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#pathological laughter
olgmskaya · 5 months
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just made a social error and i swear to god i heard the baby crying sound effect
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hydrostorm · 2 years
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we need more characters who laugh uncontrollably
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meirimerens · 2 years
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i have three million thoughts about the fact that sebastian has bandages wrapped around his hand/wrist in the second game that are in a position that imply he attempted suicide, but most of them are OGHHH ;_;
gonna be real i think if it was a suicide attempt the bandage would reach higher (i realize how weird this sounds and i don't want to sound like i'm Expert. but then just saying that was weirder than not saying that) However from the position on the wrist and hand i can assume Nothing Good happened here. to me (and i have written this) he's a guy who gets into glass easily... OGHHH indeed you and me both
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hyewka · 5 months
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idk if this is allowed but,
threesome with yeonjun and beomgyu
⭑ fetish! | c.yj & c.bg ࿐
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⭑ synopsis; when a late night conversation with soju and beer transforms into the calling out of choi beomgyus historical pattern of hook up bluffs the attention eventually shifts to you and your sex endeavors.
⭑ warnings; inexperienced!reader, sort of soft dom!yj & switch!gyu, cunninglingus, gagging, throat fuck, cum eating, unsafe sex, creampie, basically all of them are drunk to some degree, iffy word choice with consent but its all definitely consensual, doll/baby petname, childhood best friends/college au
⭑ note; i don’t know how to feel about this at all and i feel like i might wake up one day and just randomly despise it with my entire being but here is a threesome fic long overdue on this blog, take it with what you will because this might just be the last time i ever attempt to challenge my skills 😭
⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!
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“So what if we didn’t go all the way, I still got to eat her out. Which she loved F.Y.I.”
Yeonjun snorts, downing his drink. “Dude you’re such a loser.”
“Just say you don’t get bitches like I do.”
You don’t mean to, but that’s what breaks your nonchalance, cracking up like that was the funniest thing you’ve heard.
Like clockwork, both of their heads turn to you expectantly, as if remembering that you’re here with them and you know you just messed up. Maybe if you keep looking at your phone they’d know to leave you alone.
This has been a thing since highschool; their dumb Who Gets More Action wars that served almost no purpose but to stroke their young male egos. More times than you could count, you’re for some reason sucked in as the end all be all judge even if there were others present they could go and bother with details of their sex life.
You’re not letting that happen tonight. You will not become Simon Cowell of who fucks more.
“Hey,” Beomgyu starts nudging you with his feet, annoyingly persistent. “Hey hey, get off your phone, what are you laughing at?”
Yeonjun easily swipes your phone from your hands making you throw your head back groaning. God, to hell with him. “Give it back!” you whine. He shrugs, stuffing your phone in his pockets. Asshole.
You glare at him with murder on your mind, but all that gets you is a condescending pout thrown your way.
“Ughhh I’m going to throw up, stop with the flirting.”
You throw your plastic cup at Beomgyu’s face, and he flinches back in the most dramatic sense ever. “Bitch.” you mutter.
Yeonjun ignores Beomgyu’s comment altogether. “Everyone knows I get more bitches than you Beomgyu. That’s why she laughed. Plus, you make up shit all the time.”
“I do not.”
“You do. You lied about Yoo Jimin.” You recall, giving up on getting your phone back.
Yeonjun makes a sound of remembrance, clasping his hands together. “That was actually so funny. Yoo Jimin. You’ve lost your mind.”
Beomgyu shoots you a betrayed look, “No way you believe his propaganda! We literally had sex! Halloween 2021!”
You give him a skeptical look, brows raised. Beomgyu could fool anyone, but he can’t fool Yeonjun, let alone you. Beomgyu and Jimin? Didn’t make sense. Not on Earth at least.
“That’s one person anyway who cares.” he mutters.
“Ryujin.” You name. “She’s lesbian Gyu. Even when she was questioning she would’ve rather killed herself than let a man touch her.”
Yeonjun barks into laughter, leaning into you. “Ryujin of all people is fucking mental man.”
“Two people, still very little.” he counters.
Was that a challenge? If he wanted to play this game, you would be an expert.
“Jihyo, Miyeon—”
“I fucked Miyeon.”
“Yeah but you said she let you fuck her in the ass, which! She revealed never happened.”
He gasps in horror, face dropped, like that had to be the most offensive thing hes heard.
“I literally have proof it happened, holy shit Miyeon’s a pathological liar.” Beomgyu fumbles his phone, eyes laser focused as his thumb swipes in rapid speed. You snicker, he’s such an idiot. You know he’ll turn up empty but hes on a mission so you let him be.
“Can you pass me the beer?” you mutter lazily, feeling the alcohol hit you now, making a grabbing motion to the can far from your reach.
“Sure you want more?” Yeonjun whispers, with a similarly lazy slur to his words.
You were all clearly buzzed out, sprawled on the floor of your living room, your table pushed to the side with multiple beer cans crushed in a mess. It’s your version of heaven— a little sad maybe, but it was the perfect mix of mundane and fun to you.
“Just beer.” You reply.
He nods, grabbing it for you and instinctively twisting the cap open. Hes’ always been like that, an acts of service sort of guy. The small flex of his veins when he does it is something you silently take note of. You’re so far gone with your small crush on him.
You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of it. “Thanks. Are you gonna give me back my phone or?”
He pretends to think it over, before clicking his tongue. “Nah, later.”
You roll your eyes, taking a sip from your can.
“We don’t get to hangout like this often, missed it y’know? So you can hold off your phone addiction for a bit and stop acting bratty.” he teases.
“Aye aye captain.”
He tuts at you, nudging your shoulder. “I literally cringe internally every time you say that.”
You hum, looking over at Beomgyu. Who is incredibly tense, almost frozen. “Why’d you stop scrolling?”
Maybe Yeonjun saw what you saw, Beomgyu’s face incredibly red, and eyes so weirdly fixed on his phone because he immediately scoots to him, nosy to take a look at his phone screen.
You study Yeonjun’s face. His brows slowly rise. And the only thing he says is “Damn.”
“What?” you ask, curiosity peaked. Nobody answers though, seemingly hypnotised by whatevers on Beomgyus screen.
Yeah, thats enough for your lazy ass to get up and see what they’re looking at.
…To say it’s not what you expect at all is an understatement.
The video playing has no audio, but the visual splayed out in Beomgyu’s hand is all it takes for your thighs to rub instinctively. The phone was obviously placed by the bedside, the view a little tilted, the girl with her face pressed onto the sheets as Beomgyu fucks into her mercilessly unrecognisable, the bed quite literally shaking to match his rhythm. Your face grows hot, and your throat dries, the video looks old because his hair is longer, messier, something that looked like it was from freshman year.
You’re surprised, it’s more than real. He really was going at it.
“I’m fucking her ass here.”
Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch.
“How would we know it’s Miyeon though?” Yeonjun says, eyes set on the screen.
Beomgyu forwards the video towards the end and lets it play—its the part where he picks up the phone and holds the girls head up by her hair, turning her over, capturing her face fucked out, a mix of spit and cum evidently all over, but more than that, its Miyeon’s face covered in filth.
You bite down on your lips, nervously looking at Beomgyu—who catches your stare. “What?”
You shake your head, dismissing him.
Truth is, this might’ve been the most you’ve seen from Beomgyu in this light. The light that you’ve heard plenty of, but obviously never thought you’d actually…see. Hes always been slutty, especially with him being infamous for his gross PDA on campus, but seeing it—seeing him actually fucking the light out of someone…you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat.
“You’re a freak dude.” Yeonjun says, laughing.
“But not a liar.”
“Nah you’ve yet to prove Jimins, wheres the tape?”
“You just wanna see her getting railed, touch luck bitch.” Beomgyu closes his phone making you realise you were still staring. “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Beomgyu shifts his attention to you, making you nervous, shrugging his concern off.
Yeonjun speaks for you instead, a smirk plastered on his face. “She’s a virgin, basically saw something worse than a ghost.”
God, this again!
“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun!”
“I’m not a virgin holy shit Yeonjun.” He mimics annoyingly high pitched and you groan.
“I’m not. I’ve had multiple boyfriends before.”
“Three.” Beomgyu says, “You’ve had three boyfriends.”
“All very long and fruitful relationships, mind you.”
Yeonjun leans back on the couch, stretching his arms behind his back and you know this is a sign that he’s going to be a little bitch about this. “How far have you went?”
“All the way.” you glare back challengily, sipping on your beer.
“Had someone nut in your ass?”
You snap your head to Beomgyu in horror, upper lip quirked. Of course he’d be curious about that. “Damn I’m taking that as a no.”
You force a smile and flip him off rightfully. The little bitch sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and you have half the mind to not smack him.
“Have you done it without a condom?”
You narrow your eyes at that. Yeonjun’s awfully curious, way too curious for someone whos never been curious. Seriuously, he’d be the last person to care for your sex life. Maybe Beomgyu—totally Beomgyu, but not Yeonjun.
“Is this an interrogation?”
Yeonjun shrugs.
“I—okay, I haven’t. I bet you guys haven’t either.” You immediately regret saying that, it’s obvious they’ve done something so trivial. And its even made more obvious when both of them start laughing maniacally.
Your face runs red, resorting to chugging more beer.
Beomgyu rests his head on your lap suddenly and you quirk your brow down at him. “What? Your thighs are comfortable.”
You narrow your eyes at him, skeptical of what exactly he’s trying to pull until Yeonjun’s asking you questions again after calming down from his laughing fit.
“Gotten fingered?”
“Well no shit.”
Beomgyus attention is piqued, “You have?”
“How else am I supposed to…you know..get prepped?” you say, coughing around the word.
Beomgyu snorts, “You just did the most virgin thing ever oh my god.”
“That’s why I don’t believe a single thing coming out of her mouth.”
“I’m not a virgin.” you say for the umpteenth time. When they both exchange silent looks, you clear your throat. “But, I might be a little…inexperienced. That’s it though, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex…like twice.”
Beomgyu shoots up, making you jump in shock. “Twice?!” he shouts. He looks at you like you might’ve just led the saddest life of the entirety of human history.“And three boyfriends? The math isn’t…”
“Well one of them believed pre-marital sex would have us damned so—”
“Oh yeahh, your Christian boy Mark.” Yeonjun marvels. “That guy was a total bitch.”
Yeah, Mark. The guy you thought you’d end up marrying someday, until he decided to cheat with an anal whore as you call it. Cheating on you in broad daylight, in the apartment you shared wasn’t enough, he tried to mansplain the difference between anal virginity and vaginal virginity right after he was caught.
You shudder remembering the scene.
“A little unrelated but I always sort of thought you guys fucked.” Beomgyu starts, breaking the silence. “Like at least once.”
You sigh, he’s never letting this sexual tension bullshit thing go. If anything, Yeonjun probably saw you in the least sexual light possible. Unfortunately. “No. No we haven’t Beomgyu, we keep telling you this.”
“You” He points a finger at you, “Keep telling me this. Not him. That’s suspicious.”
Yeonjun doesn’t say anything even as both you and Beomgyu stare at him— he just mixes his soju and beer together for another shot.
You relent, speaking up. “Yeonjun tell him we haven’t fucked so he can stop insinuating that we’re freaks behind closed doors 24/7.”
Beomgyu snickers at that, still toying with the fabric of your shorts. You think it’s just out of habit.
“Yeah, we haven’t.” Yeonjun finally confirms.
You widen your eyes at Beomgyu to taunt him, getting all up on his face, nonverbally celebrating an I told you so. He just rolls his eyes at you, a dumb smile on his face.
“But I want to.”
…What.
That has both you and Beomgyu frozen, his smile slowly dropping before he turns to face Yeonjun.
Your mind works overtime trying to process whether you heard that right, did it have any hints of a joke, why couldn’t you pick up on it then? Or whether all your life you’ve read it all wrong—is it the drinks speaking or? But drunk words are sober thoughts…right? Is he just-
“Huh?” Beomgyu’s the one to ask for a clarification first.
He only shrugs, proving that none of you heard him wrong. “I wanna fuck her. I mean, you’re hot I’m not being unreasonable.”
You don’t know how to respond without sounding like an even more awkward virgin, so you stay silent, trying to make sense of it in your own head. But when you catch Beomgyu slowly nodding from your peripheral vision like what Yeonjun’s saying makes sense, you painfully nudge him.
He whines, defending himself almost immediately. “What? He’s not wrong, you’re mega hot now.”
You squeeze your eyes shut irritated, “Don’t—god, don’t ever say ‘mega hot’ again.”
Beomgyu mumbles something intelligible, something that sounded like one of his sulky protests that you just ignore as the room falls silent again. Yeonjun seems completely unbothered of the atmosphere, drinking his somaek like this was just another normal day, like he didn’t just air out something that could potentially completely flip your entire dynamic.
The tension is thick, and it suddenly feels way too hot to be here anymore but then Beomgyu speaks up again. “Do you know how to suck a dick?”
You snort, not answering as you keep your eyes on the floor.
But it’s impossible to ignore him when he keeps staring at you, almost too intensely for a question you thought was to break the tension. You look to his face, and there’s no sign of lightheartedness anywhere. He was seriously asking. “So? Do you?”
You decide to humor him, anything to get over this suffocating silence. “Sort of.”
Yeonjun chuckles, “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”
You roll your eyes, frankly irritated that he’s even speaking right now. “Sort of means I can, but I don’t know if I’m …good at it.”
He hums in understanding, nodding. “Wanna test your skills out right now?”
Your eyes bulge out, blinking rapidly as you look at Yeonjun in shock. Did he seriously just…say that? Your face grows even hotter as you stutter around a response.
But before you could even form a proper response, Beomgyu says something first, whining into his hands. “I literally cannot be the only one really fucking turned on right now.”
At his words, your eyes instinctively look down to his pants and god, he wasn’t kidding. You don’t know how you haven’t noticed until now, but the imprint of his dick building a tent in his sweatpants has you looking away like you’ve just seen the most sinful thing ever. You don’t miss the small patch of wetness at the top either. You rub your thighs together again, this time you curse your body for reacting because most of their attention was collectively on you now.
Meaning, they would inevitably notice small details.
And that they did. Yeonjun laughs, but it has laces of mean-spiritedness that has your brain frying at a faster speed. “You aren’t the only one. Our little dolls’ horny as shit too, aren’t you? Look at you rubbing your thighs for just the little bits of friction.” Yeonjun says the last part with a pout, so condescendingly, his eyes heavy lidded with what you’re sure is lust.
That gets Beomgyu’s attention, who was lost in his own dilemma, who’s close enough to touch you, to do something, and that has you more nervous than the time you had to present an unfinished slideshow to the harshest professor in your major.
Your throat is dry again, and you can’t seem to get out a word no matter how hard you try. Beomgyu licks his lips momentarily, staring at you, waiting for something, maybe a cue? You don’t know, but they’re both definitely waiting.
Beomgyu’s impatient, and shameless, if that wasn’t already obvious enough. With a rasp to his voice, he whispers, “God, I really wanna touch you right now.”
And you whisper back, like this was secret gossip you’d exchange between yourselves at recess about who was mean to who, who liked who, except this time you’re all grown up, and he’s asking to…touch you. You look behind Beomgyu, Yeonjun very much invested in what’s happening makes you on the fence. “But it’ll—it’ll get…weird. Like, between us.”
Beomgyu’s quick to counter. “No, no it won’t, I promise. Everything’s going to be the exact same. Just baby, please. Let me take care of you.”
The use of a petname again has you biting down on your lips. You search his eyes, and he looks so…desperate, the sudden switch baffling to you, so different from how you usually see him. Is this how he gets with the girls he fucks? It’s so hot, you’ve never been met with this much enthusiasm.
Your feelings heighten even more when he whispers again at your silence, “Please, I’m dying here.”
You let out a breath you were holding in, nodding, “Okay, it’s—it’s okay. You can. Touch me I mean.”
This is the absolute last thing in the world you’d ever expected, like ever. Beomgyu touching you, ministrating your breasts roughly with his big hands through your top, kneeling between your legs, kissing all over from your jaw to your neck like he hasn’t gotten action in decades. It’s like everywhere, your skin scorches, every inch—and he’s so fiery, so harsh with his squeezes and bites that you’re so unprepared for, so unprepared in fact that your eyes already brim with tears, head becoming light with too much stimulation in too little time as you feel him play with your shorts in attempt to take them off.
Suddenly, Beomgyu’s shoved off you completely, having him fall on his ass with a thud. Your eyes fly open in worry, only to be met with Yeonjun way closer to you than earlier. “Dude, calm down you’re going too fast.”
Beomgyu rolls his eyes irritably, “You know you could’ve told me that without fucking throwing me off her, right?”
“Like your ass would listen.” Yeonjun mutters, refocusing his attention to you, “Come on, get up on the couch doll, I’ll show you how its done.”
You’re hesitant. You’re okay with messing around with Beomgyu—you are because he’s the best friend that you have zero romantic feelings for, but Yeonjun? You already have this…tiny crush on him that has been fostering since the dawn of times, a light lit then dimmed for years throughout the time you’ve known him…would this not set it on a full blown out fire? Are you ready to risk getting your rocks off to find out?
Yeonjun calls your name again, snapping you out of your reverie. “If you don’t want to I’m not gonna…”
“No no, um—sorry I was just, like, thinking. Sure.” you choke out, cheeks red.
Fuck it.
You situate yourself on the couch like he instructed, looking at Beomgyu for a second in semi-panic, but that horndogs too far gone to properly communicate with you through telepathy so you’re left a puddle, a little jittery as you nervously pick at the thread of the old couch, preparing yourself for whats to come.
Yeonjun smiles, slotting himself between your legs. “I’m gonna take it slow, ‘kay? Tell me if it becomes too much and I’ll stop.”
You nod, taking a deep breath then out to calm your nerves. You don’t have to help him out with pulling your shorts down, it’s like he’s so experienced that he knows how to get around it without you doing much. Which doesn’t help to make you relax…at all. He’s experienced, and you’re not. That’s a cause of a million worries running through your mind at the moment.
The air that had felt so hot earlier, feels cool now, and you shudder a little. “You’re drenched doll, that’s cute.”
Beomgyu finally sits himself next to you, hand on his crotch, slowly rubbing it out as he stares at what Yeonjun sees, craning his neck to get a good look. And you feel…so exposed, it makes your ears red with a mix of shame and arousal as you squeeze your eyes shut.
You jolt a little when you feel his tongue poking at your entrance through your panties—he’s slow as he licks up your slit, soaking your underwear more and more.
“Any of your boyfriends ever eat you out?” Beomgyu asks, hand squeezing his cock through his sweats, before having the genius idea of replacing his with yours—his warm hands resting on yours, guiding you to press down harder on his boner. As if he’s showing you—making you feel how big he is.
You shake your head to his question, and he airs out a chuckle. God, you really want to slap yourself for finding that so attractive. “Of course. Might as well be a real virgin.”
You want to retort back, you really do, because god forbid Beomgyu have the last word, but it's impossible when Yeonjun hooks his finger to push your underwear to the side because you're a goner, a goner the minute you feel his warm breath on your skin, and even worse when you feel his tongue lapping at your core, the direct contact making you gasp out a moan, jolting you awake, clearing your drunk daze.
"Yeonjun, Yeonjun shit-" you don't mean to tighten your grip on Beomgyu, but you do in response to Yeonjuns stimulation which has him hiss, bucking into your touch.
"Do that again. Harder. Touch me baby, yeah, just like that." He babbles, holding onto your wrist, groaning when you oblige, wrapping your hand on his clothed shaft and squeezing the base.
Yeonjun looks at you through lidded eyes, his hands firmly keeping your legs apart, nose brushing against your clit every so often to tease before he finally decides to flatten his tongue against it, finger prodding at your entrance at the same time, making you inexpectantly arch your back, moaning. "F-fuck Jjun!"
You could feel the smirk, the cockiness radiating off him— it oozes even, it's so evident he likes this dynamic, you so reactionary to each little thing he does.
Beomgyu helps you palm his dick before he finally relents, too horny out of his mind, shoving your hand down his pants, making you feel his hot dick, so sticky and wet, it's lewd. "'Move your hand baby, c'monnn. Good girl." He groans, trying to guide you to a speed he finds fitting.
You start getting the hang of it, your hand jerking off his dick without help even as you're practically dumbed out with Yeonjun's tongue working at your sex, trying to purposefully make you lose your mind.
“Pussy so good doll, so good.” his words muffle against your core and it sends a vibration that has your pace falter.
Suddenly, Yeonjun detaches, making you feel terribly empty, and horrible because you were sure you were close. Before you could complain, your eyes widen at him unbuttoning his jeans, dropping them to the floor to have his cock flinging out of his boxers. He gives it a couple strokes, breathing heavy as he stares at your pussy. Wet with his spit, messy. He groans, biting his lips raw and you’ve just never felt so much as a prey until now. “Gonna fill you up soon, don’t worry doll.”
“Pay attention to me too,” Beomgyu whines, kissing your neck again, the space under your earlobe, his teeth grazing against your skin, just begging to have your attention. “Unfair if it’s only him.” he breathes, kissing and kissing and kissing, until he decides to move up to your lips, taking you up a wind as you jerk his dick off faster.
His whines and mewls melt into the sloppiness of the kiss and god is it the hottest thing ever, shit.
Yeonjun basically breaks the kiss by pushing Beomgyu off of you again, and if you had half the mind to think, you would’ve caught the irritation radiating off Beomgyu at Yeonjuns constant cock blocking.
You can’t think now, not when Yeonjun’s lining his dick up with your hole, feeling his hot tip prodding and your pussy fluttering around nothing to suck him in. “Ready? Relax yourself so it’ll feel good, ‘kay?”
You nod, humming.
“Words princess.”
“I’m—I’m ready Jjunie.”
He gives you a crooked grin, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips.
You try, you really do, you try giving them both an experience but the more Yeonjun pushes himself in you, the slower your hand becomes until you finally let go, breathing heavy at the inexplicable feeling of just…fullness. When he’s flush and snug against your core, completely inside you, he relishes, he stays there, eyes fluttering closed with his face so, so close to yours.
And he whispers to you, words Beomgyu can’t possible hear even if he wishes to, and even words you could’ve missed if you weren’t so in tune with every single sense that you’re feeling right now.
“Wish he wasn’t here when I could finally have you.”
You’re driven over the edge, not even given the time to process, before he’s drilling his dick into you—in then back, slowly before he’s building up to snapping his hips, having you gasp in shock at each thrust. You let the stray tear run down, hell, at this point you’re giving all autonomy of your body to the two boys right now, you’re not in control of anything anymore.
“Tight, so tight and warm,” he groans, getting faster, “Shoulda prepped you more, huh? Fuckin’ tighter than a virgin, can barely move.” He laughs breathy.
You just nod, nod at whatever filthy shit he says, tightening your grip on the couch, squeezing your eyes shut at how the pain just bleeds into the pleasure. You’ve never had it like this with your past boyfriends, it never felt like this.
Suddenly, you feel something hot poking at your cheek which spurs you to open your eyes. Your eyes damn near almost bulge out at Beomgyu’s size, cock insistently trying to move past your lips.
“Want your mouth, please, fuck.”
Can you even take that in your mouth?
He doesn’t wait for your contemplation, that’s not Beomgyu’s thing. He does it anyway, managing to slide his dick in your mouth, not even letting you get used to it like Yeonjun had even when he’s a lot bigger, pushing all the way in. He throws his head back, groaning curses as you gag around his length, breathing restricted.
“God you’re so hot like this, princess. Taking my cock so well,” he growls, moving his hips to fuck your mouth. Your eyes water, burning as the taste of him overpowers your senses— all of that paired with Yeonjun’s rhythm getting rougher and more frantic has you lose yourself in ecstasy you don’t think you can handle.
You think you might just faint.
“Have you always been like this? So good at sucking cock, slutty throat just waiting to be stuffed with dick?” Beomgyu rambles filth, losing himself faster than Yeonjun, looking down at you with so much hunger. You return his gaze, blinking up at him innocently, as if to disagree. You’re not slutty, you aren’t.
But that seems to spur him on a completely different direction, like something snapped inside him, cursing loudly as he ruthlessly starts fucking into your mouth. Your mind clouds, dizziness setting in as you feel Yeonjun attach his lips to your nipple through your flimsy top, sucking harshly, making a mess of your shirt with his spit.
You garble around Beomgyu’s dick, trying to say something but it only comes out intelligible and like complete nonsense, it’s humiliating.
“God, you’re sucking me in so greedily, want me to fill you up with my cum so bad, huh?”
Yeonjun slaps your ass and you jolt again, snot and mascara running down your face. He starts kneeding your cheeks, snapping into you rougher, and somehow deeper, you fucking lose it. “You want it so bad, right? Say something baby, or I won’t give it to you.”
You nod, mouth still stuffed with Beomgyu’s cock, who he isn’t intent on stopping any time soon.
It’s enough for Yeonjun you guess because before you know it, you feel hot substance shoot up, filling you to the brim with his cum, still pumping it in even as your orgasm washes over you. You’re beyond overstimulated, especially when Beomgyu cums around the same time, his hot load forcing its way down your throat.
He holds your head against his abdomen, groaning the more he defills you. “Fuck if you do that I might just fall for you,” he growls, voice down octaves, fixating his eyes on how your throat gulps down his cum like it’s water at the Sahara. The taste is so strong, you start coughing up some of it out when his dick flops out of your mouth sticky, finally regaining your breath, gasping for air in large amounts, your cunt spilling Yeonjun’s seed onto the couch slowly, dribbling down to the floor to make a mess.
Beomgyu suddenly pushes Yeonjun out of the way to slot himself between your legs, kissing at your pussy.
“Beomgyu, don’t, can’t—stop, too much-” you try reasoning but he doesn’t listen, that brat. He just starts going at it, lapping at the cum spilling, his lips glistening with the wetness, alternating between kissing and licking your cunt. “‘Course you can baby, you can take it.”
You bite down hard on your lips, lightheaded as you look down at the man ravaging your pussy and cleaning you up at the same time.
To hell with that ‘nothing’s going to change’ bullshit promise, something definitely changed tonight and you can’t put your finger around what.
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stariikis · 2 days
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what's your ETA?
synopsis ; in a crowded train headed towards your friend's art showcase, you and your boyfriend are caught in an awkward position.
pairing ; non-idol!nishimura riki x fem!reader genre ; fluff, established rs, literal forced proximity wc ; 1180 warnings ; kissing (a lil bit in public), lots of teasing, and mentions of height difference..
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“I swear, if you make one more cup of coffee and insist you have to drink it before we go, I'll personally push you onto the train tracks.”
Nearly spitting out his beverage, Riki swallows abruptly and coughs. “Now, I would say I’m used to your violent tendencies, but that’s just gory. But I’d honestly like to see it.” His eyes shine with an unsettling excitement that has you blinking rapidly. 
“You won’t be alive to see it…” You tilt your head and feign confusion. In reality, this is both your way of flirty banter. Since Riki just loves to tease you, you believe it’s only fair that you should be allowed to tease back. However, your version of teasing is questionably rude at times, way worse than any fireball of quips Riki showers you with. 
“You wanna go or not?” Riki sighs, his mug making a clunking sound on the table when he puts it down. “I’m ready to just sit here and argue with you until night — I’m not the one desperate to see Sunoo’s art exhibition.” 
“No, I swear it’s not because I’m desperate to go. You’re the one who’s closer to him though?” You shake your head and frown in bewilderment. “Fake friend.” 
Riki whips around in his seat. “Pick me!”
”Bad boyfriend!” You erupt into laughter and lunge forward to ruffle his hair. 
Playing along, Riki gets up and pushes you gently away from him. But at the same time his fingers grab ahold of your wrist, holding you close, like he doesn’t really mean it. He’s casting the bait, eyes that look deeply and adoringly into yours glimmering with enthusiasm. 
“You’re taking it to heart. Don’t take it to heart,” he murmurs, and leans in to kiss you, voice dropping down to a low. “Pathological liar.” Before you have time to protest, he giggles, hugging you close as if daring you to spit out another one of your alleged, ‘lies’. 
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When you both reach the station, its difficult to see through the sardine-packed crowd of people in front of you. “It… is so crowded,” you tiptoe to be able to whisper in Riki’s ear – and even that’s not enough, he has to lean down with a huff of amusement for you to reach. “Why is it so crowded today?” 
Shrugging his shoulders loosely, Riki slips his hand into yours, squeezing it tight. “You’re the one who wanted to go to this art show.” He mutters quietly. “Kim Sunoo’s, no less. You know we can just ask him to conduct a private show for us?” 
“Is supporting your friends a concept nonexistent to you?” You snap, feigning irritation but responding by rubbing your thumb over his. Your boyfriend pretends to be hurt by this, staggering backwards as much as he can in the crowd. His free hand clutching his chest, the playful atmosphere set by your banter fades when he looks at you. Wearing a gentle smile, he leads you into the train when the doors and gates slide open. 
He manages to secure you both a spot along the wall near the right-hand-side doors. You can tell by the guilt in his eyes that he wants to find you a seat too, but you’re probably going to get dirty looks from the elderlies if you do so. Luckily, he saves you the social torture and doesn’t force you to take a seat. 
The first few stops the train makes are still bearable. Riki is squashed a little too close for comfort at times, caging you in against the wall while you just stare ahead as if nothing’s happening. You ignore the tingles the situations send, all the way from your neurons down to your toes. However, when the crowd dissolves as they alight at their respective stations, you can breathe a sigh of relief. 
Like usual, Riki makes a snide remark about your morning breath (even though you’re quite certain your dental routine is competent), and returns to scroll on his phone. What disheartens you, though, is how genuinely uninterested he seems in Sunoo’s exhibit. And how bored he seems to be, despite being here with you. 
There’s a nonchalant faze across his face as he scrolls social media, leaning in close with a hand adjusting its grip on the grab bar next to you. You tilt your head, chest starting to ache. Does he really not care as much as you’d like to think he does? To not even feel an ounce of excitement in this moment? 
The train screeches to a halt as if agreeing with your intrusive thoughts. There’s still a long way to travel downtown to where the exhibit is held, and unfortunately for you, this is the most crowded station the train has stopped at by far. So many people pour into the carriage that it’s not even five seconds before Riki’s whole body is pressed up against yours. 
He drops the arm holding his phone down to his side. 
People are pushing you on both sides, and suddenly there’s a wave of gratefulness that you’re not stuck in the middle of the carriage. As if your current situation isn’t painful enough. Your boyfriend can’t meet your eyes, and it’s not surprising. With your noses mere inches apart (only because of the height difference), even you, usually assertive and confident, have to look into the distance. 
“Sorry…” Riki says in a hushed tone, moving his lips closer to your ear. His head has practically dropped down onto your shoulder, and you can feel yourself filled with vigorous tremors. He slips his phone into his back pocket, and the hand previously holding it snakes protectively around your waist. You blink up at him, expecting a warm look down, but all you’re met with is narrowed eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. 
His neck still dipped downwards, he hugs you close when the final few people slip into the train. Clearly feeling you shaking, he hums soothingly into your ear, “you’re safe”. “You have me.” “Don’t be too scared.” Anything else he says goes in one ear and goes out the other. 
Because. In such a situation, what would you expect your boyfriend to proceed to do? a), Accept fate and stay in position, b), shyly turn away from the deathly awkwardness, or c), giggle and tilt his head to pepper kisses along your neck? 
Riki chose C. 
He’s so gross, you think, but only when you’re stumbling out the train and running all the way to Sunoo’s exhibit to save yourself from remembering the situation more. Why did he ever do that? I should have shoved him away and called him a pervert and acted as if I didn’t know him. 
What a lie — when he was pressing a final kiss against your cheek your first thought wasn’t even remotely close to wanting to shove him away. Rather, you had pouted, arms wrapped around his neck, because he’s going to have to make up for being both indifferent towards you and making you so late. 
(It is never really his fault.)
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thank you for reading! i'm so sorry for the lack of uploads recently, life has just gotten a little bit busier and i finally got a lil break so i decided to write this prompt i thought of a while back!
more of my works >
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halogalopaghost · 4 months
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Heck it, TMNT 2003 Raphael Ninja Turtle headcanon time
Leo and Mikey are subject to any and all verbal ridicule. He will straight up say "you are ugly and I wish you'd never been born you piece of garbage brother" to the most minor offense
BUT. If Leo so much as stubs his toe he is all over it, he's the first responder on scene and he's taking a full set of vitals, he's rolling out the red carpet to the infirmary to put a hello kitty bandaid on it and kiss it better
Mikey is subject to both verbal abuse and laughter at most minor physical injury
Donnie is immune from both
He'll joke around with his dad, Splinter isn't totally immune to teasing and verbal abuse, but he is so fucking gentle with him physically. Like, he will hold his arm while he's going up and down the stairs at the farm on days where Splinter's leg is bothering him, he'll make tea for him and insist he doesn't get up, the whole nine yards. Splinter loves it but sometimes even he is like "okay please you are being so so clingy"
If anyone dares to even look the wrong way at Splinter, Raph will murderkillmaim them so fast. Casey gets squarely slapped in the face for disrespecting Splinter on accident exactly one time, and then he watches his fuckin mouth after that because wow, that little green dude is kinda scary when he's mad...
Raph has a high pain tolerance and a low pain threshold. Meaning he feels pain rather quickly—cuts, strained muscles, headaches, it hurts faster and more intensely for him than it appears to for others. But since he can tolerate the pain, it usually goes unacknowledged. When Donnie finally figures this out he comes so close to just putting a bubble around him. Indefinite house arrest, not allowed to get hurt ever again.
He's autistic with a side of ADHD, RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria), and PDA (pathological demand avoidance). His "anger issues" are just.....that.
He struggles with identifying emotions, and articulating them by extension. This is part of the reason he's such a tactile person; he could say he loves someone, but he'd way rather just hug the living daylights out of them. He could say he's angry, but he'd rather go work his punching bag for a few hours.
LOVES film noir. Eats that shit up constantly. He picked up a lot of speech patterns from watching those old movies, and maybe a little bit of that accent too tbh. He calls April a dame exactly ONE time and gets laughed out of NYC entirely (by his brothers. Even that early on, April can smell the RSD on him)
Loves Christmas. Loves sweets and gift-giving and being warm and knitting, Christmas is just the natural extension of that. And he likes the focus on being with your family/quality time.
Does NOT like Christmas music
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dathen · 6 months
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I feel Jack being holed up running an asylum makes him understand humans less than your average person on the street. Anything that deviates from his textbook understanding of cultural norms can be pathologized. He’s so surprised and confused at the fairly common phenomenon of inappropriate laughter in grief when he’s a doctor who’s seen no shortage of people suffering loss.
Here he is nearly pathologizing the person he respects most in the world because he has an unexpected reaction. Immediately after seeing a man behave in a way he’d expect from a woman, he doubles down on “men and women react to things so differently!!” He pathologizes HIMSELF for anything he is uncomfortable with or doesn’t understand. He’s like a microcosm of Victorian attitudes towards mental illness and/or deviance from social norms, but when condensed into an individual it tears itself apart.
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killjoyfem · 7 months
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Remembering her: with the American verdict, Heard has faced more than the culture’s wrath — she has faced global humiliation.
The entire case had been like a “Black Mirror” episode. A dystopian nightmare in which TikToks of a distraught woman detailing an alleged sexual assault were devoured with popcorn and laughter. Twitter hashtags — #AmberIsALiar, #AmbersAPsychopath, #TeamJohnny — made it a trial by media.
Those supporting Heard received death threats, rape threats, a constant bombardment of hate for simply saying, “I stand with Amber.” I know: I got them in bucketloads.
We saw tired, misogynistic methods used again and again to discredit a woman trying to stand up for her rights. Blaming Heard for not leaving, for fighting back, for not being bruised enough, for not having enough evidence. And when she did have evidence? Depp’s team portrayed her as a manipulative liar — and the jury appears to have found this credible.
Heard’s psychologist, Dawn Hughes, testified that Heard had post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of domestic abuse. Psychologist Shannon Curry, a witness for Depp, diagnosed Heard with borderline personality disorder and histrionic personality disorder — despite having never treated her.
As a barrister, I have witnessed the pathologization of survivors become a go-to tactic to discredit them. Slamming a woman’s mental state has always been a quick and easy way to gaslight them — “Oh, she’s crazy,” “she’s so unstable” — “medicine” as a misogynist’s handmaiden.
Many women who watched this trial will recognize this, the classic DARVO playbook in action: deny, attack and reverse victim and offender. And they will fear that they could be next.
The trial reinforced the notion that those who speak out must look, sound and act a certain way. They must conform to the stereotype of the “perfect victim,” one who cowers in a corner, voiceless and powerless. That woman doesn’t speak or fight back.
This is a trope. It rarely exists.
I’ve seen victims behave in all manner of ways in abusive relationships and in the courtroom. Perhaps the only time we see the “perfect victim”? In movies written by men.
As the verdict came, abuse survivors expressed their devastation online. One psychologist told Rolling Stone that “hundreds” of survivors had contacted her to retract victim statements or pulled out from court cases as a result of watching the trial.
The biggest losers here are the U.S. justice system and the women who might otherwise have put their faith in it. Women have been told that if we have enough evidence, we’ll be believed. The truth is, it doesn’t matter how much evidence we have. The system is rigged against women.
Do you think it’s fair that a woman had to testify before a man she says abused her, while that man sat there, smirking? Do you think it’s fair that, throughout the trial, the most intimate and traumatic details were broadcast for the world to see? Do you think it’s fair that Heard was ordered to pay millions of dollars for writing an article that didn’t even name the man who has prevailed in this case?
Heard had the PR team. She had the legal team. Still, she couldn’t win. All we got during weeks of painful testimony was a woman being treated like a villain, a famous man showered with adoration and a justice system failing to protect what it supposedly promises to defend.
The Depp-Heard trial was a circus. The verdict is a gag order. (source)
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mariaofdoranelle · 9 months
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URDAD - part 1
Adenine: paired with U
Fic masterlist
I’M SO EXCITED
Warning: this is not a safe space for Chaol stans
Words: 2,4k
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“How‘s the baby?” Dr. Moonbeam asked in the examination table as Aelin slid the ultrasound transducer over his abs. She was still figuring out if he was flexing them to look stronger, or to make her work harder by hardening the area she had to move the probe on.
Aelin was “examining” Dr. Moonbeam just to check if she’d fixed the glitch in his ultrasound machine, but of course he’d have a field day with it.
“Very funny,” she answered with the dullest face possible, and then gasped. “Is that a kidney stone?”
“WHAT?” He bolted upright and took the probe from Aelin’s hand, pressing it harder against him, but relaxed when he studied the monitor. “You’re evil.”
Aelin tilted her head back, cackling.
Being the engineer responsible for Mistward General’s very expensive machinery, Aelin was glad she was out of the hospital’s crazy hierarchy. She didn’t take orders from any doctors, which let her be more at ease around them, unlike most of the staff.
Even if some were shameless flirts.
“So…” Dr. Moonbeam called her attention, slowly sliding the paper towels against his abs that looked shinier because of the gel. But his eyes had this playful glint, because at this point, he knew she was immune to his moves. “When are you breaking up with that tool of yours?”
“In two weeks, actually.”
His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”
Aelin looked away and checked the ultrasound just to have something to do with her hands. “I already paid this month’s rent, so I’m waiting a little before breaking things up and moving out.”
She wasn’t in a rush, but it was time. Chaol hasn’t been the same. Aelin hadn’t felt the same about him either. When she went to her best friend to talk about this, Imogen was very supportive and offered her spare room.
Imogen Whitethorn wasn’t Chaol’s biggest fan, to put it lightly.
Dr. Moonbeam had his arms crossed, head cocked with a shameless grin. “No need to go through that, Galathynius. You can stay with me those two weeks.”
Aelin snorted, slowly shaking her head. “You’d love that, huh?”
Before he could answer, she felt her phone vibrating against her pocket and took it to check.
Dr Whitethorn: Aelin
Dr Whitethorn: 911
Dr Whitethorn: Anne Jausten is acting out
And by that, he meant there was something wrong with his new digital slide scanner.
“Gotta go.” She gave Dr. Moonbeam a quick salute. “Good luck with the pregnant ladies.”
Aelin rushed to the Pathology lab, which was pretty much the standard. There was always someone running or yelling in these halls. As busy as she was today, she always made room so assisting Dr. Whitethorn was always on her top priorities. He was the one who got her this job, after all.
After Aelin accidentally met Imogen’s father while drunk after a college party, he disregarded her for years. She was convinced he hated her and thought she was a bad influence, but working here slowly changed her mind. Or his, she’d never know.
One night, Imogen commented to Dr. Whitethorn over the phone that Aelin’s boss was too handsy.
The next day, Mistward General’s HR called her offering an interview.
His shoulders dropped when she came in. “Oh, good. It’s not scanning.”
Oh boy, did her breathing just get a little faster? Aelin would not, under any circumstance, show how much the scrubs, reading glasses and frazzled gray hair combo did it for her.
She always had a thing for men in lab coats, but Dr. Whitethorn was on a whole new level.
When Aelin rushed inside the cold Pathology lab, he immediately got up to give her his chair and bring another one for himself.
She clamped her lips together after assessing what was going on, trying not to make him feel bad.
“You can laugh, you know.”
“I won’t.” Despite her words Aelin’s shoulders were quaking, a full laughter ready to burst. “But you’re too young to be this old.”
He sighed. “What did I do this time?”
Aelin tilted her head, biting her lip. “You forgot to adjust a few scan settings. It won’t start until you do.”
He groaned, resting his face on his hands. This time, she let out the tiniest giggle.
Dr. Whitethorn was so excited when he got his new, more modern equipment. Until he had to learn how to work with them, that is. Watching him get used to those was like watching elder millennials in the genesis of TikTok.
Resilient as he was, he got his chin up, squared his shoulders, and tapped the few buttons he missed out in the first place.
“Well, thanks for that. And sorry I wasted your time.”
Aelin waved him off and rested her head on a fist, not caring about the few strands of hair falling on her face. “Nonsense.”
He trained his eyes on the scan. “I can go on from here.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Do you remember how to use the new photo editor?”
He used his right to remain silent.
Aelin leaned back on her seat, getting comfortable with both hands behind her neck. “Then I guess I need to wait for these scans to be done.”
Dr. Whitethorn was like that. He'd listen to her talk about anything and everything, from tissue engineering to Taylor Swift tickets, then flip a switch and politely shut her off until she made her way back into his lab again. Rinse and repeat. Right now, he wasn’t too chit-chatty, but she’d crack him in no time.
Aelin stayed there, watching his Adam’s apple bob as they listened to the soothing hum of Anne Jausten, the scanner.
“Fleetfoot and I are moving in with Immie soon, but I’m sure you know that already.”
His gaze slid to hers. “I know where you’re going.”
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “My point is already proven, I’m just being annoying about it.”
“I’m not a gossip, I’m just a good listener.”
“Well, did you, or did you not know that already?”
He gave her a flat look. “Next time you’re looking for a boyfriend, at least get one who doesn’t forget his wallet on date night.”
“Ouch!” She clutched her chest, playing down the tightness in it. “Way to go, doc.”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “That was insensitive of me.”
Aelin waved him off. “That breakup was overdue, anyway.”
“I think so, too.” His lab’s phone started ringing. Dr. Whitethorn got up to take it, but not before saying, “You deserve to raise your standards.”
Easier said than done. If she had a pass for every man in the world, Aelin would know exactly where to start.
People would think it was the sixteen-year age gap, but the only thing stopping her from taking a chance and trying to sit on Dr. Whitethorn's lap right now was her best friend, who happens to be his daughter. With him looking like that, Aelin wouldn't mind if he were 300 years old.
Every time she saw a legion of girls online losing their minds over some older actor who aged like fine wine, she felt a little relieved they didn’t know Dr. Whitethorn. She could appreciate the view alone.
He looked pale when the phone call ended. “It was Salvaterre. Imogen just got here in an ambulance.”
“What?” Aelin jerked upright, feeling her pulse stronger each beat. “What happened?”
”I don’t know, I-“ He pointed to the scanner. “Keep an eye on Anne. I’ll go to the ER and keep you posted.”
Aelin did as she was asked and stood there, feeling her throat get tighter as the AC’s dry gushes of air cut through her layers of clothing. She didn’t know for how long she did nothing but listen to Anne Jausten’s mechanical whirring, but she did notice she was quieter than Jane Austen, Dr. Whitethorn’s previous slide scanner. It was an obvious observation, since Anne was cutting-edge technology, but Aelin would rather think of the equipment than the fact that her best friend and soon-to-be roommate was in the emergency room right now.
Her heart almost leaped out of her throat when his text came.
Dr Whitethorn: I think you should come here.
The few minutes she sprinted there were a blur. The nurses’ carts were on her way, the elevator was too slow, there were confused people on her way. The only thing that felt fast was her pulse, thrumming blood through her tense muscles.
Aelin relaxed when she noticed Immie looked fine, despite her friend’s blotched face from crying. Dr. Whitethorn’s face was red as well, but he wasn’t crying like his daughter. He was fuming, to put it lightly. And in the hospital bed, she saw… Chaol?
“What’s going on?”
Dr. Whitethorn was the one to break the deafening silence. “We have a penile fracture here.”
No.
Aelin looked around, taking everyone in once again and processing this new information.
Her heart stopped in her chest as her senses seemed to betray her. There was no fucking way.
“YOU BROKE MY BOYFRIEND’S DICK?” Aelin’s voice boomed through the room.
Imogen’s lips wobbled. “Aelin, I’m so—“
"Sorry, yeah." She let out a bitter cackle and yanked off Chaol's blanket. His dick looked exactly like an eggplant.
"Babe," he slurred, grinning at her. He must be high on painkillers already to look clueless like that.
"You fucking slut!" She shouted and pinched Chaol's swollen penis, twisting the purple, hypersensitive skin between her fingers.
No amount of painkillers could stop the earth-shattering scream Chaol let out, loud enough to tear anyone's eardrums in half.
For the very first time, she saw Dr. Whitethorn flinch.
The curtain separating them from the rest of the ER was yanked open to reveal a very pissed Chief Salvaterre. And he caught her with a hand on the patient’s dick, in the worst way.
“Stop that right now!” He yelled and ran Chaol’s way, then pointed between Aelin and Dr. Whitethorn. “You two, out of my ER!”
The silver-haired doctor raised both hands in surrender. “What did I do?”
“I told you not to cause me any trouble.” Salvaterre pointed at Aelin. “Trouble.”
“But she needed to know!”
“Not to assault my patient!” He was looking at them with raging, bulging eyes. “You’re leaving this hospital right now, and when you come back tomorrow, you’re going to forget about Mr. Westfall’s penis and act normal like you always have. Are we understood?”
Dr. Whitethorn sighed and nodded. Aelin had her chin up, but didn’t argue.
Imogen turned to Aelin, but kept her gaze lowered. "I’m so sorry, Ace."
She wanted to yank those chestnut curls until the crack in Imogen’s voice became a scream.
Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut it. You can have his teeny weenie."
˜˜
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Whitethorn said the umpteenth time after they were kicked out of the hospital. He insisted on giving her a ride, since Aelin didn’t have a car.
“Stop saying that.”
“I’m sorry, I—“ He groaned. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel responsible. Being my daughter and all.”
One corner of her mouth tugged up, but her smile had no brightness. “You really shouldn’t.”
They were in front of her apartment complex, where Dr. Whitethorn stayed the last twenty minutes waiting for her to pack up. She’d have to iron her clothes all over again, but the careless packing was better than spending more time at Chaol’s cursed home.
To be fair, she was mad at Chaol, but she wasn’t surprised he cheated on her.
But Imogen? She was the main source of the sharp pain in Aelin’s chest as she remembered how supportive she was of the breakup, and the last few Friday nights Aelin stayed alone at home because her boyfriend and her best friend were busy. Indeed, they were.
The doctor gave a pointed look to the Playstation under her arm. “What’s that?”
Aelin shrugged. “You know, if you wanna crush a man’s soul, you gotta start with his video game.”
“And his car.” Dr. Whitethorn looked up, something devious sparkling in his eyes. “Where do you keep the sugar?”
Five minutes later, they were standing next to Chaol’s car. She held the jar of sugar as he held Fleetfoot’s leash.
“So, what are we doing?”
“If we put sugar in here.” Dr. Whitethorn pointed at the fuel door, where the gasoline went. “The sugar will turn into caramel and break the car from the inside while he’s driving. The engine will melt like butter. It’s a mess to fix.”
Aelin’s eyes widened, and she felt that sparkle of joy a girl could only feel due to a good revenge. Grinning, she didn’t think twice before filling Chaol’s ugly ass car with sugar.
Dr. Whitethorn was leaning against the car, eyes sparkling as he watched her excitement. “Having fun?”
She let out an evil cackle, already picturing her ex’s face when his car stopped Mala knows where. When Fleetfoot barked, Aelin felt like her dog was telling her she’s a good girl, not the other way around.
”Alright,” Dr. Whitethorn said after they were finished. “Where am I dropping you off now?”
That question took the words out of Aelin’s mouth. She had absolutely nowhere to go.
She either said it out loud or Dr. Whitethorn read it in her face, because he asked, “What about your cousin?”
Aelin grimaced. “He’s allergic to Fleetfoot. But I could make him take some histamines until I find somewhere else.”
“None of that.” He took her bags and pulled her dog’s leash towards his car. “You can stay with me for a week or two. I don’t mind.”
“What?” Aelin asked as her heartbeat got a bit faster.
“I have a spare room for you and a lot of grass for Fleetfoot. It’s the least I can do.”
She took a step further, but eyed him up and down. If Dr. Whitethorn showed any sign that he didn’t want her there, she’d go straight to Aedion’s.
“Come on.” He nodded to his car, face open.
Well, there was no arguing with an invite like that.
˜˜
9 p.m. Aelin wanted to kill 6 p.m. Aelin for even thinking about refusing to stay here.
His spare room? Comfy.
His books on medical imaging? A treasure.
His food? As mouth watering as the chef.
Aelin could stay the rest of her days here if it wouldn’t make her look like a parasite.
Fleetfoot was staying in the bedroom with her tonight, but she’d leave her outside during the day. Mala forbid her clumsy dog breaks something expensive while she’s at work.
Aelin tilted her head at the mirror, examining her own image. It was a sight, the way Aelin looked with that tiny nightgown of lacy and silk.
Too bad Chaol liked his video game better. And traitorous brunettes, apparently.
Tonight wasn’t about him, though. Neither would it be about the cock-breaker bitch she once called a friend.
Maybe a little, actually. There was this one thing she never did just to protect her friend’s feelings, but there was no stopping her now.
Aelin put her tinted lip balm on. The no-makeup makeup look she did looked perfect. Her hair was carefully messed up, every strand in its perfect place for an effortless look. She put her robe on for modesty reasons, of course. Too bad it was a little see-through.
Her own footsteps were the only sound in that hall, and the yellow light slipping through his office’s door guided her.
She knocked on his door once, twice.
“Come in.”
He didn’t take his eyes off his desk the whole time, leaning over his medicine books and laptop. That casual white t-shirt and tousled hair combo was enough to make her heart skip a beat.
Aelin leaned against the doorframe, letting that movement alone slip part of her robe open, showing off her curves. She tilted her head and assessed him like he was her prey.
“Hi, Dr. Whitethorn.” Her voice was a sultry caress, just enough to make him look up.
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Part 6!! Steddie Vegas AU. This one is long and so so stupid. Apologies in advance.
Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5
The drive to Rachel was perfect. Minimal traffic, clear blue skies, the wind flowing through his hair and Eddie's hand in his. Thrilling in the way Eddie played with his fingers tapping out the beat of the songs and absentmindedly twisting his wedding band as he crooned along with the gentle jazz, soul and blues of the fifties that drifted through the speakers; seemingly unaware he was even doing it until the girls joined in. 
Steve knew better than to get involved, he'd never been able to hold a tune, but good ol' Frank was infectious, and by the fourth verse all four of them were belting out My Way. He knew he must have sounded awful but his carmates didn't seem to mind, they were all beaming with unadulterated joy, the girls collapsing into the backseat giggling together at the silly car insurance advert that was on its twelfth circulation, their elation contagious. 
He couldn't help but wonder how he'd ever made it this far in life without having this kind of moment every day, couldn't stop himself from pondering how he'd ever manage to live without it because he couldn't remember ever having a more wonderful morning, and he couldn't imagine ever having one again without these beautiful people to brighten his every moment, but he couldn't stop thinking that he had to keep grounding himself; couldn't keep from reminding himself that they were on holiday that this would eventually end, and he'd have to remember how to smile without it being because Chris was making Robin's eyes light up or because Eddie's voice was floating through the air, close enough to reach his ears.
The drive felt like it took no time at all, between the tinkling of pianos and laughter and the endless beauty of landscapes, the sun was already high in the sky by the time they arrived. They hadn't been out of the car for long before he was thanking his lucky stars that he'd chosen to wear his white linen trousers and pale blue cotton shirt because it was at least doing something to stave off the blistering heat, but Robin had definitely regretted her decision to wear all black. He wasn't sure whether it just felt hotter than on The Strip or whether the temperature was actually higher, but it was definitely warmer than either he or Robin had expected it to be; he couldn't believe he'd packed jackets, he didn't think even the darkest clouds could stifle the heat of the sun scorching the desert.
She didn't last more than half an hour before she was begging Steve to "do something!" The only thing he could think to do in the middle of nowhere was to borrow Eddie's penknife to turn her dark jeans into shorts. Of course, she then bemoaned that they had been brand new and "did they not know about malaria?!" even as he spread sunscreen liberally over her pasty calves, wordlessly handing her the bug spray out of the backpack, returning her grateful smile with a reassuring one of his own.
Chrissy, as it turned out, knew a lot about malaria; her stepdad had actually had it along with a myriad of other tropical diseases from his stint in the military before he'd met Chrissy's mum and when he learned of Chrissy's desire to go into medicine he'd told her all about it. It'd swung her career path toward pathology, then to biomed, but her mother wouldn't hear of it, telling her that girls didn't belong in science. Chrissy had ended up waitressing at the country club while she was waiting to pick a career path, then like Eddie had gone into the Carver family business, selling silverware because godforbid the snooty bastards have a waitress and a mechanic in their family.
The detour conversation seemed to have its desired effect, Robin was officially distracted from her spiral down tropical disease lane and Eddie and Chrissy earned themselves some much-desired and much-deserved PDA for their hardship, not that it could actually qualify as PDA when there wasn't another soul to be seen for miles around, not a human soul anyway, although Steve was sure the local reptiles had bigger problems than four queers canoodling.
So despite the mishap with her brand-new jeans, Robin did end up having the time of her life like Steve had hoped, really getting into the Area 51 atmosphere and treating the three of them like she was their personal tour guide, taking them to rarer sights, rattling off facts and telling endless stories. In all the time they'd known each other, Steve had never seen her smile so much, especially the few times she refused to stop for breath, when Chrissy would stop her rambling with a kiss that Robin pulling away from with a dreamy far off look, completely forgetting what it was that she'd been telling them.
He was actually quite impressed with himself when he'd actually managed to capture the moment on camera, immortalising Robin's "sorry this person is unavailable, please leave a message" look on film. That, as well as a couple of hundred other photos, the many opportunities to capture their adventure permanently being a major highlight of the trip because as beautiful as Rachel was, it didn't hold a candle to his three companions; Robin overjoyed with her destination, Chrissy overjoyed with Robin and Eddie, well, Steve didn't want to presume, but he liked to hope he'd had an enjoyable experience, the beaming smile on his face suggested he did.
Steve knew his luck wouldn't last, though, and it wasn't long before Robin insisted on taking his photo; they were standing on an obscure bit of road, signposted by a random boulder that was apparently distinguishable from all the other random boulders surrounding them. Robin demanded Steve was in the photo with said boulder, and as much as he was panicking, who was he to dampen her enthusiasm? Except he quickly realised he didn't really know what to do with himself because other than school portrait photos or the odd family-style holiday-card kind his mother organised, no one had ever really taken his picture before.
He'd felt incredibly lost as he'd stood awkwardly by the rock, but his sweet Eddie, his wonderful mind-reading Eddie, quickly came to his rescue. He and Chris had been dorking around cha cha chaing on the tarmac singing to Love Is Strange, which had been the last song they'd heard on the radio before Steve had cut the Cadillac's engine. Not even breaking character or their bit, Eddie telepathically checked with Robin that it was okay, boxstepping towards Steve as Chrissy called "Sylvia!" 
Eddie paused, looking coyly over his shoulder at his best friend, "Yes, Mickey?" he asked, resuming his slow movement toward Steve.
"How'd you call your loverboy?" Chris asked, waggling her eyebrows at Steve.
Eddie paused and pretended to think of an answer before shouting, "C'mere loverboy!" grinning smugly at Steve and beckoning him with a curled finger.
"And if he doesn't answer?" Chrissy asked.
Eddie put both his hands over his heart, fluttering his eyelashes, "Oh, loverboy!" he called flirtatiously.
Chrissy was grinning so widely and so indelibly, she had to bite her lip in order to ask, "And if he still doesn't answer?"
Eddie skipped the rest of the way to Steve, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, looking up at him through his lashes, "I simply say. Baby!" Eddie sang, wiggling his hips to the guitar only Eddie could hear, trailing his way around Steve, sticking his chin over his shoulder, "Oh baby!" he crooned. Switching to his other shoulder and kissing his flushed cheek, "My sweet baby! You're the one," Eddie finished, snuggling into Steve's back like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Like he was just waiting for Robin to take their photograph, like he hadn't just serenaded him and rocked Steve's world, like Steve wasn't grinning like a buffoon, like he wasn't blushing from head to toe, like Steve's heart wasn't racing faster than was probably wise out in the desert and all Steve could do was shake his head, sharing a look with a bewildered Robin that said, did that really just happen?
And Steve might've been in a state of shock, but he still couldn't help relaxing into Eddie's grasp, interlinking their fingers around his waist, because Eddie may be a ridiculous man who did weird enactments of songs that no one else could hear, but he was Steve's ridiculous man. 
Robin finally managed to come back to herself enough to bring the camera back up to her eyes, Eddie smiling infectiously in Robin's direction, yelling a drawn out "Cheeeeeese!" 
Steve heard more than saw Robin snap the picture because he was too busy just staring at the awe at the crazy, goofy man that was his husband, and he knew he must've had the gooiest eyes in the photo because Robin snapped out of her stupor enough to start faux gagging, demanding they take another she could actually stand to look at.
Of course, the next one Eddie kissed him on the cheek causing Robin to complain loudly, then he'd spun Steve around to stare lovingly into his eyes and the next one getting ruined was Steve's fault because Eddie couldn't just act like that and look at him with that look in his eyes without getting kissed senseless, Steve feeling slightly better about his reaction to Eddie's performance when Eddie looked rather dazed as Steve eventually pulled away. 
Chrissy, probably sensing Robin's frustration, stepped in at that point, before the camera got thrown at the newlyweds or Robin's head actually exploded, yelled a sharp "Eddie!" which seemed to bring him crashing back down to earth. He looked over at the girls then down at the rock and suggested, "Piggyback?" Steve shrugged and spun around, so Eddie could climb onto his back, but Eddie just called him a silly goose in the gentlest tone, hoisting Steve into his arms, holding Steve bridal style, and Steve had never in his life been so thankful to be a Disney Princess.
He spent the whole day in a general state of bafflement, Steve had never been with someone so openly affectionate before, not just in a physical sense, meaning that Steve and the girls were often covered in flurries of hugs and kisses whenever the mood seemed to strike him. But Eddie was emotionally affectionate as well, and not just with him and the girls but with perfect strangers, too. There were times throughout the day when Steve just couldn't tear his eyes away, his heart soaring, his cheeks aching with the effort of smiling for so long because Eddie was just like a walking ray of sunshine, exuding a joy that made everyone around him feel warm and elated.
Steve knew they must've taken hundreds of pictures, each of them taking their turn behind and in front of the lens, photographs taken with landscapes and bits of debris and a lizard Eddie had named Chico who Steve had to admit was a pretty cool dude; he didn't try to eat anyone's toes and when he flicked his tongue out to lick the tattoo on the back of Eddie's ear (that Steve could only assume Chico thought was a fly) Eddie pulled the cutest face Steve had ever seen. It was the same face little kids pull when a puppy licks them for the first time, and honestly, he could only hope the picture came out clear, because if not he would be buying Eddie a lizard when they got home, so they could replicate the experience.
They all took plenty of candids too, especially given Robin's hatred of posed photos, despite her forcing the other three into a mix of terrible stock photo poses, there were photos of laughter when someone said something funny, and the adorable face Chrissy pulled whenever she was listening to Robin talk, pictures of Eddie attempting a cartwheel when Chrissy inadvertently started a competition, Robin sticking her tongue out in concentration as she attempted to follow the white line in the road perfectly, the look of adoration on her face when she inevitably fell and Chrissy knelt by her side to check she was okay, photos covered in sunscreen when Steve had accidentally got a blob on Robin's cheek while he'd been rubbing it into Eddie's neck, inadvertently causing a sun lotion war.
They took best friend photos and coupley shots, Eddie even managed to get a couple of professionally posed photographs of Robin and Chrissy with both of them actually grinning or laughing down the lens. And the more Eddie made them laugh and smile, the more he used his natural ability to capture it forever without making Robin pull her grimace photo face, the more endeared Steve became. Chrissy of course took one look at Steve watching Eddie and insisted on taking their picture, and honestly, wrapped around his husband or having Eddie wrapped around him made being in front of the camera a lot less painful than it'd once been.
In the end, they ran out of films for the camera, Area 51 ran out of attractions and Robin ran out of stories to tell, and suddenly they were all just kinda hungry, Chrissy emphasising the point when her stomach rumbled loudly. And as luck would have it, the closest place was a diner that happened to be run by believers. 
Fascination was always a good look on Robin, and amazingly the owners, Betty and her husband John, had a few stories she hadn't heard before. Just the fact that she was actually sitting still told Steve she was listening intently, long before she started asking more questions than either Betty or John had time to answer.
Chrissy seemed to just be basking in the glow of a captivated Robin, only snatching her eyes away when they were joined by other people, other believers who'd heard their conversation and wanted to join in. Steve marvelled at his three companions' ability to hold three separate conversations from the same table. He knew he personally had nothing to contribute, but that was fine with him, that just meant he could sit and listen and watch their brilliance in awe. 
Eddie was grinning wildly as he chatted with an older man who looked a little like a thin Santa named Phil, and Steve couldn't tear his eyes away, he didn't think he'd seen Eddie stop smiling once all day, not that Steve was complaining of course, he was ecstatic he was having a good time and was delighted to learn that the uncle who raised him was a believer as well and that Eddie was excited to take all their new stories home to him as Phil regaled Eddie with his own personal experience with Martians.
They'd stayed late, mainly because Chrissy had this uncanny ability to make friends with anyone and everyone. Steve could've sworn they must've got to know everyone in a fifty mile radius by the time the summer sun fell below the blinds, lighting the diner in golden hues. They'd heard and shared so many stories, that these people who'd been strangers just a few short hours before suddenly felt like friends, so much so, it felt hard to leave them. 
The foursome had to be literally ushered out the door by Betty, insisting that they take the picnic she'd made for them and go down to the summit to enjoy the sunset. Steve smiled as he waved goodbye as he drove them out of the parking lot even though it brought with it an intense feeling of sadness; a few hours in the grand scheme of things was no time at all but the diner patrons had made them feel like part of the family and the fact that he knew deep down that he'd probably never see any of them ever again just dug a hole in his heart.
The drive down to Coyote Summit was as short as Betty had promised, but she had been absolutely right, it was definitely worth it. The climb to the top wasn't difficult, even laden with enough food to feed a small army and the view from the top, honestly, it was nothing short of spectacular. Just a vast nothingness for as far as the eye could see all around them, it felt like being the only people in the universe, just them and the slowly setting sun. 
Between the four of them they got organised pretty quickly, the girls had pulled the beach towel out of the backpack and laid it out on the rough surface for them to sit on, Eddie lounged against the formation, leaving room for Steve to settle into the v of his legs, the bags of food between him and Robin within easy reach for all of them. Resting his head on Eddie's shoulder, Steve sighed contentedly, it'd been a long but glorious day, and he hadn't felt peace like this in a long time, especially when Eddie wrapped his arms around his middle, pressing a distracted kiss into his temple. 
Chrissy was happily curled under Robin's arm, the two of them chatting animatedly with Eddie, retelling the stories from the diner that the other two had missed, but Steve had already heard them and between the vibration of Eddie voice and laugh, and the serenity of their surroundings, Steve's body was being lulled into a deep sense of relaxation he hadn't felt since his last spa day.
A tranquil silence settled over the four of them, as the sky lit up in stunning pastel colours, leaving them to merely observe the beauty of nature. He'd taken Nancy up Weathertop once upon a time because he thought she'd find the sunset romantic, and she had, it was one of the few times a date with her hadn't ended in a raging argument, and it was nice, but it could never compare to a Nervada desert evening. Weathertop had been like puppy love, but the Summit was something indescribable, something like joy, like peace, like love.
Steve sighed contentedly and laced his fingers with Eddie's, pulling his arms tighter around himself, Eddie quickly taking the hint and dragging Steve closer. So close, he could feel Eddie's heartbeat against his back, the steady rhythm matching his own. So close, Eddie could tuck his chin over Steve's shoulder, the bits of Eddie's hair that had strayed from their tie tickling his face and neck. So close, all he could hear and smell and taste and touch was Eddie, all intermingled with something so ordinary yet extraordinary as the setting sun. 
He knew that it was a moment he'd never be able to forget, that from then on every time he saw the sun he'd think of sitting under the desert sky with his husband.
Husband! Steve thought gleefully, distractedly kissing Eddie's cheek.
It got dark faster than Steve had expected it to, but it was a night of a new moon, so the soft pastels turned quickly to a deep indigo and then an inky black interspersed by the blanket of stars, tiny diamonds twinkling for as far as the eye could see. The majesty of the universe sat before their very eyes, making him feel simultaneously like a giant in the silence of an empty desert and like he was no bigger than a speck of dust. 
It wasn't like it didn't get dark enough in Hawkins to see the stars, he just couldn't honestly say he'd ever bothered to take the time to look, not like this. And seeing it, really seeing it, for the first time, safe in Eddie's arms, felt as close to heaven as he thought he'd ever get.
Steve wasn't sure how long they stayed there staring at the sky. They had talked for a while, Eddie pointing out constellations, murmuring mythical legends into Steve's ear. Robin eventually dragging the two boys into their quiet discussion of what the world would be like in five years time; a philosophical discussion that turned into hushed admissions of hopes and dreams for their own futures, of childhood career aspirations, of growing up with the two-point-four ideal and the realisation that that wasn't their destiny, of first kisses and heartbreaks and gay awakenings.
It was only when something howled too close for any of their liking that they gathered their things and headed home. Steve as thrilled as he was the first time to be back behind the wheel of the Cadillac with Eddie, wrapped in Steve’s hoodie, his hand grasped in his own. They were barely ten minutes into their journey, when Steve glanced in the rearview mirror to see Chrissy fast asleep on Robin's shoulder, only the depths of the darkened landscape keeping Robin alert, her hopes of seeing something stronger than her desire to nap, her denim jacket draped over them both.
He couldn't help smiling to himself, he knew his best friend was in love, there was no other explanation for her behaviour because as much as she enjoyed affectionate she also liked her own personal space, normally Robin would’ve laid her girlfriend gently against the window of the car or the arm of the couch if they fell asleep on her, but she was perfectly content with Chris curled into her side, drooling on her new Metallica t-shirt that she'd got from the concert the night before. 
The radio was on but at a much lower volume than the drive there, the songs had changed from the fifties to the sixties, sad country songs finding their way into the soulful mix reminding him of quality time with Hop. Eddie had started off the journey singing quietly, almost to himself, which slowly transitioned to humming along, Eddie eventually going silent altogether, Steve glanced over to see why he'd stopped, wondering if he'd nodded off upright, but he was just staring out the window, silent and almost pensive, holding Steve's hand so tightly that Eddie's rings were digging into his skin, effectively cutting off the circulation to his last two fingers. 
What A Wonderful World drifted through the speakers, Steve squeezed Eddie's hand gently and began to mutter the lyrics under his breath along with the music, glad that Louis didn't make him sound too much like a squawking parrot; stealing another quick glance at his husband, pleased to see him smiling and mouthing the lyrics back at him. It didn't last though, the song changed and Steve could feel Eddie staring at the side of his face, almost like there was something on it or like he was trying to imprint it in his memory. He thought about joking that a photo would last longer but thought better of it when he glanced over and saw the look of devastation on Eddie's face, he looked like he was about to cry.
"Y'okay?" Steve murmured, squeezing Eddie's hand twice in quick succession which seemed to snap Eddie out of it because when Steve chanced another glance at him, he was grinning at Steve, but it just didn't quite meet his eyes, and it might've fooled someone else, but Steve knew something was amiss.
"Never better," Eddie muttered, lifting Steve's hand to kiss his knuckles just over his wedding ring. Steve knew it was a lie, but he didn't want to call Eddie out or start an argument after the amazing day they'd had, he just had to hope Eddie would talk to him when he was ready. All Steve could do was cling on, pulling their hands to his lips and kissing the back of his hand, and hope everything would be okay.
The drive back from a destination always seemed shorter for reasons Steve never understood, but it didn't seem to take long before they swapped the light of the stars for the lights of The Strip; the evening just barely starting in Sin City even though it had long since gone dark. Eddie asked if they could eat before heading back to the hotel; they’d enjoyed their picnic, but that had been a few hours ago and when Steve saw a shining golden M lighting up the sky, he had a sudden craving for burgers. 
Upon his carmates agreement, he pulled into the car park, already mourning the loss of driving his beloved Cadillac but enjoying the chance to finally stretch his legs, except the restaurant was loud and hectic, filled with merry revellers and being surrounded by the banality of hen dos and 21st birthday parties just felt wrong. In the fluorescent lights Steve could see how dead on her feet Robin looked, her eyes were red whether from straining or crying, he wasn't sure, but he knew the last thing she needed was idiotic chaos. Eddie didn't look much better, and Chrissy looked like she wanted to tear herself in two to take care of them both.
Crowding the other three back towards the door, Steve said, "Go back to the car, I'll get dinner." Feeling the appreciation of his companions in their grateful smiles, "What does everyone want?" Steve asked, trying his hardest to remember their muttered orders before they disappeared back outside. Steve ordered their dinner then nipped into the bathroom, washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face. He was exhausted and worried about Eddie and Robin but knew getting stressed wouldn't help any of them. Sighing heavily, he waded through the mania, collecting their food and heading back to the car, getting to enjoy the night air, being in the other's company and Elvis' soulful voice floating through the radio. Almost feels like we're back in the sixties.
Steve sat twisted in his seat, tangling his legs with Eddie's in the footwell, his arm thrown over the back of the seat, so he could keep an eye on Robin. Not that she was paying any of them any attention, she was just staring at the food in her lap, deep in thought. Steve knew better than to interrupt her, but Chrissy's concern was written across her features as she tried to stealthily catch his attention. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and when she flicked her eyes at Robin he could tell she was asking if her being so quiet was normal, which was fair, other than sleep, Robin rarely stopped speaking. Steve didn't think he'd ever known her to be quiet for two solid hours before, but they’d shared a lot back at the summit and over the years he'd found that heavier conversations tended to take it out of her. He couldn't know for sure what exactly was going on in Robin’s head, but he knew she'd let him know as soon as she had it figured out.
He smiled as reassuringly as he could at Chrissy, trying to let her know that it'd be fine, that Robin was probably just processing, and she'd be back with them when she was ready. And the spooky thing was Chrissy seemed to understand him, sighing in relief, she sagged back into her seat, letting all the tension out of her body as she glanced around, soaking in the atmosphere. Up until a few days ago the only person Steve had ever been able to wordlessly communicate with was Robin, he always assumed it was because they were soulmates, two halves of a whole, sharing one brain most of the time, but both Chrissy and Eddie had managed to understand Steve and at times he'd been able to understand them too, and it made him wonder if maybe they weren't halves at all but quarters. 
Eddie had noticed their silent conversation and smiled gratefully at Steve, taking his hand to kiss each of his knuckles, then the back of his hand, then up his arm, getting grease and salt all over his skin. Robin finally looking up and giggling at Eddie's antics, some of the sparkle coming back into her eyes, Steve pulling Eddie closer, so he could kiss him on the forehead, smiling appreciatively at the love of his life.
He'd never had a partner who cared as much as Eddie did, who made life fun, who was willing to be silly just to make someone smile, and honestly, Steve couldn't quite believe he was real sometimes. Just the amount of tiny things Eddie had been doing in the short time they'd been together that made Eddie so perfect, he just blew Steve's mind and by this point, he was under no illusions, he was already head over heels in love.
He was on the verge of freaking out about the consequences of that particular realisation when Robin broke his train of thought, "Evie!" she singsonged.
Parking his emotional crisis until later, he gave his best friend his undivided attention, "Yes, Bobs?" he asked.
Robin looked so serious, he assumed she was about to tell a joke. It was just what she did, like she had to think hard about something awful in order to get through the whole joke without bursting into hysterics. "I want a tattoo!" she declared, throwing Steve completely.
He wasn't sure where she was going, if she was joking or not, it was disconcerting. He blinked owlishly and with a nervous giggle said, "Okay?"
Of course, Robin didn't appreciate that, she scowled at Steve, "I mean now," she insisted.
Steve was surprised, it wasn't something she'd ever mentioned, and over the years they'd talked about near enough everything there was to talk about. The last thing he wanted her to do was to make a spontaneous decision on something so permanent, "Oh! Don't you have to research that kinda thing?" he asked, trying to make sure he sounded curious and not judgemental.
Robin wasn't fazed though, she just snorted, "Like you should research wedding venues?" she snarked.
Chrissy and Eddie burst into hysterics and all Steve could do was blush, fair point, "Touché!" he chuckled.
Eddie smiled gently at him, putting his hand on Steve's knee and reassuringly rubbing his thumb back and forth, "What're you after, Songbird?" he asked her.
Robin shrugged, "I dunno, lights? Stars? I want it here," she explained, showing Eddie the inside of her middle finger, "So something small, y'know?"
-----------------------------
Eddie nodded intrigued, looked excitedly at Chrissy and exclaimed, "Don't worry, I know just the place!"
Part 7
Tag list @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @adhdsummer @nerdfighteratheart @anaibis @hbyrde36 @dolphincliffs @marinarasarah @deadflowercollector @lunabookworm @a-couchpotato @wonderland-girl143-blog @ddharrington feel free to lmk if you want removing 💖
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mayuzumiiis · 5 months
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I have the Bloodweave brainrot really badly, so here's a WIP of something I started
pls be nice to me i'm rusty at writing in general
Gale was known for being painfully and unfalteringly honest with others. He had his secrets, of course, but when asked about anything he would readily talk about, it was almost guaranteed that he’d be completely truthful with the asker. 
Astarion, on the other hand, was very dishonest. He lied about just about everything; whether it be as a form of protection or if he was just a pathological liar was a topic of hot debate amongst the camp. That wasn’t to say he didn’t share some truths with his companions, though. 
One of those truths, unfortunately for him, was that he’d become somewhat enamored with the wizard. Halsin had noted his lingering looks and unusual attitude first and had practically cornered Astarion about it in the pre-dawn light. 
“You seem to be very interested in Gale,” the Druid had smiled, and the words had nearly made Astarion lose his balance. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He had recovered less than smoothly and turned his head away to hide the surprise on his face. “I mean, of course I’m interested in Gale. It’s not every day you meet a wizard with his… condition, after all.” 
Halsin had laughed quietly, which for some reason irritated Astarion. Did he not believe him? “I do wish you wouldn’t laugh at me like that.” 
“Apologies,” Halsin cleared his throat and returned to simply smiling at him, “but I hope you don’t think that excuse is going to work on me.” 
Astarion sputtered for a moment as his head whipped around to look at Halsin in disbelief. He opened his mouth a few times to speak, only to find that the words caught in his throat. Had he really been that obvious? 
“Are you really that surprised at my noticing all of this, Astarion?” 
“Well, yes!” Astarion threw his hands up and stood quickly to let out some of the anxiety he’d been building throughout their conversation. “And don’t you go getting the wrong idea about all of this, Halsin. Once all of this is over, I have no doubt that he will return to his tower in Waterdeep and lose himself in his magic all over again.”
Halsin managed to hide his laughter with a well-placed cough and shake of his head. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t have to be that way.” 
“Oh, whatever,” Astarion waved his hand dismissively and put the other on his hip, “I’m finished with this conversation now.” 
Halsin had, of course, allowed that to be the end of their conversation; though that didn’t mean he didn’t occasionally shoot Astarion a knowing smile during camp setup, or the occasional snicker when he would catch him trying to be coy with his feelings. 
It put Astarion on edge, and he found himself acting colder and colder towards Gale as a result. It hadn’t been entirely intentional, but the harsh words were a familiar comfort in the inner turmoil he was dealing with. Maybe, he thought, if I’m mean enough to him, he won’t want to be around me, and I can put this whole thing out of my mind. 
Gale, though, had other plans. He had, of course, noticed Astarion’s sudden change in behavior towards him, and it was bothering him. He wanted to confront the vampire the moment he felt the change in their relationship, but nerves had gotten the better of him. 
Instead, he made his way to Wyll. 
“Ah, Gale, what can I do for you?” Wyll smiled at him as he approached his tent. “You look troubled. Anything I can help with?” 
Gale sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I certainly hope you can help me, Wyll.” 
He took a seat as Wyll gestured him to and gratefully accepted the goblet of wine that was offered. There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence between the two of them as he took a drink and stared at his reflection. 
“So,” Wyll leaned back on one hand, “what’s going on?” 
Gale sighed again and looked back up. “Have I done something to upset Astarion? He’s been… well, rather harsh to me as of late.” Wyll’s eyes widened in surprise, and he stole a glance to Astarion’s tent as he thought about it. “I don’t think you’ve done anything to warrant that, no, Gale.” Now that he really thought about it, it was kind of strange how suddenly Astarion had become so distant from Gale.
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pumpumdemsugah · 4 months
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I hate video essayists and commentary because most are bad but I'm screaming with laughter about this one about that American politician that lied about everything ( George Santos. The video is by j Aubrey )
" I never claimed to be Jewish. I said I'm Jew-ish" I coughed and yelled. Sorry ?!
This man cannot help himself. Stole a dog. Stole money from a homeless man for his dog with cancer. Claimed he created a Broadway Spiderman play
It's pathological
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hyperannotation · 10 months
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HELL by Charlene Elsby
There exists [sic] a dichotomy of eternity and temporality.
Where temporality connotes materiality.
And materiality implies movement.
And time is the measure of movement [kinesis].
Such that if only there were not this materiality with which to contend, eternality would be the consequence.
But we’ve already made a mistake.
There’s an error above and always has been.
What happens to movement if materiality didn’t implicate.
The paralysis of reality.
The great end.
In consciousness the revolutions of thought mimic the divine and through the repetition of orbital motion imitate eternality.
And in the deviation is implicated the punishment.
Death.
Death and death and death.
Void is something other than the heavens.
The space in which what could be isn’t.
The negative of potentiality.
Not all that couldn’t be is actuality.
So wakes the dreamer from the thought of what could be into a corpse incapable of motion cognizant of the destructive force whose potency is to enact a negative timelessness.
Torn from materiality the other way.
Not anything to live through.
Acts of the divine in nature.
And then there are its monstrosities.
The pathological recognition of dark matter.
I felt it, and I know you felt it too.
Intuition but dreadful.
A lack and all its wants.
A hole for us to fall into.
I see the edge, and I want to go over.
Go over go over go over.
What’s down there?
What could be but what isn’t.
What isn’t and cannot be.
What your mother warned you about.
Whatever faith is the medication for.
It’s down there.
It’s in the corner waiting for your heart to stop.
The beats are too much like its heavens.
On the way down to where nothing circulates.
It comes in through the seams between the walls where they meet ninety degrees and warmer.
It’s why sleepwalkers open doors.
And run back inside.
The fact remains we’ve seen this thing, and we were not asleep for it.
God in a child’s laughter.
Hell in its expunged entrails.
What was holding it together was participation in a form that mimics the eternal but there’s something, something else that tears it apart and that’s so much closer…
Matter tends that way already.
Toward what?
Not the eternal.
To the negative schematized timelessness you can only see in the dark.
Eternality as the rationalization of that which dissipates.
Oh fuck, that’s me.
The contradiction of becoming isn’t being, it’s not being.
Take it from the inexistent.
There’s a time outside of time where your God lives.
And a timelessness on the other side where nothing.
I didn’t see it when I got up in the night.
Perception is a function of the animal.
You know it by the fact that you can’t tell.
There it is, though.
There it isn’t.
It’ll stop your heart, just because it hates its rhythm.
Now there are fits and starts to rationality.
It isn’t clear what’s waking and what’s dead and what’s left over.
Every limb useless.
Tendency after tendency run screaming from its end toward the other.
Everything tends toward the good, until it doesn’t.
Gravitation as materiality gone wrong.
The nature that drags you down. 
The light that wants you with it isn’t strong enough to overcome the fundamental pull of matter towards matter towards mass towards the one.
Singularity not as everything not as unity not as weightlessness but heavy, dark, and putrid, all that’s torn apart together, condemned to voidlessness, where there isn’t space to be and nevertheless, there you are.
I see it in the extended devil’s now.
The present that’s necessity by force of its endurance.
The endless end.
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Text
For @strangerfandomfiascos
Some good ole Steve-centric angst!
Pathological
By George The Puppet (curiouser_n_curiouser on Ao3)
Trigger Warnings
Implied ED
Implied SH
Implied S*cidal Thoughts
Dissociation
Mania/Hysteria
Mental Breakdowns
Mentions of Vomit
Word count: 1561
Enjoy!
He'd been convinced he was okay.
Eddie was healing.
Dustin was slowly becoming himself, again.
Max was awake.
Everybody was alive.
And yet...
He was drowning again.
 
Steve found himself stuck in a cycle. Boredom meshed with his downright shit mood, and suddenly he was walking in circles around his empty childhood home.
He was sure that there would be a visible path along the floorboards, soon. His socks caught on the cracked floor sealer. His steps felt crackly.
It made him want to throw up.
Steve was stuck. The knowledge that he was hungry pressed against the back of his mind. But every time he stepped onto the kitchen tile, his knees grew weak and his stomach sank to his feet.
He couldn't do it.
And so, the loop would start again. Through the kitchen, with nothing but a sidelong glance at the fridge. Back out into the dining room, and through the doorway into the living room.
There, he'd sit on the couch for hours at a time. His thoughts echoed in his ears. Deafening in the silence of an empty house. He was choking. Suffocated. Smothered by an irrational fear that it was all just going to stop.
Then he would heave his aching body off the couch, drag himself up the stairs with legs made of lead, and collapse into his bed. The plush mattress and light blue sheets weren't comforting, anymore. The fabric felt greasy against his raw skin. The mattress held his body in such a firm grip that he was suffocating all over again.
A sleepless night bled into a restless morning. On the days he could force himself out of bed, it would be the beginning of another loop.
On the days he couldn't... well... he'd spend hours in the same position. Eventually forced to move by his screaming joints and tingling muscles.
Sleep continued to elude him.
Steve couldn't remember the last time he had gotten more than an hour or two at a time.
It was torture. Self-inflicted. Brutal.
 
Days bled into weeks, and Steve could feel himself wasting away. Every few days, his body would push him just that little bit further. Survival instincts would kick in. He'd eat a couple of the frozen dinners out of the freezer in the basement, turn on the TV for once, drink some hot chocolate, and pass out on the couch for a day.
His body was trying. But that was more than he could say for the rest of him. Steve wasn't even sure if he could feel anymore.
The moments when he thought he could... When he felt it swell in his chest...
They would quickly turn to hysteria.
Mania. Something so fucking toxic that he'd end up in the bathtub, rocking himself back and forth under the lukewarm stream from the shower– desperately trying to stop the hysterical laughter that often had him leaning over the toilet, spitting bile.
It fucking hurt. In more ways than one.
And what hurt more, was the fact that he'd had practical radio silence from the others.
He was alone.
 
It's where he was now.
The shower was running cold - it had been for a while. His hands and feet ached with how long they had been subjected to the harsh spray of water.
Steve was just trying to breathe. It had stopped a while ago - he was trying not to think about it. If he didn't think about it, he would be okay.
 
Someone was knocking on his front door.
Which was weird, because he hadn't had any visitors in a month - and now someone was here.
Steve dragged himself off the couch, bringing the knitted throw with him. He could feel it dragging along the floor. It was fine.
The dread didn't settle in until his hand was turning the deadbolt. Even then, it took an extra moment for him to figure out that it was, in fact, dread. And the door was open by then.
Four familiar faces looked back at him, each a portrait of shock and concern. Each more distraught than the next.
He moved to close the door again– only for a leather-clad arm to shove back against it.
"Nuh-uh, Harrington. Don't you dare close this door on us."
The words were firm and hoarse.
That bubble was growing thickly in his chest. Fuck.
But he couldn't speak. He couldn't tell them to leave. Because if he opened his mouth now, it would all spill out before he'd prepared himself for it.
He felt like he was dying.
Steve stepped back from the door, eyes locked onto the tiles of the entryway. He watched them come inside, each toeing off their shoes next to the empty shoe rack.
Steve kept backing up. His feet tangled in the knitted blanket. His ankles ached something fierce. And there, right in front of the stairs, his knees buckled.
Shouts of panic bounced off the walls. Around the inside of his skull. Behind his eyes.
Hands gripped his shoulders, his chin, his wrists. His head was tilted up, and his eyes left the floor. She was close. Almost too close.
But he hadn't seen her in so long that it didn't feel as intrusive as it should have.
"Steve, do you feel okay?" Her hand drifted from his shoulder to his forehead, feeling for a non-existent fever. "What's going on?"
A shiver shot down his spine. Steve shook his head. He didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't know what was wrong.
"We've been trying to come see you for weeks! You never answer your door, Steve. What the fuck is going on?" Robin's words cut through the brain fog. Piercing his fragile soul.
The lump rose up from his chest and into his throat. His breath caught against it. A whine tore from his chest. The sound was nothing but pathetic.
Steve jerked his chin out of Nancy's hand, curling in on himself. Every time he swallowed around the lump, it threatened to break. To send him into another episode. He hadn't been ready for this.
He didn't want to do this.
"Steve–"
He ripped himself away from them before Jonathon could say anything else, darting up the stairs faster than he'd moved since March. The blanket made it to the top of the stairs with him, before it caught on the wood skirting panel and flopped back onto the floor.
He shut himself in the bathroom and locked the door behind himself before they could even make it up the stairs behind him. His knees slammed into the tile, sending sharp pains up into his hips.
Steve ignored the banging on the door. He ignored their calls for him. Their concern.
Everything around him melted away as the lump in his throat cracked.
It started like it always did. Hot tears and lurching sobs. Fingers tangling in his already matted hair.
Heaving for a breath, Steve dragged himself into the bathtub. A shaking hand reached up to turn on the shower. Cold water slammed into him like a truck.
He curled up on his side, facing the wall - away from the door.
 
A loud crack echoed through the room, and Steve couldn't help the full-body flinch.
Like a switch flipping - a trigger - the laughter began. The sobs competed with it, fighting his lungs for the next breath. His head was splitting open. Throbbing incessantly.
He wished it would just stop.
 
At first, it was just one hand. It had him shuddering against the side of the tub, pulling away on instinct.
But the hand didn't leave. It stayed. It moved. Rubbing slow circles over his arm. Steve shuddered, his breath hitching.
"What's going on, Steve?"
What was going on?
"Is it... the Upside Down?"
It wasn't that. He knew it wasn't. This was nothing but his own mind tearing itself apart.
He was fucked. He'd actually lost it.
 
Steve shook his head, his hands moving back to his hair. They gripped tight and pulled hard as another hybrid noise tore from him.
It sent him into a coughing fit. Dehydration and exertion were wrecking havoc.
"Steve, Vecna is dead. So what's going on?"
He tried to pull away again. Someone turned the water off, and he had to bite back the impulse to hiss at them like a wild animal.
He didn't try to answer. He knew he wouldn't get anything out around his breakdown. More firm hands gripped him. They forced him out of his less-than comfortable position and back out of the tub he had been treating like a second bed.
They tried to get him to stand, but Steve's legs were still adamantly staying out of it. Nancy and Jonathan lowered him back onto the tiles, and Robin was on him the second he was still.
The laughter was fading faster than usual. They were distracting him from his own head. He was well aware if it, and yet every part of him screamed to just... let it happen.
They forced his fragile frame out of his icy-wet clothes. Swaddled him in towels, tighter than anyone had held him since he was a baby. Held him together with nothing but their arms around him.
 
Steve fell apart on the bathroom floor. But they never let him fall far.
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adelaidedrubman · 9 months
Text
wip. well. it’s wednesday somewhere.
i was tagged today by @socially-awkward-skeleton and over the past week by @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @v0idbuggy @inafieldofdaisies! fresh tags out to anyone with new stuff to share and also to @florbelles @unholymilf @henbased @direwombat @derelictheretic @corvosattano @schoute @poetikat @ishwaris @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @cassietrn @josephslittledeputy @jackiesarch @strangefable @voidika @confidentandgood @nuclearstorms @afarcryfrommymain @trench-rot @deputyash @jacobsneed
continuing to juggle wildfire and hl&s. first, a nice emotional tracey and jestiny bonding scene from wildfire chapter 18 (slight drug warning):
She scoffed. “There wasn’t exactly a shitton left for me to go back to in Portland,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “No family. No home. And I fucked up and brought the one friend I had here. To them.”
Jessie swallowed, fingers fidgeting with the bandage on her arm. She reached to lift the joint from its place between Tracey’s fingers, inhaling properly around it this time. Maybe she could use a hit. Anything to make her head feel lighter. 
She coughed hard enough for her eyes to water, trying to assuage the dry sputter of her throat with a swallow of beer. 
“Beer’s kinda watery,” she noted. 
“You’d think that, when you’re used to drinking toxic sludge,” Tracey replied. “The beer you drink tastes like fucking shit, Jessie.” 
“Your palate is so fuckin’ unrefined, it’s unreal.” 
“Yours is like, honest to fucking god pathological. I think it’s the shit they teach you to look out for to spot serial killers.” 
Jestiny shook with laughter, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her thighs and playfully crinkle her nose at Tracey. “Maybe I’d fit in good with the peggies,” she teased with a wriggle of her eyebrows. “Think they’d be impressed enough with my killing talents to make an exception and let me keep drinking the IPAs?” 
Tracey’s smile fell. 
Jestiny considered that possibly she hadn’t found Tracey’s joke that funny, either. 
aaand a little bit from the story that actually matters. hl&s chapter 2:
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Drubman.” He pressed his right arm flat against his abdomen and bent at the waist in a half-bow that put his head near even with Adelaide’s cleavage, bringing his left hand to rest against the small of Jessie’s back. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’m afraid I won’t have any chance of charming my date myself if I’m competing with you.”
He pressed his hand against Jessie’s back to guide her the remaining distance towards the boat — only to have the hand elbowed away, as if she’d once again forgotten they were supposed to be acting like a happy couple.
But before he could shoot her a proper glare in reminder she wrapped her arm around his to tug him along instead, nearly causing him to stumble off the dock from her clumsily effort to cover her slip up.
“I’ll leave you crazy kids to it, then,” Adelaide chimed with a parting wave. “Happy catchin’!”
As John climbed into the boat he caught in his periphery a manicured hand reaching out to grab to the grubby, calloused one dropping a tackle box and set of fishing poles over the side.
“And sugar,” he heard Adelaide whisper to the redhead she held back. “You gotta let me know if it winds up he puts out, alright?”
He could see Jessie’s look of earnest confusion reflected in the windshield.
“Uh, I guess,” she rasped in reply, even more conspicuous yet. “I mean, why wouldn’t he?”
“My dear,” John turned to cut in before the pair could whisper more gossip, holding out the palm of his hand in offering to receive Jessie’s and assist her in climbing into the boat.
She recoiled, looking at the hand as if it might as well have held a dead rat as she stepped to the side of it and hopped onto the boat.
Yes, this was certainly a mistake.
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justanormalfangirlx2 · 10 months
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Had a thought for continuation of "SING A LITTLE SONG FOR ME" where Wilbur and Reader write sad songs together. I was inspired by Taylor Swift (can't help it, I'm a big fan- anyways) and her song You're Losing Me (from the Vault). Wilbur is really known for his love of apathy, right? Several of his songs talk about feeling apathetic. Anyways, I was particularly inspired by the bridge of the song, How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me) And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her And I'm fadin', thinkin' "Do something, babe, say something" (Say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losin' me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing) "To believe, unless you're choosin' me" This song is the worst thing to happen to fanfic communities world wide. So a few years into Reader and Wilbur's relationship, they start drifting apart and Reader always thought they would get married but Wilbur was against the idea and the "institution of marriage"
-🧶
author notes: omg i love taylor swift! i’m such a big swiftie! i hope this makes you guys cry! also comment if you want to be added to a wilbur taglist! :)
SING A LITTLE SONG FOR ME PT. 2
How long could we be a sad song
'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?
I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy
And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier
Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me
I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)
And I wouldn't marry me either
A pathological people pleaser
Who only wanted you to see her
And I'm fadin', thinkin' "Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)
"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losin' me)
“Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)
“To believe, unless you're choosin' me"
it’s been five years since wilbur and y/n started dating. y/n always believed that they and wilbur would always get married with their friends and family in a church in london, a huge reception filled with love, laughter, joy, and happy tears. however, every time they bring up the topic of marriage, wilbur always pushes them away. as a point, here’s a piece of conversation that happened:
“will, please? what’s wrong with wanting to get married? you promised me that i’d be yours, your wife/husband/partner, yet here we are, almost 6 years into a relationship and you don’t want to commit. am i doing something wrong?”
frowning, will shakes his head. “no no, love, i just don’t want to talk about this now.”
now you frowned and wiped tears from your eyes. “i’ve done everything you asked me too, and more! i’ve sacrificed so much for you to get where you were, my friends are married and already have kids! yet you’re too scared to commit anything. i feel like i don’t even know who you are anymore, wilbur. you hardly speak to me, touch me, i’m the only one making an effort in this relationship because i don’t want to loose you.”
he started walking away. “you know what, then leave! nobody is holding you back anymore! you don’t want to be here, so be it. go!”
you looked at him and frown. “my heart left a while ago. i just haven’t physically left yet.”
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