#I mean there are worse things that could be happening

[wholoveseggs]

Huhu, it's me again :) Happy New Year to you and Eggs. I have another idea once you are through with what must be a very long list <3 - So, Reader and Elijah had a romantic whirlwind encounter while she was extensively traveling Europe, living her best life. They agreed to keep it on a first name basis and on keeping things casual. One morning, she just disappears on him. Back in the US, she is taking up a new job/ studies where she meets Klaus, and they start dating (semi casual). Once he introduces her to his family for Thanksgiving, she sees Elijah again, and whatever happens after is completely up to you :) Thanks in advance.

Serendipitous

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader && Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader } When your new life in New Orleans collides with the past you tried to outrun, you come face to face with the man you never stopped thinking about. And worse? You are sleeping with his brother.

♡♡ Once again you give me the most brilliant ideas @originals23~ thank you and I hope you enjoy! ♡♡

8.4k words {whoops} - Warnings: so much smut (there are THREE scenes in this one ~lol I may have gone overboard), unprotected sex (I know, I know, vampires can't reproduce... but reader doesn't know they are vampires...) fingering, oral (f!recieving), casual sex with Klaus, little but of angst, lot's of unresolved sexual & emotional tension, reunion sex, semi-public sex, Elijah being intense and possessive in the hottest way, Klaus being a messy but well-meaning && inappropriate use of a side table...

Your arrangement with Elijah was simple. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

You met by chance on a sunny afternoon in Florence, your tables at a café so close your elbows nearly touched. A passing comment about the wine turned into a two-hour conversation about art, history, and the fleeting beauty of life. His voice was velvet, his presence magnetic, and by the time the waiter brought the check, you were hopelessly charmed.

Keeping things uncomplicated was your idea. First names only. No talk of the future. Just two people indulging in the moment. But there was something about Elijah. His poised elegance, the way he made you feel seen. Made sticking to those rules harder every time you saw him.

Tonight was no different. Except for one thing. This was your last night in Europe, and he didn’t know. You hadn’t told him you were leaving and that the version of yourself he had come to know. The carefree traveler. The woman with no roots… she would disappear as soon as the sun rose. A part of you wanted to tell him, but the words caught in your throat every time you thought to speak. You couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the fragile perfection of what you had, even if it was destined to end.

Now, standing outside the door to his suite, you felt that familiar pull, equal parts excitement and dread. The lock clicked, and the door swung open before you could knock. Elijah stood there, immaculately dressed as always, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“Second thoughts?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Never,” you lied, stepping inside.

The suite was extravagant, warm and rich, but it was his presence that filled the room. He gestured for you to sit, though you barely made it to the sofa before he pulled you into his lap, the contact sending sparks dancing under your skin.

“I was going to ask how your day was,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “but I know you don’t tolerate small talk.”

“Not when there are better things we could be doing,” you breathed, pulling him in for a kiss.

A soft sigh escaped you as your lips met, his strong hands holding you steady, your heart beating in time with his. You were in freefall, tumbling down the rabbit hole of his affection, and as he deepened the kiss, the last shreds of your resolve fell away.

He was so, damn, crushingly good in bed. He knew how to take his time, to read the smallest shifts in your body and adjust his rhythm. When he touched you, the whole world faded away, until all that was left was the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

You tugged his shirt out of his pants, pulling on the buttons of his vest in an effort to undress him faster. He chuckled, sitting back, watching you fumble.

"I can do it," you muttered, blushing as you undid his buttons, his skin hot under your fingers.

He shrugged off his jacket, and you ran your hands up his arms, across his chest, his muscles firm and taut under his crisp shirt. He was always so impeccably dressed, his clothing clearly expensive and well-made. You’d noticed it from the start, how he carried himself like a man born to luxury, but never flaunting it—just letting it linger in the details. It made you wonder what he did for a living, how did he earn his money? You knew so little about him, yet you were about to have his cock inside you.

You quickly peeled off your dress, watching his reaction as you tossed it aside. You loved how he looked at you. As if you were the only woman in the world, his gaze filled with admiration.

"I like it when you watch me," you admitted softly.

"I'd rather have my hands on you." He replied, running his palm along your thighs, his fingers trailing dangerously high, stopping just short of where you needed him.

You let out a quiet moan, and he chuckled at your response, moving his hands under your hips and picking you up, placing you underneath him on the bed. You watched as he slid his belt from its loops, tossing it onto the floor.

"Can you keep the rest on for now?" you asked, your voice quieter than intended. "You look so good in a suit.”

"As you wish." He grinned as he unbuttoned his pants, freeing his erection, and your heart fluttered. He reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom.

"No," you protested, your brain-to-mouth filter long gone. "I want to feel you."

The moment the words left your lips, you knew you had gone too far. The two of you never talked about this. Hell, you didn't even know if he wanted kids. Or had kids. Or birth control. Or anything personal at all. Yet, there was a part of you that didn't care. A reckless, desperate part that wanted to feel him come inside you, to take whatever piece of him he was willing to give.

He studied your face, and you were certain he would tell you no. Any reasonable man would. But then, he dropped the condom and kissed you, a slow, lingering kiss that made you squirm.

"If that's what you want." He murmured, pulling you even closer.

You nodded, clinging to him. Your hips rose to meet him, and his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, as he slowly entered you.

This was such a bad idea. Having raw sex with a stranger. It was the kind of decision that would've gotten you a stern talking-to from your mother. And yet, you'd never been so turned on in your life.

He moved inside you, a languid roll of his hips, and a whimper escaped you. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer. You felt drunk, delirious, overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin against yours, his hard length filling you, stretching you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

It was different this way, more intense, the intimacy heightened. You suddenly regretted asking him to leave his suit on. You wanted more, the need for closeness clawing at your chest. You tugged on his shirt, until he took the hint, leaning back to shed it, his hips still moving, keeping a perfect, maddening, rhythm.

"You don't know what you want today, do you?" he said, his tone playful.

You always enjoyed a bit of dirty talk, but the sound of his voice now. Soothing and authoritative, the slightest edge of teasing… had your head spinning.

"Hush," you chided, trying to regain your composure.

He chuckled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Tell me what you want."

You moaned, the warmth in your belly coiling tighter. The way he held your hands, steady and sure, felt too intimate, too personal. But you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

"Do you want me to go harder?" He leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours, curling into a teasing smile. "Deeper?"

You nodded, closing your eyes as he adjusted his angle, his cock hitting the spot that made your toes curl. You were close, and he seemed to sense it, his hips rocking into you harder, the bed creaking under his weight.

"Do you want me to come inside you?" he whispered, his voice rough, his words sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

It was a foolish, insane, stupid idea, but lord, did you want it. You wanted to feel his release, the heat of him filling you.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, the intensity of his gaze overwhelming.

"Yes," you breathed, "please."

The look in his eyes changed, as if a switch had flipped, the gentle teasing replaced by something deeper. It was the thing you were both trying to avoid, the emotion lurking just beneath the surface.

He let go of your hands, bracing himself on the mattress, his thrusts slowed, his pace deeper, drawing out the pleasure, the air between you charged, thick with anticipation.

"Say it again," he commanded.

"Please," you moaned. "I need-"

He silenced you with a kiss, your hands moving to his hips, clutching his ass, urging him deeper, faster.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his thrusts growing uneven.

"Please," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair, "come inside me."

A groan escaped him, and his body stilled, the feeling of him pulsing inside you making your whole body tense, a white-hot pleasure surging through you as you both came undone, clinging to each other as if the world would fall away without the other to anchor you.

He collapsed next to you, and you curled against him, resting your head on his chest, his heart beating fast and strong under your cheek.

You weren’t sure what this was, the two of you tangled together, basking in the afterglow. He wasn’t usually a cuddler. In fact, he’d never asked you to stay the night. Yet, here he was, running his fingers through your hair, his arms around you, holding you close.

You could hear the traffic outside, the bustle of the city. It felt surreal, as if you were watching yourself from above. The woman who’d begged him to come inside her, who craved his touch, wasn’t you. She was a stranger. A shadow of the person you pretended to be.

The thought sent a jolt through your chest, and you pulled away, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

“It’s getting late,” you said. “I should-”

“Stay,” he said softly, his hand trailing slowly down your back. His voice was quieter than you had ever heard it, almost hesitant, and the word stuck in your chest like a splinter.

Your eyes darted toward the door, the urge to flee overwhelming. What the hell were you thinking? Reckless. Stupid. You’d never planned for this to go so far, to feel so real. Yet, when his hand slid down your back, the warmth of his touch anchored you, quieting the chaos in your mind.

You found yourself nodding, cuddling back against his chest, as if the heat of his embrace could fix everything.

“Just for a little while,” you said, trying to quiet the voice in your head.

“Mmm,” he murmured, and you could feel him smiling against your hair.

The sun had set, the sky turning a dusky purple, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the buildings below. And the two of you had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe, content, and hopelessly in love.

The first rays of dawn spilled through the windows, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. Elijah lay beside you, his features softened in sleep, one arm draped possessively across your waist.

You had been watching him for a while, a bit of a creepy thing to do, but he was just so handsome, even with his hair disheveled. You let your mind wander, imagining him being yours, waking up next to him every day, sharing meals and adventures. You wondered what his favorite color was, if he liked cats, his thoughts on politics. All those small details that would help bring him to life.

You also wondered what his life was like, who his family was. Maybe he was married? Cheating on his wife with you? The thought was a cold splash of reality. Of course, he was probably married. A man like him would never be single.

You sighed, running your fingers through his hair. This was such a mistake. You didn't know a damn thing about him, yet, here you were, fantasizing about a future together.

Carefully, you slipped out from under his arm, your heart aching with every movement. You dressed in silence, the weight of what you were about to do pressing down on you. Standing at the door, you glanced back at him, your chest tightening at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to whisper the truth, that he was like something out of a dream. But you couldn’t. Because dreams didn't last. They didn't have roots. And you had a life to get back to.

So, instead, you turned and walked out the door, not letting yourself look back.

The New Orleans heat was relentless, thick with humidity, wrapping around you like a second skin. The streets buzzed with music and conversation, and even after months of living here, the city's energy still caught you off guard. It was a stark contrast to Europe, where everything felt steeped in quiet history. Here, everything moved fast. Loud, unpredictable, alive.

You had built a life here, found a job you actually enjoyed, and for the first time in a long time, things felt normal. A fresh start. And yet, no matter how far you ran, how many new routines you built, the ghost of the mysterious Elijah  still lurked in the quiet moments. Not often. Not intentionally. But in the space between thoughts, his presence would slip in. His hands, his voice, the way he had looked at you…

You didn’t dwell on it…

Or at least, you told yourself you didn’t…

Instead, you threw yourself into your new life. And a big part of that life was Klaus.

Not in a romantic, sweep-you-off-your-feet way. That would be a disaster, and you knew better. Klaus wasn’t a boyfriend, he was more of… a friendly force in your life. Someone you got drinks with, argued with, occasionally rolled around in bed with. He was charming in a way that made people want to orbit around him, and somehow, you had ended up in that orbit.

You met him at an art gallery downtown, where he had been swirling a glass of red wine and smirking at a particularly ugly modern piece like it had personally offended him. You had made some offhanded joke about abstract art being a scam, and he had laughed, a sharp, knowing laugh, like he was having the exact same thought.

After that, he had a way of showing up. Inviting you out, dragging you into conversations about history and art over whiskey, introducing you to the chaotic energy of the city’s nightlife. You got along. He was fun. He had a mean streak, but you knew how to handle men like that. It was easy.

And maybe, if things were different, you would’ve let something more happen between you. But you both understood what this was…Just company, just passing time. Just a friendly hookup until real love came along… If it ever did.

The soft breeze drifting through the open window did little to cool the heavy heat of the room. The sheets were a tangled mess, kicked aside during the night’s events, and beside you, Klaus lay sprawled out, one arm thrown over his face, his body lazy and sated.

You stretched, the slow ache between your thighs a familiar, satisfying reminder of last night. It hadn’t been anything deep or meaningful, just fun. Easy. No expectations, no promises.

Klaus was good company, someone who understood the unspoken rules of this arrangement: pleasure, no strings. He was charming, sure. Attractive, obviously. But you both knew what this was.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he stirred, his hand sliding absently across your stomach. “Mmm, already awake?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Fortunately, for you,” You smirked, shifting to straddle his hips, your palms pressing against his chest.

He grinned, eyes still heavy-lidded. “Eager thing, aren’t you?”

“Only because you’re so damn easy.” You dragged your nails lightly down his torso, reveling in the way he tensed beneath you.

Klaus chuckled, but it turned into a low groan as you rocked against him, teasing. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to let you know he enjoyed it.

“If you’re going to keep teasing, love,” he murmured, voice rough, “you better be prepared to finish what you started.”

“I always finish what I start.” You reached for the bedside drawer, rolling on a condom before sinking down onto him, the feeling of your bodies connecting making you both exhale.

The rhythm was familiar, something you both knew well by now. You took what you needed, moved together in a way that was more about chasing pleasure than anything sentimental. Klaus let you take control, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding your movements but never demanding.

It was good. The kind of effortless chemistry that kept you coming back to him.

But then. It happened.

One second, it was Klaus beneath you, his sharp smirk, his blue eyes watching you with hunger.

And then. The stranger that you couldn't get out of your mind. Elijah.

His face flickered into focus like a mirage, his dark eyes holding you in that way that had once made your breath catch.

You froze, a jolt of panic hitting your system like ice water.

No. No.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you blinked hard, trying to shake it. When you opened your eyes again. Klaus. Just Klaus. Watching you with mild confusion.

"Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

"N-no."

"Are you sure? We don't have to keep going if-"

"No. Just give me a minute," you said, swallowing the knot in your throat, your mind scrambling.

This had never happened before. Never. But there it was. An image of him burned into your memory, overlaying Klaus, taking the place of your reality.

Klaus halted your hips and sat up, his brows knitting with concern. "You're trembling."

"Sorry." You shook your head, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like your whole world was shattering. "Just... got distracted."

"By?" He was giving you a look, somewhere between concerned and amused, his curiosity obvious.

You sighed. He was going to push this.

"Promise you won't get weird about it?"

"Of course not, love."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Someone else."

Klaus chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "Don't tell me, the thought of me alone isn't enough to satisfy? That will hurt my ego."

"Don't be ridiculous." You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to squirm. "It's not about you. It's... an old fling."

"Oh?" His expression shifted, his tone more serious.

"Yeah, someone from when I was traveling. Just... popped into my head, that's all." You shrugged, a feeble attempt to make it seem unimportant.

"I see," He studied your face, his gaze unnervingly steady.

You braced for him to ask more questions, maybe to get jealous or offended, but instead, he flipped you onto your back, a wicked grin on his face.

"I guess I must not be doing my job correctly," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the spot on your neck that always made your toes curl. "I think we can remedy that."

He was a bit rougher with you this time, a bit less playful, his movements filled with a purpose. Like a challenge. He wanted to keep your mind from wandering. And, hell, it worked for a while. The way he was kissing you, moving inside you, touching you, it was so intense. So present.

You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair, and he pulled away, his gaze searching.

"Is that good?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah," you breathed. "Very."

His hips picked up their pace, his lips hot on your skin, the tension building inside you with each thrust.

You came undone, Klaus following not long after, collapsing onto the mattress beside you, his breathing ragged.

"Still thinking about that old fling?"

You chuckled, swatting his shoulder. "Shut up. Don't be jealous,"

"Me? Never."

You sighed, glancing at the clock. "I need to get ready for work,"

Klaus shrugged, rolling out of bed, stretching, and pulling on his clothes. You watched him, the way he moved, the confidence he exuded.

He was handsome, of course. He was the kind of guy you'd notice immediately, his features chiseled and striking, the perfect amount of scruff. But it wasn't just that. There was something else. A certain... charisma. A presence that made you feel as if he could command a room, the whole city, without even trying.

"Are you coming out tonight?"

"Hmm?" You blinked, his question catching you off guard.

"Tonight, to the dinner party." He cocked his head, looking at you expectantly. "Unless, of course, you've decided to spend your evening pining after someone who isn't here."

"Oh. Yeah, sure."

"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic, love."

You laughed, swatting his arm. "Stop, you know I'm going. I'm actually looking forward to meeting your siblings, mostly to get dirt on you."

"That's a dangerous game, darling." He smirked, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "But, if it makes you happy, I'll see you tonight."

"See you."

He gave you one last grin, the door clicking softly as he left.

You flopped back against the pillows, letting out a shaky breath. Trying to erase a specific pair of haunting brown eyes from your memory. You weren't the type to be hung up on anyone, especially a stranger you hooked up with months ago. Yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute idiot.

You shook your head, getting out of bed, ignoring the way your legs trembled.

This was stupid. A minor setback.

You would move on.

You had to move on.

Right?

You knew Klaus was rich. But you were aware just how insanely wealthy he truly was. It was something that should've been obvious, considering the way Klaus threw around his money, but seeing his ridiculously lavish compound in person was a completely different experience.

The place was huge, sprawling, elegant in a way that only an ancient estate could be. The architecture was stunning, and you were fairly certain the entry hall alone was the size of your apartment.

"You live here?" You glanced over at Klaus, taking in his nonchalant expression.

He nodded, "It's not too shabby, is it?"

You laughed, "Not too shabby? This is insane."

You took in the artwork hanging on the walls, the ornate furniture, and the grand staircase that seemed to stretch on forever. It was the kind of place people only saw on tv. You felt underdressed, almost as if you had stepped into some kind of dream.

"Come, the food is almost ready, and I want to introduce you to my family."

Klaus led you through the winding halls and corridors, until you finally reached a large dining room. There was a massive table, laden with food, and sitting around it were a dozen or so people, chatting and laughing.

Klaus cleared his throat, catching the attention of the room. "Everyone, this is Y/N, my... friend."

A chorus of greetings echoed through the room, and Klaus gestured to a particularly attractive group sitting at the far end of the table.

"These are my siblings, Rebekah, Kol, and Elijah."

You froze, the blood draining from your face as they turned to face you.

It was him.

The man you had been trying so hard to forget, the one whose presence had taken over your life. The same dark eyes, the same gentle smile, the same strong, capable hands. Those hands.

The memories hit you in a dizzying wave. The feeling of his skin, the taste of his lips, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, memorizing every detail.

Elijah was a ghost. A shadow. Someone you would never see again.

Until now.

His face paled, his expression mirroring your own shock. The two of you stood there, staring at each other, the rest of the room falling away.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind reeling. How? How the fuck was he here? Was this a dream? Some cruel joke the universe was playing?

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unable to find the words.

The silence stretched on, growing heavier and heavier, until Klaus finally cleared his throat, breaking the spell.

"Sit, please. I have more guests coming soon."

You sank into a chair next to you Elijah, your hands visibly trembling. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.

Klaus walked away to greet some more guests, leaving you with his siblings. You snuck a glance at Elijah, taking in his stiff posture, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. You couldn't bear it, the weight of the silence, the way his presence was overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Y/n, that's a lovely name. How did you meet our brother?" Rebekah asked, her voice slicing through the silence like a knife.

You blinked, struggling to compose yourself. "We met at a gallery. I was, um, critiquing some of the art, and he agreed."

Rebekah chuckled, "Sounds like Klaus."

Elijah remained silent, his expression unreadable. Rebekah gave him a strange look, then turned her attention back to you.

"How long have the two of you been together?" she asked.

"Oh, we're not. Together. We're just friends." You managed a small laugh, trying to hide the panic in your voice.

"Klaus? Friends? Impossible," Kol interjected, his tone teasing.

"Well, we're friendly," you said, avoiding the subject entirely.

A waiter came by and filled your wine glass, and you thanked him, downing half the glass in one go. The alcohol was a welcome distraction, burning a warm path down your throat.

"How are you liking New Orleans?" Rebekah asked, her tone a little more casual.

"It's amazing, honestly. The energy here is unlike anything I've ever experienced. The people, the music, the history." You paused, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile. "I can see why people fall in love with this city."

Rebekah smiled, "It does have its charms."

Klaus returned, settling into his seat beside you, his hand resting on the back of your chair.

"So, what have you been discussing?"

"Oh, just the usual. How we're all shocked you've found a friend," Kol said.

Klaus snorted, "Hardly. I have plenty of friends."

"Yes, but they're not usually women," Kol retorted.

"That's not true Kol, he also has Cami," Rebekah chimed in.

Klaus removed his hand from the back of your chair, his cheeks growing slightly pink. He looked down, busying himself with filling his plate, his posture defensive.

Kol let out a laugh and pointed down to the other end of the table. "What's wrong Nik, don't want her to hear?"

You followed his gaze, landing on a pretty blonde who was chatting animatedly with some of the other guests.

"You didn't tell us Camille was coming," Rebekah said.

"It didn't seem important," Klaus muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

You had no idea who this girl was, but clearly, Klaus had a thing for her. You could practically feel the awkward tension radiating off him.

He was sweet, but a little rough around the edges. It made sense that he'd be a bit of a mess when it came to his love life.

You couldn't help but smile at that.

"She's beautiful," you said sincerely, nudging him playfully.

Klaus sighed, finally meeting your gaze. "You think?"

"Definitely." You paused, watching his face soften a little. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Klaus shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You're not supposed to encourage me, love."

"Why not? Isn't that what friends do?" You grinned.

His eyes narrowed, his expression playful as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. "If I'm with her I'm not with you. Where would that leave us, hmm?"

Before you could respond, Elijah abruptly stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me."

All of you watched him walk out of the room, his sudden departure startling everyone.

"Is he alright?" Rebekah asked, her tone worried.

Kol shrugged. "He's been in a mood lately."

"You know how fussy he can get about dinner parties," Klaus said, his tone dismissive.

The rest of the dinner was a blur. You tried your best to engage in conversation, but the weight of Elijah's presence was suffocating, drowning out the noise. He had returned halfway through the meal, his expression stony, his movements stiff and calculated. He didn't look at you, not once, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and intense, every time he thought no one was paying attention.

Klaus had taken your advice and made a point to speak with Cami, his body language betraying how flustered he was. He was trying so hard, and it was equal parts amusing and heartwarming.

It was almost enough to distract you from the fact that Elijah was in the same room.

Almost.

As the meal came to an end, the crowd started to thin, people milling about the room, talking and laughing.

Klaus was engrossed in conversation with Cami, his eyes never leaving her face. You smiled to yourself, happy to see him making progress.

You scanned the room, noticing that Elijah was nowhere in sight. Without thinking, you excused yourself, walking through the grand hallways, searching.

You didn't know what you were looking for, or why. But the thought of him being so close, yet out of reach, was too much to bear.

The house was enormous, and as you wandered the hallways, you realized just how impossible it would be to find him. You went up a few floors, finding rooms filled with more art, more artifacts, more history. It was mesmerizing, a window into a world you had never experienced.

Finally, you reached a hallway lined with bedrooms, each one as opulent as the last. You were about to turn around and head back downstairs when a door opened, and Elijah stepped out, freezing as soon as he saw you.

A long silence stretched between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

He was even more handsome than you remembered, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his face flushed. He looked upset, his jaw clenched, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run. To flee and never look back. But you couldn't. Something in his expression kept you rooted in place.

"Hi," you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hello," he replied, his voice smooth, but laced with an emotion you couldn't quite identify.

"I'm, um, sorry to bother you. I was just... looking for the bathroom." You winced, realizing how flimsy the excuse was.

"Right." His eyes searched your face, his brow furrowing.

"Sorry," you repeated, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"There's no need to apologize," he said, his expression softening a little. "I'm sure this is all... unexpected."

"Yeah, it is," you breathed.

Another tense silence passed between the two of you. Elijah looked conflicted, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother," you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "We didn't exactly do a lot of talking about our personal lives,"

Your face burned. "Right, yeah. Sorry, I wasn't... trying to accuse you of anything," you stammered.

Elijah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I'm sorry… That was a poor choice of words."

You nodded, chewing on your lip. The two of you were both obviously uncomfortable.

"Look, I... I don't know what to say, really. This is... weird. Like, insanely weird," you said.

Elijah laughed, a sound that was a mix of relief and nervousness. "Agreed."

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. "I... honestly didn't think I would ever see you again."

"I didn't either."

"And now..."

"And now."

You hesitated, your heart thumping in your chest as you took a tentative step forward. "What are the odds, huh?"

"Quite low, I imagine."

You laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "I guess the universe had other plans."

Elijah's expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his mask. He looked conflicted, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to.

Instead he took a deep breath, his voice softer, gentler, "I'm glad you're doing well,"

"You too," you managed, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, to close the distance between the two of you.

"I should probably get back," you said, not really wanting to.

"Of course," he murmured, not moving away from you, his gaze intense.

You lingered for a moment, neither of you willing to break eye contact. It was strange, surreal. A feeling you couldn't put into words. It pulled you in, and before you knew it, you were moving towards him, drawn by some invisible force.

His hand came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, soft, but urgent, and you melted into him, the familiarity of his touch making your heart ache.

You weren't sure how long you stood there, kissing him, holding him, your hands tangled in his hair, his body pressed against yours. It was like no time had passed, the two of you falling back into the same pattern, the same rhythm.

He guided you backwards until you hit a side table, your back pressing against the polished wood. He lifted you, his lips never leaving yours as he sat you on the edge, his body caging you in.

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up, his eyes darkening as his fingers brushed the lace of your underwear.

You pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands grasping the front of his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his skin, the beating of his heart.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my mind," he murmured, kissing down your neck.

"Me neither," you admitted, a small moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

He lifted your thighs, planting your feet on the edge of the table, spreading your legs wide, his hips pressed flush against yours.

You could feel the hardness of him, the proof of his desire for you, and it sent a wave of heat straight through your core.

You wanted him. Badly. More than you could ever remember wanting anything.

"We shouldn't do this here," you breathed, his lips tracing the shell of your ear.

"I don't care," he whispered, his fingers tugging at the hem of your dress, sliding the fabric up to your hips.

"Someone might see."

"Good," he said softly, his lips curling into a smirk, just inches from yours. "Let them see."

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers found the wetness between your legs, his movements slow and deliberate, teasing you. He slowly circled your clit, drawing lazy patterns, his gaze fixed on your face, taking in every detail, every reaction.

You tugged on his shirt, trying to anchor yourself, to keep from getting swept away. Your heart was hammering, the heat building in your core, the anticipation making you dizzy.

He pushed a finger inside you, then another, his movements firm and steady, his thumb circling your clit. He was taking his time, drawing it out, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze filled with something raw and intense.

It was that same feeling as before, the one that made you do things you wouldn't normally do. The one that made you feel alive.

Your legs trembled, your body trembling as he brought you to the edge, only to pull back. His fingers teased your entrance, before sinking deep inside you, curling and hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

"Fuck," you gasped, gripping his shoulders, trying desperately to hold on.

He grinned and moved to his knees, his eyes locking on yours, and it was almost too much. The sight of him, kneeling before you, his dark gaze burning into yours, his fingers still buried inside you.

He pulled his fingers from your core, the emptiness almost unbearable, and his tongue flicked over your clit. You cried out, a strangled, broken sound, and he chuckled, the vibrations making your toes curl.

He licked and sucked and teased, his movements perfectly measured, knowing exactly what to do, where to touch. He devoured you, his lips and tongue working in tandem, his fingers sinking back into you, stretching you open, filling you.

You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building, your legs shaking, your fingers tangled in his hair. He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of desire and hunger, and it was all too much.

You came, your vision whiting out, his name a strangled cry on your lips. He kept going, working you through the aftershocks, his touch gentle, coaxing, until finally, he stopped, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

He stood, and you caught a glimpse of the bulge straining against his trousers, before he leaned down, his lips meeting yours, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

He kissed you, deep and slow, and you felt the loss of his touch acutely, the emptiness inside you almost unbearable. You reached for him, fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him, to have him inside you.

"I can't believe we are doing this," you muttered, laughing nervously as his zipper came down. "Again," you added, the word barely a whisper.

"Neither can I," he admitted, a small, wry smile on his lips.

"This is insane."

"I'm well aware."

You slipped your hand inside his trousers, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. He let out a soft groan, his hips pressing against yours, his body urging you on.

"Don't get me pregnant," you half joked, your voice a strained whisper.

He laughed, the sound rich and deep, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek.

"I won't."

You tugged at his trousers, pulling them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly, the velvety skin sliding under your palm.

He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, his lips brushing yours.

"Do it," you breathed, the need coursing through your veins.

He thrust forward, filling you completely, his fingers digging into your thighs. You moaned, the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, consuming you.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, trying not to cause the table to creak and rock. It was sensual and maddening, the feeling of his cock easing in and out of you, his breathing ragged, his hands holding onto you for dear life.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your body tightening around him, drawing him in, trying to keep him there. He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips grazing your jaw, his hips snapping into yours, harder and faster, the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding echoing through the empty hall.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and labored, his hands moving down your back and under your ass, pulling you flush against him.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, your eyes squeezed shut, your entire world focused on the feel of him inside you.

It was like nothing else mattered, nothing existed except the two of you, joined together in the most intimate way.

He held you, his movements growing more frantic, his thrusts uneven and jerky, and you could feel him coming apart. He bit down on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled his release.

The two of you stayed like that, awkwardly settled on the table, trying to catch your breath, to come down from the high.

After a moment, he straightened, tucking himself back into his trousers and running a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushed.

"That was..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Intense," you offered, as he helped you stand.

"Indeed," he murmured, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

He pulled you in for another kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair, his lips soft and warm. You melted into him, losing yourself in the feeling of his body against yours.

After a long moment, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher. He cleared his throat, the moment breaking, the reality of the situation crashing down around you.

"Well, I should... um, get back," you said, the words hanging in the air, awkward and stilted. "Before anyone notices we're gone,"

"No need, we all heard you two," Klaus' voice echoed through the hall, startling you both.

You turned to see him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his face.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you hastily fixed your dress, Elijah stepped in front of you, blocking the sight from his brother.

Klaus let out a laugh, "oh no need for all that Elijah, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he drawled.

"What are you doing here?" Elijah demanded, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Well, I was looking for my Y/n. You wandered off and then I heard these distressing sounds coming from the hallway. So naturally, I came to investigate," he paused, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "And here you are,"

"I, uh, got lost," you offered weakly, still a little stunned.

"In his pants?" Klaus smirked, his gaze traveling between the two of you.

You were speechless, not quite sure what to say. It was humiliating, being caught like this, exposed and vulnerable. There were clearly a lot of complicated feelings between the two of them, things that had nothing to do with you.

Elijah wrapped his arm around your waist, it surprised you, the way he pulled you against him, as if he was claiming you. You glanced up at him, the look on his face unreadable. He seemed unfazed by Klaus' accusation, his expression carefully neutral.

"If you must know, we ran into each other," Elijah said evenly, his hand stroking the small of your back. "We know each other from... Another city."

"Oh, really? How serendipitous," Klaus replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, it is," Elijah said simply, his posture relaxed.

Klaus shook his head, his eyes darting between the two of you, the realization slowly dawning on him. "Wait... That hook-up you were telling me about? The old fling you couldn't get out of your head? That's... Elijah?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning so hot they could melt ice.

Klaus began to laugh, a deep, genuine belly laugh. He wiped at his eyes, his whole body shaking with amusement. "This is too much. This is... I don't even know what to say."

Elijah sighed, his jaw clenched, but his eyes amused. "I would prefer it if you didn't say anything."

"Oh, come on, this is funny," Klaus said, taking a step closer. "You're the reason she was all hung up and miserable,"

"Miserable?" Elijah frowned, glancing down at you.

"Klaus, stop," you pleaded, the humiliation making your chest ache.

"What?" He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts. You were a mess because of him."

Elijah's eyes searched yours, his expression conflicted. His hand was still on the small of your back, and he rubbed it in small, soothing circles.

"Niklaus, if you don't mind, I wish to have a private conversation with her," Elijah said, his tone firm.

"Alright, fine, but do try to keep it down, hmm? We have guests," Klaus winked at the two of you, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

You watched him walk away, then you leaned up and kissed Elijah on the cheek. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He nodded, his gaze following you as you walked down the hallway after Klaus.

"Nik!" You called, catching up to him.

"Yes, love?"

"Look, I'm sorry," you said, trying to gauge his reaction.

"For what?" He looked genuinely confused.

"For... sleeping with Elijah," you said, a little unsure.

Klaus laughed, his expression light and teasing. "We were never going to work out, love. Our hearts belong to others,"

"I know," you shrugged. “But still... He's your brother,"

"And you love him," Klaus said simply, a small, knowing smile on his lips.

"What? No, I... I don't even know him, not really," you protested.

"You will, and he'll love you, too," Klaus said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"It doesn't matter. It was just... sex," you tried to explain.

"Was it, though?"

"Yes," you insisted, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head, the one that knew he was right.

Klaus shook his head, his gaze softening a little. He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

"Listen, it's none of my business. But if there's something between the two of you, some spark or whatever... Don't let it go. Life's too short for regrets,"

You pulled back, looking up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you, Nik,"

"Of course," he replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "And do try to be a bit more discreet, hmm? You two aren't exactly quiet."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll try."

He laughed, and then headed back downstairs to rejoin the party. Off to find Cami, no doubt.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to Elijah, his eyes fixed on you, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

You reached out, taking his hand, his fingers lacing with yours, and he led you to his room, the door closing softly behind the two of you.

You stood in the middle of his bedroom, the air thick with tension, everything was happening so fast.

"So," he began, his voice low and soft.

"So," you echoed, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Elijah exhaled, slow and measured, but there was no hiding the tension in his posture. “Are you going to run again?”

The question hung between you, weighted with more than just tonight.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. You owed him the truth.

“Elijah…” You took a step closer, your voice unsteady. “I ran because I was scared.”

His jaw clenched slightly, but he stayed silent, letting you speak.

“I told myself that what we had was casual. That it didn’t mean anything. But then you started looking at me like I was something more.” Your throat tightened. “Like I mattered. And that scared the hell out of me.”

His expression softened, just a fraction, but his silence pressed against you like a weight.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep going. “I didn’t know how to handle the way you made me feel.” Your voice was quieter now, raw. “I thought if I ran, I could outrun it. But I didn’t. I never did. Because no matter where I went, no matter what I did, you were always there.”

A beat passed. Then two. And then his hand was cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“And now?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And now…” You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m standing here. With you. And I don’t want to run anymore.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. “Good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. It was a promise, a commitment, a declaration of everything you’d both been too afraid to say.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Not just tonight. Always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Always,” you echoed, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You kissed him again, slow and sweet, the familiar taste of him flooding your senses. He was everything you'd been missing, everything you'd needed. There was so much more left to say, but it would have to wait. In this moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together, a promise of something more. This was where you were meant to be, you were sure of it.

~Epilogue

The first thing you registered was warmth. The kind that seeped into your bones, wrapped around you like a quiet reassurance. You stirred, blinking against the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The sheets were tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the fabric.

Elijah's arm was draped over your waist, his breathing deep and steady against the back of your neck. The weight of him, the solid presence at your side, was grounding in a way you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t realized how much you missed waking up with someone... not just anyone, but him.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because this felt… real. Permanent.

And for the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t terrify you.

You shifted slightly, your fingers ghosting over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. He stirred behind you, his grip instinctively tightening, pulling you closer.

“Second thoughts?” His voice was husky with sleep, laced with quiet amusement.

You smiled, a warm flush spreading through you.

"Not a single one," you murmured, turning in his arms, your gaze meeting his.

"Good," he murmured, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him.

It felt... Right. Like you'd always belonged here, in his bed, his arms. Like he'd always been the one, waiting for you.

There was no more running.

No more fear.

Just this.

Just him.

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[miange1]

IAN GALLAGHER , MIKEY MILKOVICH

this is short, male reader, implied bottom reader, peer pressure, readers 'innocent' in shameless terms, passing out, vomit mentions(i think), polyamory(im not fond of it, sorry if this isn't the absolute best), mickey is a switch and i will forever believe that, ians a stone top nothing changes that, i haven't watched shameless in a while

"fuck, quit stumblin' or else we can't carry you." mickeys voice was muffled in your ears, your eyes darting around the room trying to find someplace that didn't seem so blurry in your vision. "he would be able to walk straight enough if you weren't manhandling him."

your fingers gripped both of their shoulders, trying not to slip and fall on your face. "well things would go smoother if you let me carry him!" ian shushed him, a whine mumbling past your lips.

"throw up would be all over you mick," mickey scoffed, "you think i give a fuck? look at me, and tell me if you think there's any fucks i give." he didn't care if you threw up on him, worse substances have been all over him he could handle some puke.

"what i mean is i don't want him to throw up in general!—" ian stopped talking hearing you cough, the two trying to get you to the kitchen to get you some damn water.

"sorry.." you said, your body slouching down on the counter while your legs dangled off of it. "you're sorry?" ian came over to you, hands grabbing yours whilst mickey got some water and pills for when you were sober.

"what are you sorry for, hm?" it took a few hums, and choked words before you had gotten it out. "i..didn't mean to take it, it just.." they knew what happened. you weren't the type to drink, do drugs, or anything of the sort.

you just wanted to have fun, but in the end you got pressured into drinking more and more. way too much for a first timer on top of that.

"shh, don't apologize for that okay? we know." mickey handed you a glass with cold water, setting the pills beside you.

"hey, take these in the morning okay? you're gonna have one hell of a headache and it won't feel good." you nodded at his words, taking small sips of the water.

at least you knew if you drank too much that you would throw up, so you set it down. "im tired." they got you down, heading upstairs to get you to bed.

"here..alright, get him undressed and i'll get him some new clothes."

mickey lied you down getting your shirt off , the cold air making your body shiver. "mngh..mick? wactha doin'..?" mickey smiled a bit, the way you were so confused was just funny to him, though the situation wasn't something to smile about.

"ugh..you wanna have sex or something..?" mickey snorted, bursting out laughing shaking his head. "no— im tryna get you in some different clothes, not fuck you."

"his clothes off?" ian had come back, a different shirt in his hands and some long shorts that hopefully fit you all the way.

"yeah, give 'em." it took way longer to put the clothes on whether than it did to take the original ones off but they got you in bed without too much trouble.

"we'll be downstairs okay?" ian gave you a kiss on your forehead hand in your hair. "if you need anything just call us."

you nodded your head, saying goodnight to them as they turned off the light and shut the door.

[crashpit]

in 5th grade my friend and I had websites on a site maker thing called yolasite. also we had like major beef on this girl named Aubrey bc she was always snitching on us and getting us in trouble for random things. anyways, one day my friend was at my house and we were in the computer room on our home PC which was windows 2000 in the year 2009 if that adds any flavor to this. my friend suggested we make our own website, one called aubreyhaters .yolasite .com but we had to make it on my account because her parents would be mad if they found out. I thought this was reasonable, as her parents scared the living shit out of me too. we made the site detailing all the little things we hated about her (she lied about befriending Justin Bieber, lied about being related to the Jonas Brothers, was mean, etc.) alongside poorly drawn mspaint imagery (stick figures).

I didn't think about this until the next day at school during lunch, my friend and I were sitting at the table and Aubrey was at the same table too so my friend gets her attention and she's like "hey Aubrey! I found a crazy website you should look up. it's literally called aubreyhaters .yolasite .com. I swear it's real!! look it up!!!" and then my heart sank. I felt so incredibly numb with anxiety like my whole body was liquified into a puddle then and there.

so the next day at lunch Aubrey comes and tells us that she found the website and she's gonna tell EVERYONE in school including the principal. she was determined to find the creators of the site. so anyways I am fucking horrified to go to school for days on end I mean it felt like months but it may have been moreso a week or two of the school trying really hard to figure out wtf this site was and who made it. at the time, there wasn't much knowledge on tracking things down to IP addresses especially in a small school where there wasn't any protocol for this sort of situation yet. when it became known that the school was investigating that was when I went and permanently deleted the site and prayed to myself that nothing would happen.

well, one day they came to our classroom, deciding it had to be one of us as this was the same class Aubrey was in. they gave a long lecture on cyberbulling, which they had described as a crazy and new, never before seen phenomenon where kids could, omg, bully each other online. who knew that could happen. so what happens next in this situation is that they come to the conclusion my friend might have made this account, considering history between her and Aubrey. they take her out to the hall to have a conversation. she comes back crying. the principal comes up to me with this look like "you're in huge trouble" and pulls me immediately to the principals office. hes like "you friend told me YOU came up with this website and it was all YOUR idea and your friend there? you were trying to frame this on her and you're lucky you have no history of being in trouble for anything otherwise you would be in much worse trouble." basically I clammed up couldn't say a word just sobbing profusely for the whole thing and he felt bad probably so gave me a slap on the wrist at most. still, this is one of my most traumatic memories of my childhood I can remember.

in retrospect, I don't feel bad about making aubreyhaters bc Aubrey in the year 2025 is uh... well at one point she was a security guard or something and acted like she was a fully fledged police officer online to the point where I genuinely thought she was a cop until someone told me she wasn't even a real cop just a security guard who's pretending to be a cop online. before that she joined the military and then got dishonorably discharged and lied about that whole situation saying she left bc she hurt herself but that's not what happened. well that isn't exactly the most recent fuckery on her part she's also like.. got Israeli citizenship and fullheartedly is supporting Israel and yea I do not feel bad about cyberbulling her in 2009. it was not even real cyberbulling we were spitting straight facts about how she was a lier in regards to Justin Bieber and The Jonas Brothers. reasonably I avoid her and a lot of people I went to school with like the plague :/

what's the most demented thing you guys got in trouble for in school mine was when an english boy in my class made fun of my name and called my mum a (derogatory word for irish travellers) so i told him my ira uncle was in town and was coming to blow him up after school

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

i was lost within the darkness but then i found her; i found you. - k. yukimiya

synopsis: a man who couldn’t find purpose in his life and the woman who brought each of them meaning.

a/n: i was lowkey thinking of meruem and komugi the whole time i was making this.

yukimiya kenyu

yukimiya didn’t know what he was supposed to do now.

he clutched the papers from the doctor, walking to the nurse’s office at school for the information to be added to his profile at school. he walked with no emotion upon his usually jubilant and beautiful face, and it was as if all of the light had been sucked from his eyes.

“yukimiya?”

yukimiya looked up, and you stood in front of him, holding a few boxes in your hands. you were probably helping your teacher with moving things again.

yukimiya was fairly fond of you. you were kind and quick on your feet, and yet you always gave helpful, honest advice to your more delusional friends. he enjoyed being around you more than anything else at school. “oh, hello. how’s your day been going?” yukimiya asked, painting a smile over his frown on his face.

your eyebrows knit together. yukimiya recognized that look; his mother always had that look in his childhood whenever he had been crying and hid the fact from her. she always caught on quickly. “you seem upset, are you okay?” you placed your boxes on the floor next to you before walking closer to him, your head tilting slightly as you looked at him.

and as if water began overflowing in a glass after barely having not reach the point of spilling yet, tears began to spill from yukimiya’s eyes.

fat, warm tears stained yukimiya’s cheeks wet, and snot began leaking from his nose. if any of yukimiya’s fans had seen him like this, his modeling career and their crush on him would be over. but instead of looking at him with your face scrunched up in disgust from his current expression, you instead had him sit down with his back to the wall as you sat down next to him.

“what happened?” you asked, your voice soft. you assumed that it had to do with his eye and soccer career; after all, he got glasses even though he didn’t have them previously, and soccer was practically his whole life. yukimiya sniffled before looking at you.

“optic neuropathy,” yukimiya whispered. “there are black spots in my vision. treatment will help, but not fully cure it. worse case scenario, it causes blindness. the doctor said that i probably won’t be able to play soccer professionally anymore.” yukimiya sniffled again before he wiped his tears away, laughing.

“look at me. complaining to you about it even though it’s not even your problem. you should be helping the teacher, right? sorry, i know this is your free period and im not a very crier—“ before he could continue on with his idiocy, you grabbed his face in between both of your hands and faced him, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“yukimiya kenyu,” you began, voice grave. your face darkened before your gentle cradle on his face turned into a stinging pinch. “first of all, i could care less about this being my free period. we still have months of school left, and that means hundreds of more free periods. second, no one cares that you’re an ugly crier! everyone ugly as shit when they’re sobbing and their face is all scrunched up when they’re bawling. you should’ve seen me when i read the chapter that gojo died!”

at your last comment, you could see yukimiya hold in a chuckle, which proved your effort worthy. “and also, maybe you won’t become the best forward in the world. maybe you really will become blind because of soccer. maybe all of your efforts wouldn’t have been worth it in the end. but yukimiya, i hope you know and realize that the result may be important, but…” you stopped your pinching, and you held his face as if you were holding the most precious and beautiful glass vase. “sometimes the joy of the process itself overshadows what was thought to be the joy that comes from the result.”

yukimiya’s eyes widened, and suddenly, a fresh batch of tears came to his eyes. but this time, it wasn’t of sadness. this time, warmth bloomed in his chest when the tears came. this time, his mind was clear of the negative thoughts when the tears came. and this time, instead of his vision being blurred by tears, his vision was being cleansed by the light right in front of him: you.

[kunareads]

meta angel

suguru x reader

it's just suguru, he would never hurt you. but your body reacts like it doesn't know that.

masterlist

wc: 1.4k

started as a journal entry months ago kinda

content: boyfriend!suguru, hurt/comfort, angst, argument, trauma response, reader was in an abusive relationship (no specific details)

i’ve got voices in my head telling me that i won’t make it far

suguru thinks you carry things too deeply. that you let words and events settle into your chest like stones, holding onto them long after they’ve passed. he wonders if you even realize it, if the weight of them is familiar now, like something you’ve always known. he wonders if you’ll ever learn to let go.

he carries things too, but unlike you, he doesn’t hold them where people can see. he tucks them away into the spaces between his ribs. you wonder if he even realizes how much he’s drowning.

“you treat yourself like you’re disposable, suguru.” your voice cuts through the stillness, not loud, but laced with something unshakeable. “like your life is collateral.”

he draws in a slow, deep breath. “and you think you know better?” his voice is quiet, but sharp enough to cut. “you think knowing me means you get to decide what’s right for me?”

suguru doesn’t argue to win. he argues to exhaust, to chip away at resolve until the whole thing feels like a mistake. you’ve seen him do it, but you won’t give in tonight.

“i know enough.” the exasperation in your tone is building now, pressing against something deeper. “i watch you come back in pieces. you stitch yourself together with the bare minimum, just enough to survive next time. and all you’ll let me do is watch.”

he shakes his head, a harsh exhale escaping. “i don’t need saving.”

“this isn’t about saving you,” your voice wavers. not from weakness, but from something raw, something too knowing. “it’s about you acting like it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t come back.”

suguru stills. a fraction of a second, something caught between then and now. his face hardens, something so brief it could be missed, but you don’t miss it. when he speaks again, his voice is colder, more penetrating, a glacial edge slicing through the distance between you.

“i didn’t ask you to care.”

mirror singing in my face, where’d you go?

the words land like a slap, soundless but deep. you feel them settle, heavy, leaving something raw behind. he isn’t raising his voice, isn’t yelling, but that only makes it worse. it’s the control in his tone, the way the warmth drains from it, that makes something inside you go quiet.

he moves before you can process it. it’s just a shift, an unconscious attempt to put distance between you, but the way he does it places him directly between you and the door.

awareness prickles at the edges of your vision, something instinctive, old. your breath catches. you shift back, a step so small it shouldn’t matter. your fingers curl, not quite a flinch, but close. your shoulders lock. your gaze flickers past him to the door.

suguru notices the movement, but he doesn’t understand it yet. he assumes you’re backing down, that you’re retreating from the fight because it’s no longer worth the energy. his frustration simmers, pushing against the borders of restraint. “so that’s it? you’re just done now?” his voice tight, regulated, but there’s something hollow underneath it.

you don’t say anything.

“you wanted honesty,” he presses. “this is what it looks like.”

the silence between you concentrates, dense and unyielding.

you’re not just quiet. you’re tense. too tense. your breath comes too steady, too controlled, like it’s manual. your hands are curled, not in anger, but in something else.

for a moment, he doesn’t understand what just happened. the argument was sharp, cutting. but this? this feels different, off-kilter in a way he can’t place. his frustration lingers, but it’s edged now by something else, something uneasy.

something twists in his chest, cold and immediate. this isn’t right. his eyes follow yours, straight to the exit. and then it clicks.

he sees it—the way your shoulders have drawn inward, the way you’re not just stepping back, but recoiling.

throw it in the fire, ego in the fire

the realization drops into him like a stone in deep water.

it’s not about the fight anymore.

his voice softens instinctively, dropping into something warm and careful. “you’re not shutting down.”

you don’t look at him. but something changes in your expression, something unstable.

“i scared you.”

your head shakes too fast, too forcefully. “no, you didn’t—it wasn’t you.” the words rush out too quickly, like you need him to believe them.

but you still won’t meet his eyes. and that’s how he knows.

the ache is instant. deep. he steps aside immediately. not because you’re afraid of him but because you need space. and because he understands now.

you wonder if he knows how different he looks like this. how his edges dull, how he softens for a moment, just enough for you to see.

something loosens in your chest, but it doesn’t fade completely. you’re holding onto something. something not here, not now. you don’t know how to let it go.

he moves carefully, slowly enough that you can track every shift. his posture relaxes, breath leveling, voice smoothing into something softer.

“alright,” he murmurs, quiet. he doesn’t demand an explanation. he just lets the moment settle.

you move first. a hesitant step, the ghost of your fingers against his sleeve. it’s careful, tentative. the space between you hums with something delicate, like a thread pulled too tight.

it’s a risk in its own quiet way. a silent question. a test of whether he’ll pull away, whether you’ll regret reaching for him at all. your fingers hover, barely grazing the fabric, as if pressing too hard will shatter whatever this moment is turning into.

suguru waits. he watches, his breath measured, his presence persistent but unintrusive. he doesn’t reach for you. doesn’t pull you in. he lets you set the pace, his restraint saying more than words ever could. you think, for a moment, that maybe he’s just as afraid of breaking this as you are.

and when you nod, so small he could’ve missed it, he moves.

i’ve got a love for desire

the shift from conflict to comfort is soft and intentional. it unfurls slowly, like an exhale you didn’t realize you were holding, like the tentative warmth of sunlight after a storm. no sudden movements, no desperate grasping. just quiet, and the weight of understanding settling over you both.

he doesn’t say i would never hurt you. you already know that. instead, he whispers, his voice low and unwavering, “you’re safe. i got you.”

the silence stretches, gentler now, no longer thick with unspoken tension. after a long moment, he moves again, guiding you to the couch, not forcing, just easing. his fingers trace slow, familiar paths along your spine. a kiss pressed to your temple, lingering.

eventually, you speak, your voice barely a whisper.

“he used to—” you stop. the words catch, jagged and unfinished. they hover between you, raw and bleeding like an old wound reopened too suddenly. you exhale sharply, but it doesn’t steady you. the memory presses too close, settling heavily in your chest, something you can’t push back down.

suguru says nothing. he doesn’t urge you forward or try to fill the silence. he just listens, steady and patient, the way he always does when it counts.

you curl your fingers into his sleeve, anchoring yourself to the present.

“i don’t—” you try again, but the words feel too big, too tangled, too much. you shake your head, pressing your face into his shoulder instead.

he turns slightly, slow enough that you don’t even realize it at first. the space between you disappears as he tucks you closer, his hand smoothing over your back, tracing slow, familiar circles. a grounding weight, warm against you, breath calm at your temple. not asking, not demanding. just there.

and it should feel small, this moment. but it isn’t. it’s something more, something that settles in the quiet, telling you that he already knows what you can’t say.

he doesn’t say you don’t have to tell me.

he just nods, resting his chin lightly on top of your head, letting the quiet settle.

his warmth spreads through you, filling the spaces words never could.

“okay,” he murmurs, quiet and certain. not dismissive, not final. just something to hold onto, a reassurance.

you’re here. you’re safe. you don’t have to explain yourself to me.

and that’s more than enough.

[rotationalsymmetry]

People keep wanting a narrative of everything's rosy and getting better or things are bad and getting worse, and it's always a mix of things going on.

There are some things that have been getting worse (people who thought the Nazis were kind of cool actually in the 90's and 00's weren't nonexistent, but there were a lot fewer of them, in the US, college used to be something you could put yourself through, police have been getting more militarized, climate change has very much shifted from a thing that might happen if we don't change to a thing that is happening, and we still need to change.) There are some things that have been getting better. Both coexist.

Anyways, on the cool stuff front -- you're always going to end up with a negativity bias from the news, that's just how following the news is -- I remember the first time I saw a poster intended to combat homophobic bullying in an elementary school. It was this utterly sappy thing, they'd held a contest for kids to make the art for it, it was two men holding hands and one of them was holding a baby, it just. You didn't. You just didn't.

Sorry. Words. For a long time there was this association that you know, being gay and being a pedophile were probably related, you know, that it wasn't safe to let gay men be around kids. There were teachers and stuff who lost their jobs. Anyways, I grew up in San Francisco, so, pretty queer-friendly, but there was still this idea that it wasn't quite appropriate to talk to kids about gay people, that it was too much like talking to kids about sex, it wasn't appropriate. There were some movies and stuff for adults with queer characters, but no mention at all in movies and TV shows and comics and so on aimed at younger kids, and if there was any mention in like PG movies it'd be homophobic or transphobic jokes. I mean, you could have Bugs Bunny crossdress, but it'd have to be played off as a joke, you know? (And I'm talking about homophobia against men mostly, but it's not like you saw lesbians in family media either.) So it just, it moved me in ways I have trouble putting into words, this completely wholesome and positive portrayal of Two Dads in an elementary school.

Has anything actually gotten better, for all the work you talk about doing? Or is it just treading water in misery forever?

Anon, ten years ago gay people couldn't get married in large parts of the US. AIDS was an almost certain death sentence when I was in high school. I was looking at job boards the other day and found a part time gas station job that had health insurance as a benefit, which NEVER would have happened 15 years ago. When I was a kid, hitting your child was extremely normalized in the US and my parents were the weird ones for not doing it. There is a vaccine for chicken pox. I didn't meet anyone who had transitioned until my 20s because it was so uncommon to transition in the aughts, and now there are some states that protect your right to have gender affirming care provided by your health insurance. It's not all states, but it's better than the number of states that had it in 2010, which was zero. THERE ARE TENANTS UNIONS NOW. WE HAVE A VACCINE AGAINST CERVICAL CANCER.

And all of that has been the work of a lot of individuals and organizations and research teams and activists.

[coffeecacao]

Okay, let's talk about the coming out scene, because people are saying Taash was the one out of line.

Shathann is a sympathetic character. That does not make her a good person. She saved her child from a life of servitude by leaving the country she loved and tried to preserve that culture in her child. I respect that. I also wish there was a way to encourage Taash to embrace both sides of their culture.

BUT.

From the moment we meet her, Shathann criticizes literally everything her child does. Taash runs an errand for her, and Shathann criticizes their posture, pronunciation, gender presentation, AND sexuality, completely unprovoked, yes, in one fucking conversation. Shathann invites Taash over for dinner and then makes Taash cook that fucking dinner. And this has happened before, as stated in the dialogue. Taash is so affected by this behavior and probably worse they have endured their entire life that they say "you don't get to tell me who I am" at a simple question about their heritage, out of pure instinct.

Now to the actual scene.

Taash invites their mother to their new home and prepares a dinner for her, which Shathann immediately criticizes and has Taash make vegetables to go with. Can you imagine inviting someone into your home for dinner you prepare only for them to shit on it and ask you to cook more. And Taash does so, with a grunt. I'd be like bitch you're in my house, I cooked, eat. But they just do it.

Then they say it. "Im nonbinary." Shathann asks what that means, completely fair, and Taash explains that it means they're not a man or a woman.

Shathann asks if this is because she criticizes their gender presentation. Now listen. I have a parent who thinks nearly everything "wrong" with me is a reaction to their actions. It pisses me off. So Taash is getting reasonably frustrated, and insists that's not why. VALID. They were asked a question and they answered.

Let's talk about the Qun and gender identity. Yes they have a word for people who identify as a different gender than they were assigned. But this is implied to apply to trans men and women, not nonbinary people, so Shathann is asking Taash if they "just" identify as a man, because that's something Shathann can better understand, something more convenient for her to process. Sort of like when trans people come out to someone and are asked if they're "just gay."

No. And Taash says no. They have explained who they are. If Shathann was just having a hard time processing it that would be one thing, but she basically talked over Taash and tried to suggest that they were just a man, which they are not. Taash is being vulnerable. Taash doesn't even HAVE to tell Shathann this, but they want to, they think she deserves to know.

And what Taash says next is not purely to do with this one conversation, as explicit in the text. "why am I never enough for you." Never. Not now. We have seen Shathann critique Taash in every scene they share, and that's with a whole other person present who is not in the family. We don't know what happens in private. Shathann signed her child up for a fucking war without even talking to them about it. What Taash says is the build up of years of being talked over and criticized for everything they do, provoked by offering themselves to that person in a vulnerable position only to be talked over and criticized more.

"Why am I never enough for you."

And Shathann does not answer. She doesnt say "of course you are." Even if she disagreed with Taash's identity, which would be shitty, she could still affirm that they are enough for her. She doesn't.

She fucking leaves.

Maybe she thinks that's what Taash wants. Maybe not. But if someone asks you something like that, you affirm them. You say they are enough. Especially if they're your fucking child. But no, this conversation is too inconvenient for Shathann, she's not getting her way like she did when she signed Taash up for a war without their consent, so she just leaves. She could've said "I don't understand, but I love you." She couldve said anything. But she just left.

I'm sad she died. Im glad she accepted her child in the end. But no, Taash was not in any way out of line in this conversation.

Shathann was.

[chilledstrawberrysoda]

I think one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the kings men and possibly all of all for the game is when Neil and Kevin are arguing in the locker room after the win against UT because Neil was talking shit about the Ravens and Riko. I think it's the only time before Jackson and Romero come for him after the Belmont game that the weight of what Neil knows is going to happen to him and the heartbreak he is experiencing in slow motion comes to the surface and is outwardly visible and even then the only person that picked up on it was Andrew and it didn't help because there was nothing anyone could do.

Kevin is angry about Neil antagonizing Riko publicly because he knows there will be backlash and he is rightfully afraid but this is the first time since Kevin found out who Neil is that he realizes Neil is afraid too. He appears fearless to Kevin so Kevin assumes it's hubris that makes Neil willing to stand his ground over and over again but it's not.

Neil had accepted his fate at that point, and instead of turning tail and getting himself the hell out of there, his only motivation is that if he can't have this at least Kevin will survive it.

At least Kevin gets to live on and play exy and be the best player.

When they talk about it again after Baltimore in the cabin Kevin asks him outright "how do you do it?" He asks "why aren't you afraid?" But Neil admits he IS afraid but he thinks willfully giving up the best thing that has ever happened to him (i.e. exy, the foxes, Andrew) would be worse than death.

There's a popular quote by choreographer Martha Graham that goes like this

A dancer dies twice — once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful

This sentiment is echoed by Neil in the kings men but also implied throughout the series. Giving up the things and the people he loves would be more painful than his actual death. That's why he drops his duffle and phone when he is taken as a signal to Andrew and Kevin. He needs them to know; he did not run, he did not give up, he did not leave them willingly. He accepted death to protect them but his last act before he let go of Neil Josten was to let them know in the only way he could that he would have held on forever if he were given the chance.

Neil's action throughout the books start to shift Kevin's mindset. Neil tells Kevin he stayed for him. Before Neil and Andrew's not nothing ever began, Neil stayed because he believed in Kevin and he wants so badly for Kevin to try. Because before Neil literally came back from the dead after Baltimore, the only thing he could hope was that after the dust settles Kevin would be on top. The first time Kevin gets any hint at that is in that locker room in Texas. I would love to read this scene from Kevin's perspective. As soon as he realizes how desperate Neil is, he stops fighting him. I think it might be the first time Kevin sees Neil as the scared kid he is and not just the partner that is willing to put himself in the line of fire for others.

I feel like that scene is always read as just Neil being kinda mean and calling Kevin a coward again but it's so complex and I wish it went on for longer. It's one of the few insights we get into Neil's crumbling psyche as his demise approaches and one of the few times he is fully honest with anyone before Baltimore and it's just so important to how his character is viewed for the remainder of the novel.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

maybe next time?

college!zayne x fem!reader

⤿ CW: pure fluff!

⤿ word count: 2.3k

⤿ second part of code love series | previous part

ao3.

It’s been a week since you last saw Zayne, you’ve been going to the cafe where you saw him for the first time hoping that you’ll come across him again. But in the span of one week, you never saw him again.

What makes it worse is that you didn’t even know his major. You have no way of knowing where to look. The university’s campus is large, and without a clue as to where he spends his time, you feel like you’re grasping at straws. If only you had asked him just one more question, something, anything that could’ve given you a direction.

Today, though, was different. Your professor dismissed the class early due to an urgent meeting, leaving you with an unexpected chunk of free time. The lecture hall empties quickly, with students chatting amongst themselves and heading off to their next commitments. You sit there for a moment, gathering your things, the familiar hum of idle conversation swirling around you, but your thoughts remain focused elsewhere. You sling your bag over your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. Another day of fruitless searching. It’s starting to feel hopeless, like you’re just waiting for a chance that might never come.

Just as you’re about to leave, a voice calls out from behind you.

“Still thinking about that guy?”

You turn to see your friend Tara and Simone leaning against one of the desks, smirking knowingly. They were the only one you had confided in about Zayne—the stranger who had somehow left an imprint on your mind.

You hesitate before answering, but Simone doesn’t need a response. She roll her eyes playfully. “You’re down bad.”

You huff, shaking your head. “I just… I want to see him again.”

Tara crosses her arms. “Then maybe it’s time to change your strategy. You’ve been going to the same café all week. What if he only went there one time?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to you before. Had you been limiting yourself? You rack your brain for any other places Zayne could frequent. But with so little information about him, it feels like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?” you ask, raising a brow.

Your friends grin. “We ask around.”

Your heart skips a beat at the idea. It’s bold—maybe even a little embarrassing—but if it means finding Zayne, it just might be worth a shot.

���Oh Zayne! Yes, he's currently a sophomore majoring in Medical Biology.” A student said, which name is Greyson. As you looked at Greyson’s features, you remembered that he’s the colleague that Zayne was talking to in the cafeteria. He also happens to be Zayne’s close friend and a classmate of his.

“Is he around? Can we talk to him?” Tara asked, looking very much hopeful. But when Greyson scratched the back of his head as he looked at the three of you, you instantly knew his answer.

“About that, he’s currently busy with his lab work and volunteer hours at the hospital,” Greyson said apologetically. “He’s been swamped lately, so he doesn’t have much free time.”

Your heart sinks a little at the news. So that’s why you haven’t seen him. Still, at least now you know his major and have a better idea of where he spends his time.

Tara, ever the determined one, steps forward. “Do you know when he might be free?”

Greyson hesitates for a moment before sighing. “Honestly, he barely has time to breathe these days. But…” He glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “If you’re really looking for him, he usually hangs around the Medical Biology study lounge when he has a break.”

Your heart leaps at that. A lead.

“Where is it?” you ask immediately.

Greyson chuckles. “It’s in the West Science Building, second floor. But like I said, he’s really busy, so don’t get your hopes up too much.”

You nod, gripping the strap of your bag. Even if there’s only a small chance, you’re not giving up now.

Tara nudges you with a smirk. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

With renewed determination, you and your friends head toward the West Science Building, hoping that this time, luck is on your side.

“Luck is not on our side.” Simone mumbled as you sat at the couch, you looked everywhere in the lounge hoping for Zayne but it seems like he’s not here.

You sigh, slumping slightly into the couch. So close, yet still no sign of him.

Tara crosses her arms. “Maybe he’s just not here right now,” she suggests. “We could wait a little longer.”

Simone groans, stretching her legs out. “We’ve been here for almost an hour. What if we just missed him?”

The thought makes your stomach sink. You glance around the study lounge again—students are scattered at different tables, some buried in textbooks, others quietly discussing notes. But none of them are him.

Then, your phone suddenly received a notification from your sister telling you to come home immediately.

“Sorry girls, I gotta go.” You said as you stood up, Tara and Simone looking at you confused.

“Go where?” Tara asked.

“My sister just texted me. She says I need to come home right away,” you explain, shoving your phone into your pocket and grabbing your bag.

“But what about Zayne? We haven’t found him, and maybe he’ll come around here in the lounge after a minute or two.”

You hesitate, glancing toward the entrance of the lounge. Tara has a point—Zayne could show up any minute, and if you leave now, you might miss your chance to talk to him.

“I know,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “But my sister’s message sounded urgent. I can’t just ignore it.”

Simone shifts in her seat, thoughtful. “Do you want us to stay here and wait for Zayne? We can let you know if he shows up.”

“It’s totally up to you two, but I suggest for the both of you to head home.” You chuckled, “Bye girls, see you tomorrow!”

You stepped out of the lounge and made your way to the elevator, only to find a long line of students waiting. With a heavy sigh, you decided to take the stairs instead, knowing it would be faster. As you arrived at the building’s lobby, you roamed your eyes around for the last time hoping to see Zayne but then again, you failed.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you left the University, you’re sitting at the window seat of the bus as you rode your way home, earphones attached to your ears, but your mind is miles away. The hum of the bus and the steady rhythm of the wheels on the pavement should be comforting, but instead, it feels like the world outside is just another blur—like you're disconnected from everything around you.

Then, you suddenly received a notification from your friends.

Tara: (Name)! Guess who we saw! **see attached photo**

Your heart leaps into your throat as soon as the image loads. There, in the photo, is Zayne—just as you remember him, but somehow, this feels different. He’s walking into the lounge, a stack of books in his arms, looking completely absorbed in whatever conversation he's having with his colleagues. The familiar serious look is on his face, not the relaxed version from the café, but something more focused, more… composed. It’s strange to see him like this, like he’s someone else entirely, yet still undeniably him.

Simone: Omg, he’s at the lounge right now!!! Are you seeing this??? Tara: You better come quickly!

You chuckled at their message, as much as you wanted to get off the next stop to sprint to your University, your sister needs you at home.

You: Sorry girls, need to go home TT Tara: That’s alright! We got you ;)

You smile a little, the lighthearted tone of her message easing some of the tension. They know how much this means to you, and even though you can’t act on it right now, at least they’ve got your back. You’re grateful for their encouragement.

Simone: Okay, I just did the job.

You frown slightly, your fingers still hovering over your phone as you try to figure out how to respond to Simone’s message. There’s something in her tone that makes you pause, like she knows something you don’t. Maybe it’s just her way of teasing you, or maybe she’s genuinely onto something. Either way, the thought lingers in your mind as you stare at the screen for just a moment longer, but then you hear the bus driver announce your stop.

With a soft sigh, you slide your phone into your pocket, knowing you’ll have to pick this up later. You grab your things and step off the bus, the cool air immediately hitting your face as you make your way down the familiar streets toward home. Your mind is still buzzing with thoughts of Zayne, and despite the fact that you’re heading in the opposite direction now, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to change. The moment might not be today, but the universe has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.

The walk home is quiet, your footsteps the only sound filling the space between your thoughts. You pull your jacket a little tighter around you, your pace slow but steady, as you process everything that happened today.

You’ve finally arrived home, the familiar scent wraps around you, but before you can even settle into the moment, you hear the familiar voice of your sister coming from her room.

“Ugh, I just don’t know what to wear!” she calls out, frustration lacing her tone.

You smile to yourself. It’s always something with her, but at least it’s a distraction from your earlier thoughts. You drop your bag by the door and head toward her room. As you approach, you see her standing in front of her full-length mirror, holding up two completely different outfits—one casual, one more dressed-up—looking at herself with a furrowed brow.

After a few changes, your sister finally settled with the outfit she’s going to wear and immediately apologized for rushing you to come home. You just smiled at her and with a few finishing touches, she kissed your cheek for goodbye and she left.

You sit back on the couch, letting out a soft sigh. There’s a part of you that still feels a little restless, like you’re waiting for something to happen, something to change. It’s hard to shake off the idea of Zayne from earlier, the thought of seeing him again so close yet so far. But for now, there’s nothing to do but let things unfold.

You pull out your phone, checking the group chat once more. Simone’s last message is still there, waiting for you to dive into whatever she might have been teasing about. You smile to yourself, letting the tiny spark of curiosity push you to reply.

You were about to reply when a sudden text message from an unknown number caught your attention. Your heart skips a beat when you see the message from an unknown number. For a moment, you're frozen, unsure of what to expect. The familiar rush of excitement bubbles up, but you're also trying to stay grounded, telling yourself it could be anything.

You tap the message open, and the first thing you see is a simple text:

“Hey, it's Zayne. I know this might be a bit random, but Simone gave me your number. I hope that’s alright.”

Zayne. Zayne.

And then, Simone sent another message on your groupchat.

Simone: You’re welcome ;))

You giggled at her answer, you sent a reply to their message before opening your conversation with Zayne.

You: Hey, Zayne! Of course, that’s totally fine. It’s nice to hear from you!

You bite your nail absentmindedly, the seconds feeling like they stretch longer than usual as you wait for Zayne's response. Your thumb hovers over your phone, checking the time, then glancing back at the screen, expecting the little bubbles to pop up any second. The anticipation feels almost unbearable—like this could be the moment where something shifts, or maybe it’ll fizzle out. You have no idea, but you really hope it’s the former.

You’re starting to second-guess everything, wondering if your reply sounded too casual, too eager, or even too boring. Then your phone buzzes, breaking the silence, and you almost jump in surprise.

Zayne’s reply lights up the screen:

Zayne: Glad to hear that! I’ve been a bit busy with school stuff, but I was hoping we could meet up soon. Maybe we can actually schedule our next meet up or date?

Date. Date.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of date. You stare at the message, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves wash over you. It’s like he’s finally saying what you’ve both been dancing around, but now that it's out in the open, the weight of it is both thrilling and a little intimidating.

Date. The word keeps echoing in your head as you read the message over again, your thumb hovering over the reply button. He wants to meet up soon. He wants to actually schedule something. This isn’t just a passing interest anymore. He’s serious about wanting to see you.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus and not overthink. You quickly type your reply, making sure to keep it light but still show that you’re just as excited as he seems.

You: That sounds awesome! I’d love to. Just let me know when you're free, and we’ll make it happen!

You smile as you send it, feeling a little giddy but also relieved. There’s no turning back now—you’re both on the same page, and it feels like the start of something exciting. You can’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought of seeing him again, but for now, all you can do is wait for his reply and hope that this “date” really does come together.

dividers by: @dollywons

[elizabethemerald]

Jim had a bad feeling and it only got worse. Obviously getting a call at three in the morning from a distant and estranged relative, desperate for help, would set off his instincts, but the situation only got worse the more he found out.

He and Barbara had left Gotham early the morning after the call from Jazz. His car was modified so Barbara could drive even without her legs, so the two of them took turns so they could keep going. Whenever he was driving, Babs had her computer on her lap and was typing away with an increasingly severe frown marring her face. When she took her turn driving he would use his own resources, calling in favors from the few honest cops in GPD and from other people around the city.

Everything they found just made the feeling in his gut worse and worse.

Obviously Jim had made some bad assumptions during the call and Danny was not necessarily in danger because he was trans, but he was still in danger. Jim's contacts ran into red tape as a powerful government organization blocked any attempts at investigating through above board means. Barbara's searches only managed to get a little more of the picture before she too was shut down, but rumors of a government lock down, of attacks from some extra planar threat, of the whole city getting sucked into a different dimension. This was all over his pay grade, but someone there had asked for his help, and he was going to give it.

He pulled to a stop just a few miles away from where his GPS showed only a blacked out square. He didn't know what he was about to drive into, but he had been raised in Gotham and he knew to follow his gut. Barbara looked at him curiously as he pulled off to the side of the road and unbuckled his seat belt.

"Get in contact with your cousin. Tell her to pack a bag for herself and Danny. We're not going to be stayer than it takes."

Then he stepped out and dialed a number he had memorized, but only used when things were the most dire. As always it rang twice before the other line picked up, and as always there was no response.

"Batman, this is Jim Gordon. The Justice League is needed in Amity Park, Illinois. I don't know what exactly is happening, but it goes against every moral in my body. I'm going to be extracting a pair of at risk teens. If I don't call again in a couple of hours send in the cavalry."

There was a couple of seconds of silence before Batman responded in his usual growling voice, "Understood."

Jim hung up and got back in the car just as Barbara was putting her own phone back in her pocket. He buckled up, and gripped the steering wheel, like he could choke the life out of it before stepping on the gas.

The two of them approached the city limits, the GPS blaring at them to turn around before Barbara reached over and shut it off. Just outside they saw the unmistakable sign of a government blockade. But Jim had lived through No Man's Land in Gotham. He knew how to deal with a blockade. His old car was a rough monstrosity compared to most of the world, but it was designed to survive in Gotham and modified without his consent by his caped allies. They blasted through the blockade with his middle finger pressed to the his window as he passed the government goons all in white.

They honked and shouted and green energy weapons flashed behind them, but Jim was already hurtling down the road into Amity. He grimaced as the air seemed to take on a green haze so even the sun seemed dim. He reached over to the glove box and opened it.

"Put your mask on." He ordered Barbara even as he pulled his own out from the central console. He put his on without stopping, years of dealing with the Joker and Scarecrow coming in handy as he drove with his knee on the wheel while he secured the mask.

Barbara had her own mask on and a map in her hand as she gave him instructions on how to navigate the city. Jim couldn't help that Amity looked almost worse than Gotham had during No Man's Land. The streets were torn up and covered in craters. The buildings were boarded up, or half bulldozed like the city had seen a fight between Superman and a dozen aliens. The few civilians walked scared, with their heads down, and hurried from place to place. Concernedly they did not have any masks, but Jim wasn't going to trust Barbara's health just because others didn't see the risk.

His tires squealed as he turned the final corner. He could clearly see the monstrosity that his wife's brother and his wife had built on top of their house. He could only imagine what exactly they had gotten up to in that thing. He stopped his car in front of the house and was out, marching up to the door with the engine still running almost before Barbara had finished bracing from the sudden stop.

He pounded his fist against the door for a few minutes. He stepped back ready to kick the door down when it was opened from the inside. He could see the orange hair, and a wide panicked eye of his niece through the crack of the door.

"Jazz, let's go, its time to leave. Where's your brother? Where's your parents?" Jim was tempted to stay around and let his brother and sister in law have a few choice words, but right now he needed to get the kids to safety.

"Who- Wait, Uncle Jim?" She opened the door a little more, naked relief showing through the signs of terror on her face.

"Yes. I told you I would come for you, didn't I?" He said.

Jazz stepped back, her shoulders shaking, though no tears showed. She opened the door fully and turned away.

"Danny is leading our parents away. I'll call him while I grab our bags." She turned away and ran back into the house, putting in a strange ear piece as she climbed the stairs.

Jim looked around the living room, his concern growing for these kids with each glance. There were weapons, whole and in pieces on every bit of furniture. There were puddles and stains of some strange green fluid all over the floor, and some was actively dripping from a leak on the ceiling. The refrigerator shook and wobbled like there was something alive inside that was actively trying to escape. He wanted to stay to take pictures for evidence, but he would just have to trust that Batman had taken his warning seriously and would take over.

Jazz came clattering down the stairs a few minutes later, duffel bags over each shoulder, a bag in her hand, and a pack on her back. Jim reached for his gun as the backdoor slid open, but hid the motion when Danny stumbled in, clutching a bleeding wound on his side.

"Jazz, wha-" He looked in concern at Jim, especially with his gas mask, but neither of them were giving the boy a moment to process.

Jim took a handful of Jazz's bags while she grabbed her brother and pushed him out the door. Jazz shoved Danny into back seat, and the two of them arranged the bags around Barbara's wheelchair. Jazz looked like she was about to try have them leave her behind for whatever self-sacrificing reason she had come up, but Jim wasn't about to have that and pushed her in next to her brother. She looked at him betrayed for a moment as the child locks prevented either of them from opening the back doors. He didn't care. She could be angry at him later, once they were all out of this city.

By the time he was back in the drivers seat, Barbara had pulled the big first aid kit out from under her seat and was passing it back to Jazz to get Danny taken care of. He pulled away from the curb and raced to the end of the street. He squealed around the corner just as some kind of fucking tank pulled around the corner behind them.

"Are you going to be able to get us out of the city?" Jazz asked, her voice panicked as Danny turned around to watch the tank immediately give chase.

"Please, I'm an officer in Gotham City. This is just a Thursday for us." Jim said without taking his eyes off the road.

Jim Gordon might not have powers, or the training that the Bats have, but he had experience, and his car had been modified a thousand times. He knew it was the weird love language of the Gotham Vigilantes, trying to keep him safe in the hell that was being a good cop in GPD.

He needed every ounce of his decades of experience to navigate Amity and stay ahead of the tank that was taking shots at them whenever they could. He snarled as he caught a glimpse of the Fenton logo on the side. The elder Fentons didn't even care that they were taking out street signs and mailboxes. Jim was sure that if there were any citizens out on the road, they would have been run down by the reckless driving.

Barbara typed away on her computer, while Jazz tried to patch up her brother in the backseat of the moving car. Jim didn't know what his daughter was doing, but knew better than to ask questions. The tank behind them suddenly taking a hard right into a mostly demolished building as she cheered showed she was successful.

"I hacked their steering." Barbara said triumphantly.

"That probably won't hold them long." Danny said.

"It doesn't need to." Jim said, and he let his foot fall harder on the accelerator.

After out driving the Fentons, the government blockade was easy to bypass, and once they were on the open road, Jim really let the lead out and took off pushing 90. He was an officer of the law, the highway was empty and he had two scared and injured kids in the car, plus his daughter. He could be forgiven for breaking a few speeding laws.

A few miles outside of the city the crackle of static from his radio signaled that they were successfully outside the government quarantine. They had made it.

Jazz sobbed in relief, while Danny looked like he couldn't decide between worried and elated. Barbara smiled at him and grabbed his hand where it sat on the wheel, both of them removing their masks. He had his niece and nephew out of the city. The rest was in the Justice League's hands.

Jazz's parents have gotten worse, their passion has turned into an obsession. Her parents don't even know that they are hunting their son every day. Jazz makes a tough call and rings up her uncle-in-law whom she has not had contact with in years.

Commissioner Gordon was not expecting to get a phone call at three in the morning; especially not from an estranged niece that he had seen a handful of times. The last time he seen that side of the family was before his wife had died.

Now he's driving halfway across the country with a confused daughter to meet up with the said estranged family.

[konjiang]

Cumplane Library au

Sy was in the Library studying when he saw that PIDW just had a new update, he almost couldn't contain himself and started fuming from anger. Thankful no one else beside the library staff was here right now.

He quickly craft up the most vile and disrespectful review post, and hit send before anyone else even left a comment. Some may say his dedication to hating on Airplane was obsessive and unhealthy, but his hands shake with fury every time he read a new chapter. If he didn't do something, he would probably get sick from the repressed feeling.

After spurring out all his hatred towards Airplane in the post, he resumed studying for his class. Right when he was about to put in his earbuds and to start playing some lofi, he heard a quiet chuckle from behind him. The quiet library staff was staring at him and trying to hide his laughter.

The burning in his face was sure to set the library on fire with how hot he felt. He couldn't believe that someone witness him in his lowest form. He quickly got up and packed his laptop away, planning on dying from embarrassment in the safety of his room.

'This is all that fucking dumb hack author's fault!' He practically ran to the door, but the door wouldn't open now matter how he pulled or pushed. He had no choice to turn around and pretend like nothing happened.

He tried to nonchalantly go back to his seat, but a pair of brown eyes followed his movement. When he crossed over the front desk, the guy abruptly stand up and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you like that. It was that you were so funny getting mad at the novel you were reading." He had brown curly hair, dimples on both side of his face, a ponytail, and a innocent looking face. Sy thought that this guy looked exactly like what he thought LBH looked like.

"That door is currently shut because of construction. A lot of people have been trying to open it all day, but they never read the sign I put up." the LBH lookalike sighed, and SY turned his head and saw that there was indeed a piece of paper tape to the door, but in his flustered state, he couldn't bother to read it.

"Oh. Thanks..." Sy mumbled out, this day was getting worse by the second.

"What were you reading?" the innocent looking guy asked. Sy couldn't tell him, he couldn't be the one to ruin this guy's innocent.

"Just some webnovel." SY deflected, wanting this conversation to end already.

"Oh really?" They guy bounced a bit as he leaned forward causing his ponytail to sway slightly, "I like web novels too, which one were you reading?" SY stared at the guy's doe eyes, noting that he was definitely not as tall as LBH, since he was shorter than SY.

'He would look great cosplaying white lotus LBH.' Sy thought, but he didn't want to entertain that idea at all because his brain kindly provided him with all the sex scenes from varies chapters of PIDW.

"It's not really popular, so I don't think you'll like it." Sy stood there in agony when the cute guy looked at him disappointedly.

"Oh...okay. Sorry for bothering you."

'Fuck! Why can't god just strike me down right now.' Sy impulsively ripped out a piece of paper from his binder and wrote down his number.

"Here, I can recommend you some better novel. Just text me your preferences." Sy said coldly, trying to regain his composure.

"Really? Thank you!" The guy excitedly whispered as a group of student walked in. Sy took this chance to blend in with the crowd and leave when the guy was preoccupied with others.

'Ah fuck. If I ever met that dumbass author. I'm beating the shit out of him.'

--

As a university library worker, he seen a lot of things throughout his shifts. But he would never expect to find Peerless Cucumber reading the latest chapter in the library. Is it shame on him for posting it when he was working or shame on Cucumber for reading it in a public place.

He type in the phone number and saved it in his phone. His shift was about to end and he could fully plan out how to mess with Cucumber afterwards.

"Luo Binghe, you're free to go."

"Thanks" Luo Binghe, or more infamously known as Airplane, skipped out of the library while humming to himself.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

How do u think the chromatic crew's handwriting would be like?

I think Color’s handwriting would be really really bad, particularly in the very beginning—when he’s not only adjusting to using pens and pencils again, but adjusting to only have one eye and adjusting to seeing in different types of lighting after having gotten used to the conditions of the Void—but im also considering the possibility that, when in Color is filled with Perseverance, there’s noticeable change in his handwriting.

This is the same when he’s filled with the other soul traits of course, such as become more like a young child’s handwriting when filled with Kindness, but I bring up Perse specifically because my thoughts keep circling back to an ask I got about if Color would be effected by or have any disorders or conditions that any of the souls might’ve had when they were alive.

And while I was copying the Wikipedia pages for every canon thing we know about the six souls, their items and everything, down into a little journal notes app thingy for later use; I came across the fact that the notebook’s handwriting is stated to contain “illegible scrawls” when checked. Meaning the handwriting is very hard to read.

This could be for many reasons, of course. The passage of time and a natural wear and tear of exposure to the elements, of course. The fact that the child with the Perseverance soul was a child. They could’ve been writing very quickly; out of fear, frustration, in a hurry, maybe quickly wanting to write everything down before forgotten or as they happened.

But there’s also the fact that another item associated with this soul are the cloudy glasses, said to be marred with wear. The fact they needed glasses suggests problems with eyesight, and if the glasses were marred by the time they were writing in the notebook, would explain bad handwriting as well.

So problems with eyesight whenever Color is filled with Perseverance is one thing he could struggle with that makes his handwriting decrease, even as his own handwriting abilities—which were effected by his lack of much need for such skills, lack of access to the tools needed for writing (besides maybe Patience’s spinning knives?) as well as his physical disability—increased and approved with time and practice.

Another thing I considered awhile back when discussing the idea of Abyss!Sans being dyslexic with a friend on Discord is: what if, not only did Perse have problems with eye sight when they were alive, but what if they had dysgraphia?

Dysgraphia is a neurological disorder that impacts a person's ability to write and produce written language.

It's also known as a specific learning disorder in written expression. Dysgraphia can affect handwriting, spelling, grammar, punctuation, and the organization of written work. It can also impact the ability to recognize and decipher written words, and the relationship between letter forms and sounds.

One of the many signs and symptoms of dysgraphia is even stated to be poor or illegible handwriting.

So i think Color’s handwriting can noticeably get worse when he is filled with Perseverance, because of Perse’s poor eyesight and possible dysgraphia, but also when influenced by younger souls like Ness and Pat.

I think Delta’s handwriting can noticeably change as well, due to Beta, but I do think his handwriting is actually rather easy to read when you read notes about his work related stuff—equations, math, things like that. It’s when he’s writing things about like, grocery lists, that it’s less written with care and he’s just writing however he pleases.

I feel like Killer’s handwriting has potential to also be affected by his eyesight, or lack thereof—as well as tremors or cramps in his hands. He and Color very likely can and do write in Arabic—and this is possibly how they’re used to writing if this was how they were taught.

They are likely more used to writing right to left, and that is likely to show itself even when they’re both writing in English and trying to write left to right. His and Color’s handwritings may seem more fluid and connected, or semi cursive.

Color and Killer, when writing in English, may also struggle with things like capitals, uppercase and lowercase letters because (according to Google at least) Arabic script does not typically require lowercase or uppercase letters. There are also things like pressure, stroke styles, different punctuation rules, etc.

I’m not sure why exactly, but I feel like Epic is pretty good at reading and writing in cursive. I haven’t completely finished reading everything on his and Cross’ canon materials just yet, but Epic’s handwritings is likely influenced by his scientific background; Cross’ royal guard background may also play a factor for him as well.

[grendil9]

"removing the constitution from the website" it's stuff like this that gives hints to goy, just enough to keep the smarter ones quiet and uninterested, that all of the insane "reactions" are indeed the true and sole purpose of "the government" otherwise known as polslop.

You're supposed to say "Uh, actually, they were just taking the constitution down for maintenance". You're supposed to say that. They need you to say that, you dumb slave. The purpose of people talking about how they did that is to make you comment. The purpose of them removing the constitution for a few hours or whatever, and then drawing attention to it in every post by every liberal-team bot on social media, is to make you comment. There was no maintenance, they need your comments. They need your belief. There are no teams, one single entity decides on which funny things to do to keep you commenting, and this is just one of them.

Every "event" like this, is just, quite literally, just a dumb show. Browbeating the weak and innocent into insane beliefs, culminating in self-castration (trans), and demoralizing the intelligent and capable into submission. Making the more perceptive goy say: "Maybe we deserve this dumb show that hurts people and conquers peoples minds, after all look how effective it is on my foolish brothers and sisters."

Polslop's existence renders the masses incapable of unity. There's no chance people who actually believe the dumb polslop, and all the stupid cartoon characters like trump and michelle and biden and shit, and people who don't believe in any of it, could ever really get along outside of immediate necessity. And of course they're so easily mislead already.

The "trump will save us" people are a damned people. Anyone who believes that government is real is going to be left behind by God. It's idolatry. It's a gay drag show with trump making gay drag queen insults for Adult Men to lap up. It just fucking sucks, way worse now that all the pageantry disappeared with Obama. It's just so gay and hopeless and demoralizing. How could you still believe government is real? How can you believe that that wailing shemale bag makes any important decisions at all. What a joke!

As far as I'm concerned if you believe that any single actor or group of actors in any government in the world makes any decision at all, you're defeated. You're ruled by evil. Every politician on earth is a golem with a round golem-male body or stick-thin emaciated golem-female body. They just exist to zombie-walk around on stages with their flabby soulless conscienceless corpses, and beautiful expensive masonic suits, and shoulder-pads, and colorful occult-meaning ties. Sometimes they'll read off a script, written by an AI and approved by a Skeksis boy, to keep you talking and confused and angry.

That is their sole purpose. They take your energy and torment you when you're in the shower or in bed, with their dumb meaningless plotlines that never go anywhere. Distracting and misleading the people. No "news story" they show you publicly isn't planned years and sometimes decades in advance. Or otherwise is just some spur-of-the-moment oneoff joke by some rabbi. That's all there is to it.

If it's on "the news" you can believe without a doubt that it's a planned hoax. There are no exceptions. If it actually happens, it doesn't go on the news. Real events that genuinely happen aren't spread to the public, because real events have too many unknowns. A real event could wake people up, so real events are smothered. Likewise real "leaders" of any kind are hunted down, gangstalked, electronically tortured, and driven to low-energy lifestyles, effectively "removing them from play".

I suppose I can't blame people who suffer the false belief that politics and democracy are real. After all the Skeksis are constantly poisoning the water supply. But it's still an evil thing, and it dominates so many minds, and there's really nothing more to it than just a dumb show.

As an observer from outside of America I'm genuinely quite astounded at how quickly things seem to be ramping up. I don't know why but I believed they would have a cold period where they'd just act like everything is normal before going full with their ideas.

But nope. Straight in to removing the constitution from the website; talking about raiding the homes of immigrant families; removal of the reproductive rights page; saying there are only 2 genders and now it seems they have the intention to make it so women can only get birth control with the permission of their husbands, fathers or a priest.

Thereby completely destroying years of good work for, not only reproductive rights, but women's health care as a whole.

This is only day 2 of the Presidency.

We are in for a long, painful, ride.

[bestruction]

His favorite positions

Summary: Just a few headcanons about his favorite sex positions with you because i'm a horny mf

Warnings:...Sex?

Missionary

Sasuke favored missionary because it allowed him...Many possibilities. Like with many people, it was the first position you two tried but eventually, the more you two had sex, the bolder he got.

He fucking loved the feeling of your legs around his waist, but what if he pushed your knee up to your chest? What if he puts your legs on his shoulders? Maybe he should place his hands on the inside of your thighs and keep you spread open for him...

This man is addicted to control for many reasons, which makes the idea of you lying down on the bed, just for him, ready to take anything he has to give you way too appealing. On top of that, he gets to watch you bite your lips, whimper his name, and melt as he fucks you just right and eye contact was something that felt deeply intimate and grounding to him.

Missionary allows him to hold your hands softly or pin them above your head. He could just switch it up depending on his mood.

Spooning

Lazy Sunday mornings were always a problem. The sun would shine through the curtains, telling him it was already time to get up. If he came back from a particularly long mission it'd be even worse because it means he needs to visit the Hokage's office to report, but how can he when you are sleeping so peacefully in his arms?

If he tried to call your name it would never work. So based on his experience as your boyfriend, he tried to get your attention by kissing your temples, and behind your ears. He swears it's always innocent at first. But the way these kisses quickly slide down your neck, leaving a warm trail on your skin, makes you doubt his intentions.

He loves spooning because in these moments all he has to do was stick his hands inside your pajama shorts to quickly push through your folds and find your clit. Your back pressed against his chest as your legs instantly opened more for him, giving him easier access to your pussy never failed to get a smirk out of him. He'd whisper "morning" in your ear with that husky voice that you loved, pressing down your bud of nerves to make you whimper his name.

Sasuke liked the gentle intimacy of spooning, how it allowed him to make you cum on his fingers, and still play with your nipples, how everything he had to do to fuck you right was pull down your shorts and pound you slowly until you are begging him to go faster. Definitely one of his favorites.

Against the Wall

I feel like at a certain point, there isn't a wall in the house that you haven't been pushed up against at least once. He is a very impulsive and impatient person and also loves physical touch. It's a way to express what he is feeling without having to use words, which he struggles with a lot. This all means if you two are fighting or you are annoying him a bit too much just because you like teasing him, you might end up getting dicked down.

The first time it happened you were teasing him a bit too much while you two organized the living room, you liked pushing his buttons to see how much you could get away with since he had a soft spot for you. It started with some silly joke you don't remember but when he told you to stop, you didn't and the next thing you knew was that you were being pressed against the wall with your knees shaking, trying to keep yourself upright. If it weren't for his hands on your hips you would have been on the floor in an instant, which is why he loves it.

Again: control. He loved knowing he could make you feel like this. Like a mess against the wall who can't even stop drooling because he keeps hitting that sweet spot inside of you each time, he shoves his dick in your poor pussy. Where's all the teasing now? Lost behind your glassy eyes.

Cowgirl

Sasuke appreciated this position because it allowed you to take control, which he secretly enjoyed more than he liked to admit. Watching you on top of him, hair freely around your face as you place your hands on his chest and do your best to accommodate his size always left him in awe for you. The way your breasts bounce each time you let your hips fall on his cock, how you let your head fall behind you each time his tip kisses deep inside of you making you smile at how good it feels. He had to hold himself back from not cumming way too fast every time he saw that naughty smile of yours. Plus, it gave him the chance to rest his hands on your hips and guide you gently (not so gently sometimes) if you say you are too tired because what do you mean you can't take it anymore? Of course, you can, you can do it for him, can't you?