#not really sorry i just think this is a load of bullshit

[ping-ski]

TW RANT/VENT ab work + LOTSA SWEARING kinda closer to how i talk irl sorry

(scroll along for your safety/comfort and i hope yall are doin alright <3 hopefully i'll post art soon!)

i dont give a fuck if sound like a little bitch for this but 8+ hour shifts are too fucking long for a human being to work ever (same opinion on school btw)

like what the fuck dym i was at work from 2pm-10pm yesterday then im back here from 8am-4:30pm to open?? there's some serious fuckery about here. some grade A bullshit- cause what the hell?? (often times im at work from 2pm-11pm like what the sfvisje)

nothing you could say could justify why anyone should HAVE TO work this long?? to work this damn much?? i work in retail as a second job and work as a caregiver as a main job (respite, hab, attn.) tell me why i should have 2 fucking jobs to survive bro??

cause girl how the fuck am i supposed to fit sleep and free time for myself or the shit i wanna do?? i got a life to live bro 😭 aight rant over my lunch ends soon

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Fuck I hate being an adult. I need a more adult adult to help with the volatile emotional situation.

[finexbright]

instead of listening to a banger of a no skip album, you all are out here having a discourse about something that's not even valid in this case. just listen to the album and enjoy how hard it slaps

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Maid who looks at the castle in front of him, then the flier in his hands, then the castle again. Unless there was a typo in the address, the job interview should be here. He hesitantly uses the bat shaped door knocker and waits...This place looks so creepy and ominous, was this a prank ? Was it to scare him? Seriously? Sigh…He has had enough of being treated like a fool. As he continues his descent into frustration, bitterness and self-pity, he doesn’t hear the door opening. Nor does he see the butler standing at the entrance until he hears a: “Sorry for the wait, my kind sir. Are you here for the housekeeper position?”.

Yandere!Maid who thinks the butler is telling him a load of bullshit. According to him, the owner of this place is a vampire in search of additional staff members. He resists the urge to scoff. Whatever, if the “mistress” wants to take part in some weird role-play, then so be it as long as he would get paid. The same guy tells him to “please take a seat” in the living room and that “mistress will come and attend to you in a moment”. Soon after his departure, the air shifts. Black particles float around until it materializes something, or rather someone. The poor boy shock and confusion quickly turn into enchantment. Fuck, you are totally his type. This is bad, he can feel his face burning. “Shall we go to my office?”, you ask with a smile.

Yandere!Maid who hates you. Who hates the fact that your personality matches your looks. Who hates how much control you have over him. The other day, your...pet sneezed on him, so he needed another uniform. “It seems that I only have a female one left ”, you told him. “There is no way in hell I am wearing that”, he sneered. “But wouldn’t you look cute in it? Besides, it is either that or cleaning with your normal clothes on until your new uniform arrives here-” “Alright, shut up, just give me that”, he abruptly took the offending dress from your hands and went to change. Since that conversation, his work attire has fully transitioned to said maid outfit. Maybe he becomes a bit too proud of himself whenever he catches you staring at him. And maybe, just maybe he wants to give you a nice view by bending down and taking his time “to clean the table” whenever he knows you are behind him. He will never admit that though.

Yandere!Maid who, one day, demands asks you about your eating habits. As soon as you answer, something regarding animal blood, he turns oddly quiet. You are about to ask what is wrong, but then he surprises you by climbing into your lap. You watch him get comfortable and, with trembling hands, undo the first buttons of his dress. The cherry on top is him pulling on its collar a bit to show a silver of his chest. He now avoids eye contact as he waits for you to take the lead…You are still just looking at him, so, with a blush becoming darker, he snaps at you: “A-are you stupid or something ? Do you want me to spell it out-” “I am just enjoying the view”, you respond with a teasing smile. Before he can sputter more insults, you grip his chin and tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck to your hungry gaze. “But if you insist…Thank you for the meal <3”

Yandere!Maid who has his face buried deep in his pillow while he tries to calm his flustered self down. After you finished drinking from him, he hurriedly got up and scurried to his room without so much as a word. The more he recalls the embarrassing noises he made in front of you, the more mortified he becomes. It was not his fault, it just felt really good and you even pulled him closer and tugged on his hair and-He whines and squirms in his bed as he feels his body turning hot again like that time. The action causes him to feel a sharp sting on his neck. He freezes. That is right. You marked him. You marked him. You marked him.

...

Don't drink from anyone else, ok?

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Tutor Me

michael gavey x bimbo!reader

A/N: this was a request so i hope you enjoy! thank you to bel for putting michael creaming in his pants in my head.

TW: SMUT!! michael is mean and then he cums in his pants, this is the most filthy thing i've written perhaps

word count: 2,099 words

You knock three times on Michael Gavey’s door and flinch when he opens it just as you lay down the third knock.

Was he waiting at the door for you?

He’s almost annoyed by your presence before he takes in what you’re wearing, a tiny, lacy, pink, babydoll crop-top with a slit from your belly button to just below your breasts and the tiniest little white skirt that falls just below your bum. Oh, and don’t get him started on the godforsaken thigh-highs, the things are practically lethal.

“Um, Earth to Michael?” You wave a hand in front of his face to try and snap him back into reality. The poor man is starstruck at just the sight of you.

“S-Sorry yes… come in.” He stutters and steps back so you can walk in. 

You brush it off and strut into his room, sitting down on his bed. Oh god how he loves the sight of you on his bed with your skirt riding up ever so slightly and your plush thighs pressed together. You hold your textbook in your lap as he stares at you once again, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to get his cock to stop rising.

“Are we going to get started?” You ask, trying to snap him out of it once again.

“Started with what?” He blurts out.

“Trig?”

“Oh yes, of course - sorry.” He mumbles and wipes his hands on his palms before apprehensively sitting next to you.

You open up your book and show him the problems you were struggling with.

“These are the questions you’re struggling to comprehend?” He asks condescendingly. “There aren’t many thoughts in that pretty little head of yours, are there?” He seems to get back to his old self with ease.

“Don’t be cruel.” You say with a huff. “Not everyone is as smart as you.”

“Clearly.”

“You won’t speak to me like this if you’re going to tutor me.” You say firmly.

“You can’t make demands when i’m doing you a favour.” He scoffs.

“You’re actually doing Ms. Jameson a favour and i’m sure she would be very disappointed if you couldn’t follow through.”

Michael grumbles something about how he wouldn’t be the one who wasn’t following through but sighs anyhow and begins to look at your attempts that you’ve written under each question. You cross your arms a bit smugly.

“Nothing else to say?” You taunt him.

“I’m trying to be nice…” He trails off when he glances up at you, noticing how your arms are crossed - noticing the way the action pushes up your tits.

You might be a little ditzy but you’re not that ditzy. “Are you really staring at my tits right now?”

“What? No - are you that full of yourself?” He sputters out, his cheeks turning red.

“You don’t spend much time around women, do you?” You giggle.

“Of course I do!” He protests and then grumbles out, “And i’m the rude one?”

“Michael, have you ever kissed a girl?” You ask a little gently.

“I’ve kissed loads!” He claims but his cheeks get redder.

“Oh well then. I was going to offer to teach you but there’s clearly no need.”

He’s silent for a moment, a long moment.

“Out.” He says finally.

“What?”

“Stop fucking with me like that and get out of my room.” He is clearly embarrassed, thinking you’re playing some cruel prank on him.

“I’m not messing with you.” You say but he’s already getting your things together.

“Like hell you’re not.” He shoves your things into your hands and stands to get the door. You put your stuff back down.

“I’m not leaving,”

“Yes you are. I won’t have you making a fool out of me and then giggling about it with your little friends.” He grabs your wrist to pull you to your feet.

“I don’t think you’re a fool. I like you.” You say earnestly.

“Bullshit.” He says but he isn’t dragging you to the door yet.

“I do, Michael. I think you’re cute.” He searches your eyes for dishonesty but the blush on your cheeks makes him inclined to believe you.

“Y-You do?” His eyes soften.

“I do.”

“And you’re not taking the mickey out of me?” He asks one more time, just to be sure.

You shake your head. “I’m not.”

“You really want to kiss me?’

“Only if you tell me the truth about how many girls you’ve kissed… and if you close that door.” You say sweetly.

Michael practically slams the door with haste and proceeds to lock it. “I haven’t kissed any girls.” He admits.

That was easy.

“Can we kiss now?” He asks eagerly and you giggle.

“Sit down on the bed.”

He does so right away, wiping his palms on the covers. You walk over to him slowly, so you can tease him even more. He gulps as you perch yourself right on his lap, straddling both his legs and oh boy do you feel how hard he is immediately. He’s bigger than you expected and you can tell even through his trousers.

“Are you ready?” You ask as you rub your hands up and down his chest and he nods swiftly in response. “Okay…” You whisper out before leaning in slowly to brush your lips gently against his. It’s definitely more than a peck but doesn’t leave him anywhere near satisfied. “How was that?”

“Good but I think we should do it again to be sure.” He says, clearly flustered.

“I think so too, but this time, you’ll open your mouth a bit.”

“O-Okay.” He breathes out and you press your lips against his once again, kissing him with more pressure this time. He opens his mouth and you slip your tongue past his lips to touch his tongue for a moment before pulling it back. He whimpers into your mouth and the two of you begin to properly makeout at this point as Michael grows his confidence. He is an… aggressive kisser so to say but it’s clearly because of how excited he is. You’ve never seen someone act so excited to just kiss you before. You lift his hands as you kiss him and place them on your waist. He immediately begins to squeeze at the soft flesh and he groans at the feeling. He then begins to subconsciously rock you back and forth over his crotch so he can gain some friction. The poor boy is so close to creaming in his pants that he actually whines when you pull away. His lips try to chase yours as you do but you push at his chest to stop him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks nervously as his hands continue to knead at your skin, never straying from your waist.

“No.” You say, finding his concern sweet. 

“Then why’d you stop?” He asks and you find it cute at how such an egotistic man is reduced to using puppy-dog eyes.

“Well, you’re always staring at my tits. I thought you’d like to see them for real.” His eyes light up.

“That would um… be nice.” He tries to say casually and you giggle at his response.

You take off your babydoll top and you’ve never felt more flattered. He looks at you like a kid on christmas, as if your tits came gift-wrapped with a bow.

“Oh god.” He groans out, looking mesmerised. 

“You can touch them if you want.” You say and you could imagine that his face would be the same as a man who has just won the lottery.

He is almost apprehensive at first as if you’ll slap him and storm off the moment he touches them but he lifts his hands anyhow and places them gently on your chest.

“They’re so soft… and plush.” You can feel his hips moving from under you and when he gives your tits a good squeeze, he also moans, bucking his hips up hard.

Then you realize.

He just came in his pants.

When you glance down, he realizes that you know what just happened.

“Oh god, i’m so fucking sorry. Fuck.” He lifts you off his lap with surprising ease so he can cover his crotch with his hands. He stands up, with his back facing you so he doesn’t have to look at what he expects to be, a disappointed look on your face.

“Michael-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just look at me-”

“That’s so bloody humiliating.”

He is clearly in some sort of a state so you roll your eyes, but then an idea pops into your head. You pull your lacy, wet panties off and throw them right over his shoulder. They land right on the desk in front of him. Michael freezes. He knows right away what they are and reaches to pick them up, getting rock hard again when he feels how wet they are. Without a second thought, he brings them up to his nose and inhales. He’ll for sure have those wrapped around his cock when you’re not around. 

You’re laying back on his bed when he turns back around, your thigh-highs still on and your skirt hiked up around your waist. His eyes then fall to your glistening cunt.

“I still need to be fucked, Michael.”

He’s on you in a second, kissing you ravenously as he unbuckles his belt. When his cock is finally out, he pauses.

“I don’t have any condoms.” He’s embarrassed but he’s never had a need for them before.

“I’m on the pill. Do what feels good.” You say, wanting him as much as he wants you.

He does exactly as you advise and does as he pleases, slamming himself in, all the way to the hilt and relishing the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“Jesus - fuck.” You curse.

“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern as you hold his hips to keep him still.

“Usually when a man - how do I put this lightly… has a massive horse cock, they enter a bit slower.” 

“I’ll pull out then.” He says, trying to find a solution as he gets halfway out, dragging a whimper out of you.

“No, no!” You whine, your eyes rolling back in your head from this pleasure of having him inside you.

“No?” He grins a little.

“I just needed to adjust.”

“To my huge dick?”

Great, another thing for him to be cocky about.

“Fuck you.” You murmur.

“I think i’ll be doing the fucking.” He says playfully as he gives an experimental thrust back into you. When he sees your pleased expression, he begins to fuck you harder, loving the way his cock looks slipping in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Mmm, Michael.” You moan when he hits your sweet-spot so he continues to bully the head of his cock against it.

“Getting all dumb again? Think if I asked you a trig question, you’d be able to answer?” He teases as he bruises your cervix.

You squeeze around him in retaliation. “Would you?”

His hips stutter a bit and he gets more sloppy. You remember now that he’s a virgin and you’re impressed that he didn’t just cum right away.

“F-Fuck.” 

He begins to truly realize what he’s actually doing. The hottest girl in school is almost fully naked on his bed with his cock balls deep inside of her. He’s going to take full advantage of the situation.

“You’re so pretty.” He says and looks down at your breasts. “Your tits are so pretty too.” He leans down to kiss them, sucking on your nipple. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this. Please let me do it again.”

He isn’t even finished and he’s already begging for more. His pace begins to slow as he keeps sucking on your tits and you know he’s close so you squeeze around him. This time, the action makes him orgasm and thick, hot spurts of cum spill inside you. He lays down on you, happily using your chest as a pillow.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says in a very tired voice. “Did you like it?” He asks.

“Very much.” You say truthfully as you run your fingers through his hair.

He then lifts his head to look at you. “Did you um… cum?”

“Well… no.” His face drops and he feels like he’s failed. He’s also nervous that you won’t like him anymore. “It’s okay though. I never taught you how.”

He thinks on that for a moment and then the sad look leaves his face.

“Let me eat your pussy then.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust.

I'm An Island, But You're An Ocean

Day #13: "Please, stay?" | Word Count: 2191 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Recovering From Injuries | Tags: Post S4, Steve the Caregiver Makes Eddie Want to Run, Self-Sabotage, Angst w/a Happy Ending

They're fighting. Sort of. Kinda. 

Eddie isn't exactly sure what's happening here tonight.

The air feels weird between them, and Eddie wants it to very much stop being whatever this is, immediately.

"Settle down. What's the commotion?" Steve asks, putting his hands on Eddie's shoulders, stilling him.

It pisses Eddie off.

So, he shrugs Steve off, because Steve can't be touching him. Not like that. Not now. Not ever.

Even if he wants him to be. That's exactly why he can't let this continue. It's too dangerous. 

Eddie knows he's being bullheaded, knows he's digging his heels in for no good reason, but he also knows that Steve's pushing. Pushing, pushing, pushing. Always. He never relents. Never gives up about anything that he gets in his head. 

And for some godforsaken reason, Steve Harrington has made him a project. His main one, as far as Eddie can tell. Eddie definitely never asked for, or wanted, that. It makes his teeth itch, to have that kind of attention shoved his way.

Which is weird. Eddie loves attention. But not this specific attention. Because he doesn't know what to do with it. It's too overwhelming.

Steve wants Eddie to eat more. He wants Eddie to walk again. He wants Eddie to go home from the hospital. He wants Eddie to play the guitar. He wants Eddie to take a shower. 

He wants, wants, wants.

Eddie does one thing, and Steve will think up six more to add to the list. It's a never ending list of demands.

And yet, even with all those demands, Eddie isn't sure what Steve wants from him. Not really. It can't actually be the things he's demanding, because those don't affect Steve's life at all. What Eddie does, or doesn't do again, is no concern to him. Eddie can waste away in bed, and Steve Harrington should be unconcerned. Steve doesn't need to be here. He's made his amends, not that any of this was his goddamn fault anyway. Steve didn't drag him into this fucked up mess. Steve didn't bite him, chew him up, and spit him out.

So, he can go.

But he won't budge, just scoffs, and stays. Never taking a goddamn hint. He can't actually be that thick, but Eddie tries to push him away, and Steve moves closer, somehow. It's like they're coming at this from entirely different directions. 

Eddie doesn't know how to make it clear that Steve's repaid his imaginary debt. And Eddie can carry this load, alone. Would prefer it, honestly.

Eddie is an island, Steve is the whole goddamn ocean. 

He's overwhelming, and as much as Eddie wants to grab on, and ride that wave, he's too scared to leave the safety of the shore. Eddie doesn't get things as good, as open, as cool blue as Steve Harrington. Not ever.

"You can leave," Eddie says.

"I don't want to leave," Steve answers, distracted as he looks through their co-mingled tapes. Shuffling, banging them around, like he doesn't have them all memorized. Like he's not gonna choose the same bullshit he always picks.

Eddie can't take another minute of it.

"Well, maybe I don't want you to stay anymore," Eddie snaps, and Steve freezes. He looks like a goddamn deer caught in headlines. Blindsided. Shocked.

Has Steve really never considered that before? That maybe, just maybe, Eddie would like to be alone for a while? Why is that so hard to comprehend?

"Oh," Steve breathes out, and it's like Eddie's slapped him. Then he says, quiet and small, "Sorry. I didn't. Sorry."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, regretful, unable to watch him crumble. Eddie can see that he's made Steve smaller, and it's carving away at Eddie's ribs. 

His heart. 

He didn't mean to do that. He just wanted to usher him out now, ahead of schedule. Rip the bandaid off. Bad news first, always. Get it over with. No reason to let it fester.

And Eddie's life up until this point? Has been pretty much all bad news. 

Eddie opens his eyes, needing to see what Steve's doing. It's too quiet.

And that means he has to watch as Steve starts to gather up his things, all of his things, and they've quite obviously accumulated over the summer. Like everything Steve owns has multiplied and spawned all over Eddie's room. This isn't gonna be fast, because Steve's gonna need more than one box, more than one trip. 

And Eddie can't really help. He just has to watch.

Eddie sits back against the wall, and as soon as Steve's taken the first load out, Wayne is in the doorway. Looking at him with something akin to disapproval. Of course he is.

"Where's Steve goin' with all that stuff?" Wayne asks.

"Don't know, don't care. Out of here," Eddie says, and he refuses to look up. Because he knows Wayne will read him like a goddamn open book.

"Eddie," Wayne says, soft and disappointed.

"Don't Eddie me. He has a life to get back to," Eddie argues. "Steve Harrington can't hole up in the bedroom of a vaguely exonerated maybe murderer. It's absurd."

And Wayne shakes his head, leaving him be. 

Wayne gets him, at least. 

So, Eddie watches as Steve rushes through his departure. 

It looks like a break-up, a moving out, and that's painful in a new way. Since they aren't that to each other, and never will be.

Just when he's gotten it all, or at least everything visible to the naked eye, Eddie thinks they're done here. Finally.

But Steve comes back, this time carrying in, instead of out, and hands over Eddie's battle vest, no longer as nasty as he'd last seen it. 

The blood is mostly scrubbed out, and some of the patches have been replaced by an inexperienced hand. 

"It was supposed to be for your birthday, but, here. The best I could do," Steve says. "It's not great. I'm not great at, well, much. I know."

And Steve pinches his nose, closing his eyes, "Sorry that I overstayed my welcome."

Eddie wants to say he didn't, wants to take it all back, wants to hand over his heart in his trembling hands. Wants to buy anything Steve's selling.

But he can't.

"Thanks for everything," Eddie says, and he means that. He does. He wouldn't be here at all without Steve Harrington. And that's a lot. A lot, a lot.

But Eddie doesn't know how to do this, doesn't think Steve would want him to, even if he knew how. 

"Can you make it easier for me to understand?" Steve asks, and Eddie doesn't exactly follow. 

"Understand what?" Eddie asks, fiddling with his blanket.

"What I did? Or, not what, maybe. Just. When? How long have I been bothering you?"

"You're not bothering me," Eddie says.

"Then, why do I have to go?" 

Eddie closes his eyes and sinks back into the pillows. The big, thick ones that Steve brought him, thinking his were too flat and sad to prop him up while he convalesced. 

"Because you don't want to be here," Eddie says, waving his arms around. It pulls at his scars, the skin tight and wrong, he winces, hand finding his side.

Steve moves, on instinct, taking one step forward before catching himself. Stilling, again.

"You don't get to tell me what I want, Eddie. I guarantee you don't know shit about what I want," Steve says bluntly, and it's the most forceful thing Steve's said to him in months. 

Everything else has been presented as persistent suggestions. This was just a fact. A fact that fucking stings.

"Yeah, well. Nothing in my life ever came with a guarantee," Eddie says, and Steve hangs his head. Eddie doesn't mean to be so fucking negative, but it's hard. He's stuck. Damaged.

Pissed off.

He thumbs at his jaw, his face, forever fucking marred. He doesn't think he was much to look at before, all big eyes and wild hair. But now? Now he is that monster they all said he was. 

Steve reaches for the vitamin e oil on his desk, handing it to him. Every wince he's made, Steve has had a fix for, and he thinks this is gonna fix Eddie's scars. Eddie's skeptical, at best. He hasn't seen any damn difference. It's all still awful.

His face. His chest. His sides. His fucking dick. Well, not his dick. But right above it. His thighs. His calves. His fucking ankle.

He's beyond damaged goods. Not even The Frugal Hoosier would want to sell the wares he's working with now.

Steve is cautious, but he sits on the edge of the bed, quiet for a minute, before finally asking, "Do you really want me to go? Or are you scared I might want to stay?"

Eddie covers his face with his hands. Of course he doesn't want him to go. He wants to keep him for-fucking-ever. He's just not gonna get to, so sending him away now seemed like the best bet to retain any of his sanity at all.

"I'm an island, but you're an ocean," Eddie finally says.

And Steve laughs.

Which makes Eddie smile, reluctantly.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not a songwriter. I can't speak in riddles," Steve says, still smiling.

Eddie doesn't know what it means. Well, he does, but explaining it makes him feel foolish.

But he'll try.

"I can only rely on myself-"

"That's not true," Steve interrupts. "You've got Wayne. And the rest of us."

Eddie holds up his hand, "Let me. Let me try."

Steve nods, motioning like he's zipping his lip. It's charming. But everything about him is charming.

Eddie's so fucking charmed. 

"I'm just me. An island. Solitary and confined to my own little box. And I'm not mad about that. Not anymore. I don't want to be pestered, or poked, or prodded. I just want to exist, cut-off from the world."

Steve's frowning. 

"And you're an ocean. Lapping at my edges, threatening to overtake me at any time. You're a flood, waiting to happen."

"Eddie…"

Eddie shakes his head, "You are. I feel a lot, Steve. I feel a lot, and it's overwhelming to have you surrounding me on all my edges. Looking for a way to breach your way inside."

Steve raises an eyebrow, expert, and fucking funny.

Eddie laughs, "Not like that, pervert."

Steve just smiles, then frowns again, "I'm smothering you, huh? That is a thing I do."

"No. No," Eddie assures. "Well, yes. But I don't hate it. I'm just scared of it."

"I don't want you to be scared of me," Steve says. 

"Well. I am," Eddie answers, and Steve moves to get up, but Eddie reaches out and catches his arm. 

He's already spilled enough for the blanks to be filled in. He can't hide from this. Not now.

So, Eddie tugs on him. Not allowing him to leave, even if that's what he asked for. He doesn't want that now. Never did. He's just a goddamn idiot that loves to run. And well, his body isn't in running condition at the moment. So, chasing away seemed like the next best bet.

Only, Steve's hard to scare away. Thank god.

Steve smiles, and scoots up the bed, until he can sit right next to Eddie. Then he reaches down and takes Eddie's hand. It's not the first time he's held Eddie's hand, he did it a lot in the hospital, but this is different. This time, Eddie's fully with it, and present.

"For what it's worth," Steve says, looking at him, fully. Not shying away from a damn thing, "I'm not scared of you. Or what I feel about you."

Eddie smiles, teasing, "What do you feel about me?"

"Annoyance mainly," Steve snarks, squeezing his hand, "but other things, too."

"I feel other things, too," Eddie admits.

"Good," Steve says, "Now, can I unload my car and stay already? Are we done with this dumb shit you're trying to pull?"

"Yes. Please, stay? Worry about the car tomorrow," Eddie answers, "tonight, just lay here with me?"

"Okay," Steve says, "I can do that."

And Steve helps him get comfortable, like he's done a million times before. A pillow under his knees, rotating his hips just so, everything very carefully choreographed to take the pressure off Eddie's body so he hurts less. 

Steve's an ocean. 

And Eddie will stay surrounded, and float with him for as long as he can.

Eddie picks up Steve's arm from where it's slung over his side, and kisses his palm.

"I'm sorry I was being a dickhead," Eddie says, maneuvering so he can rest his cheek in Steve's palm.

"Oh, I'm used to that," Steve teases, hooking his chin over Eddie's shoulder, pressing his lips to Eddie's other cheek. 

And Eddie turns his head, catching Steve's lips with his own. It's chaste, and a little dry, but for a first kiss it sure feels like the start of something bigger, and better, than Eddie ever could have imagined.

If this is what being swept out to sea by Steve Harrington feels like, Eddie knows he'll happily drown.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieangstyaugust and follow along with the fun angst! 😭

Notes: This has references to You're An Ocean by Fastball in it. This was originally gonna be for SteddieSongFics last month, but I went another way, and expanded this for Angsty August. But the references to the lyrics in the song remained, lol.

[headspace-hotel]

i promised myself "before I go back to school in the fall, something HAS to get better. SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER."

and i made the appointments, had the conversations, I spent hours wringing my brain out googling discussing with friends and family, thinking of SOMETHING, ANYTHING i could approach disability services about now that my previous suggestions had been shot down, and i went there with a list and i was like "hey is there ANY of this stuff you can do to help me" and basically? No

i asked "maybe i could have few extra excused absences so I can rest when i'm overloaded" but the lady was like Well we couldn't do that because you would miss the material in class

I asked "maybe i could have limited group projects so i don't have to be working on something with 4 other people every single day because social interaction is really tiring" she was like Well we can't do it if it would change the course substantially but we can ask that professors tell you if there's going to be lots of group projects so you can drop the class

I asked "maybe i can do in class writing assignments in a separate room so it will be less stressful" she was like well what if we couldn't guarantee that another room would be available where some one could monitor you

This is after the possibility of a partial course load was shot down (i could request it because of 'extenuating circumstances' but there's no guarantee it would be approved, and anyway i don't even know if it would fucking help) and several other things

Going back to school is just weighing on me crushing me. The past two semesters I have been so unrelentingly exhausted, miserable and alone. I hated my classes SO much and spent so much time crying.

All my classes are stupid busy work , just like worksheets that are like "do all these tiny little steps" that micromanage you painfully as if you can't be trusted to have your own independent thoughts" while the professor sits on their phone.

The grades are made up of a thousand tiny bullshit assignments that you have to remember at the right time, if you know the material and even care about learning it, it doesn't even matter.

I took a PLANT science class last semester that I honest to god hated so much it took all the strength in my body to even go to class. I LOATHED it and I got a C in it even though it was highschool level crap and the assignments were so restrictive that they basically punished you for being passionate about anything, I would try to be creative or dig more deeply on things and my classmates (it was always a mother fucking group project because the professor didn't want to fucking lecture, just give us something to kill time like we were fucking preschoolers) hated it because creativity or thinking outside the box would always make the assignment harder for everyone and I would fuck up the grade and it made me feel so ashamed

Same class where the professor said "you can tell this is a peer reviewed journal article because it's written in two columns along the page" like what. What. Huh. What.

There is so little flexibility too like the requirements are so specifically made to "mold" me a certain way. No one sees anything I have already learned or is interested in my potential and ability and passion and keen interest that i HAVE IN ABUNDANCE by the way, and the classes are so boring and passionless

I approached a lady in the arts department about an independent study involving natural plant fibers but she was like "no sorry i only work with seniors and you would have to take these 2 of my other classes"

There is so much more that's stupid and dysfunctional about this college that is too specific to discuss with privacy online, but let it suffice to say that it's a school that wants the reputation of being really challenging and rigorous soooooo bad but it actually just has 1000 inflexible requirements that eliminate everyone's free time and assigns metric tons of tedious busy work, because being "hard" means our academics are "rigorous" right? but the quality of the academics is not good, the classes are not engaging or encouraging you to think more deeply they are just painful.

And no one, fucking no one in these classes is engaging with the work with any energy or passion or enthusiasm, the professors can't get a discussion going, everyone is just staring like a bunch of zombies because their classes r like the equivalent of two full time jobs so of course no one can Engage Deeply with them they have no fucking energy

the food is like eating out of the garbage. they reheat the same pieces of pizza over and over until they're like dried out and leathery like something from a pharaohs tomb. they have bagels kept in a box and they're so stale you can't even bite into them. I got sour, rotten milk from the milk machine so many times my stomach eventually couldn't take drinking milk from there at all.

i hate, hate, hate, HATE that place so much i start crying every time I try to make plans for fall because there is so little fucking joy in my life when i'm there it's like being trapped underground.

[heartsaturn]

We knew the whole time

jack hughes x reader || insta edit

warnings: fluff, swearing, trevor slander (i love him dw)

summary: you and jack have been best friends ever since you were little. you also may or may not constantly act like a couple.

a/n - the devs vs ducks game on sunday was a train wreck so here’s a little fic to comfort everybody, including myself. lets hope the devs vs flyers game is better.

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes and 5,197 others

yourusername jack, thank you for putting up with my bullshit for so long 🫶

tagged: jackhughes

load comments…

lhughes_06 Hmm, some of these pictures are little couple-y don’t you think?

yourusername no! i don’t think!

jackhughes thanks for such a kind caption 😐

yourusername i put a lot of thought into it just for you 🤭

trevorzegras oh?

yourusername i wish i never told you

jackhughes ??

trevorzegras i am also shocked he has put up with you for so long

yourusername i’m a delight!!

elblue6 ❤️❤️

yourusername mama hughes 🥹

user56 are they dating?

user12 no they’ve just been friends since they were little

user34 they’re so cute!

user67 yall can we talk about the last picture? are we sure they’re not dating?

yourusername

liked by _alexturcotte and 10,411 others

yourusername this just in: trevor cannot keep his fucking mouth shut (but we already knew that)

tagged: jackhughes

load more comments…

lhughes_06 barf

yourusername stop being a hater

trevorzegras what is it, bully trevor day? be grateful because without me neither one of you would’ve confessed

yourusername i’m not being grateful to a snitch

trevorzegras low blow 😔

jackhughes i can’t believe how oblivious we both were

yourusername were we really THAT oblivious?

trevorzegras yes

_quinnhughes yes

lhughes_06 yes

_alexturcotte yes

colecaufield yes

yourusername okay i get it now 😥

_quinnhughes you guys are cute ig

yourusername this is why you’re my second fav hughes brother 💙

lhughes_06 i beg your finest pardon???

yourusername sorry lukey

username6 i knew they were dating! (i was being delulu)

username32 what if i lay on a train track tonight 😭

username10 they make me feel lonely

jackhughes added to their story!

[simonisferal]

not you again! “scaramouche x male reader”

episode thirteen: holy shit, am i hallucinating or do i see a bobble-headed bitch coming my way? 📖

warnings: vulgar language, death threats, average scarayn interaction, i lost my train of thought mid sentence and winged it

notes: i rewrote this four times and i hated each version so just have this 😭

words: 900

You remember the last time he looked at you like that.

It was three years ago, the summer you were planning to move from Inazuma. Your parents wanted a new start someplace else.You didn't complain. You couldn't complain. How would you explain everything, let alone anything to those two?

He didn't take it well, as expected. You tried, you really did, but it was a futile attempt as he turned away from you and stormed off.

He is still the same person.

Scaramouche's blood ran cold. Of course he knew you were going to be there—he purposefully went there to see you—but you were different now. Your eyes didn't have the same pain they used to have. Even before the summer started, you managed to harbor some sort of hurt in them. Scaramouche can't figure out if that's a good thing or not.

He looked about the same. The same mole under his left eye, the familiar wrinkle on his cheek when he pressed his lips together, the demure posture he forces himself to wear. His eye bags were heavier and darker, his nose was crooked from where you last touched him, and his hands wavered by his side before he put them in his pocket.

It was probably the flask of vodka Childe decided to sneak in and let you drink that made you remember so much but you speak. "What are you doing here?" You don't miss the way his eyes flicker to the side just for a second, his jaw clenches, or how his grasp inside of his pockets tighten. "Nothing important. I have to do something."

There was an awkward silence that filled the cellar, basement, whatever the bitch is. "Do what?"

It wasn't louder than a whisper but you know he still heard it. Scaramouche opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. He clears his throat. "I need to say…" He pauses. "...Sorry."

It was a confusing feeling. Someone you shared years with, someone who'd never back down easily, someone who'd rather run away from his problems than settle down and work them out, saying sorry. Did he change or is he joking for the hell of it?

"Sorry? Is that all?" You can't help the accusatory snarl that comes out. He could've done anything else, but showing up in person just to apologize is crazy. "Did you really come here for that or did you see me and think it was funny to joke?"

You can tell that he regretted talking to you, maybe even coming from wherever he was, but you didn't care. You continued your little rant, not giving him a chance to speak, "I'm supposed to fucking believe your 'sorry' ass when you can't even look me in the eye? That's a load of bullshit. You're here on someone else's agenda, not yours." You point a finger at him and then retract it for a second before pointing it again, this time with more sentiment.

He looks away from the ground and up at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and a hint of bitterness. "You can't even speak your own mind. Don't come after me with your idiotic view of me."

"Right, because you can." You scoff.

Scaramouche glares at you. He takes a small step closer to you, not really making a difference in the large gap you two have. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means. You think playing ’good little son’ is gonna get you your mother’s favor back? Hilarious."

"I don't want her favor back," He snarks. "I don't need it." He takes a small step closer to you, as if daring you to take one too. He had this strange way of pulling you closer to him.

"Of course! Because you going to Harvard was always the plan—you just needed to convince your mom it wasn't what you wanted, like the manipulator you fucking are." You didn't really care that the music upstairs stopped or that the stairs hesitantly creaked as more weight was put onto them.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You never just have the patience to liste—"

You cross your arms. "Because you do?"

Scaramouche pauses. He never thought you would remind him of his mother in any way; that was one of the traits he liked about you, but now, seeing you 'scold' him as if he's in the wrong just made him feel exasperated. "Stop saying that like I'm the only one with flaws. We both know what sick game you were playing while…"

He can't even get the words out of his mouth.

They tasted too bitter and bloody and he struggled even thinking about it.

"I didn't do anything. And if you weren't so stuck up your ass about how I felt about you back then, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Oh, really now?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned in a bit closer to you. "Where would we be then? Still together?" It was a sick joke, the first thing that came to mind even though he had practiced speaking to you in the car beforehand. He expected a slap, maybe another punch, or an outburst of insults coming his way, but no.

Instead there was just an awkward shift in posture, a pressed frown, and a forced scoff.

"Maybe."

masterlist — prev — next

taglist: @furiscara, @fisbred, @shutingstar, @terapung, @scaradooche,

@yangbbokari, @swivy123, @featuredtofu, @pookiemax, @academiq,

@notrsz, @mercy-not-merci, @kiekole, @pwaap, @vxcmx,

@heusalettle, @khisuko, @neversore, @liuaneee, @popcorn-milk,

@vamxpi, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b2tr09, @ell1e2010, @moonslie04,

@allaboutiknowthatyoubeingdead, @somnium-kiss, @crxwned-mxnarch, @jad3-n, @emptydinner-plate

@alicerosejane, @khsuvy

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (1)

prologue

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: take a shot every time Abby experiences ~gay~

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It all had started when Abby’s nice, perfect, amazing roommate decided to get married at the ripe age of 21 - which Abby didn’t understand at all, but she got invited to the wedding, so she kept her mouth shut about it. Except the marriage meant that her nice, perfect, amazing roommate would move out and go live her dream life with her sweetheart. And although the money wasn’t really a problem - Abby’s dad was a neurosurgeon, which meant he was loaded and Abby didn’t have to worry about anything financially - Abby really didn’t want to bother her dad and spend his money on the whole apartment when she could find a roommate. 

That was how Abby ended up with you as her new nice, perfect, amazing roommate. She didn't even care that the first thing you said to her was that you were a lesbian - which she didn't mind at all, 70 percent of her teammates were not straight, she was used to it, even though she was straight. But after Abby gave herself time to think about it, she understood why you said it right away - not all people were nice, and not all people were okay with living with someone who potentially could be attracted to them. 

Abby was absolutely cool with it.

What she actually cared about was if you left your dishes in the sink, and you didn’t. 

The first week living together was what Abby expected it to be: you both were getting used to your respective schedules, your habits and pet peeves, not talking much - Abby wasn’t sure if you even wanted to be her friend or you’d prefer to just stay as roommates who saw each other twice a day for five minutes. The most you spoke to her was to ask where something was or if it was okay to use something and where you could put all your things. 

Abby thought you were chill and confident with the way you carried yourself - it reminded her of some of her teammates, who were confident in a way girls were not expected to be confident. More like dominant? And they had nothing in common with you. Well, except for the gay thing. Abby wasn’t sure if there was a correlation. 

You both weren't at home a lot, but usually when Abby'd get from practice you'd be already at home and just out of the shower. Abby felt a little awkward when she saw you in a short towel and she tried not to look at you or anywhere dangerous. You didn't seem to notice how she only looked into your eyes when you walked from the bathroom to your room, water running down your neck and your thighs as you said your hellos. Abby didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with her, because she showered with 20 girls on regular basis and it didn’t make sense that she felt the need to look away from you, but who had time to reflect on it? Not Abby.

Abby would hit the shower next and come back to the smell of food in the kitchen - you told her on the first night that you didn't mind sharing your food with her or even cooking for both of you, and Abby quickly agreed to your offer. 

That was a first ritual you two established: Abby'd come home, take a shower and then hang out with you in the kitchen while you were cooking dinner. Today you looked a little tired, and Abby got it - it was Friday and the whole week was hard for both of you with getting back into studying mode. 

“How are you on this god-awful day?” You asked Abby with a small smile while you fried something on the pan. 

“Happy it’s the end of the week.” Abby sighed and leaned back on her chair, relaxing. “Profs are already talking about the finals, so annoying. We just had one class, calm the fuck down.” 

“Yeah. It’s bad for you med students.” You said with no actual compassion, but with a smile. “Sorry, I’m going to remind you that this misery is your choice every time when you’ll be on the brink of death during finals.”

Abby laughed at that.

“Unfortunately for you I’m not the one to complain about my choices.” Abby shot back and you laughed. 

“That’s admirable.” You nodded your head in theatrical appreciation. “Then you can make fun of me during finals because I will be complaining about every little thing. In a funny way, don’t worry.”

“Thanks for clarification.” Abby chuckled. 

“Do you want to watch something after we eat?” You asked casually and Abby felt her heart beating faster - you wanted to be friends with her after all!

"Yeah, sure."

You smiled at Abby and turned the stove off, taking the plates from the cabinet to put your food on. Abby was cool. She was sweet, a little of a scaredy cat with you - you didn’t think anything of it, you just met, maybe she was just awkward with new people. Abby looked confident with her friends and when you saw her in the corridors of your university Abby looked downright intimidating, tall and strong, commanding. At home though? She seemed shy. You supposed she'd get more assertive when she'd get comfortable with you, but even now she seemed like a genuinely cool person. 

You were still dealing with how attractive Abby was, your eyes always lingered on her shoulders and arms - you had a thing for athletes, what can you say - but you tried to suppress it as best as possible. The fact that Abby was so sweet around you didn't really help either, but what we can’t act upon makes us better at repressing, so that was what you were doing for the past week. The best strategy you had was to remind yourself Abby was straight, and it was working, especially if she gave you compliments the way only straight girls did, with this high tone at the end - if Abby wasn’t that buff she’d probably ask where did you get something just to finish you. Thank god you had a very different taste in clothes.

You finished your dinner making a small talk, still getting used to each other's mannerisms and sense of humour, with yours being more dark. Abby was surprisingly good at keeping up with you and not stuttering in shock when you’d say something awful, and it made you smile every time she'd make a comeback that was just as good. Again, it wasn't helping. 

"What do you want to watch?"

"I like horrors, actually." You said as you sat on the other side of the couch, keeping the distance. 

"Yeah, we can watch some horror." Abby shrugged as she sat down and gave you the blanket. "More cosy that way."

You smiled and put it over your lap.

Not. Fucking. Helping. 

Abby watched you getting comfortable and something filled her chest with pride, like providing comfort for you was something important to her. Well, Ellie always said Abby was a mom friend, and she was. She liked taking care of people around her, and now that you were her roommate she'd take care of you too. 

"Do you like horrors too or do you want me to hold your hand during scary moments?" You asked with a smirk, and Abby huffed. 

"Are you trying to trick me into holding your hand?" Abby smirked too, pleased with your little surprised reaction. 

"I'm more of a cuddler." You winked and Abby laughed. She liked how easy it was to banter with you even though you knew each other only for a week. "No, really, are you okay with horror? I don't want you to have nightmares after."

"I'm okay, don't worry." Abby murmured and gave you the remote. "I'm not a big fan, so you choose."

You shrugged and went through the list of horror movies while Abby got comfortable on the other end of the couch, leaning on the arm rest. It felt a little awkward, to be that far away from you - Abby was so used to always being close with her girl friends, but to be fair, you weren’t even friends yet. The movie you picked wasn’t a slasher (“i want to be scared, not grossed out”), but more of a psychological horror that actually made Abby uneasy. And then this movie had a fucking jumpscare that made you both jump and curse out loud. Abby let out a small chuckle and you shared a look between you, silently bonding over a scary feeling. 

“You sure you don’t want to hold my hand?” You teased and Abby rolled her eyes at you, but her heart was still beating too fast from the sudden scare. 

“I’m not a little bitch.” Abby said and smiled when you laughed. 

“Okay, big bad Abby.” You murmured and focused on the movie.

Even though the movie was unsettling, your little bitchy comments were making Abby laugh way more than feeling scared. 

"Do you really enjoy getting scared or are you just choosing something to complain about?" Abby asked with a smile. 

"Horror movies are like straight sex, you know. In theory you get scared shitless, in practice you complain about men not knowing how to scare you." You shrugged and Abby snorted, feeling like this was too real. "Sorry if I'm being crude, I got too comfortable for a second there."

Abby noticed your look, like you were trying to read her reaction if you crossed a line, but Abby only laughed. 

"Do I look like someone who can't take a sex joke?" Abby teased as she stood up, stretching. 

"Should I assume you're tough as fuck because you kick ass?"

"Yeah, you should." Abby murmured and looked in your eyes. There was a second of silence while you just stared back at her, surprised, and Abby felt something warm in her stomach. "Tea?"

"Yeah." 

After that movie night things got so much easier for both of you, and after three weeks of living together you already fell into the routine like you lived for three years already. You became friends very fast, quickly moving from spending evenings in your rooms to spending evenings hanging out in the living room together. It was like you just clicked in all the right places, balancing each other out, and you couldn’t feel more relieved. You were getting used to Abby and your first intense attraction finally ebbed away: you were not going to chase after a straight girl - you were not, in fact, an idiot. And you weren’t going to question her sexuality or try to “turn her gay”, because who were you to tell her who she was? Abby told her she was straight, and that was it. You still enjoyed looking at her and flirting with her, and Abby was an amazing person so it wasn’t hard to like her. But otherwise? Abby was an amazing roommate and even better friend. 

The end of September came around so quickly you didn’t even notice, too busy with classes and tutoring and maintaining some kind of social life, because Cait really needed someone to drag her out from the fucking library and ventilate her big brain. You admired her study habits, but sometimes she’d forget to sleep, and you had to kick her ass and make her take care of herself. That was the price of being friends with the smartest woman on campus.

It was again a Friday night when you cooked and Abby sat at the table while you chatted about your days and plans, now so much more comfortable with each other. You were right, Abby just needed to get used to you in order to stop being so shy and you basked in her confident personality now. 

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“I don’t kno-o-w.” Abby sighed like tomorrow's plans were torturing her. “Ellie wants to go out, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood.”

“Well, I plan to go out too, actually. Maybe we can join forces?” You asked curiously. “I feel like Cait would enjoy Ellie’s company if she is the nerd you’re saying she is.”

“She is an embarrassment.” Abby shrugged and you laughed. “I’m still shocked how she has any game at all.”

“Listen. Is she hot?”

“I guess?”

“Then there you go. She has game because she is hot.”

“That’s kinda shallow.”

“Do you really need to get to know someone better to hook up?” You scrunched your nose in doubt. 

“I mean, some people do.” 

“Then it’s not a hookup anymore, no? I mean, if I just want to get some stress relief do I really have mental space to learn about someone’s political views?”

“So you’ve fucked republicans.” Abby nodded and you laughed. “That’s fucked up, (y/n).”

“You see, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Obviously you won’t miss the fact that they’re an asshole, so if it’s not the case, why not? Dating is a different story though.” 

“Yeah.” Abby nodded again. 

“So are we going out tomorrow?” 

“Well, when I’m attacked on two fronts I don’t feel like I have a choice.” Abby chuckled the way it made you hot, but yet again you pushed the stupid feeling down. 

Abby watched you cook as she was digesting what you’ve just discussed. It was the first time you acknowledged your sex life and Abby felt a little uneasy. Sex talk didn’t make her uncomfortable, and other people’s experience didn’t make her feel insecure, so she really couldn’t place why she felt just a little icky. Maybe your crudeness finally crossed her line? But Abby wasn’t sensitive to such topics, Ellie talked her ear off with her sex escapades, so why did she feel so strange? Her stomach growled and suddenly everything made sense: she was just in a low, sensitive mood because she was hungry and tired. 

And indeed her mood got better after she took the first fork filled with pasta and her stomach was now growling in happiness. 

“There’s a whole whale living in your stomach.” You smirked, but your stomach growled too and Abby snorted.

“Seems like you had one too.”

“Whale to whale communication.” You shrugged and Abby chuckled. “Have you ever listened to whale songs?”

“No. But I heard they’re supposed to help you relax.” 

“Well you’re listening to one now, so you tell me if you’re relaxed.”

“Oh I’m so relaxed I’d listen to the sound of not being hungry for hours.” Abby said and watched you roll your eyes fondly, because you looked so funny when you did it and Abby liked it. Abby’s phone buzzed with a notification and she unlocked it, but the clock caught her eye. “It’s almost 8, don’t you have a lesson?”

You looked up with saucers of the eyes and Abby laughed at how shocked and scared you got.

“Fuck!” You said with a mouth full of food as you jumped out of your chair while Abby laughed at you. “Fuck, how much time do I have?”

“Three minutes.”

“Shit. Fuck, can I ask you to sort this out?” You nodded at the food on the stove and at your plate. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, don’t worry.” Abby said gently, trying to soothe you. “Go teach poor kids.”

You nodded and ran to your room to get yourself set up, and Abby finished her dinner while texting Ellie. 

from: els

soooo

are we going out tomorrow ?

to: els

you r so annoying 

but yes

(y/n) wants us to go together, she is going out with a friend too 

from: els

oooh

coooool

you mean I’ll meet the smart sexy lady you live with?

Abby rolled her eyes - she mentioned once that you were smart and she was learning some things from you and Ellie couldn’t leave her alone after that.

to: els

yeah 

but don’t be a dick to her

from: els

excuse me

I would never be a dick to a lady

to: els

you’re a dick to me all the time

from: els

who said you were a lady 

The audacity of this bitch, Abby thought as she sent Ellie a not so sweet sticker. She finished her dinner while bickering with Ellie and then tidied the kitchen. Your lessons were usually around an hour, so Abby didn’t need to hurry. She washed the dishes and put leftovers away. Abby thought it was so nice of you to cook for both of them, it was warming her heart - she didn’t like cooking, and having someone to take it off her was so amazing. God if you weren’t busy she’d hug you right now, she was so grateful.

But Abby settled for setting up her favourite part of Friday nights: beating your ass in Mortal Combat. What can she say, seeing you riled up but helpless against her, cursing her but unable to win anyway - fuck, Abby loved it. Now she'd just need to wait for you.

[dreamwatch]

Looking California, Feeling Indiana

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #28 - Prompt: Back To Indiana | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: chronic illness | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: pre-Steddie, broken dreams, band break up

(I’m laptop-less tonight so hoping typos etc aren’t too bad - I’ll fix them tomorrow 😆)

The logistics of getting home are left to Jeff. They have a van that might get them from California to Indiana, a station wagon that should get them there, but six years worth of possessions and equipment into a van and station wagon doesn’t go. They sell a load of their shit before heading home. It’s not like they need most of it anyway.

It’s a sombre journey, so different to the one they made to Los Angeles six years ago, so full of hope and excitement, one step closer to their dream. They could have stayed and just built lives there, grounded ones, sensible jobs, sensible hours, sensible lives. But Eddie needed to go back, even if it was just for a few months; he’s twenty seven in a few weeks and he feels like a seventy year old. New aches over old hurts, mystery illnesses slowing him down.

(He knows they’re Upside Down related, knows no one can do anything about them, and knows they’re getting worse. He hates knowing things.)

The Welcome To Hawkins sign looks new; Wayne said it still gets vandalised from time to time, a new one in its place the next morning, reckons they’re buying them in bulk.

Jeff drops Eddie off first because Wayne’s waiting around to see him and get his shit inside before he has to get to work. He’s sixty five now. He shouldn’t be working in that fucking plant anymore. How many times did Eddie say one day Wayne, you’ll see. Useless fucking liar.

They hug, they eat, Wayne looks him over with a sigh; he’s too thin, too pale, leaning on that cane a little too heavily. Eddie knows it comes from love but it’s a lot.

Wayne grabs his keys and his lunch box. “Steve called, by the way. Numbers on the fridge.” There’s a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s good to have you home, Bub.”

Bub. Wayne hasn’t called him that in years, and Eddie smiles to himself, surprised at how much he missed it.

He calls Steve, yeah journey was okay, no roads were fine, yeah all settled in. Steve tells him he’s coming to get him, they’re going for dinner, no arguments and he finds he has in fact no intention of arguing.

Steve looks good. He seems broader, hair is longer which thrills Eddie, and the wire rimmed glasses are like a glacé cherry on the cake that is Steve Harrington.

He gets a whistle stop tour of his friend’s lives, Steve so proud of all their achievements. Tells him Hawkins is different now, friendlier, more welcoming. Happier.

They pick at fries, Steve pushing his pickles to the side of the plate for Eddie. Eddie does his best to hide his smile.

“How are you? You look…”

“‘Tired and too thin’ according to my dear, beloved uncle.”

“I was going to say ‘good’, actually, asshole.”

He grabs a fry from Steve’s plate, drags it through Steve’s milkshake. “Don’t lie to me, Steven.”

“Wayne told me, about your health, the band splitting up. I’m really sorry, man. That fucking blows.”

“Thanks,” he says with a wan smile. “It does indeed blow.”

“You know you probably just need some rest. Give it six months, and you’ll all be back in LA, tearing the place up. You were so close, man.”

He snorts, a humourless laugh. “Yeah, not so much actually.”

Steve leans back in the booth, arm hooked over the back

“Bullshit. You had label guys there just a couple of months ago, and it’s slow, remember you said yourself, it takes time, you don’t just get signed overnight.”

“Steve,” and he says it gently, because Steve means well, and he’s supported them, financially at times, when he was too embarrassed to call Wayne. Steve would send a check or wire him money. And even thinking about that makes this so much harder. 

“There was no label guy. There’s never been a label guy. Or girl, for that matter.”

Steve frowns at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

And this is it, isn’t it? This is the moment he has to release it into the world.

“I’m going to tell you something nobody else knows. Not even Wayne.”

Steve leans forward, arms crossed on the table. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“We failed, Steve. We failed. The last gig we played was about nine months ago, some frat house party Gareth found for us. It was shit. Because we were shit.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Steve. We didn’t have a hope in fucking hell. Do you know how many bands there are in LA? How few of those ever get a sniff of a record deal.” He shrugs, casual. The sting from the hurt doesn’t burn quite as much as it used to. “We just weren’t good enough, that’s all.”

Eddie watches as the cogs in Steve’s head turn, trying to lock into place. “But your health…”

“Is not great. I didn’t lie about that. But, I leant into it. It’s easier to blame a bum leg and chest infections than admit you’ll never achieve your dream because you’re not talented enough and you’re fucking delusional.”

“You are talented,”

“We’re not. Or, not enough, anyway.”

“What are you gonna do? What are they gonna do?” 

“Wayne’s trying to find me work at the plant. Jeff is talking about community college. Matt will probably go work for his dad. Gareth’s probably going to go to Indy, find a band there. Good luck to him.”

Steve drives him home, actual home now, not that dirty little apartment in LA, but a place where he’ll always be wanted. Will always be good enough. 

They pull up outside the trailer, and Steve reaches over, grabbing Eddie’s hand. It’s clumsy and awkward, but the intent is clear. Trying to pick things up where they left them.

“It’s good to have you home, man.”

“It’s good to be home.”

He’s surprised to find he means it.

[haoboutyou]

foolish one (stop checking your mailbox) | joshua hong

fluff, slightly suggestive | 1154 words | some cursing

a/n: wifey @bluehoodiewoozi: "if you write me an encouraging boyfriend shua x burnt out uni student y/n fic, i'll be the happiest woman on earth" except I wrote none of that :D

The university has dedicated study rooms all around campus, providing a conducive space for students to catch up on their coursework, computer work, or reading. It’s a great place to comfortably work on thesis papers without the stuffy silence of the library, or the rowdiness of the campus courtyard. It is not, unfortunately, a good place to audibly express disappointment every 10 minutes.

Joshua can’t take it anymore. How many times does he have to watch you check your phone whenever a notification pops up, how many times does that hopeful look on your face morph into disappointment when it was just another push-ad from a shopping app? 

He’s just about had it when you let out an audible sigh for the nth time, once again disrupting your supposedly productive study session. And so he bites the bullet, hoping that whatever it is that is distracting you from completing that dreaded thesis is worth all the sighing for.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Huh?” You look up from the laptop, annoyed that he distracted you just as you were about to concentrate.

Right on cue your phone lights up. He snatches the phone faster than you could reach for– it prompts a disgruntled “Shua no!” out of you. Joshua gives the notification a once over before he places the phone screen-up, crossing his arms. 

“You can’t possibly be waiting for–” He squints at the screen, reading out the pop-up banner. “ ‘60% off your next coffee’– Oh… That’s a really good deal.” He looks back up at you, watching as you sink back into your seat at the announcement. “Anyways, you’re clearly not waiting for the coffee. Spill.”

A minute of silence passes as Joshua watches you gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing but unable to find the right words to convey your current dilemma.

“...It’s Lucas–“ 

“You’re still talking to him?!” His disrupted yell earns him multiple death stares from others in the study room. 

You wince at his outburst, but you know it comes from a good place. Lucas, despite being known as the worst frat boy to come out of this university, is also the smoothest talker; somehow, he manages to get every girl on campus swooning at his feet. Joshua personally thinks he’s just a load of bullshit, that you could do better than that walking STD stick. Still,  he sighs when he sees your downcast look, staring blankly ahead at your dimmed laptop screen. 

“Y/n, he’s a player. You got a taste of his dick once and it was good, sure, but you didn’t mean anything to him. I’m serious!”

You hate the connotation that came with his words– it felt like he was calling you a whore. Your brows furrow deeper. You know he didn’t mean to, but it still sounds like that, and it still hurts. 

He realises his mistake almost immediately because as soon as those words come out, he backpedals on them so fast.

“No wait, I– I didn’t mean–” He’s instantly shut down by you, cutting through him like a knife.

You avoid looking straight into Joshua’s eyes, fighting the magnetic pull towards his chocolate eyes. Your next words are soft enough that he has to strain his ears to pick them up. “He isn’t like that though. He said what we had was different! He said I was special, that–“

“That no other girl could compare to you? Y/n, he says that to everyone!” Joshua’s exasperated. His heart breaks a little when he spots how glassy your eyes have become, but he presses on, wanting to tell you the hard truth. “Do you know what he does back at the frat house? He marches around, boasting about how many he’s slept with and what they’re like in bed. He shares those stories like some kind of sick trophy. He’s a disgusting, sorry excuse of a man!” 

Joshua leans forward across the table, engulfing your small hands with his. He rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs, trying to comfort you when notices silent tears running down your face.

“No…” You hiccup, trying to get your words across your sniffles. “I swear, I can change him!” Even you know how ridiculous you sound; there's no changing a fratboy so set in his ways like Lucas. You slump over your laptop, begrudgingly wallowing over your words. You sigh. It’s impossible. You’re just a hopeless romantic chasing after the affections of a man who gave you an ounce of attention.

“I really thought he was gonna be the one, Shua.”

 “There, there. You could do so much better and you know it. Don’t be so foolish!”

“Like who?!” You can’t help but snap at him. You’re desperate, of course; trying to shield your already humiliated and broken heart from his harsh (albeit truthful) words.

His voice drops to a whisper. 

“Like me?”

His grip on you hardens. There’s determination and endearment directed straight at you, that you’ve never noticed before, pouring through his eyes. He gulps; his biggest secret is out. The long-time crush he’s been harbouring on you is now public– to you, at least.

“I can treat you better.” He reaches out to wipe a tear from your cheek, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

You sigh. You’re doing a lot of that today; it's becoming a bit pathetic. “Shua, I'm not in the mood for you joking–”

“I’m not! Hell, I’m already letting you wear my jacket!” He tries to be serious, gesturing to the oversized jacket he lent you earlier, that envelops you around your shoulders. 

He heaves a sigh of relief when you let out a chuckle. His large hands find yours again. You feel yourself calming down, but your cheeks still heat up from his sudden proximity. 

You cock your head to the side. “Why didn’t you say anything before? I mean–” You gesture to the space between you. “Before all this?”

“Because you looked so happy, and I was afraid of ruining it all.” A shy smile graces his face. “Let me make up for it, please?”

You hold your stare, making him wait in anticipation. Finally, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you reply. 

“Buy me lunch, and I’ll think about it.”

“Lunch? Yeah, I can do that.” He can’t help but full-on grin at you. Standing up to gather his things, he extends a hand to pull you up. Ever the gentleman, you think. 

“Lucas was pretty good in bed though. Think you can one-up that?” You joke.

Joshua pulls you into his chest, one arm wrapping around you while the other picks up your bag. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you an even better time later.” 

“Later…?” Your voice trails as you let him whisk you away for lunch. He wiggles his brows at you, mischievous demeanour unveiling. 

And so, your thesis remains incomplete yet another day.

[johannestevans]

Hi, as an intersex trans masc person I was just wondering if I could ask/clarify a couple things about your posts about being referred to as "afabs"

This is entirely out of a desire to better understand other perspectives so I'm sorry if its a bother, it isn't intended that way

Is it that you generally dislike being referred to as afab because it references a gender that is not your identity, or is it specifically it being used as a noun that causes the issue?

If it is the noun issue, could I ask if you can elaborate on why?

I was under the impression that afab/amab were useful and accepted ways to refer to someone's physical sex at birth, which is what is relevant in discussion about pregnancy etc. Have I misinterpreted something here?

(I'm also autistic so idk if I've missed some tone issue or sarcasm or implication here, I'm just trying to understand better so I don't offend others)

I hope you're doing well and thanks for your time x

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS "PHYSICAL SEX".

And even if there were, right?

Calling me an "AFAB", the implication is meant to be that BECAUSE I was assigned female at birth and had ~female parts~, that means I must have ~female parts~ now, as if these things don't change with time and hormones and surgery, as if because I was erroneously described as female, I am the same physically as I was as an infant, and therefore I share in common everything with anyone else who was also described as female at birth, erroneously or otherwise.

Of course anything to do with being "female" isn't my fucking identity, as a man.

AFAB and AMAB stand for Assigned Female at Birth and Assigned Male at Birth.

Being assigned male or female was an event that happened in the past. I was also a fucking baby at birth. I'm not a baby now, am I? Just because I was an infant then doesn't mean you would prefer to me as an ex-infant or previously an infant. That has 0 bearing on my identity as an adult. It's bizarre to bring it up.

AMAB and AFAB are perfectly useful terms to describe that specific event - the event at birth when you were assigned a sex, incorrect or otherwise.

What relevance or frankly, business, is it of anyone's what sex a ten-year-old was assigned at birth? A twenty-year-old? A forty-year-old? A seventy-year-old?

There are loads of trans people who never went through the wrong puberty, and have had various surgeries. There are plenty of trans people who have been stealth since they were kids, where many of the people around them never had any idea they were trans and/or intersex, and they just went through the puberties they were most comfortable with.

There is no "AFAB" or "AMAB" experience that is universal to everyone based on what sex they were assigned at birth. That is a lie, it is a fiction, and it's not even a convincing once if you actually talk to a variety of other trans and intersex people. Words to the contrary are generally just based in gender essentialist ideology.

What does it have to do with anything, except that some freaks basically still think of assigned sex at birth as what you "really" are, or having a big impact on your current identity in perpetuity?

In a few years, the abilities of surgeons around uterine transplants will have improved. Within twenty years, I expect we'll see more trans women having pregnancies, and in general more people carrying pregnancies after having womb transplants and other organ transplants.

Just say "people who can get pregnant". Just say "people carrying pregnancies" and "pregnant people".

Stop trying to imagine that someone's ~femaleness~ or ~maleness~ is what the crux of the matter is here. Stop trying to project the male and female """"""biological""""" bullshit onto people when it doesn't apply to them.

There is no such thing as universal biological or physical sex under male and female categories, let alone shared experiences based on those categories.

Just eliminate that shit from your mind. It's a fucking cancer.

[fawfulydoo]

I love your adult Dib design so much and I adore how it’s a love-letter to the early internet. Can you talk a little about him like… what you imagine for him lore wise? I can’t really articulate it right, just like… what do you imagine he’s up to? :3

Also, would you be comfortable with fan art of him with your credit? I’m sorry if this was,,/,,/,/, a loaded ask your art just means a lot to me and i appreciate it a lot :,) 🫶

AAAH YAY THANK YOU!!! And of course!! I have some ideas for what lead him to that point and what he'd currently up to. (AND YES FANART WOULD BE AWESOME!!!)

I imagine what happens to him over the years is that he begins to distance himself from his current situation and goes and finds people who actually want him around and appreciate his presence/have shared interests. I'd imagine he'd find people like this on internet forums. When he graduates highschool and finally gets to have a chance at restarting his reputation and having a fresh start at adulthood.

I'd imagine he starts out working some bullshit jobs that just get him by comfortably and not really anything in relation to science or anything as this is just like, REALLY boring to him. This would give him enough time to himself to indulge in his interest in paranormal studies and such. In the current day (to him) he's 22 and working as a bartender. I don't exactly know why I picked that job, but he enjoys it and he appreciates the tips. He finds working jobs completely separate to his interests is a lot better for him in the long run (very relatable to me as a neurodivergent person) and is overall VERY much happier and less stressed than he was as a child.

I would imagine at some point he'd probably pay ZIM a visit, as he sometimes wonders what he's up to. I thought of a little storyline in which they regain contact and it's a little different now, as it's like 10 years later, and highlights their differences in their perceptions of time. I don't really know if i'd actually write this though because idk what i'd really do with it.

That's about it though! If i think of anything else I'll add it later in a reblog. Ty again for the ask!!

[lalune9x]

SCTIR Translation - Chapter 468: Even A Good Person (4)

Note: This chapter contains major spoilers for the China kidnapping arc. Additionally, understanding one of Yoojin's comments to Sung Hyunje in this chapter involves a fairly big spoiler for the Christmas Dungeon, which I've explained under the cut.

I think this chapter is very much worth reading, but those wary of spoilers may want to avoid it for now.

"Because I wanted to tell only Han Yoojin-gun." "…That you want us to part ways? That you’re leaving?" I asked. "You think too negatively."

Story context and chapter translation under the cut.

Story context: In the Christmas Dungeon based on the pre-regression world, Yoojin allowed himself to get possessed by the Crescent Moon. Using her power, he fought the others, including Sung Hyunje. Hyunje was really uhhh excited by that Yoojin and the prospect of having Yoojin seriously fight him, but that didn't exactly occur for reasons I won't spoil. Anyway, that's what Yoojin references in this chapter.

Also, I did my best to interpret the Chinese characters' names into authentically Chinese-sounding ones based on common CN to KR transliteration rules. So 황림 (Hwang Rim) = Huang Lin, and 초화운 (Cho Hwaun) = Chu Huoyun. I don't speak Chinese though, so please let me know if these names don't seem right.

---

Chapter 468: Even A Good Person (4)

"First of all…"

I swallowed dryly. The wind brushing against my back suddenly felt colder. It was already November, and the nights were getting quite chilly. When I had regressed, it had been the beginning of summer. 

"How much do you know... and since when?"

Moon Hyuna was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs that she would appear either. She wasn’t the type to leave me behind for no reason, which meant that something must have happened to hold her up.

"…Damn it, were you enjoying yourself?"

The fact that they’d even prepared to keep Moon Hyuna away meant that, in the end…

"You must have made contact before today’s banquet, at minimum. So, you were just watching? Did you just want to see me get rejected?"

"I’ll say that I didn’t see anything," Sung Hyunje said, his gaze softening slightly. "I went up to the rooftop as planned, confirmed Han Yoojin-gun’s presence, then parted ways with Moon Hyuna and came down here. So I neither saw nor heard anything from that point onward. You didn’t agree to date, by any chance, did you?"

"…No."

I had expected to get rejected anyway, but I’d been thoroughly kicked to the curb.[1]

"More importantly, you deliberately came outside and took your eyes off me. Did you trust Chloe-ssi that much?"

Even though the distance from the rooftop was quite far, if something had gone wrong, he could have attacked Chloe immediately. But to casually walk inside and take the elevator down? No way. No matter how capable Sung Hyunje was, he didn’t have x-ray vision.

"I trusted Han Yoojin-gun."

"You kept your mouth shut before, but now you’re spewing a load of bullshit. Sorry, Gyeol. Let’s cover your ears for a moment."

When I tried to cover Gyeol's perked-up ears with my hands, he shook his head. I whispered, "Just for a second," and he pouted but reluctantly used his own front paws to cover his ear tips. The sight was so cute that some of the frustration inside me eased a little.

"I knew you were shameless," I said. "So yeah, fine, I guess I was an idiot for never doubting you despite knowing that. You handed over that information really damn fast—was it since then? Did you two meet that same day?"

It was possible. Sung Hyunje had no reason to report to me about meeting Chloe or anyone else. Even now, he hadn’t actually deceived me; he simply hadn’t told me. Maybe I should be grateful that he even came forward like this instead of keeping me completely in the dark.

And yet, I didn’t just feel disappointed—I was actually angry. Sung Hyunje had been really considerate towards me lately. Maybe that was why. It seemed I had fallen under the delusion that he would help me readily and share everything with me. Even though there was no reason for him to do so.

"Well, whatever." I exhaled a long breath. "I think I was too comfortable with you, Sung Hyunje-ssi. Getting this cold shower has sobered me up a bit."

Sung Hyunje only raised his eyebrows slightly without saying anything.

"If this was a decision you made out of necessity, I can understand. So please just tell me."

If the other side had offered him a way to completely break free from the Crescent Moon, I could understand why he went along with it. Honestly, if they said they could help me get my brother back and keep all my loved ones safe, I’d be tempted too.

"I thought you would catch me," Sung Hyunje said.

"What? Are you serious? And I only said I’d understand, not that I’d let it slide. If you get in my way, do you think I’d overlook it just because it’s you? I treat you well now because we’re on the same side. But if you were on the opposite side, I’d crush you first."

I wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly until I dealt with him. Really. Not only because of his abilities but because of how much he knew. Just thinking about it sent a chill down my spine.

Two S-ranks. Grace was on my ankle, and that damn Sung Hyunje knew that fact too. The distance to the lounge was quite far, but they’d all rush over immediately if I just set off a single bomb. Was Jason also on Chloe’s side? If I excluded Moon Hyuna, there were three or four of them.

I could share the double attack buff. Sung Hyunje knew that, too. Noah’s skill wasn’t usable yet. The cooldown period was long, given how potent it was. If we could use it, our victory would be practically guaranteed, but...

"Sung Hyunje-ssi," I started.

In order for me to catch him properly... fortunately, it happened to be nighttime, and the moon was hanging over us.

"Back then, I was quite lenient with you," I said.

"If you talk like that, how can I not get excited?"

"So come clean to me. What are your real intentions?"

"I did receive a proposal," Sung Hyunje admitted.

He pulled out a letter from his inventory. Both the stationary and envelope seemed to be dungeon byproducts.

"Before the banquet started. To be precise, just before Han Yoojin-gun came down."

The tension in my body slightly eased. If it happened around that time, I could understand why he didn’t tell me. There wasn’t much time, and rather than changing plans on the spot, it made sense to confirm Chloe’s intentions first. It might be easier to make a clear judgment if I probed Chloe without knowing anything beforehand.

"Then what about Hyuna-ssi?" I asked.

"Hunter Miller doesn’t know much about the situation either. She just had no reason to refuse," Sung Hyunje said. "She doesn't accept my requests if she doesn't feel like it," he added.

Because she was an S-rank Hunter too, even though he was her Guild Leader. It was the same with Yerim; even though she was a Haeyeon Guild member, Yoohyun couldn't order her around as he pleased.

Anyway, it seemed Evelyn had been the one tasked with keeping Moon Hyuna away.

"What do you mean she didn’t have a reason to refuse? She didn’t even know the situation," I said.

"Because if there was an incident, I’d be the one to take the blame as Guild Leader. Unfortunately, it seems they didn’t clash too violently. Or perhaps they moved to another location?"

So... he set the stage for Evelyn-ssi to freely provoke a fight with Moon Hyuna? I thought Hyuna-ssi disliked Evelyn-ssi one-sidedly, but maybe Evelyn was wary of Hyuna too? And what was that "unfortunately" about? Was he fanning the flames for them to fight?

"I’m not asking how you held Hyuna-ssi back. I’m asking why."

If he’d kept her away just to show me the letter, then I’d gladly welcome it. Show it to me. But instead of handing it over, Sung Hyunje put the letter back into his inventory. And then—

"….!"

Suddenly, my wrist was grabbed. The speed was too fast for my eyes to follow. He pulled and spun me half a turn as if we were dancing, moving me from the railing to the glass door. The little fairy dragon growled softly and Sung Hyunje released my wrist. The lamps set up on the railing shone from behind him, casting a long shadow that obscured his face.

"Because I wanted to tell only Han Yoojin-gun."

"…That you want us to part ways? That you’re leaving?" I asked.[2]

"You think too negatively."

"Then why don’t you act properly? Suddenly doing something like this without saying a word, what am I supposed to think? Tell me clearly, exactly what you want from me."

"Act selfishly," Sung Hyunje said in a voice without any inflection.

"…What?"

"Or how about wiping your mind clean?"

"…What the hell are you saying?"

Chloe, who had been standing a little distance away from us, frowned. If she had a similar personality to Director Song’s, then even if she disliked me, she wouldn’t stand by and let an F-rank be threatened by an S-rank. Ironically, she might protect me even from Sung Hyunje.

"I'm saying there are those kinds of urges.[3] It’s been a while since we returned from China," Sung Hyunje said. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that looked like it had been drawn on. "I’ve been waiting all this time, you see. Waiting for something big to happen."

"I really have no idea what you mean."

"If I said it first, there’d be no meaning in it," he replied.

"…I genuinely don’t know what you want. Are you saying you’re waiting for me to do something?"

"Exactly."

The look in Sung Hyunje's eyes as he gazed down at me felt momentarily chilling. At the same time, I felt the urge to grab him by the collar and demand what the hell he wanted from me. Damn it, did he think he was some kind of ancient god? Dropping vague hints and waiting to see if I walked the path he wanted, praising me if I got it right?

"Why should I do what you want?"

"It’s not just me." Now his voice turned infuriatingly gentle. "It's what many people want."

"…I really want to hit you right now."

"I thought playing the role of the villain might not be a bad idea, if it was for that purpose. It might even be fun," Sung Hyunje said playfully, his attitude shifting completely from how it had been a moment before.

"Ah, you insane bastard."

I thought he’d changed, but no, he was still the same. Unpredictable, inscrutable, impossible to pin down. What did he want me to do in the first place, seriously? Did I annoy him in some way? I knew I had many shortcomings, but I’d worked hard. If he thought that wasn’t enough, despite all the hardship I went through, then damn it, just rip me open already.

"I may not understand the conversation, but please don't commit evil acts lightly," Chloe interjected with a serious expression. "Especially considering your position as the Sesung Guild Leader. The fallout would be far too great."

…To say something like that, was she really not with Park Hayul after all?

"By the way, Chloe-ssi. Do you know anything about my abduction to China?" I threw the question out vaguely. I didn’t expect her to give much of an answer.

"I am deeply sorry about that matter," Chloe said.

"…Excuse me?"

"Now this is unexpected," Sung Hyunje remarked, slightly taken aback, turning to look at Chloe.

She continued speaking calmly, as if she had never intended to hide anything in the first place.

"Officially, I came to deliver a letter to the Sesung Guild Leader. But personally, I also wanted to check on Director Han Yoojin’s condition."

"But you said you didn’t like me?"

"Personal feelings aside, Director Han Yoojin was still a victim."

"Are you admitting you had some connection to the kidnappers? Can I record this?" I asked.

"I wasn’t involved, but I didn’t put a stop to it either."

It seemed she felt guilty for knowing about it but doing nothing.

"I agreed that it was the solution with the least amount of harm. With Director Han Yoojin’s abduction, the military’s threat could be neutralized."

"…I’d like to hear more details," I said.

"Huang Lin made contact first."

…What? Well, I’d somewhat suspected it, but he really wasn’t on the military’s side.

"He warned that if the military gained full control over the Dokkaebi King, the standoff with the Murim Alliance would collapse completely. He said that would create issues. He also mentioned the potential for long-range portals to be used for invasions of other countries."

Thinking about it, it was terrifying. If undead Hunters were unleashed through long-range portals… Not to mention, there were many high-rank Hunters in China that were unknown to the public, so other countries wouldn’t even know where these high-rank undead were coming from.

"So they kidnapped me to draw in the Korean Hunters? Couldn’t they have just requested our cooperation?"

"That would have sparked an international conflict."

She wasn’t wrong. Since I’d been kidnapped, the Korean Hunters had been able to raise hell in China while everyone else turned a blind eye.

"Also, Director Han Yoojin's abduction was necessary to provide a plausible reason for the approach to Nosan Island. It would have been possible to carry out the plan to capture the Korean Hunters there."

"It was a success, but if it had failed, wouldn’t we have been the only ones sacrificed?"

"The Korean Hunters were stronger than anticipated. Originally, Huang Lin and some of his faction had planned to assist, but it turned out they weren’t needed."

…Is that why Huang Lin had just grabbed Chu Huoyun and left back then? Once the dokkaebis escaped and Yoon Yoon went berserk, his job was done?

"And you’re just telling me all this?"

"I was planning to inform you before I left the country, assuming your condition was okay. I also have a letter from Huang Lin. Would you like to receive it?" Chloe carefully watched my expression as she said this.

With a small sigh, I held out my hand. Honestly, Chloe telling me she disliked me had shocked me more than anything involving Huang Lin. Huang Lin was just a distant memory by now. Chloe pulled the letter from her inventory and handed it to me. I wondered what nonsense he had written, but put it in my inventory for the time being.

"So the conclusion is, kidnapping me was done with good intentions. Is that it?" I said.

"Of course, it was wrong," Chloe firmly stated. So then…

"Does that mean you’ve parted ways with Park Hayul’s mysterious noonim, whose name I still don’t know?"

"No."

…What? Seriously?

"I can't tell you any more details than this. If you want revenge, I understand. But I will resist." She bowed her head slightly, apologizing for the offense, and then turned to Sung Hyunje. "I will ask for your reply before I leave the country."

With that, Chloe turned, opened the glass door, and left. I felt even stranger than when the system message had appeared. Hearing that someone acted with good intentions but used twisted methods grated at my heart. It would have been easier if she had just been a bad person.

"If I may offer a piece of advice," Sung Hyunje said, turning his gaze to me. "Even good people can become enemies at any time."

"…I know. Even among those who cursed at me, I’m sure there were many good and kind people."

"And anyone trying to harm Han Yoojin-gun is an enemy, regardless of their intentions."

Was he really saying this right after he said he’d play the villain? I swallowed my question of whether that meant Sung Hyunje could be one of those people too.

---

Footnotes:

[1] The Korean word for "get rejected" (차이다) also means "to get dumped/broken up with". So yes, the ambiguity of whom Yoojin is so broken-hearted about is even stronger in Korean.

[2] "갈라서다 (to part ways)" is also used in the context of "to break up/divorce".

[3] It also sounds like he is saying "I mean that I also have that kind/those kinds of urge(s)." ("그런 충동도 있다는 거라네.")