with Eddie. The guy had a crush, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind, but having one and acknowledging you had one were two very different ball games.

And Gareth sucked ass at sports.

“Figure it out.” Grant said helpfully, and got the finger in response.

He could handle this.

He just...

Needed a plan.

Things were easier with plans--right?

(Wrong.)

xXx

“There’s something seriously wrong with this mall’s security.” Eddie announced as he barged into Scoop’s the next day, Gareth on his heels.

Steve, who’d just finished slinging ice cream to a troop of Girl Scouts, didn’t even look up.

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Because there’s an insane number of them, but they only seem to guard the loading dock?” Gareth answered truthfully.

it was weird that there was tons of dudes with shifty eyes and bad hairdo’s running around outside the mall--and never inside of it. Like yes sure, product shipment and shit, he got that but…

Wasn’t loss prevention focused on preventing loss in the stores? Where people like say, himself and Eddie, could pocket it?

“It’s like they’re not even trying!” Eddie scoffed, as he proceeded to empty his pockets, lining up the day’s treasure on the counter. "The one guy we saw spent the whole time talking in Russian to a delivery driver." 

That had been notable because Eddie had stolen something right in front of the guy, who had just turned away to avoid the obnoxious teenagers.

(And, of course,  gone on to speak in a terrible Russian accent for several minutes afterward.) 

They’d both stuck to small items--stickers, jewelry, and in Eddie’s case, an entire case of bouncy balls, but judging by the complete lack of reaction, Gareth had a feeling they could clear out the store and no one would even bat an eye.

It was odd, to say the least.

So was the fact that the construction company kept showing up to “fix” things. Massive semi trucks towing in materials with ‘Anodyne’ printed out in big ass letters along the side. Gareth and Eddie had spent a lunch watching one of the trucks load in, a literal swarm of people pulling out crates and sheets of metal down the largest service elevator Gareth had ever seen.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then, when did anything in Hawkins?

With a flourish, Eddie revealed his final treasure of the day. A button, with the words ‘Not a Prince, but I am Charming’ blazed across it in bright yellow lettering.

For you, Sailor." With an exaggerated bow and open palms, he presented it to Steve, his tone dripping with theatrical flair.

“Maybe securities just no match for you two.” Steve teased back, picking up the button and proudly pinning it to his shirt.

This caused Robin to snort loudly behind him.

She was given two different middle fingers in response.

Unfortunately, her normally sneering expression began to look dangerously contemplative the third or so time Eddie “adjusted” the button on Steve’s shirt, the two of them half slapping at each other over it and Gareth shot into damage control mode before the idiots outed themselves to her.

“Anyone else here yet?” Gareth asked, shoving at Eddie as he pretended to fight for countertop elbow space.

He was shoved back, but at least everyone seemed to get a clue, Eddie abandoning Steve’s button to slump on the counter in a way he knew Robin hated.

Steve made an obvious show of checking his watch. “Nope, but none of you freeloaders tend to show up for another hour anyway. You two are early.”

Eddie gasped, hand leaping to clutch at his chest, above his heart. ‘Steven! I know you didn’t just call me, one of your closest, bestest, friends, a freeloader!”

“You’re one of the worst offenders." Steve deadpanned. "Frankly you’d be number one if the dipshits weren’t constantly in here harassing me to let them sneak into the movies.”

Another loud gasp. “You’ve been letting the children sneak into movies and not us?”

He got a smirked at for his efforts. “You’d get caught.”

Playfully offended, Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“And the loud shrieky one won’t!?”

“The loud shrieky one is controlled by Lucas and Max.”

“Such disrespect! After I bring you a present and everything!” Eddie sniffed. Robin was still watching them, Gareth noted, though this time it looked less confused and more like the expression on his parents face when they watched something weird happen on a nature documentary.

It was still too close for comfort.

Thankfully a proper distraction arrived, in the form of the rest of Hellfire. 

“Guess who's working that new cookie kiosk?” Stewart announced as the group breezed in, saving Gareth from having to stomp on Eddie’s foot (or start a sprinkle war or any of the other ridiculous shit he’d had to pull the last few days.)

“James Heartfiend.“ Steve said flatly. 

"It's Hetfield, which I know you know, just like I know you're mispronouncing D&D names on purpose."  Eddie told him. “Which is a sin, I’ll have you know.”

“Would this be the same kind of sin as washing dishes or--”

“No--shut up Eds--Steve!” Stewart yelled over Eddie. “Guess again! Steve!”

"I know you didn't just tell me to shut up, Stewart--" 

“Whatever you’re doing, Gary,” Jeff whispered as two different arguments broke out on top of each other, “do it faster.”

He didn’t have to specify what he meant, given how Eddie was blatantly competing for Steve’s attention.

“I’m trying.” Gareth hissed back, annoyed. “I don’t see you helping any!”

“He,"  Jeff pointed his head in Eddie’s direction, making it clear who he meant, "called me at 10pm last night because Steve finally got a You Rule point. He ranted me to sleep.”

“Well that’s not helping, is it?”

“It’s torture. I am being tortured.”

“That isn’t torture, Jeff. Torture is waking up to go on a jog with Steve only to have him derail every attempt at discussing relationships because you’re running wrong--”

“It’s Alex Copeland.” Tiff announced loudly, cutting off the increasingly loud conversation happening around them.

Silence abounded as everyone took the name in.

“I don’t know who that is.” Robin said cautiously, peering at Hellfire as if waiting for some grand reveal.

(She startled about three different people in doing so, Gareth included. They had got to get better at remembering when she was there.) 

“Neither do we.” Jeff said as he abandoned Gareth to shoulder his way to the counter, throwing a handful of bills down on it as Grant groaned in the background. 

Steve apparently, had been making ice cream while everyone was arguing, because Jeff’s usual order was handed right over in return.

The fucking overachiever.

“Honestly we don’t either.” Jeff admitted, as he began shoveling ice cream in his mouth. “Grant won’t let us see her.” 

“He’s so embarrassed about it, it’s hilarious.” Gareth added, snatching up one of the free sample spoons and stealing a bite as payment for all the comments. 

He was doing the best he could here, and given he had somehow been assigned the Herculean task of trying to get two of their closest friends to realize they liked each other, he figured Hellfire as a whole owed him.

Turns out it was pretty fucking hard to sit your good friend down for a “I know we kinda talked about it, but you do know you’re not straight, right?” conversation, and spinning it further into “also I think you have a crush on Eddie” downright impossible.

He made another go at Jeff’s ice cream.

Jeff turned, sticking up an elbow to block as he made a face. “Get your own!”

“Why bother when I can have yours?” Gareth countered, ducking around the offending elbow and moving to get back at the bowl.

The older teen turned again, resulting in a sort of dog-chasing-its-tail effect as Gareth continued to turn with him, the both of them spinning faster.

“We’re convinced it’s a fake name.” Tiffany added, completely ignoring her friend's shenanigans.

“It isn’t!” Grant protested far too loudly, blushing fire engine red. 

“So who do we think it actually is?” Steve asked, catching onto the gag immediately.

“All we know is that it’s an older woman, who “is super sweet”,” Tiff made quotation marks with her fingers, “calls him hun, and has the photobooth gig as a part time job.”

“Okay…?”

“Joyce Byers.” Jeff said loudly, before snapping his teeth at Gareth's hands in a threat to bite.

Steve broke into laughter immediately.

“What.” He wheezed, nearly dropping the scooper he was playing with.

Grant moaned like a dying thing. 

“See, our dear friend here had a small crush when he was a wee child…” Eddie started, with his usual flair.

“Which he denies to this day but he still gets all anxious if she’s around--” Gareth continued, undeterred by Jeff’s threats.

“Jonathan’s mom!?” Steve continued to wheeze, as if there was a different Joyce Byers running around.

"Lies!" Grant himself snapped. "Lies and--and slander!" 

“Grant is a sucker for cougars.” Jeff said over his protests, still spinning.

“Oh, screw you  Jeff!”

“Sorry but I can’t, Grant.” Jeff turned the other way, trying to trick Gareth out. “What would Miss Byers think?

“Gary,” Steve called out as Grant bit out more protests. “Stop pestering Jeff and come get your own.” He pulled out a bowl and shook it, just like you would to call a pet.

“I don’t have ice cream money!”

“I’m giving it to you, idiot.”

"Oh. Thanks!" 

“You guys are so weird,” Robin interrupted, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, giving the same look teenagers on TV give when asked to do something gross. 

Eddie beamed at her, to her clear disgust. “Damn right we are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you please go be weird elsewhere?” 

Which was not the first time Robin had made that particular plea. It wouldn't be the last, either. 

“Sorry Buckles,” Eddie said, leaning on the counter once again. “But Hellfire sticks together. You have one of us, you get all of us.”

Robin pondered that longer than Gareth thought was necessary, tilting her head in thought.

“So, if I fire Steve, does that mean I get rid of all of you?” she asked, challenging them.

Eddie tapped his finger to his chin. “Well…”

“No, no.” Steve directed the first to Eddie before spinning and stressing the second at Robin. “I need this job. No firing!”

“Pretty sure that's the manager's decision, Steve.” Grant teased, happy to throw him under the bus if it meant people stopped talking about Joyce Byers.

“She’s the assistant manager!”

“To a guy we have never met! And,” Eddie turned to Robin, as though expecting her to back him up, “as Lady Buckley just pointed out, we are here all the time. Therefore,”

He smacked the back of one hand into his palm, “I declare that there isn’t actually a manager and Robin can hire and fire as she likes!”

Steve was starting to look desperate, as though Robin might actually buy any of this nonsense. 

“Eddie.”

“No firing.” Gareth cut in, as if he had any authority on the matter, digging happily into his ice cream. 

"Fi-iine." Eddie grumbled, collapsing onto the counter with all the grace of a fallen deer. "Say, Stevie, could I possibly get some of that sweet, sweet free ice cream in mint flavor?"

Under his breath, Jeff told Gareth; "You don't deserve yours." 

Gareth didn’t respond right away, his attention caught by Eddie poking at the ridiculous button he’d given Steve—and how Steve just... let him.

It made him think about how Steve used to be—and how, in many ways, he still was when it came to anyone in his space. How different he was now.

Steve wasn’t the kind of person to seek out touch, but the Steve they saw now was much closer to the one they had grown up with—without all the “King Steve” nonsense.

He was loud. Playfully rude. Just the other day, he slapped Grant on the shoulder in excitement about some basketball game and didn’t even seem to notice he'd done it.

Eddie had done that. Hellfire had helped, absolutely, but Steve wasn’t haunting Jeff’s house or Gareth’s garage, or Grant's basement bedroom. Off-shift, the guy could usually be found with Eddie, and if not, Eddie would always know where he was.

It was why Gareth had taken the approach of talking to Steve first, instead of pushing Eddie to confess.

If they messed this up...

It could blow up not just their friendship, but all of Hellfire’s with Steve.

And that wasn’t fair.

"No, I do." Gareth muttered, trying to push away the weight of all the ways this could go wrong. "I definitely do."

When it was all said and done, he deserved far more than free ice cream, and he fully intended to collect on that.

...If he could just get Steve and Eddie to make some progress first.

xXx

On a random Sunday (or if you were Gareth, on Attempt 15 of The Dating Talk) Dustin Henderson returned from camp, greatly annoyed about his friends but looking forward to seeing Steve.

Gareth would stare, with a look on his face that could only be described as “delighted” as the two of them proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake on Earth, complete with lightsaber noises and Steve tragically dying at the end.

“Do not tell Eddie about that.” Steve would hiss, finger pointing threateningly in Gareth’s direction.

“Swear it on my life.” Gareth would reply--only after making eye contact with Robin.

She might be Eddie’s enemy at the moment, but he figured this was a solid way to win her over—especially with Steve so hell-bent on becoming her friend.

After all, he was here for yet another round of their never-ending “feelings” talk—not that he planned on having it in front of Robin, but rather to steal Steve away during his break (and maybe score a free lunch in the process).  Getting on Robin's good side would mean fewer complaints from her about Gareth haunting Scoops—and about Gareth constantly pulling Steve away.

Too bad he’d failed once more, his frustration mounting as he made no absolutely zero progress. 

(Steve, as it turned out, had an almost supernatural ability to detonate entire conversations, and he was presently using it for evil.

A carefully placed question here, a scoffing remark about elves there, and before Gareth knew it, the bastard had sidestepped every trap and sent them careening into uncharted territory. By the time Gareth noticed, Steve was long gone.

Pinning him down at work was becoming his only option, given the older teen couldn’t just up and vanish, but even that hadn’t exactly worked out today.

Thus, Dustin’s interruption had been appreciated.

Stewart's, on the other hand, wasn’t.) 

“Steve!”

Robin glanced up, before making a face. “Oh look, here comes one of your little fanclub.”

“It’s not a fanclub, Robin."

“Yeah? Then why is he screaming your name?”

“She’s got you there.” Dustin told Steve, the traitor.

“Ste-eeve!”

Stewart was breathing hard, eyes shining as he slid to a stop in front of Scoop’s counter. With the excited air of someone who’d just scored the winning goal, he slammed a cylinder down on the counter.

One that glowed a familiar, sickening green color.

“Who sucks now!?” He bellowed, as if that part of the board had ever in any way shape or form applied to him.

“Motherfucker.” Steve cursed instead, staring at the thing in horror.

“Why Steven,” Dustin clucked his tongue with a grin. “Such uncouth language!”

“And in front of children too.” Robin added dryly.

Steve dropped his head to the counter while simultaneously raising his middle finger.

“I hate my life.” He moaned.

“No you don’t.” Eddie declared, announcing his presence by flinging Scoop’s window open with a bang! “Not when you’re a grand adventurer, setting sail on the ocean of flavor!”

Without picking up his head, Steve blindly grabbed a spoon and hurled it at him, striking the center of Eddie's forehead with perfect aim.

Gareth and Dustin both applauded. 

“Munson we talked about this, you cannot be behind the counter let alone in the backroom!” Robin shrieked, hands going to support the You Suck board as it wobbled dangerously.

(It had been modified at some point the day prior, and was now split into thirds, reading “You Rule” “You Suck” and ‘Fountain”

Underneath ‘Fountain’ was three Xs and a poorly drawn skull.

“We really need to put a leash on him.” Tiff said when she first saw it, with the air of someone whose puppy had chewed through another shoe.

“We need to burn it.” Eddie had responded darkly, and then the topic of conversation was quickly changed before he could get another rant going.)

“Hate life later. Where did you find this?” Dustin asked, reaching out as if to grab the goo, and immediately getting his hand slapped down by Steve.

“Tell me it wasn’t in the water fountain.” He added, as Eddie walked himself to the front, Robin glaring daggers at him the entire time.

“What--no!” Offended, Stewart shrieked, as Steve batted Dustin’s away a second time and promptly ended up in a slap fight.

“How did you even know about the fountain you little shit, you haven’t even been here!” He continued, clutching at his home made plaid vest like a string of pearls.

“Legendary tales travel, Stuck Stewart.” Dustin told him, eyes narrowed in concentration as he ducked and dodged. 

“Your betrayal is noted, Harrington.” Stewart snarled, correctly guessing exactly how that tale had traveled.

“Oh my God.” Dustin said suddenly, reaching out to snatch at Steve’s arm, halting him mid slap. He shook it wildly, a grin overtaking his face. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Gareth asked, because he wasn’t yet aware of what Dustin’s “I figured something out” song and dance meant yet.

“The weird code I was talking about! Steve, Steve-- I bet this is related!”

“No.” Steve said, hand ripping away from Dustin’s to slash wildly in the air. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” Dustin countered gleefully.

“You guys realize it’s not code, right?” Robin cut in. “The shitty noise you’ve been playing, super loudly by the way, in our breakroom for like two hours? Yeah, that's Russian.”

At their blank stares she deadpanned; “It’s a language.”

Like she thought the lot of them were stupid.

(Because she did.)

“And how do you know that?” Steve asked, and the same time Dustin spun to look at her and demanded;

“Do you speak Russian!?”

“No, but,” Robin gave them a slow, calculating smile, “I could.”

“She could.” Dustin repeated to Steve, practically beaming.

‘She could.’ Eddie mouthed sarcastically at Gareth, turning so only he and Stewart could see him do it.

Following Steve’s footsteps, Gareth threw a spoon at him.

(He missed but it was the thought that counts.) 

“What we should do is give that,” Steve pointed a single, accusatory finger at the goo vial, “to Hopper and let him know we found it at the mall. Which is a super weird place for it to be.”

Which was true. Gareth honestly hoped this was another case of some kid or teenager finding and abandoning it, and not an indication that Starcourt was involved in the supposed clean up Hopper had swore was coming.

“If this is at the mall,” Stewart said hesitantly, “Then do you think that uh, other things, might have followed it?”

“Unlikely, the mall’s too busy.” Dustin dismissed easily.

Too easily, for Gareth—he’d watched that damn Manticore disappear into the wall. If it could move like that, it could just as easily hide itself, crowded mall or not.

“What other things?” Robin asked, before making a move like she was about to grab the goo. “What even is this, anyway?”

“Drugs.” Steve said, at the exact same time Dustin answered; “Nothing!”

They turned and glared at each other while Stewart carefully pulled the vial out of Robin’s reach.

(And then Eddie’s, when he looked like he might try and grab it too.)

“We’re not really sure what it is,” Gareth told Robin. Thinking quickly, he tacked on; “but we found some earlier and the cops were interested in it. They said they’re being careful after the whole thing last year.”

“Thing? Like the Hawkins lab thing? Where people died?” Robin was looking more alarmed by the minute. “This is an ice cream shop, we can't have that in here! ”

“Well no ones going to eat it.” Steve scoffed.

“Is that a challenge?” Eddie said with a grin, making grabby hands at the vial.

“One of those Girl Scouts was licking the table the other day, someone absolutely will!" Robin's voice grew in pitch and volume, eyes wide as she stared a the goo. "What if it melts things or blows up, or--”

“Hey--hey, calm down.” Steve soothed, turning on the Harrington charm full force. He reached out, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “If it was going to melt don’t you think it’d have gone through the container?”

Gareth watched it happen with a raised eyebrow--he more than anyone knew Steve didn’t often casually reach out to people like that. Logic said he was doing it because Buckley looked actually panicked and Steve was a fucking softie at heart but--

Logic also said that Eddie wouldn’t read it that way.

Sure enough, Gareth cut a glance towards his best friend and found him watching Steve soothe Robin’s fears with a stiff back, hands clenched at his sides.

(Ruh-roh.)

“Not if that's a special container, Dingus!”

“Maybe she’s right.” Eddie said, voice a touch off and oh, fuck, the jealous bastard was going to make things worse.

Gareth turned to him to give him a warning look, only for Eddie to lean around him entirely.

“Maybe this container is made from a rare metal and if we open it, it’ll chew right through the floor--or a hand, even.” He grinned, a nasty looking thing, before reaching towards the vial. “Only one way to find out…”

“Eds.” Steve admonished, sending him his own warning look as Robin shrieked out a curse and Stewart danced backwards, away from the group, goo vial in hand. 

“We never did play with it.” Dustin said thoughtfully. “We should experiment, see if we can figure out what it is.”

Which was a far more terrifying sentence than anything Eddie could whip up, because unlike the older teen, Henderson meant it.

“Absolutely not!” Steve and Robin yelled at the same time, before casting surprised looks at each other.

Steve’s face broke into a smile, and for two entire seconds Robin’s looked like it might as well before she caught herself.

Eddie’s own smile sharpened in return, and Gareth groaned inwardly.

If Robin got into a relationship with Steve before he could properly intervene about all things Eddie, Hellfire was going to be in for a rough ride.

(He could already picture it.

Steve, lovestruck and oversharing in front of Eddie, leading to inevitable chaos for everyone else. The man could rival a PTA mom whose cookies were branded “fattening” when he got tangled up in a snit, and Steve dating anyone right now would cause problems--but Robin?

Who spent most of her time insulting him and Hellfire both?

Yeah.

Gareth would gladly suffer another character death in D&D than go through that.)

“Stewart, give it to Hopper.” Steve all but ordered, while Gareth and Eddie both catastrophized in different directions. “Dustin, let Robin listen to the stupid code. See if her oversized brain can figure it out.”

“Oversized?” Robin asked, though they could all tell she was still distracted by the way her eyes were glued to the glue. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Steve's hand went to his hips, cocking them sideways the way a gangster cocked his gun. “I thought you said you could translate Russian, but if you can’t…”

Robin went from fearful to offended in an instant.

“Shut up Dingus, of course I can!”

Which was the second time she’d used that nickname in as many minutes. Eddie’s expression darkened, a storm cloud of repressed rage encircling his head, and Gareth resisted the urge to duck for cover. 

“I’ll take it to Hopper but only if someone comes.” Stewart said, seemingly oblivious to the cliff they were all hurtling towards. “That man is terrifying.”

Robin ignored him, sticking a hand out, palm facing upwards. “Give me the code." 

Steve ignored him too, in favor of egging on his coworker. “Show her the recording, Dustin, let’s see the great Robin Buckley in action.” He taunted as Dustin dutifully handed over the tape recorder. 

“Anyone...?” Stewart asked hesitantly, and Gareth made sure not to meet his gaze.

(He already had his hands full with the whole Steve-and-Eddie situation—he was not taking on Hopper too!)

“Guess I’ll go with Stewart then.” Eddie sniped, shoving himself off the counter. “Since you guys would rather play spy with the radio.”

His tone was cutting enough that Steve took notice, a frown flicking into life. 

“What's got into him?” He asked Gareth, puzzled, as Eddie stormed off, loudly commanding Stewart to follow.

“No idea.” He lied. “Now about that code…”

If he kept them all focused on it, he figured, Dustin would hang around. That would in turn, successfully derail the majority of Steve’s stupid charms--to at least delay things enough that Gareth could pin him down to finally have a talk. 

You know, if Steve finally let him do it.

(Steve did not let him do it.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t believed it was humanly possible to learn a language that fast.

Robin Buckley, apparently, wasn’t anyone. After witnessing her rattle off full sentences with unnerving confidence, he decided he’d never question her abilities again—not for the rest of his natural life.

“I can’t speak it.” Robin corrected when she finally decoded the word they’d all been struggling over. “This is just a basic translation.”

“Yeah, but you actually understand it.” Steve said, clearly impressed. “You had most of the code translated in like, one shift.”

“It still doesn’t sound right though.” Dustin complained, staring at the white board they'd confiscated. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly?” 

“You’re forgetting the music.” Steve pointed out and was met by a chorus of groans.

“Yes, the one you’re convinced belongs to the toy horsie ride near the movie theater.” Dustin rolled his eyes, and Gareth rolled his own right along with him.

'Horsie.' Gareth mouthed at Steve, who mouthed it back with a grin. 

Steve was this close to pulling them all towards the damn toy horse, Scoop’s be damned, but that would mean the stupid recording had been done at the mall--and what were the chances of that?

(“Honestly they’re pretty decent, Cerebro can pick up far away signals.” Henderson had started, when Steve first mentioned it, kicking off an entirely separate argument with Robin regarding radio wavelengths and other terms that flew over Gareth’s head.)

“It sounds exactly the same!” Steve protested, with all the conviction of a teenage boy who’d been wronged.

"The point I'm making," Dustin sassed back, "is that your translation sounds like nonsense." He turned to Robin accusingly.  "Ergo, you probably translated it wrong." 

Which almost sent them right back around to the start of the argument they’d been having all morning, but fortunately for Gareth's incoming headache, fate had other ideas. 

“Does anyone else think Billy Hargrove has a screw loose?” The elder teen interrupted with his usual flair, popping up in Scoop’s like a Jack in the Box after sneaking through the door.

No one jumped this time, which appeared to disappoint him greatly.

“The entire high school I suspect. Maybe some teachers. Why?” Robin asked, because she’d grown comfortable with their fast changing screwball conversations.

Gareth thought she might even secretly enjoy some of them, not that he was going to call anyone's attention to that.

Regardless, he watched Eddie warily—this was the first time Eddie had come back to Scoop’s since storming off to take Stewart and the goo to Hopper.

Which he knew they had done, because Eddie had called him afterwards, frantic for a second opinion on whether Hopper had been threatening him, apologizing, or some odd mix of the two.

(“It sounded like he was reading from a script he couldn’t remember,” Eddie had whined. “And he kept insisting he wasn’t trying to growl at me, for some reason?”

“That’s fucking weird man.” Gareth said. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Eddie hesitated, then blurted out, "You don’t think Steve said something, do you?"

"I don’t think he and Steve are that close."

"God, I hope not." Gareth could almost hear the shiver in Eddie’s voice. "Can you imagine?"

He could, actually, but he wasn’t about to share that with Eddie.

Though, the thought of Steve in Scooby Doo pajamas was kind of hilarious…

“He's lifeguarding at the pool and he seems a bit more…” Eddie trailed off, clearly fishing for the right word. “Unhinged, than usual.”

“What does that even look like?” Dustin said with a snort. “Is he spitting fire? Did he finally grow horns?”

“Maybe he ate a child.” Gareth added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Eddie was frowning though, instead of piling on. “He’s weird for sure.” He said, which was about as vague as he always got when it came to Billy Hargrove.

Gareth knew why. Hellfire’s fearless leader saw something of himself, or something he could have been, in Hargrove. It was that dumb little empathetic part of him that led him to being who he was--defender of nerds, king of the freaks.

A core part of him, that Gareth, and frankly all of Hellfire loved but…

Well.

Gareth had locked eyes with Hargrove once. Just passing by, in the hallways.

It felt like locking eyes with a crocodile. Power and violence wrapped up together in a way that felt instinctive--reactionary.

Not exactly something you could reason with.

Eddie saw him differently (saw everyone differently, by his very nature) but this felt an awful lot like playing with a wild animal. The only thing that determined whether you or someone else became dinner was who said animal noticed first.

“You can always ask Max, though Hargrove’s a sore spot for her.” Steve said. He too, Gareth realized, was eyeing Eddie. He had assumed their jock had brushed off the strange behavior from the other day, but maybe he was more perceptive than Gareth had given him credit for—at least when it came to Eddie.

Dustin looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t ask Max about Billy.” He said, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Very much a first for him, given his usual “charge in anyway” attitude, and thus very noticeable.

“He’s a dick, and he’s working.” Steve dismissed with a shrug.  “Dude’s unhinged, yeah, but he has calmed down a bit.”

Gareth couldn’t have disagreed more. He’d finally gotten the real story behind the Hargrove-Harrington fight—none of the wild rumors like “Harrington tried to date Hargrove’s little sister” or “Hargrove and Harrington started a fight club." 

Now he understood why Billy kept his distance from Steve, but even that uneasy not-quite-truce felt like it could snap at any moment.

(Eddie’s uncanny ability to sense when someone was dealing with something wasn’t exactly helpful in situations like this either.

His strange little internal radar for People In Distress was sharp enough that Gareth was sure Hargrove was grappling with some sort of issue—meaning Eddie, true to form, wouldn’t just leave it alone.

Eddie had always managed to wriggle free from whatever trouble he stumbled into, but this time? This time Gareth was uneasy—probably because Steve had once shown them the too-shiny scar along his hairline, a souvenir from his own run-in with Billy.

Steve was a fighter. A tank. A goddamn paladin. He could weather hits like that and somehow keep going, battered but alive.

Eddie…

Eddie wasn’t built the same. And Gareth had no desire to see just how far luck would stretch.)

“He still buys from me.” The man himself was saying, stubborn conviction coming to life. “I’ll talk to him.”

Steve was alarmed immediately.

“Could you at least take someone with you?” He asked, and Gareth gave it to him--the guy had learned fast that was better than attempting to ask Eddie to not go at all.

“To what? Help protect me against the scary mean jock? I’ll be fine.” Eddie stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry. “Besides, bringing someone else means I couldn’t just cut and run if he gets uppity.”

Despite all clear and present stressors, the teasing had Steve visibly relaxing.

Apparently Eddie's snits were more obvious than even Gareth had realized.

“I’d love to see you, who I am pretty sure skipped all of PE class but definitely anything involving running, manage that.”

Eddie winked at him. “Trust me big boy, when it comes to my life, I can run.”

“I trust you.” Steve said, painfully earnest. “Just…be careful, yeah? Hargrove’s not…”

He trailed off and Gareth mentally filled in the rest.

(Not sane was a strong contender, though “Not all there” was equally likely.)

“Just be careful.” Steve finished.

Eddie grinned, before reaching out and booping him on the nose.

“Always am!”

“He’s not.” Gareth said truthfully, as Eddie wiggled his way out of the store. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Steve touched the tip of his nose where Eddie booped it, looking both annoyed and slightly red about it.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“For you?” Gareth teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Anytime.”

He sent his own, exaggerated wink Steve’s way and basked in the loud boos Robin and Dustin both gave him for it.

Bonus

In the wee morning hours of 9 AM, Gareth sat on the counter of Scoop’s and tiredly watched as a group of grim men walked by with some sort of construction material covered by a tarp.

The tarp had the words ANODYNE blazed across it--or would have, had someone not taken paint and changed it to “ANAL ONLY.”

(That person might have been Gareth, not that he’d ever tell.)

“So you know how you’ve taken to calling Eddie nicknames?” Gareth started, wondering if the key to all this was just being fast enough to say it before Steve could spin them off topic.

“Yeah?” Steve said.

“You know how you don’t call anyone else by a nickname?”

“I literally called you Gary five minutes ago.” Steve refuted. “Also I’m pretty sure Tiff’s full name isn’t, you know. Tiff.”

“I don’t mean those kinds of nicknames.”

He meant the fact that Steve had decided, after months of tolerating ‘Sunshine’ ‘Sunlight’ and various other variations Eddie came up around the word “sun” he’d finally given Eddie a special nickname of his own.

A cute one even, that had made Eddie blush when he’d first heard it.

“I’m not following.” Steve told him as he flung up the gate that stood guard over Scoop’s Ahoys' entrance, with a motion so smooth Gareth was briefly mad at him for accomplishing it.

Stupid athletes and their jock powers.

“You know damn well what I mean.” He said, exasperated with all the dodging.

Something Steve must have picked up on, because he sighed.

“If you haven’t noticed, Eddie's been kind of clingy lately. Octopus level clingy.” Steve told him as he finished setting up (and Gareth in turn, did absolutely nothing to help. Hey, he wasn't the one getting paid!) 

He didn’t have much time—Robin was apparently opening, and Steve had only gotten there first because of his odd habit of going for morning runs. Since the two of them were determined to crack the stupid code today, Henderson would probably show up soon, too.

Gareth was only up this early out of a love for two friends that he better be thanked for at their wedding. He could be asleep right now but noooo--

“He’s been acting kinda weird, too." Steve continued. "He won’t say why, so I thought giving him a nickname back might make him happy.”

Before Gareth could dig into that, Steve picked up a towel and whipped it towards the younger teen. 

“Now get off my counter, I don’t want to give Robin any reason to bitch at me today.”

Gareth leapt out of the way, mindful of the towel after the first time he learned how much the damn things hurt. “Do you really care what she thinks?”

It was an honest question--Gareth had a hard time getting a read on what, exactly, Steve was trying to accomplish with her.

He got where the You Rule/You Suck board had come from.

Understood how that ballooned into a game where Steve flirted--and greatly annoyed--every chick who waltzed past.

What he couldn’t understand was why Steve was working so hard to be nice to her. From every angle, it seemed like he was trying to win her over. If that’s what Steve wanted, then Gareth wasn’t about to get in the way, but…

He needed to stop flirting with Eddie, if that was the case. Needed to be told he was flirting, and that Eddie didn’t deserve it if Steve had no intention of following through.

Steve made a face, like he was trying to decipher his own emotions. “Kind of?”

And finally, Gareth had his opening.

He pounced. 

“Do you like her?” 

“As a person I do.” 

Annoyed with the non-answer, Gareth was quick to lighten the noose. “And as a date?”

Steve wiped down the counter with the towel, once. Twice. 

“Nah.” He admitted. He averted his gaze down into the endless rows of ice cream. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Gareth pressed. 

Steve frowned, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about the answer. Gareth let him, knowing he got like thi when he was actually thinking something through, and wanted to phrase it the right way.

Pity their time had run up.

“Harrington, what did I say about letting customers in here before we’re officially open!?” Robin snapped as she strode through the back doors, sending a glare Gareth’s way.

“Gary said he wanted to apply to work for us.” Steve returned, sending a downright evil smirk Gareth’s way. “So technically he’s not a customer.”

Robin stopped dead in her tracks to stare at them, eyes narrowed as she attempted to suss out if Steve was lying. “Really?” 

“Absolutely not.” Gareth spat. 

Then, as petty revenge for the denial of the answer he’d been chasing, tattled; “Also Steve forgot to check the walk in.”

Gareth!” Steve called, twisting the towel in his hands like a weapon.

“Sorry, not sorry!” Gareth chanted, bolting for the exit before the towel could strike.

It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for, but for the moment, Steve’s little confession felt like a small victory.

A place to start.

And that filled him with absolute glee—until he ran past the construction workers, hollering apologies when he nearly knocked one over (and almost sent the entire group toppling with him).

“My bad! He called over his shoulder, hearing shouts of “Idiot!” “Stupid boy!” and something that sounded suspiciously like Russian—

Which Gareth, of course, understood. He’d spent nearly as much time on the stupid code as Steve and Robin had, after all.

He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he looked back at the angry crew, noticing one of the Russian-speaking security guards Eddie had mocked was with them.

There was no way Steve’s wild theory about the code being recorded in the mall was true, except...

When you combined it with the goo vial Stewart had found and the music, it started to look like it might be.

‘Well,’ Gareth thought. ‘Shit.’

[moonstruckmoony]

HL x Kuroshitsuji ✨

“Humans are easily tempted. When they are poised on the edge of hellish despair, and a spider-thin thread of salvation presents itself, they will invariably grasp it. No matter the human.” -Sebastian Michaelis

Winter Blackstone as Ciel Phantomhive

Sebastian Sallow as Sebastian Michaelis

Ominis Gaunt as Snake (Featuring Snake’s snakes: Emily, Oscar, and Wilde)

Phantomhive Household:

Poppy Sweeting as Finnian

Samantha Dale as Mey Rin

Garreth Weasley as Baldroy

William Blackstone as Vincent Phantomhive

Snowball as Sebastian the Black Borzoi

Midford Household

Anne Sallow as Elizabeth Midford

Natsai Onai as Francis Midford

Others

Amit Thakkar as Soma Asman Kadar

Imelda Reyes as Grell Sutcliff

Another disclaimer that the BG for the first one is inspired by AFK Journey, just think they look fitting for this.

· · ─────── ·❆ ❅ ❆· ─────── · ·

Happy New Year everyone! I’m back. This was actually a fun idea that was supposed to be for Halloween, and I did start working on it on Oct but some things happened to me so I had to take a step back for a while but I’m ok now and am present here! But hey, it isn’t Chinese New Year yet but 2025 is the year of the snake so posting it this year is kinda fitting, no? 🫢 I had no intention of going back on my word on finishing all the MCtober prompts no matter how long it takes (bcs the prompts are fun!) but I’ll take my sweet time and if I had ideas outside of the prompts I might work on those first before going back on track.

I just wanna say that I’m very grateful to be in this fandom, it let me rediscover the joy of drawing for myself again after years of not doing it consistently (I was mostly drawing for work.) I’ve been loving everyone I got to meet and make HL friends with so far.. love u guys 🫶✨Hoping for a year full of love, joy and stability (as stable as it can be) for everyone.

[fuck-customers]

i love when the resident kitchen idiot that everyone hates, who everyone has been complaining about for months, who kept getting bumped between sections because he wouldn’t do the work expected of him, who only still had a job at all because we didn’t have a body to replace him with, decides to come in at 9:30a for a brunch shift drunk enough that people can smell it on him and gets fired before he can punch in.

it was our last shift before a four day weekend for thanksgiving, you couldn’t give it an extra 4-5h?

the hilarious thing is that we’ve been in a temp chef shuffle since he got hired and every. single. one of them. has immediately fucking despised this guy. the first chef (who hired both me and the kitchen idiot) had probably the lowest standards of quality for our style of venue and would put up with a lot more bullshit than was definitely reasonable but left to go start his own restaurant. then it was our sous chef (who had been hired shortly before me) who would baby him through everything like he’s helping a pre-k’er figure out his letters and left to get his trade journeyman’s—leaving me as the person with the longest tenure in this kitchen and foisting the idiot onto me as his “trainer.”

thing is, i do not have the patience to train someone who refuses to be trained. if i can tell at a glance that it’s not simple misunderstanding due to language barrier, but malicious willful ignorance, i’m not gonna be fucking nice anymore. i’m gonna start actually calling out the bullshit that everyone else had been dancing around for two months prior and the more i have to repeat myself the less happy i’m gonna be and the more aware of it i’m going to make you.

the temps who came in after the sous left agreed with me btw. which included first chef’s boss and another temp. idiot got himself fired less than a week in to our new permanent chef’s tenure and even HE came to me in private to ask if there was anything he could do to get the guy to give a fuck, and i just told him “there’s nothing you could say to him that nobody else already tried” which he sympathized with.

i shouldn’t have to tell you every time you slice meat that you need to wipe down, sanitize, AND reassemble the slicer AND sweep the floor under around the station afterwards as part of completing the task. i shouldn’t have to tell you every time you plate desserts that the point of the toothpick is to keep the plastic wrap OFF the cakes, so it’s not peeling up the frosting/glaze, so that it’s presentable for the customer, and thus punching a hole through the wrap to spear the toothpick through and press the wrap flush to the cake is completely counterinfuckingtuitive. i shouldn’t have to tell you every time you use the food processor that you 1. need to mix all of your ingredients in a separate bowl BEFORE trying to blend them, and 2. need to make sure the blade is in position BEFORE dumping in a bunch of shit that’s going to gum up the works otherwise. i shouldn’t have to reiterate to you and have you repeat back to me three times in quick succession that you only need to follow up to a certain step in the recipe with only a certain collection of ingredients, almost literally draw you a fucking diagram, and then turn around to find you’ve fucked it up so badly it’s clear you didn’t even look at the recipe at all and just the ingredients list (despite having made this recipe before) and have simply proceeded to waste an hour of everybody’s time and the better part of a week’s worth of product—and then fuck it up AGAIN somehow when told to redo it, so that i, AS USUAL, have to waste prep time coming back through behind you to make sure we actually have any usable fucking product.

it got to the point where he was literally turning to me and the girl who still works cold line with me and asking why we weren’t doing the tasks we (as his superiors in the section) kept assigning to him, or at least the part of the task that comprises like 80% of what needs done, and he outright told the latest temp chef that he doesn’t like being expected to do what’s asked of him when he got confronted about it. if not for the fact he got himself fired i would’ve had full clearance to tell him the next time he asked some dumb shit like that “because it’s your job, and if you’re not gonna do the work you’re being asked to do, you can clock out and go home, because otherwise why the fuck is anyone paying you to be here?”

oh well! good riddance to bad rubbish. love it when the trash lets the door hit it on the way to taking itself out.

the funniest thing was when he tried to come back in today, the first day after that four-day holiday, like he expected to still have a job. bro you came in drunk before 10am lmao you don’t have a job anymore you just have a fucking problem. and i have one less! goodbye, i wish you a very harsh wake-up call and a hearty go fuck yourself! get better soon, far the hell away from me ❤️

Posted by admin Rodney