#***we do not speak here of the failed projects

[hxhhasmysoul]

kenjaku never did anything wrong. they are a feminist icon, have you seen a single working mother like them? so dedicated to their work* and their hobbies** and their favourite child*** . before kenny became the single mother of the millenium they were the best wife, each and every time them and jin got together and tried to build a little vessel****. and brief as it were, mother was the best boyfriend to their soulmate takaba.

[dazedantics]

Mark doesn't like pair projects.

It's not that he's better at working alone. He'd much rather have one or more people there to help get the job done since he isn't exactly the brightest.

But every time the teacher starts, "Alright, this next assignment you're gonna be in pairs." He'll sit there, gripping his worn pencil praying to himself, "please pick our partners, please pick our partners," over and over.

He isn't often so lucky.

See, Mark doesn't have any friends in this class. Or in general. So he never has the luxury to make knowing-eye-contact with that one person he knows will always partner with him for anything.

If only William were here. Then he wouldn't have to look so obviously nervous as the seconds pass.

He'll sit at his desk pretending to be busy. Mussing with his notebook, digging through his backpack, fixing his shoelaces, a weak ploy that buys him some time for someone to hopefully come over and pick him first. Or at least enough time for everyone else to pair, the moving bodies distracting the teacher away from him starting the work. Alone. In the back of the classroom. The far back where he goes unnoticed as usual.

He thought the stares the pairs next to him give, whispering as he slumps into his chair to further get out of sight, were bad enough. They knew him as the lone weirdo at this point.

But lately his tactics of laying low have failed as his teacher started asking you to invite him to join your group.

You're kind enough about it. Smiling and taking his hand as you lead him over to your desk. Neither you nor your partner mention how the teacher told you to talk to him. And he doesn't bring it up either.

He's grown a little relieved actually. Still does his lingering-by-the-backpack thing until you come and drag him over. But at least he has the peace of mind knowing he won't be solving all these confusing packets alone.

But then you start bringing your stuff over to sit at his desk instead. Setting out your notes, reading over the instructions and asking him where you should start.

"We can split up the research part to make this faster. And it's a bit like that last assignment we had, so I'm pretty sure we could just paraphrase what we already wrote there instead."

He looks over your shoulder, searching for your usual partner, thinking they're about to come and join you. But they don't.

Okay, weird. Maybe they're just not here today?

"It's due by the end of the week, so we could take turns bringing it home for the artsy parts?"

He's a bit too distracted by the sight of your friend elsewhere in the room, working with their own partner already.

"Mark?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Sounds great. Um ... let's start?"

You work on the project together and it's not so different from doing it in a group of three. Just glad to have someone to split the work with, he decides he doesn't need to ask why you chose to go to him first this time.

Until you start going to him again. And again. And again.

You even choose to sit at the desk next to his once the teacher does that "pick your own seat" thing every quarter.

Then he just has to ask.

He watches you as your scrawl on the poster board. Hand nervously scratching his neck, biting the inside of his lip, foot tapping before he speaks.

"Why are you here?"

"Hm?" You finally look up from your work.

His stomach feels jittery. He fears for his phrasing in case you suddenly realize you had enough of him and decide to punch him in the gut.

"You know. Like ... why are you sitting with me? Don't you want to be working with your friend?"

You pause, pencil hovering above the page. "Do you ... want me to go away?"

What? He didn't just accidentally push you away from him, did he?

"No, no! It's not that at all! In fact, I'd love it if you didn't leave me ever. I mean- not like that! I just mean that, uh, you just- you never bothered to partner with me before? You know, if the teacher is making you stick with me for some reason, you really don't have too. And um, you haven't been around your friend much recently? Since you're with me."

He wasn't sure where to look as he awaited your answer.

Your sudden smile made his gut churn even more. Was that a condescending smile or?

"Well, the teacher did ask us to at first. But, you're actually kinda cool. I like working with you. And my friend has been busy trying to flirt with their crush. And I dunno about you, but I'd rather not be stuck as the third wheel for any situation." You chuckled.

His stomach seemed to be flipping. Was he feeling sick?

"So is that why you've been acting nervous this whole time, or are you really always like this?"

He cleared his throat, shifting to sit up straighter. "Um yeah, no. I, uh, that's ... that's all I ...," he sniffed. "Um, so problem five?"

You laughed again, scooting closer and placing a hand on his paper to shift it toward you.

You didn't seem as painfully aware of how close your soft hands were to his plain ones.

"What don't you understand about it this time?"

He was aware you'd gone over this certain problem over ten times already, but he was positive he wasn't going to be able to focus on it any better now that he had a whole slew of new questions to flood his mind.

You think he's cool?

Well, if you think that good about him now, what other good things do you think about him?

Do you think about him a lot when you're at home?

Could you start to?

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ WE F⍣CK OFF & ON, OFF & ON .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ As the campus’s well known f⍣ckboy, Satoru Gojo wasn’t known to stick around for more than one night in one bed. Well, that unspoken rule just didn’t apply when the bed was yours.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, uni au, smut (mdni), protected s⍣x, f⍣ckboy!gojo, hair pulling, p⍣ssywhipped!gojo, mentions of alc⍣hol & bein’ drunk, dirty talk, slight dumbification.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ Thank you so freaking much for 1.5K!!! 🥹

Absolutely unbearable.

If there was any way to describe the campus fuckboy, it’d be that.

He was known—infamous for his unique way of fucking women and somehow leaving them attached, yearning for him once more after just one night, while he only left unscathed with his balls empty.

Satoru Gojo was insatiable. And you hated him.

You failed to see what everyone saw in him—he was a total idiot for fucks sake! Granted, he had a pretty face and could be quite charming, and you really couldn’t say for yourself if he was that good in bed, but good things about him paled in comparison to his horrid personality. He knew how attractive he was, and used that any chance he got.

How did he manage to talk his way into and out of anything? You simply didn’t know. But you hated him.

That was…until you yourself finally had a taste of Satoru Gojo.

Drunk at a party and so utterly wasted, you’d failed to acknowledge who was hitting on you, who you got into the taxi with to drive back to who knows where. His hands all over you—so rough yet inviting, even after the alcohol in your system had gone you still found yourself pulled into a trance.

A trance that seemingly pushed you to his bed and under him. Seemingly had you moaning his name all night and for more to come.

And seemingly, now, opening the door to your apartment so he could come in. So he could come in and fuck you like he’s been doing for the past months. Well, that’s just what he thought would happen anyway.

“Satoru,” you huffed, watching as the tall freak plopped himself onto your couch, momentarily jerking his head back before he responded with a hum.

“Can you stop acting like a fool and try not to break anything for once?” You chastised, pointing to a hand of his already playing with the flowers in your prized vase—he hadn’t given you those and had no right to taint them.

The white haired man groaned, rolling his eyes and following you down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. Your steps halted at the doorway and so did his, a low snicker leaving his lips as his hands slid to your waist.

“So,” he sighed in your ear, brushing his soft lips past the skin of your neck, big hands squeezing the flesh of your ass as he snaked them down. “Y’just gonna keep on being grumpy or you gonna let me fuck?”

“Satoru,” you exasperated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, though you didn’t dare take his hands off your body, already surrendering to the feeling. “Just because we’ve been fucking doesn’t mean that I only invite you here because of that.”

You turned around to face him. “We have a project to do, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll start after I start.”

And what was Satoru’s definition of that?

It was pushing your head further down into your pillows as he absolutely ravished your cunt, simultaneously holding both your hands back with just one of his.

His thrusts were deep and calculated—to the point where it felt like he knew where every pleasurable spot inside you was. Perhaps he did.

“Dick’s got you all quiet now, hm?” he smirks, sliding his free hand up your back and to your head, pulling your hair back as he speaks. By then you were a drooling mess and as much as you’d hate to admit it—you’re practically dumb on his cock, moaning incoherent little babbles of his name and how big he feels.

Satoru grins behind you, smug because he’s got you, the most prim and proper girl on campus choking on her own saliva. It all felt so surreal, you felt surreal—your soft hips, the succulent ripple of your ass as his hips connected to it, your moans—fuck everything you did was driving him crazy. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

He was the one who was supposed to be ingrained in your brain—but here he was, inches deep inside your wet, reeling pussy after he swore the last time he was in your apartment would be the last.

But there’s always a reoccurring cycle with you. He just can’t stop.

“Hah—mph—slow down, S’toru!” you mewl, fat tears swelling in your waterline, your ears perking up at the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of your sweaty bodies colliding. “If ‘m too loud my neighbors might hear,”

“Yeah? Let them hear how good I’m makin’ you feel then,” he breathes, shallow and unsteady, his toned chest moving in tandem with his inhales. The deep tremble of his voice seems to move throughout your body, vibrating through you in such a maddening way that you’re almost cumming from the feeling alone.

What was even more provoking was the way he pulsed against your gummy walls, thumping and pulsing inside you loud enough that it seemed you could hear it.

And—god was Satoru close, so close he could feel the static of his high zap though his fingers. He groaned, head thrown back in bliss as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so deliciously.

Your head was spinning from the mind-dizzying pleasure, eyes rolling back in what Satoru can only admit is the most remarkable expression he’s gotten out of anyone he’s fucked.

His hair was sticking to his forehead now, sweaty from how fast he was working to thrust into you at his abnormal pace. “Can I—“

“No.”

A defeated sigh and a pained grunt as he pulled out just as he was about to teeter off the edge of pleasure, taking himself in his hands and finishing the job. Satoru jerked himself as he watched you shake and convulse in euphoria, your body unwinding as you let your limbs go limp.

Cum seeped from your pussy, dripping down to your clit and sheets—and that sight was all he needed before his hot seed was spurting all over your back, the sensation causing a broken cry to leave your lips.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouthed, breathing hard as he gave your ass little smacks of approval. “That was—shit—so good.”

You nodded, head turning to the side as you watched him take off his cum-filled condom, and dump it in the trash. Satoru plopped back on your bed once he was done.

A smirk graced his lips and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, knowing nothing good could come out of that look.

“When do you think we could do it raw, hm?”

“When you get tested for every type of STD.”

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[marauder-misprint]

hi! can you do something with the marauders preferably sirius or james where the reader has constantly been like kind of invisible her whole life and spoken over and in the end has just stopped speaking up much ? thankyou <33 ( no pressure though! )

Hi! Thank you for this request ❤︎ Not sure how I feel about the quality of this. I definitely feel like it's not James enough, but it is what it is. Or maybe it's the lack of interactions with the rest of the Marauders that has me feeling like this? Idk. (It also might be because I'm not a huge James writer? Who knows?)

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Potions partner

James Potter x reader

4.6k words

cw: fluff, yapper!James

You’re not sure which is more peculiar: the story you’re telling or the fact that multiple people are listening to you tell it. 

It had happened during Care of Magical Creatures class that morning. Professor Kettleburn was trying to settle an aggravated Thestral and was failing horribly to the point where he dismissed class urgently. You were one of the few students who could actually see the beast so your retelling of the event was more descriptive than the rest of the class’. 

But what wasn’t peculiar was when a boy sat down a few seats away from you with complaints about the latest Transfiguration essay and all the attention that had been on you and your story moved on. Was the Thestral more interesting? Yes. But you were you, a background character in your own life. People didn’t pay attention to you if there was something else going on.  

You sigh and turn your attention to the food on your plate. You’ve barely touched it since you were talking for once. Now that attention has left you like it always does, you’re able to eat. It had been nice to feel heard, even if just for a few minutes. You never did hold people’s attention for long. You were just something to fill the background, nothing special to see. And often you weren’t seen. There were too many times for you to count when someone brushes past you, accidentally knocking you to the ground and they barely give you “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” 

In short, you weren’t seen and you weren’t heard. 

It wasn’t just your classmates either. It seemed like once a week, a professor would scan the classroom as they marked who was in attendance and they’d ask if you were there. You always were. You’d raise your hand and wave it around. Sometimes, even with that, they’d miss you until your friend spoke up and said that, yes, you were, in fact, in class. You weren’t sure how the professors managed to skip over you so much, but they did. Maybe it was because you weren’t an extreme. Your grades weren’t horrible enough to be of concern, nor were they exceptional enough to be used as examples and to earn house points. 

That afternoon in Potions, one of your least favorite things happened. Professor Slughorn announced a partnered-project.

“If everyone could get into pairs please! We will be working on brewing Felix Felicis and there will be various assignments with this. Pick someone you will be able to focus with. Yes, this means that Potter and Black cannot be partners.”

A pair of groans erupt from the back of the room. 

“I got dibs on Moony,” Sirius says.

James groans again, scanning the room. Lily had picked Mary. Marlene and Peter didn’t continue with Potions in N.E.W.T. level. People got into pairs quickly. You had immediately turned toward Emmeline. She was usually kind to you, but she paired with Benjy Fenwick. Your options dwindled fast. 

“Alright, anyone without a partner?” Slughorn asks the class as the room began to settle down. 

You and James both raise your hands. 

“Alright, you two are paired then. Here is the first assignment…”

You glance at James and cringe internally. Loud, boisterous James was your partner for the foreseeable future. Slughorn hadn’t given a timeframe for how long these assignments would be. You try to listen to everything that he’s saying about the first assignment, but it’s difficult when you’re dreading the assignment before it’s even really begun. 

After class ends, you approach James.

“Erm, I’ll do the essay if you want to do the first part of the potion?” you offer, hugging your books tight to your chest. 

“Huh? Oh, for the project. The essay’s long, don’t you want to work together on it?” James replies.

“I don’t-” you start to say.

Sirius interrupts you. “Mate, the girl’s just offered you the easy way out of the project. Take it and run.” 

You press your lips into a thin line, nod and walk away. Sirius got it. You’d split the project into separate pieces as much as you could. Plus, did Mr. Popular really want to be seen with someone as quiet and invisible as you? You didn’t think so. As you made your way to your next class, you assumed that was the end of the conversation. 

It wasn’t.

James finds you in the library after dinner. He’s slightly out of breath as he places his things on the table.

“You’re a hard one to find,” he says, taking a seat across from you.

You don’t say anything. In fact, you barely spare him a glance. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the Potions project,” he continues as he takes out homework for a different class. “It’s a multiple part project. It’s very interconnected, not something we can split down the middle and work on separately.”

He stops talking and waits for you to respond. You still don’t look up. You just work on your Herbology assignment.

“You… you are my partner for Potions, right?” he asks, running a hand through already-messy hair. “That’d be embarrassing if I just sat down across from the wrong girl…”

“We’re partners,” you whisper, more to your parchment than James.

“Great. So I’m at the right table! Like I was saying, you can’t do the entire essay and have me do all the brewing. I mean, we can do that. Like you write and I actually brew, which is fine. But we have to meet up to work on it, you know? Can’t do one part without the other.” 

“I prefer to work alone,” you say. “So take my offer or do it all by yourself.”

James’ eyes narrow. 

“That’s not how partner projects work.”

You raise your eyes to meet his for the first time since he sat down. Pretty. You sigh and look back at your assignment. You have work to get done. You hope that James will get the message, accept your terms and leave you alone. Instead, he starts to work on an essay for Astronomy.

“Do you study at this table often?” he asks nonchalantly. 

“Mhmm,” you hum. 

Part of you wants to ask why he’s asking. What’s it to him that you work at that table practically like clockwork? 

“This a daily thing or weekly? Every other day? Multiple times a day?” 

“Whenever I have assignments,” you answer, although it's a very non-answer. When didn’t you have homework as a sixth year? 

Every teacher assigned endless work to prepare you for the incoming exams. You were to be prepared and the way to prepare you was to assign work. 

“So you’re here every second of every day, got it,” James says cheekily. 

A quick glance at him reveals a smirk playing on his lips. Despite his quill hovering about parchment, he’s watching you, scanning your face for some kind of reaction. Something more than the quiet, short answers you’ve responded with so far. It’s a change of pace for James. Everyone wants to talk to him. He can talk with anyone about anything. It’s a gift that he and Sirius share. You, on the other hand, aren’t talking and it’s strange to James. Even Lily talks more when she’s shooting down his advances. 

“Do you need help with that for Sprout?” James offers, confident that he can get you to talk more. “I finished it over lunch.”

You shake your head. James frowns, having been hoping for a verbal answer. He gives up trying to get you to talk for the evening, although he doesn’t leave your table. The two of you work in tandem for a few hours. James is far more uncomfortable with the silence between you than you are. It’s something you’re used to, and even if James had decided to ramble on about something, you would’ve managed to get the same amount of work done. James was used to noise around him, even in the library. With friends like his, quiet work time didn’t exist. 

The next day James tries to say hi to you during the few classes that you share. You offer a small smile or a quiet ‘hello’ in response. You never stop and talk to him beyond that, which bothers him. You were partners for a project that would inevitably force you to spend some time together. Why didn’t you bother trying to get to know him at all? 

“That’s your Potions partner, right?” Sirius asks as you walk away from them for the fourth time. “The one you got stuck with?”

“Yeah. Clearly doesn’t talk much,” James answers, watching you go and wordlessly sit down next to a Hufflepuff. He runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“Maybe she just doesn’t know you? Or like you,” Peter says.

“What do you mean, Wormtail?” James asks. 

“You’re not friends with everyone and some people don’t talk to people they don’t like.” Peter said it like it should’ve been common sense. 

“But how can she not like me if she doesn’t know me? Won’t even try to know me? I sat with her for hours last night and I got maybe five sentences out of her!”

“You were in the library,” Remus snorts. “Some people respect the library’s quiet.”

“I know how to whisper!” 

The other three boys burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. James Potter whispering was more akin to a stage whisper. So, not a whisper. He was a loud person. 

Then after dinner, James sits across from you in the library again. 

“Same table. Easier to find,” he says as he takes out his homework. 

Just like yesterday, you don’t respond. You don’t look up. You just continue working. James, however, is more intent on getting you to talk. He tries to think of something that might get your attention. It’s more difficult than he originally imagined. He didn’t know you. “What’s today’s assignment?” 

“Care of Magical Creatures,” you say, voice barely qualifying as a whisper. 

That got James’ attention more than it should have.

“Were you in class with the rampant Thestral? I heard it was crazy. Can’t imagine dealing with a creature you can’t see!” he asks.

“Professor Kettleburn provoked it. He pulled its wing. It looked overstretched,” you say with certainty. 

Looked.

“Looked?” 

You nod, flipping the page of the book you have open in front of you.

“You can see them? I thought you could only see them if-”

“If you’ve seen death,” you interrupt James. 

He’s staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve seen death?” James asks. 

He’s certain that he won’t get any work done. Not when you can see Thestrals.

You nod, again. Yesterday you were thrilled to have people’s attention as you recounted the beast mauling Kettleburn with its hooves. Today, you want to get your assignment done so you can return to your dorm. You aren’t sure why James is so curious about it, or why he keeps talking to you. No one ever sits at your table two days in a row.

After you don’t speak, James lets the conversation, if you can call it that, die. He figures that you don’t want to talk about who you’ve seen die. Maybe it was someone close to you. Maybe it was recent and hurt too much to talk about. He tries to focus on his work, but he was right in his assumption that he wouldn’t get work done. Even if you weren’t talking, James found you fascinating. His eyes keep drifting up to watch you work. 

He breaks the silence after a while. “Can we work on that Potions essay tomorrow? I’m fine with brewing the potion, but we’ll work on the essay together.” 

You sigh yet you nod all the same. 

“Great!” 

And with that, James leaves you alone. 

The next day feels the same as the last. James says hi to you whenever he sees you, earning the same responses from you. There’s something nice about him taking the time to say  hi to you when most of your classmates barely acknowledge your existence. Still, he’s only your partner in Potions and he didn’t choose to be your partner. It just happened because Slughorn said he couldn’t be with Sirius. 

When James finds you in the library after dinner at your usual table, he’s lugging his cauldron with him. You stare as he sets it up next to the table, taking out a small collection of ingredients.

“Bit rough getting this past Madam Pince,” he tells you, seeing that he managed to catch your attention for once. “But I figured, if we’re working on the essay right now, might as well work on the potion too, right?” 

You open your mouth as if to speak but nothing comes out. You gape like a fish out of water. 

“You do have your Potions stuff with you, yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah… I do…” 

You move your unfinished Care of Magical Creatures assignment off to the side. You’d work on it more after James left. Or at least, whenever he was done insisting on this ‘working together’ thing. 

“Right, so Slughorn wants the first portion of Felix. And the essay is on the…” James says while looking over his scribbled notes.

“Essay is on the ingredients’ effect on the coloring. Pretty self-explanatory if you ask me,” you finish for him.

“How do you mean?” 

You try not to laugh at James. 

“Please, occamy and ashwinder eggs? Common rue? Shiny, shiny, yellow. It’s basic color theory.” 

“Huh,” is all James says for a moment. Then he follows with, “That’s why you offered to do all the writing, isn’t it!” 

“More like I thought you wouldn’t be bothered to work with me.” 

James gasps, putting his hand over his heart like you brutally offended him. “Ouch, sweetheart!” 

“Just get to brewing, Potter.”

And that’s the last that you spoke that evening. You worked intently on the essay as James brewed the potion. For some time, the sound between you was the crackling of the fire under James’ cauldron. But then he started talking. At first it was about the potion. He told you about everything he did and the immediate effects, every change of color and consistency. You didn’t need the commentary, although you used it to ensure that James was doing everything correctly. His descriptions matched what you had written. 

Then he reached the point where the potion needed to simmer, James started talking about quidditch. You humor him for a while, listening to him ramble about what you easily assume is his favorite topic. He talked about more than just the Gryffindor team. He talked about the different tactics he’d seen the other houses use this year and how well they executed them, how they compared to the professional teams and how each of those teams were doing this year. Then he went on a tangent about the new rules and regulations that were passed recently and how they affected the game. He went on for a while.

“Do you want to read this or not?” you ask with some snap to your voice. 

You slid the finished essay across the table toward James. You had written the entire thing as he brewed, only a testament to why you thought that partner part of the project was pointless. But if he wanted to ‘work together,’ you figure the least you could do was have him look over your work. 

“Oh, yes! Let me see,” he mumbles as he takes the parchment from you. 

You resume work on your Magical Creatures assignment. It takes James a few minutes to look over the whole thing. You had put a little extra effort into writing it since it was going to be James’ grade as well. It was one thing if your own work was subpar but when someone else got brought into the equation, you tried a little harder.

“This is great. You really did the whole thing while I brewed?”

You nod.

“You’re fantastic!” You feel a heat creep up your neck at the compliment. It was just an essay.

“Okay, so we have the potion and the essay for the first deadline! Great! I’ll clean up and get out of your hair. But I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he asks, a wide smile on his face.

You nod again.

Over the next week, James continues to meet up with you in the library. He’s grateful that you never change tables. That at least means you don’t mind too much that he’s joining you. With each day, he tries to get you to talk. He tries topic after topic, hoping to come across one that you wouldn’t mind opening up a bit for. What James doesn’t know is that you’ve trained yourself to limit your responses. Even if someone asked about your deepest interest, you’d barely let on that you knew everything about it. 

Then, just as you’re getting used to James constantly being at your table, he says something that throws you off.

“I won’t be here tomorrow.”

You want to respond with “Okay?” He wasn’t required to do homework for you after dinner every day. He wasn’t obligated to sit at your table. You still didn’t even really consider him your friend.

“We got the quidditch pitch reserved for a last minute practice before Saturday’s match,” he says, pausing to watch your face with curiosity. If there was a change in your expression, he’d see it. There was no change. “You’re coming to the match on Saturday, right?”

There was hope in his voice. Like he really wanted to make sure that you’d be in the stands for the game. Almost like he wanted to know if you’d be watching him, and just maybe, cheering for him. 

You blink your eyes slowly.

“I… I’m not sure.”

“Oh?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Depends on how much work I get done, I guess.”

“Stay hard at work then, will you? I’d like you to be there. Heard it’s going to be a good match,” he says, his grin audible in his voice. 

It makes you look up at him rather than at the parchment in front of you. 

“Heard it’s going to be good?” you repeat back to him. “Wouldn’t you say that about every match you’re in?”

“I mean, yeah, but Saturday’s especially.” 

“We’ll see, Potter.”

“You’ll only see if you go.”

You flex your eyebrows and turn back to your assignment. James smiles to himself as he begins to work again too. Something about your demeanor made him think that you would show up. He wasn’t really sure why he cared if you did, but there was something about you. He had grown to like the quiet air that you maintained. He didn’t mind that you didn’t talk much, despite his desperate attempts to get you to talk. You kind of reminded him of Remus during first year, if he was being honest. And that means that you had the promise of becoming a very dear friend. 

You would be lying if you didn’t work extra hard the next evening while James was at practice. You didn’t promise anything but you felt that you owed it to James to at least try to be at a point where you could justify going to the match. You went to a handful of them. You could follow along enough with the game, not that it mattered. Balls were tossed around, some were hit and there was a super small one that only two players tried to catch. That’s about all you needed to know. 

Still, you don’t know why you felt the need to show up for James. It wasn’t like he would be able to see you in the sea of students. It was one thing to find you in the library. It was another to spot you from a broom while you were surrounded by hundreds of others pressed together and bundled up against the biting wind. You even figured that you could just tell James that you went, without actually going, and he wouldn’t know the difference. 

However, when morning came, you were bundling up. You join the masses heading to the pitch. You listen to the excited chatter about how epic the match is going to be. It was Gryffindor against Slytherin after all, which always made for a good match being the natural rivals that they were. You stood pressed between your friend and one of her closer friends. They cheer louder than you did. You were more focused on trying to keep up with the game as your mind continuously drifts to James. As your mind drifts, so do your eyes. You’re confident that you watched James for at least 90% of the match. Which shouldn’t be too shocking given the amount of times he was in the midst of the action. You swore he had his hands on the quaffle during every play. 

And then something happened that made your heart stop.

You swore James’ eyes found yours and then he flashed you a smile. All before proceeding to score again. Almost as if he was doing it just for you. 

Which was ridiculous. He was just your Potions partner who happened to be studying a lot with you as of recently. 

But still. He found you, in the middle of the crowd, where you should have been as invisible as you always were. 

How? How did he see you? It’s all you could think of for the last few minutes of the game. You were so in your own head that you missed the Gryffindor seeker catching the snitch, ending the game and sealing the win for them. You let your friend drag you out of the stands as students filled the pitch. Except you didn’t follow her into the pitch. You started down the path back towards the castle, but you didn’t make it far. 

The sun was shining brightly and the air wasn’t too frigid once you were hundreds of feet into the air. You veer from the path and find a nice patch of grass to sit down on. Some sunshine wouldn’t hurt. An occasional shadow passed over your face as clouds drifted across the sky. Each shadow was only momentary, a brief chill until it moved on.

Until one shadow didn’t move on. You waited a minute before opening your eyes to see how big this cloud was.

The cloud in question? James Potter. James Potter still in his quidditch uniform and sporting a smile so bright it could rival the sun itself. And he was standing in front of you.

“Potter,” you say shortly. 

“Didn’t see you on the pitch after the match,” he replies, sitting down across from you.

You don’t say anything. What was there to say?

“I was hoping to see you on the pitch. Maybe get a congratulations on the win?” he says with a tilt of his head. 

“You played well.” That was as close to a congratulations as he was going to get from you. 

“Did you see the goal I scored for you?” 

You cough. “For me?” 

“Well, yes. I swore I made eye contact with you before I did it.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Or did I look at a different pretty girl?” 

You swallow thickly. “No, you, erm, that was me.”

“Ah, then yes. For you. My pretty Potions partner.”

If your heart had stopped in the stands, it must’ve turned into stone now. There was no way that James just called you his pretty Potions partner. 

“That’s… ah… that’s alliteration,” you manage to say despite your mouth suddenly becoming drier than the desert. 

James tilts his head curiously. 

“I did want to thank you,” he says. “For coming to the match. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come. Because of homework, like you said. But I hoped you’d come.” He pauses for a moment. “Did you like it?”

“The-the match or you scoring… for me?” you ask, the end of your question feeling foreign in your mouth. 

People didn’t score goals for you. That didn’t happen. You were barely noticed. You were spoken over. You were forgotten about because you offered so little to conversation and friendships. 

“Erm, both, I suppose.” 

“The match was entertaining. Definitely a step from Binn’s lectures.” 

James laughs. It was a delightfully warm sound that draws the attention of students headed to the castle. 

“You scoring… for… me…” you continue, the words still feeling odd to you, “was… nice, I guess. Unexpected though.” 

James nods, accepting your commentary. He understands why it came across as unexpected. It wasn’t like he had flirted with you in the library. He hadn’t asked you to Hogsmeade or a picnic or even for a measly walk through the corridors together. 

“I suppose I did this a bit backwards, haven’t I?” he chuckles.

“Did what?” you ask.

“The fact that you have to ask…” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his windswept hair. “I think I want to ask you out.”

Your eyes go wide and a blush tints your cheeks pink. Your heart has been shocked back to life and is working overtime.

“You think?” you ask once you’re able to say words. 

“Okay, well, I do. I want to ask you out. I’m just not sure… if I should? Would you say yes if I did?”

You’re frozen in shock. He wants to ask you out. He grows increasingly nervous when you don’t respond.

“You don’t talk much and you seem to take your studies seriously. You remind me of Remus. You know Remus Lupin, right? Good, good friend of mine. And I think you’re rather pretty. So the combination of both, I want to see if we, you know, work together,” he says all too quickly. “And now I’ve gone and scored a goal for you, which I know most people usually save for after they’ve gone steady with someone or if they’re heavily chatting them up, but you don’t seem like the kind of person to appreciate a proper chatting up so…” He took a sharp breath. “Whatdoyousay?”

You continue to stare at James. It’s a lot. You’re not really sure when he started feeling all of this and you don’t know how to express that. You also don’t know how you managed to catch his eye. 

“Can I, ahem, get a nod or something? You, me, butterbeers next weekend?”

You nod slowly and that brings a brilliant grin to James’ face. 

“And I’ll see you in the library all week, yeah? Can’t be falling behind in our assignments, can we?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Same table.”

“And there’s a party in the Gryffindor Common Room later, if you want to go. I don’t know if that’s your scene or not, but I’ll be there. Wouldn’t mind seeing you there. But only if you’re up to it.”

You nod, but then realize that he might take that as you agreeing that you’ll go to the party. 

“Maybe. I… I need to work on Astronomy but… I’ll consider it.”

His grin gets impossibly wider and he pushes his glasses further up his nose. Then he stands up and holds out a hand to help you up.

“Then let’s get you back to the castle. Can’t work on your Astronomy if you’re out here.” 

You take his hand and let him lead you inside. Something about James inviting you places makes you actually want to show up, even if a Gryffindor quidditch party is completely out of your comfort zone. 

[iluvmattsbeard]

Wet Dreamz (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut and swearing

preview: matt and you were partners for a project. he unexpectedly started having sinful dreams about you, suddenly craving you ever since. one thing nobody knew; he was a virgin.

“y/n, you will be partnered with Matt.” the teacher says trying to grab your attention. “y/n? are you listening?” you snap out of your thoughts and look at him. “huh?” you ask. “you’re partnered with Matt for this project.” he replies with an unamused look. you look around before you look back at him. “who’s that?” you ask.

he lets out a sigh before speaking, “Matt raise your hand.” you look around again as you catch the eyes of a brown haired boy. you weren’t mad about it. he looked decent.

you get up and walk to where he was sitting. “next time y/n, i expect you to be paying attention. this project will effect your grade drastically if you do poorly.” you hear the teacher say looking at you. all you do is nod. you were barely passing the class.

Matt’s POV

i got paired with y/n. she didn’t even know who i was. i knew of her because she would get in trouble constantly due to her lack of focus. as she came to sit next to me, we clicked right away. we both dreaded school, but who doesn’t? as much as i didn’t like school, i still paid attention, unlike her, so i had to explain the whole point of the project to her.

we exchanged numbers after class so that we could talk about when we could meet up to work on it. we only had two weeks to complete it. i knew i had to stand on top of it because i know she won’t.

a few days pass, me and y/n still working on the project together, with us having to meet at lunch. i got to know a little bit more about her. she was pretty cool to talk to. we even started texting without talking about the project itself. so when this is done, it’d be cool to hang with her.

meeting during lunch really wasn’t a good idea. there was too much distractions. so i took the opportunity to invite her over to my place after school. she agreed and i ended up driving her with me once the final bell rang.

End of Matt’s POV

you and Matt were in his room as you sat on the floor. you were reading over some information from the website the teacher recommended and you were feeling overwhelmed. “all of this is hurting my head.” you say laying back on the floor. Matt lets out a small laugh as he responds, “me too. i don’t get how this will be beneficial in the future.” you shot up looking at him, “exactly! school is so bullshit to me. they don’t even teach real world shit.” you say sighing. “i agree. but i didn’t put up with almost 12 years of school just to fail.” he says. you groan, “right. it would be wasteful. i’m pretty sure you don’t have anything to worry about. my grades are literally on the edge of failing.” “well, i could help you.” he suggests. all you do is let out a laugh, “trust me, teaching me is hard.”

“i’ve been teaching you these past days. trust me i know.” Matt responds as you both let out a laugh. “it’s hot in here.” you say taking off your hoodie, pulling down your shirt as it lifted a bit. Matt looks at you as he catches a glimpse of your cleavage. he looks away quickly, clearing his throat. where has all of that been hiding? he wonders. “well let’s continue working on this.” he says trying to move past it. all you do is nod as you lay on your stomach continuously reading.

when you weren’t paying attention, Matt would stare at you slightly. he would stare at the way your tits were pressed against the floor, thinking how perfect they were.

after a few hours, Matt takes you home. “thank you for the ride.” you say smiling, slinging your backpack on one shoulder. “yeah of course” he replies. you open the door stepping out, but as you get up, your hoodie raises slightly revealing your thong peeking out above your jeans slightly. Matt catches a glimpse turning red. you shut the door and walk away. he sits there in his car for a bit as he gulps before driving away.

Matt arrives home tidying his room before going to bed. he picks up one of his notebooks as he sees a sticky note on it reading, ‘thank you for dealing with me as a partner - Y/N’.

he smiles at the note as he puts it down on his bed side table, getting into bed. as he lays there, he couldn’t help but think about what his eyes caught from you earlier. your cleavage and your thong. he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Matt stop that.” he whispers to himself before shutting his eyes going to sleep.

Matt’s dream POV

you and Matt were sitting on your bed working on the project. Matt wasn’t paying attention to you as much and you were bothered by it. you took matters into your hands and you closed the book he was studying. you got on top of him, sitting on his lap as he gets caught off guard. you pull him into a passionate kiss and next thing you knew, you were under the covers tangled together naked.

End of Matt’s dream

Matt’s POV

i woke up sitting up quickly with my breathing uneven. what was that?! my heart was racing. did i just have a wet dream?!

i pulled up the covers to see a wet stain on top of the crotch of my sweats. what the fuck. this has never happened before. with y/n?! why? because of what i saw yesterday? i never even had sex before. how could i have easily dreamed of it? i gulp before getting up. i head to the bathroom to clean myself. i really can’t believe that just happened. now all i could do is replay it in my head. i groan at the thought.

after i got ready, i headed straight to school. on the drive there, i still couldn’t stop replaying everything that happened in my dream. even if i tried to distract myself, it wouldn’t go away. i needed it bad.

End of Matt’s POV

you and Matt were in class as you tried to tell him a story. all he was doing was nodding and staying quiet. “Matt? are you okay?” you question. he shakes his head before speaking, “yeah- yeah i’m good. sorry.” you give him a questionable look as you reply, “well you weren’t really paying attention as i spoke.” you laugh a bit. “oh i was.” he says with a nervous smile. “yeah okay.” you say turning your body straight, pretending to pay attention to the teacher.

Matt does the same as he groans quietly to himself. he didn’t know if he should tell you or not about what he imagined. he decided to shrug it off.

it was the end of the day again as you both end up at Matt’s house. you were standing up as you rehearsed your lines on what to say for the presentation. Matt just sat there looking lost. “Matt seriously what is wrong? i can’t do this without you, you know?” you say frustrated. “i’m sorry. i’ve just been having a hard time.” he responds scratching the back of his neck. “well we really need to focus on this. if you need to get something off your chest, do it now so we can continue.” you say. Matt hesitates before speaking, “okay well i sort of had an odd dream last night.” you look at him confused. “okay?” you reply. “it wasn’t a normal dream.” he continues.

“what? were you like having sex or something?” you ask jokingly with a laugh. but he just sits there staying silent with a blank face. “oh. oh! you did!” you exclaim. “who was it about?” asking with curiosity. “some random girl from class.” he says lying through his teeth. “so what’s the big deal?” you ask. “this your first time having a wet dream?” all he does is nod. you widen your eyes, “really? that’s new. i would’ve thought you were like every other guy constantly thinking about sex.” letting out a laugh. “why is it bothering you so much?”

“because, it’s weird. especially with this specific girl.” he responds. you raise an eyebrow before asking a question, “have you ever had sex before?” the question takes Matt by surprise as he responds quickly, “of course i have!” he lies. you let out a laugh. “okay! sorry! well then you shouldn’t be so weirded out. now come on. lets focus.” replying to him.

it still was eating him in the inside.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

after the weeks flew by, you and Matt got an ‘A’ for your presentation. you decided to celebrate by treating Matt with fast food. you both sat on his bed eating. “thank you for being such a good partner.” you say with a smile taking a bite from your burger. “no, thank you.” he replies. you couldn’t help but notice he still was acting strange these past days. “Matt don’t tell me you’re still on about the sex dream.” you ask wiping your hands with a napkin. “you should just shoot your shot already since it’s eating you up. maybe she’ll feel the same.” he shakes his head, “i wouldn’t know how to approach her. plus, that’s weird. i had a sex dream about her and what? i just walk up to her and tell her that? that's creepy.” he replies. you laugh at his response. “well not quite but, i don’t like how you’re acting so off.” you say taking another bite.

Matt sighs as he shakes his head, “just forget it y/n. i’m fine.” you stop in your place as you shake your head. “okay that’s it.” placing the unfinished food on his side table. you wipe your mouth with a napkin as you look at him. it was silent for a bit until you spoke up, “do you want to kiss me?” you blurt out. Matt’s eyes widen. “what?” he asks.

Matt’s POV

i hesitated for a bit. “to help distract you.” she says with a small laugh. "uh- uh yeah sure." I say hesitantly. i mean i couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. i scoot closer to her. i’ve only ever kissed one other person and i don’t think it was good so maybe this will be different. i can hear my heart pounding out of my chest. i put my hand on her cheek as i lean in and kiss her softly. she scoots closer without breaking the kiss, putting her hands on my shoulders.

to her she might think this is just a distraction but, little did she know my dream was about her. we continue to kiss as she swings her leg around to straddle me. i put my hands on her waist as the kisses get heavier. i could feel myself get hard beneath her and i could tell she notices. i pull away from embarrassment, “i’m so sorry.” i say. all she does is smile and respond with, “it’s okay.” pulling me into another kiss. i could feel her start to grind against my clothed dick. i let out a small groan from the feeling. i pull away as i lay her down gently. “d-do you want to do this?” i say nervously but, i couldn’t expose the fact this would be my first. she nods as she kisses me again. she takes off my shirt as i do the same for her. i unbutton my jeans and pull them off leaving me in my boxers as she does the same with her pants leaving her in her under garments. i gulp looking at her body. come on Matt play it cool. we kiss again as she rubs my dick through my boxers. i really hope i’m big enough.

i reach into my drawer as i pull out a condom. i bought a box just in case i were to lose it. which i am now, so it was good preparation. i open rip off the deal as i look at her. “uh.. i haven’t done this in a while so.. i might not be as good.” i warn her lying. i’ve never done this at all. i had to prepare her just in case i cum quick. “it’ll be good” she reassures me. she takes the condom from my hand as i take off my boxers slowly. i see her eyes widen a bit as she slowly wraps the condom on my dick. i lay her back down, sliding her panties to the side, and align myself at her entrance. she gives me a smile as i look down at what i’m about to do. i push myself into her slowly as i watch her relax.

i hear her moan softly as i continue to push my full length into her. “shit.” i groan quietly. i watch her face as i start to thrust slowly. she shut her eyes as she bites her lip softly. i can’t believe this is happening. my dream finally coming true. i pick up the pace as i put both my hands on her sides. “yes just like that.” she moans out putting her hands on my chest. i kiss her as i continue to go deeper into her keeping my fast tempo.

“fuck Matt you feel so good.” she moans. every time she spoke i felt my dick twitch. her moans were heavenly. “you’re so perfect.” i whisper to her. i lay myself on her slightly as she scratches my back. her scratches were hard as i feel the slight sting.

all my worries disappear once i find out i’m actually doing a good job. she made me feel a bit more confident. as soon as i was about to cum i pull out because i wanted to keep pleasing her. i pull her by her thighs as i put my head in between her legs. i start licking at her folds softly as she lets out a breath. i then start sliding my tongue up and down, swirling my tongue on her clit. i felt her grip my hair lightly. “oh Matt.” she moans. “you taste so good.” i say continuing to eat her out. “Matt i’m going to cum.” she says as i start to suck on her clit. she throws her head back as she arches her back, shoving her pussy more into my face. “yes Matt just like that!” she screams out as she cums all over my mouth.

i get back up as i lick my lips, realigning myself as i thrust back into her sensitive core. she gasps as she grips onto my arms. i thrust at a fast pace before cumming inside her into the condom. “oh fuck.” i moan out.

we were both catching our breath as i pull out of her. i take off the condom and throw it in the trash. "you must be a pro or something. that was incredible.” she says sitting up putting her clothes on.

good to know. little did she know, i ain't ever did this before.

a/n: not my best work lol. likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! thank you :)

[endlessdreamworld]

Baptism by Fire

the sequel to a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader. part one here.

The familiar jingle of the bell above the front door signaled the arrival of a customer in the tailor’s shop. “Coming!” Sunday called, putting a pause to the present project. It was a simple hem for the blacksmith, though it did require some special care given how thick the heat resistant fabric was.

There you were, dripping on the polished wooden floorboards of the tailor’s shop with all of the charm of a pathetic wet cat. And it wasn’t just that. Your uniform had frayed threads that were burned loose from what seems to be a fire. It left you looking like you were covered in wet spiderwebs, the clothing in total ruins. Poor thing’s shaking, Sunday hurried towards you. “How in the world did you manage to both drown and burn your pretty uniform?” He knew you weren’t the type to be wasteful, so this current predicament put him on edge. I need to do something before my sweet dove catches a cold. 

Sunday took your hand, being mindful to brush as much of his skin against yours as he could. It was a test just for you, to see if his favorite lamb could resist the temptation of flesh. He didn’t fail to notice the small twitch of your lonely fingers just before he let go and sat on you on a stool, towel already in hand.

“There was an accident at work. A corner caught fire and I had to throw myself in the river or risk hurting myself,” was your out of character confession. It was unlike you to be this careless. “I’m sorry Mr. Oak, but I wasn’t able to save you any of today’s specials because I had to run right over here.” The implication of missed payment went unspoken between you.

Sunday retrieved the towel, and replaced it with some undergarments. “Think nothing of it, or maybe like a gift for being a loyal customer for such a long time. Now we need to get your measurements, don’t we?” He took your hand and led you to the back of the shop where there was a curtain to grant you privacy. You changed into the garments and readied yourself for the impending proximity. He pulled back the curtain, measuring tape already in hand.

The next – eternity. It was nothing short of an eternity of torture. It felt like you were dying every second Sunday’s fingers roamed your body. The brush of measuring tape and the tender pads of his fingers seemed to be relishing in your suffering. God was testing you, you justified. It was up to you to endure this for you and Mr. Oak.

Sunday worked in complete silence, leaving you with only the pounding of your heart and the scratch of ink against paper as he wrote down the shape of your form one number at a time. Just before you went crazy, and opened your mouth to vomit out your sinful feelings, it was over. You passed.

With a spare set of clothes, and a pat on the back, Sunday sent you on your way. It must be hard to make an entire set of clothing from scratch, and it would give you an excuse to come back every few days just to ask about the progress. There was nothing wrong with wanting to know about the status of something that important, right? But deep down you knew you were lying to yourself, and so you had to confess to all of the filth you have buried deep in your heart.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

It was you. Sunday was hoping you’d stop by and tell him the story of what really happened earlier that day.

“Speak freely child, God forgives all who sin.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but you were just as much of a test of faith for him as he was for you.

It took you a moment to find your voice but he couldn’t blame you. It wasn’t easy to confess your shortcomings especially if they weighed as heavy. “Today I lied to the person I cared most about.” He wasn’t surprised to hear this. Sunday knew the moment you spoke to him earlier that morning that you were lying about the circumstances of your garb.

“Confess to me the truth of your lie and all shall be forgiven,” Sunday kept his voice level, maintaining that unusual drawl of his to mask his identity.

“Perhaps it’s more of a fib, but my intentions were to deceive. Today I told him I had a workplace accident, but it was a bit more than that. The baker’s son has been more and more forward with his intentions and he’s become more shameless with his... touch,” the words tasted bitter leaving your mouth and you couldn’t hide the shaking in your voice even if your life depended on it. “I’m afraid to speak out for fear of losing my home.”

A foul serpent in our midst, one that needs dealing with. The viper will be extricated from our hallowed garden by the week’s end.

“Today, he got closer and closer, and I prayed to God to save me. As if by divine intervention my uniform caught fire from a stray ember that escaped the oven. No one thought ill of me when I elbowed past them on my dash to the river. That’s what truly happened. I just wanted to spare him the worry.”

He sighed, “A kind lie but a lie nonetheless. You are forgiven.” That wretch will pay most dearly for making you feel such desperation. 

“Father,” you called out, the wood of the confession booth felt claustrophobic. “Do you think this is a sign from God that my feelings are pure? I cried out to Him and he granted me the blessing of sanctuary, an opportunity to spend time with the one I hold most dear.”

You leaned up against the screen of the booth and shut your eyes, recounting the memory. “I feel I was tested today. I didn’t notice how soft Mr. Oak’s hands were until today when he traced them down every part of me. I fear I’ll be haunted by the memory of it until the end of my days.”

Sunday’s mouth went dry at the thought of your confession. “The book speaks of baptisms of fire. God has given you a sign from above that you’ll find salvation in your beloved. You should accept it for what it is.”

“Thank you, Father.” You bid your farewell, your heart much lighter and your head clearer. Yes, he was right, this surely is a sign from above. And so when you returned back to the bakery, you snuck around like a thief in your own home. You grabbed what you needed, the tool of your salvation, and climbed up the ladder to your room in the attic.

This is God’s will. You were told as such. But was the way your heart was racing, and the filthy thoughts that plagued your mind God’s will too? You didn’t know. What you did know is that you were desperate to be delivered from the fate you were given -- indulging the baker’s son or risking homelessness. You find the borrowed clothing you had gotten from Sunday earlier that day on the bed where you left it.

The object you had in your hand that you’ve used countless times felt much heavier, as if consecrated by the weight of what you were about to do. This is necessary, this is God’s will. This is so we can be together, so I can be saved. Your breathing sped up in anticipation and your hands shook. The shrill groan of metal grinding against metal as you opened the object echoed through your mind as you began to wildly cut at the fabric.

Who knew a simple pair of scissors could feel so holy?

Sorry for taking so long! I hope it met your expectations. Tagging everyone who requested a sequel or to be tagged: @yae-yu127 @hersweetsstrawberry @666xist @killergee @anzuwrld @xeltxt @thypplover @mehkers

[transhitman]

Ok I posted about this in anger a while back but I'm gonna say it more intelligently and actually tag it because I think it's something people need to hear. Something that bugs me about how people talk about the morality of the men in this game is that a lot of analysis totally glosses over Anya's motives and what she actually asks of people, and in doing so once again strips her of agency. Like. The reason Curly sucks isn't because he failed to properly punish Jimmy, it's because he ignored Anya in favor of her abuser. He didn't listen to her regarding how to move forward, he didn't give her a way to protect herself. No matter what he would have done to Jimmy, Anya is still traumatized and in danger, and that's the most important point of failure.

I think a lot of people are projecting a revenge fantasy on Anya, and while I'm not gonna argue about the validity of revenge here, for Anya specifically I think that's a major mischaracterization. She's the one who says that our worst moments don't make us monsters. And while yes, this could just be her trying to appease her abusers, she still doesn't strike me as a particularly vindictive person. She's a nurse, symbolically in a role associated with care and healing. Before the crash, she seems like a very soft-spoken and restrained person. Hell, she can't stand giving Curly his meds because she feels so bad for him. There isn't really a point in the game where she calls for violence at all. And even if punishing Jimmy or Curly is morally correct (subjective), saying that it's what anyone Should have done still glosses over Anya's wants and needs. It still centers the abuser, even in vitriol.

It's especially weird to see people judge Swansea on these grounds, because like... We don't know what his dynamic with Anya was like. We don't actually know what she said to him, if she even confided about her pregnancy or the SA at all! I honestly think Swansea's actions give more credence to the idea that Anya herself wanted a peaceful resolution. The whole "Oh, I'm holding it together" thing, him becoming more hostile after speaking with Anya... He waits until Daisuke AND ANYA are dead before trying to kill Jimmy. I think the obvious reading is that he wants Jimmy dead, but Anya asked him not to do anything crazy. Genuinely, I think Anya just wanted to be safe. She wanted out above everything. She didn't want more violence. The only violence she commits is against herself in the end, in order to escape this hell her coworkers made for her.

And like. Swansea is kind of the only one who actually did try to protect Anya in a meaningful way. I won't say that he couldn't have done more for her - all of the men on that ship failed her in some regard - but Swansea intentionally keeps the axe out of Jimmy's hands. He keeps the pod a secret, probably to give to Daisuke, but we can't say anything for sure. I joke that Swansea should have killed Jimmy from the start, but if we're being real that would have been an insane thing to do given what the characters know. But Swansea isn't the point of this post. Like. Idk I just think it's really bizarre that when people discuss Anya's assault, they still do it from the perspective of the men involved. It's weird and I don't like it. Like people have said before me: it's not enough to hate abusers, you have to love victims.

[lovlyxim]

starboy | choso kamo

you were partnered up with the quiet boy, choso, who you thought was innocent right?

he stares at you, at the very back of the class, head resting on the palm of his hand, his beautiful but yet tired eyes lingering on you and your face. the face he so badly longed for.

the teacher was assinging partners for a physics project, which came easy to choso since he was pretty smart, however she noticed you struggling a bit in class, being that she partnered you with choso.

choso’s head perked up when he heard both his name and the girl he was just thinking about putting into a mating press a second ago name’s being called.

“who?” you questioned. you turn your head back and spot choso, you were suprised you never noticed him before since oh my- was he a sight to look at. tired but piercing eyes, biceps creeping out his black shirt, and oh god was he tall.

you made your way towards chosos desk, slipping beside the seat next to him. giving him a good look and oh was he even sexier close up.

“hello” you say with a gentle yet shy smile. he nodded at you and gave you a small “hey.”

“so i take it your going to help me get out the pits of hell?” choso tilted his head. you responded with a soft laugh, “i’m reffering to this class that i am so failing.”

choso laughed softly and shook his head, “no yeah, its really no problem to me, well i mean physics come easy to me so, your in good hands.” he said reassuring you.

they started working on the project which involved a bunch on confusing stuff, that choso later on talked you through.

class ended and you both didnt finish so you agreed on coming to his house later. you look up at choso before you leave, noticing the painfully big size difference you guys had, that made your clit throb.

“so i’ll see you later, choso?” you said. “yeah uh- later” he gave you a small wave and smile. and you took that as a win.

—

you arrived at his house around seven pm, which to your luck, on the way there, it started raining. you eagerly knocked on his door, and were greeted with choso and his hair down. “fuck” you thought.

choso greeted you as he let you come in handing you a towel since you were now half drenched. “here, dont get sick on me.” you took it and laughed, “wouldn’t dream of it, plus i need this grade.”

choso brought you up to his room which was surpringly neat. “wow” you say dropping your his bed, sitting on the edge of it as you pulled your laptop out of your bag.

“what?” choso questioned, “oh nothing your just…surprisingly neat-no offense.”

“non taken” choso answered and sighed, pulling out his own laptop and materials, getting straight to work.

you were bored and chewing on the eraser of your mechincal pencil. staring at choso as he explained statistical mechanics to you.

“you know, you look really good with your hair down.” you suddenly interrupted choso’s ramble. he stops, confused and a bit offended on how your not paying attention to what he is saying.

“seriously?” he says. “your more worried about my hair then what i’m taking time out of my day to teach you?” he says in a dark voice.

your brows furrow, “no choso i was jus-“, “just what?” choso interrupts, “since you want my attention so badly, i might aswell give it to you while it also benefits me.”

choso suddenly manhandles you across his lap, as your stomach hits his thigh, and he bends you over. he yanks a fist of your hair as he mocks in your ear, “cant speak now huh?”

he carreses the curves of yours ass. “now, you are going to count as many as i gives you okay?” he starts.

“one”

“t-two” you whimper.

“three”

“four” you wince.

choso smacks a bit harder which makes you yelp and your eyes cross.

“cmon dont you dare fucking lose count.”

“f-five!”

choso stops at twenty which fucks you out so he rubs your now bruised ass.

you cuddle up to his chest.

“what do you think your doing?” choso says with edge in his voice.

“well i thought we wer-“ you replied but choso quickly interrupt, “finished?” choso chuckles darkly and slides you under him. missionary.

“oh darlin’ we havent even started.” he states.

you both then went on to have a long night, project long forgotten.

hehehe, i noticed a lot of support on my last fanfic and i just wanted to come here and say thank you since you guys helped me be mote confident in what i write, thank you really !!

written by lovlyxim | dont copy or translate

[brookghaib-blog]

Silence between hearts - III

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: After Project SENTRY fails, Robert Reynolds is declared dead and sealed in a glass coffin to be hidden by O.X.E. Y/N, a doctor who secretly fell in love with him after a complicated path between them, refuses to believe he’s gone—fighting to save what’s left of him while grief and denial consume her, the path to look for him would ruin her, but to what extreme.

Word count: 7,5k

Warning: physical violence, alcohol consumption

Chapter II - IV

--

The air between them had changed.

Y/N still ran every test, every scan, every draw of blood. Still watched him like a subject, not a person. But Bob had grown quieter. Sadder. He didn’t joke. He didn’t smile. He followed orders, endured the pain, but something was slipping.

Today, as she adjusted the restraints on his arm for a nerve conductivity test, he finally spoke.

“Why can’t we just be friends?”

She didn’t look up. “Keep your arm still.”

He did. But his voice came again, lower. “You stay longer than anyone. You talk to me like I matter, sometimes. And then it’s gone again. I just want someone real. Someone to sit with.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, eyes on her clipboard. “Bob, don’t start this.”

“I’m not asking for much. Just company. You’re here anyway.”

Her tone snapped. “Stop.”

Bob blinked, confused, but kept going. “Is it because I’m not like you? Not smart, not rich, not—”

“Enough.” She turned to him, voice rising. “Don’t make assumptions about me. You don’t know anything about who I am or what I feel. This is a project, not a therapy group. You’re not entitled to my time.”

Bob flinched.

Then something shifted.

His eyes shimmered gold.

He stood, slow and deliberate, and crossed the space between them. Before she could react, he grabbed her—not violently, but firm. Back against the wall. His hand wrapped lightly around her throat.

His voice was ice.

“Who are you talking to like that?”

Y/N froze, staring at the burning gold in his eyes.

“You think I’m just some broken lab rat?” he said, low. “I let you hurt me. Let you poke and cut and watch me fall apart. I let you see me weak.”

His grip didn’t tighten, but his presence did. It filled the room. Commanding. Divine.

“I’m not a toy,” he said. “Not your puppet. If you want to treat me like something less than human—fine. But don’t lie to me and pretend it’s kindness.”

She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat.

He leaned in, eyes burning.

“You forget what I am, Y/N. But I never do.”

And just like that, he let go.

Stepped back.

She coughed, stunned, one hand at her neck, the other gripping the edge of the counter for balance. Bob’s shoulders heaved, chest rising and falling as if waking up from something.

Bob stood frozen.

Y/N was on the ground, gasping for air, one hand clutching her throat, her face flushed red from the pressure. She coughed violently, struggling to find her breath again. Bob’s body went cold, all the adrenaline from before vanishing in an instant.

“Y/N—” His voice cracked.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering helplessly, terrified to touch her again. “Oh god. I—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to do that. I don’t know what happened, I just—please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you—”

She flinched as his hand got too close.

Bob pulled back instantly.

The hurt in his eyes was almost worse than the attack itself. His lips parted, trembling, panic overtaking his face. “Did I—did I break something? Did I choke you too hard? Did I hurt your throat—?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N rasped, her voice raw, trying to sit up. Her head spun from the pressure and shock, but she pushed through it. She didn’t want to look afraid of him. She wouldn’t.

Bob hesitated before offering his hand again—slowly, gently, like approaching a wounded animal. She looked at it. Then at him. Reluctantly, she took it.

He helped her to her feet, supporting her with more care than she expected, leading her slowly toward the medical bed where he'd been tested a thousand times before. She sat down with a wince, exhaling shakily, still holding her throat.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered again, more to himself now, backing away just a little but never taking his eyes off her. “I was just—I was angry and…I felt like I wasn’t anything to you. I don't know why I did that, I'm so sorry I don't know what happened.”

Y/N swallowed, wincing at the sting.

“You’re okay, I know you,” she said softly, barely above a whisper. “You’re not yourself either. Not always.”

Bob’s shoulders hunched. “It took over me. Just… something I don't know, I can't control myself sometimes. ”

She watched him. The fear in his face, the remorse in his body language. And beneath it all… the boy who just wanted to be understood.

Y/N let out a breath, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You didn’t kill me. I’m okay.”

“But I could have,” he said, eyes wide with guilt. “I felt it. And if I ever did that to you for real…”

“You didn’t,” she interrupted firmly.

He went quiet, his chest still rising and falling too quickly, hands clenched into trembling fists.

For a long moment, there was only silence. The hum of machines. The pounding echo of adrenaline wearing off.

Y/N sat straighter, gathering herself. “I’ll file a report,” she said flatly, eyes on the floor. “We’ll document it like any other reaction. Just another test.”

Bob’s jaw clenched. “Is that all I am to you again?”

She looked up at him. Saw the pain. The longing.

Her throat burned. Her chest ached.

“No,” she whispered. “You’re not.”

And for once, she wasn’t sure if that was a lie.

"Bob, let's get to your room for now okay, I need to take a break and deliver this record, you're good but we need to learn these effects of the serum." She was still holding her neck not sure if still hurts or out of shock. Dr.Ilari is right, the creation won't always love it's maker.

"Can you ahm...at least come by so I could see that you are okay?" Bob said in a very soft voice, almost scared given the boundaries she had setup just days ago.

"Don't worry I will."

--

The harsh overhead lights in the lab flickered slightly as Y/N stood at the terminal, eyes scanning through the footage. She had already reviewed it three times—frame by frame, tracking the moment Bob's demeanor snapped, when the gold seeped into his eyes and the man became something else. Her neck still ached faintly, though she covered it with a high collar. She didn’t need anyone asking questions.

The door to the observation room opened behind her.

“Y/N,” Dr. Ilari’s voice was low, edged with concern. “I read the incident report.”

She didn’t look away from the screen. “It was a contained outburst. Nothing that hasn’t been expected.”

“You say that like he didn’t nearly crush your trachea.”

Now she turned to him, her arms folding defensively. “He stopped himself. That’s the difference between him and the Sentry. He came back. Bob came back.”

Ilari crossed his arms, studying her. “You’re doing too much alone. First you take full control of the project, now you're getting physically attacked and brushing it off like you stubbed your toe?”

“I told you, I'm fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re isolating yourself from the team, you’re emotionally investing in the subject, and now you’re defending him when every sign is pointing to instability.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not emotionally investing. I’m managing the only thing that matters in this facility. Every test, every breakthrough, every ounce of control we have over him is because I kept pushing. If I step back now, we lose everything.”

Ilari took a breath, softer now. “Valentina isn’t going to keep waiting. She wants the kill switch implemented. Protocol 8-C. A single trigger to neutralize him. The board’s growing concerned. The reports show erratic behavior—unprovoked aggression, memory lapses, exponential power spikes.”

Y/N froze.

“No.” Her voice was sharp. “Absolutely not.”

Ilari sighed, already expecting her answer. “We don’t even know what he's capable of yet. If something inside him ever fully takes over—”

“I said no.” She stepped forward now, tension in every muscle. “That would kill him. Not Sentry. Not some abstract idea of power. Bob. That switch wouldn't neutralize an entity—it would murder a person. And I won’t let that happen.”

“He’s not just a person anymore,” Ilari said, his voice more careful now. “And I think you know that.”

She looked away, jaw tight.

“Do you really believe you can keep him in check?” he asked.

Y/N took a breath, swallowing hard. “I believe I can reach him. There’s something inside him that listens. That wants to be better. And I’m the only one he trusts right now.”

Ilari studied her for a long moment. “You’re falling into this too deeply.”

She turned her back to him, returning to the footage. “Maybe. But so far, it’s working.”

“Until it doesn’t.”

There was silence again, just the low hum of the recording looping on the screen—Bob’s hands unclenching, the golden glow fading from his eyes, the look of horror on his face when he realized what he’d done.

“I won’t authorize the kill switch,” Y/N said quietly. “If they want it, they’ll have to take me off the project.”

Ilari stood still. The weight of her words sat between them like a loaded weapon. He nodded slowly.

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can. But be careful, Y/N. You think you’re saving him, but I’ve seen what this job does to people. What your father’s pressure did to you. Don’t make yourself the next casualty.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Dr. Ilari didn’t leave. He lingered behind her, arms folded across his chest, waiting for the silence to wear thin.

Y/N knew what was coming. She felt it before he even spoke again.

“Just build it.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, her back still to him. “You think if you say it softer, I’ll listen?”

“I think if I remind you that Valentina Fontaine signs your paycheck, you might remember we’re not running a charity here. This isn’t a healing center, Y/N. It’s a containment facility. And Bob—”

“—is not a monster,” she snapped, spinning to face him.

Ilari didn’t flinch. “Then what is he?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

He stepped closer.

“Build it. Don’t install it. Don’t even show him. Just give them something on paper. She’ll back off. The board will settle. You’ll buy yourself time. But if something goes wrong again—when it does—we’ll need insurance. You need insurance.”

“I’m not putting a kill switch on him like he’s a rabid dog.”

“I’m not asking you to use it,” Ilari said. “I’m asking you to survive this. Because if Valentina thinks for one second you’re letting emotions cloud your judgment—”

“I am using judgment,” Y/N growled. “I’ve tested his vitals. Tracked every response. Monitored the shifts in his brain activity. What happened yesterday was a trigger—emotional, not primal. He came back from it. He fought it off. That means something.”

“And what happens when he doesn’t?” Ilari countered. “What happens when the thing inside him decides it likes the control? Or worse—when it realizes there’s no one to stop it? Do you think it’ll hesitate to level this entire building?”

Y/N's throat tightened. Her voice dropped.

“I’m not killing him. I won’t.”

Ilari’s expression softened—just slightly. “Then don’t. Just design the blueprint. Lock it in a drawer. Let it collect dust, for all I care. But if you don’t give Valentina a way to feel in control, she’ll replace you. And whoever comes next will use it.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped.

She turned back to the monitor. Bob was still on screen—sitting in the corner of his room from hours ago, curled forward, fingers tangled in his hair. His lips moved, talking to no one. Or maybe to her. Maybe to the Void. Maybe both.

“She’ll use it the second she feels threatened.”

“She will. But you don’t have to. Not if you stay ahead of her.”

Y/N stared into the frozen frame.

“Build a god,” she whispered, “and everyone wants the off-switch.”

Ilari’s voice was gentler now. “You’ve already humanized him, Y/N. That’s why this is so hard for you. But this world… it doesn’t care how kind his eyes look when he apologizes. It cares about survival.”

“I know.”

She paused. The cursor blinked. Her mind spiraled.

“If I design it,” she said finally, “I build it so it never works.”

Ilari smiled faintly. “That’s your call.”

She nodded, quietly, as her chest ached with the weight of compromise. Looking at the screen again, her voice was barely a breath.

“But he trusts me. He trusts me like I’m the only good thing he has left.”

“And that,” Ilari said, heading to the door, “is exactly why it’ll destroy you if you’re wrong.”

He left.

And Y/N, standing alone in the glow of the monitor, let her fingers hover over the keyboard. A blank file stared back at her.

"Failsafe Protocol: Subject SENTRY."

She didn’t type another word.

--

The hallway was quiet.

Y/N paused outside the door to Bob’s room, the security panel blinking patiently as if questioning her resolve. She stared at it for a moment, then placed her hand on the scanner. A soft beep, then the door slid open.

Inside, the room was dim—calm, almost peaceful. The sterile overhead lights were off, replaced by the warm glow of a small desk lamp. Bob was curled in the corner of the couch, a thick paperback in his hands, eyes trailing each word with slow intensity. He looked up at the sound of the door, blinking once like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

Then, a quiet, small smile tugged at his lips.

“You actually came,” he said.

Y/N stepped in, letting the door close behind her. She folded her arms, offering a small shrug. “I promised.”

Bob’s smile shifted, crooked now, something heavier behind it.

“I don’t know if you’re good with promises.”

The words hit her sharper than they should have. Not because he was wrong. But because he was right—and it was her fault he thought that.

Her arms dropped, and she took a slow step forward, sitting carefully in the chair across from him. “That’s fair,” she admitted. “But I meant this one.”

Bob closed the book softly, resting it on his lap. He didn’t look angry. Just... tired. There were darker circles under his eyes than before. His jaw was more tense.

Y/N watched him for a second, debating whether to speak. She knew she should keep things neutral—clinical. But then he met her eyes again, and she couldn’t.

“I wanted to check on you,” she said, gently. “See how you’re feeling today.”

Bob looked away. “Like I’m losing my mind.”

Y/N felt a knot tighten in her chest.

“It’s the walls,” he added, voice low. “The waiting. Waking up and seeing the same ceiling. The same guards. The same fucking tests. I try to read, but it’s like my brain gets full too fast. My hands shake some days. Or I just... go numb. And no one talks to me unless it’s with a clipboard.”

His eyes flicked up to hers again.

“Except you.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She’d designed this room, this schedule, this isolation. She’d made sure he was locked down. That he was controlled.

She was the one who lured him here.

“You’re not crazy,” she said softly. “Your mind’s just... trying to protect itself. It’s adapting to something it’s never had to face. And I’m sorry. I know what being alone like this does to someone.”

Bob scoffed, but it wasn’t mocking—it was sad. “Do you?”

Y/N hesitated. “Yeah. I do.”

He nodded, slowly. “Well... I don’t want to hurt anyone. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to grab you. I didn’t even remember doing it until I saw you coughing on the floor.”

She nodded.

“I thought maybe after that... you wouldn’t want to come back.”

“I did,” she said. “Because it wasn’t you.”

Bob leaned back, the book forgotten in his hands. “Still felt like me.”

“It wasn’t,” she said firmly, then softened her voice. “And it’s not your fault you’re stuck here. It’s mine.”

His brow furrowed slightly, confused.

“I was the one who asked you to trust me,” Y/N said. “To follow me out of that hell. I gave you hope, then put you back in a different kind of cage. I told myself it was for your safety. For the world’s. But maybe I just didn’t want to admit I didn’t know how to fix any of it.”

Bob stared at her for a long time.

“Why do you care?” he asked, voice quieter. “Not as a doctor. As you.”

Y/N looked away.

That was the question, wasn’t it?

She stood, unsure how long she could let herself stay this close.

“Because I made a promise,” she whispered. “And because I see you. Not just what they call you. Not just the power. You. And you don’t deserve to feel like this.”

He didn’t respond. But she didn’t expect him to.

Instead, he picked his book back up, but didn’t open it. His fingers just touched the cover, thoughtful.

“Can you stay?” he asked suddenly, almost childlike.

Y/N looked at him—exhausted, bruised by weeks of silence and fear—and nodded.

She walked over and sat beside him on the couch. Close, but not touching.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “For a while.”

She gets up from the couch and starts walking toward his bed.

Bob watched her move in silence, eyes flickering with something unsure. She didn’t hesitate, just sat at the edge of his bed, keeping a respectful distance. Not too close, but close enough that he felt her presence—calming, grounding.

“I have a few questions,” she said, voice soft, but not clinical this time. “Personal ones. Harmless.”

He nodded warily.

“What brought you to Malaysia? I mean… before all of this. What were you doing?”

Bob’s shoulders tensed. His eyes dropped from hers, and he rubbed the back of his neck—embarrassed.

“I was running,” he admitted after a pause. “From everything. My name. My past. From who I became.”

Y/N didn’t say anything. She waited.

“I didn’t have a job,” he added, quieter now. “Not a real one, anyway. I was… a full-time addict. Mostly meth. Sometimes whatever I could find. I wasn’t surviving. Just… stalling.”

His voice cracked near the end—not from shame, but from something deeper. Resignation. And something that sounded like fear of being seen.

She already knew about his addiction, that was why she targeted him. But some of her, in this moment, hoped that he had something for himself, a family, friends, maybe a girlfriend, someone waiting.

She didn’t try to comfort him with platitudes. She just sat with it.

After a long moment, she asked gently, “Did you accept my offer to die… or because you thought it might keep you sober, Bob?”

He took a breath.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I didn’t care. If I did die—I think I would’ve been okay with that.”

That hit her harder than she expected.

Y/N blinked fast, willing the sting in her eyes to go away. A few tears welled up, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

She shifted her posture, straightened her back. Bob glanced at her and noticed—he didn’t say anything, but he saw it.

Then he asked something that caught her off-guard.

“Why did you take this project so personally? Why… care about me at all? You've already told me beofre. People died before me. I’m not the first attempt.”

She hesitated.

Her eyes flickered toward him before she finally said it.

“It was my father in charge before,” she began. “I wasn’t involved yet. Not really. Not until you.”

He looked confused. “Then… why now?”

She sighed. “Because it was mine. Originally. I came up with the initial formula. The groundwork. He hijacked it and sold it because he believe it would fail but it was good money. Valentina really wants to build herself a superhuman. And he never cared if it worked, just if it yielded power.”

She paused, voice low and bitter now.

“I joined again because I wanted one that stays alive.”

Bob’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I knew something was off. Everyone treated the subjects like they were machines. Inject. Wait. Watch. If it failed—dispose and try again. But I had a feeling… it needed more than that. It wasn’t just about serum compatibility or gene splicing. It was also psychological. All of them fall mentally and that ended up consuming them and something killed them, mostt likely something from the serum obviously.”

She finally looked him in the eyes.

“You can’t build gods in a lab without building them up as people first. And my father—he doesn’t get that. He’s a machine. I’m not.”

Bob swallowed.

Something settled in the room. He could feel it, like the weight of an unsaid truth hanging in the air between them.

“And what happens when this project ends?” he asked. “When they decide I’m not useful anymore?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “You are useful, you are something, and if it fails than...I'll fight for you to get to live.”

Bob stared at her, disbelieving at first.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” she replied. "But something tells me that if you have some type of trust than your mind will have strength to keep going, at least until settling."

Y/N looked down at her hands in her lap, clasped too tightly. She hadn’t planned on staying this long in his room, not like this—not talking, not connecting. But something about being near him tonight made the walls she kept around herself feel… exhausting.

And so, quietly, she began.

“I was cruel to you,” she said. “At the start. Cold. Strict. Like I didn’t care.”

Bob blinked, taken aback. “I mean… yeah, maybe a little,” he offered with a soft laugh, trying to defuse the weight in her voice.

But she didn’t laugh. She looked at him, eyes more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them.

“I did it because I was scared,” she confessed. “Because I wasn’t sure my theory would work. And instead of trusting myself… I mimicked my father. I used his methods. His cruelty. Because… he always seemed to be right.”

Bob’s smile slowly faded.

“I tortured you,” she said bitterly. “With all those tests, the harsh regimens. I justified it as science. I told myself you were invincible. But I was trying to silence my own insecurity. I didn’t know if I was good enough to lead this. I still don’t.”

Bob’s chest rose and fell, slow and steady.

Y/N bit her lip and glanced toward him again.

“But then I met you. And… started knowing you,” she added softly. “And you weren’t just another experiment. You were… someone broken, like me. Someone full of pain, and still breathing. You reminded me that this was never about formulas. It was about people.”

Something shifted in Bob’s face then. His eyes softened. Warmth crept into them—real, flickering emotion. Not the fire of power. Not the gold of the Void.

But Bob.

He moved slightly, closing the space between them. Just a little.

“I’m grateful you said that,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t have to.”

She looked away again, suddenly self-conscious.

But he went on, braver now.

“I hope you prove your father wrong. I hope you make something real. Something better. And… if I’m part of that… I’m glad. Because for the first time in years, I don’t want to die.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her throat tightened.

“You gave me that,” he said. “A reason to try. To live. Even if I don’t understand it yet.”

They didn’t move for a while.

At some point—neither of them remembered when—their hands brushed.

Her fingers touched the edge of his. Warm. Tentative.

They didn’t pull away.

They didn’t speak.

They just sat there, fingers barely linked, as if holding on would make the moment last longer. As if breaking it would mean returning to the silence, the tests, the weight of the world they carried.

Bob looked at her like she was light.

And for the first time, she allowed herself to see his features. Indeed, he was really handsome, and his eyes so blue...

It was as if they were afraid to move, feeling the slight touch of each oher hoping the other would notice and pull away. Both were thinking the same, looking at each other with a sparkle in their eyes. Perhaps it was just the moonlight, or maybe it was something much more complicated.

--

The past few days had brought something soft between them. The sharpness of their sessions dulled, replaced by quiet laughter between tests, inside jokes scribbled in the margins of files, and teasing remarks during blood draws. Where once she stood above him with a clipboard and a guarded expression, now she lingered beside him, her smile easier, her walls thinner.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

Dr. Ilari said nothing. But when Y/N passed him in the hallway that morning with a coffee in her hand and a barely concealed smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, he gave her a single, knowing glance—one she refused to meet.

Later that night, Bob sat alone in his room, a book open in his lap, though he wasn’t really reading. His mind kept drifting—back to her, to her laugh that slipped through her lips like an accident, to the way her eyes softened now when she looked at him. It scared him, how much it meant. How much it soothed.

The door burst open suddenly.

“Bob,” her voice rang out.

He looked up, startled—and then completely still.

There she was.

Not in her usual lab coat or the sharp ponytail she wore when in command. Not in her practical shoes or pale eyes dulled by overthinking. No.

She stood framed by the doorway like a vision—wearing a fitted top tucked into a long, flowing skirt that swayed with her movement, the soft candlelight from the hallway catching the shimmer of the fabric. Her heels clicked on the tile floor, elegant and certain. Her makeup was subtle but defining, her lips painted in a deep, soft hue. And her hair—styled, parted in a way that framed her face just so—was down, like silk.

He blinked.

For a second, he truly forgot how to breathe.

“I had a crazy idea,” she said, breathless from excitement, a wild gleam in her eyes.

Before he could respond, something soft and heavy hit his lap.

He looked down.

A bag.

Confused, Bob opened it slowly—only to find a neatly folded pair of men’s dress pants and a crisp button-up shirt. The colors... they matched her outfit.

Matching.

His heart stuttered.

“Y/N…?” he started, unsure what this was.

But his voice faltered when he looked back up—because she was smiling at him like something good was finally happening. Like they were about to escape the walls that had been closing in on them for weeks.

She tilted her head, playful. “You said you were going insane locked up in here. So I figured… why not go a little insane with style?”

Her eyes sparkled.

And Bob—speechless. "Get dressed." She says as she leaves the room.

Y/N leaned casually against the wall just outside Bob’s room, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the hallway camera with a glint of rebellion in them. She could hear him moving inside—soft thuds, the rustle of fabric, the occasional grumbled curse under his breath as he tried to figure out the buttons on the shirt she picked. It made her smirk.

When he finally emerged, her gaze swept over him—dark slacks snug on his tall frame, the shirt slightly wrinkled but charmingly so, sleeves rolled just below his elbows. He looked…human. Not like a patient. Not like a weapon. Just like a man.

And a devastatingly handsome one at that.

He raised an eyebrow. “So, are you going to tell me what this is about, or am I being lured into some underground fighting ring?”

Y/N chuckled, pushing off the wall. “No fighting tonight. Just a little... sneaky escape.”

Bob blinked. “Wait. Escape? From here?”

She nodded, her grin widening. “You said you were going crazy. So we’re going out. A bar. Some street food. Maybe a rooftop. You deserve to breathe real air.”

He looked around like someone might pop out from a corner and say this was all a test. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” she said, already turning on her heel. “Come on. You’ve got five minutes of freedom before the moral part of my brain catches up.”

Before he could respond, she was gone—heels echoing lightly down the hallway.

Bob followed, pulse ticking faster than usual. The lab always felt like a cage. But this? This felt like something out of a dream.

Y/N ducked into the control room with practiced ease. She scanned her badge, fingers flying over the keypad until the surveillance system blinked into standby mode. Cameras looped. Lights dimmed in the lower corridors. Power to the locks was momentarily redirected.

“Just a little blackout,” she murmured to herself.

Outside the room, Bob waited, fidgeting, still half-convinced someone would storm in and drag him back to a testing bed. But when she emerged and gave him a simple, triumphant nod, he smiled.

They crept through the lab’s halls like teenagers sneaking out past curfew. Every closed door was a thrill. Every quiet footstep a tiny rebellion. At the exit, Y/N used a physical key—one of the only old security measures left—to slip them out into the humid Malaysian night.

The city opened up before them like a pulse. Neon signs buzzed in the distance. Scooter engines growled in the streets. The scent of grilled food wafted through the air, sweet and smoky. Music played faintly from a corner bar, the kind where no one would ever recognize a living weapon or the daughter of a mad scientist.

Bob took a deep breath.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was real.

And when he glanced at Y/N—walking ahead of him, skirt swaying, hair lifted slightly in the breeze—he felt, for the first time in a long time, like a man walking next to a woman… not a subject under surveillance.

“Where are we going first?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

She looked up at him, lips curved in a grin. “Wherever you want.”

And just like that, the night was theirs.

--

The bar was nestled between two noodle shops, its glowing red lanterns swaying gently in the night breeze. Inside, the atmosphere was golden and easy—walls painted deep maroon, string lights overhead, the air rich with spices and the faint scent of incense. A live band played from a corner, their music a jazzy mix of old Western swing and local soul, the perfect rhythm to make hips sway and laughter bloom.

Y/N was the first to pull Bob toward the dance floor. He hesitated—looking at his feet like they might betray him—but she only smiled and dragged him by the wrist.

“You’re fine,” she shouted over the music, “Just follow me!”

“I can barely walk straight, let alone dance,” he muttered, but his feet moved anyway.

They found themselves in a group of cheerful, lively dancers—locals, expats, tourists. The kind of people who didn’t care where you came from as long as you knew how to smile.

A playful, older man with silver hair and a tropical shirt cut in with a charming wink. “May I steal your lovely partner for a spin?”

Y/N laughed, giving Bob a conspiratorial smirk before twirling into the man’s arms. “Only if you promise not to show him up too hard.”

The man’s wife, a short, beaming woman in a bright orange scarf, clapped her hands and turned to Bob. “Now it’s your turn, handsome.”

Caught off guard, Bob gave a sheepish smile, but followed her into the rhythm. She was light on her feet, graceful in a way that made Bob feel less like a statue and more like he belonged there, in motion, in life.

The music slowed, then sped up again, and the couples spun and twirled. Laughs echoed off the bar’s warm walls. The room glowed like honey.

Then, in the natural rhythm of the dance, it happened—partners switched again, laughter in the air, arms brushing past, and suddenly—

Y/N was in Bob’s arms.

She blinked up at him, breath catching for a moment. His hands found her waist. Her fingers curled gently behind his neck.

They were close. Too close for comfort. Or maybe too close for denial.

Neither said anything at first.

The music pulsed softly now—less wild, more sensual, the kind of melody that made time stretch and bend.

“You’re not half bad,” she finally whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

“You’re the one carrying me,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, though he didn't pull away. “I'm just trying not to step on your feet.”

She smiled, but it was softer now. Smaller. Real.

Their bodies moved slowly, swaying in sync. Something in the air had shifted—no longer just dancing, no longer just playing pretend in a borrowed night. Bob’s hands were gentle, respectful, but he wasn’t looking away from her this time.

He was watching her.

Really watching her.

And Y/N wasn’t pretending not to notice.

She felt his warmth through her clothes. Felt the steadiness of his breath. His eyes weren’t glowing gold now—they were just... Bob’s. Kind. Searching. Like maybe this moment meant more than it should.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly.

“For what?”

“For tonight. For this.”

She swallowed, her voice almost lost in the music. “You needed it.”

His hand slid slightly along her back, anchoring her. “So did you.”

The streets of Kuala Lumpur pulsed with life, even at this hour. Lanterns swung over narrow alleys, street vendors called out in bursts of Bahasa, and the air smelled like fried garlic, smoke, and sweet condensed milk.

Y/N and Bob slipped through the crowds like two teenagers cutting class, hands brushing accidentally, heads tilted back in laughter. The first bar had been quaint and old-fashioned, but the second was neon-drenched chaos—walls glowing pink, electronic music thumping through the floor. The kind of place where no one looked too long and everyone was dancing like the world might end.

Y/N had dragged him inside before he could even read the sign. Bob had protested weakly, but one drink in, he was laughing with his head thrown back, loosening up in a way she hadn’t seen before—not even in their quietest sessions.

At the bar, she leaned into him to yell over the music, her breath brushing his ear. “Try this,” she said, handing him a drink with a mischievous grin. “It’s like fire in a glass.”

Bob raised a skeptical eyebrow but took a sip. He instantly coughed, eyes watering. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“No,” she laughed, eyes bright, “just trying to remind you you’re alive.”

He looked at her then, the lights turning her face violet and gold. “It’s working.”

The song shifted to something slower but bass-heavy, and Bob turned his gaze away, setting the drink down as though afraid of saying too much. Y/N said nothing either, but the corner of her mouth curled knowingly.

They hit the next spot just down the street—a rooftop bar with glowing tables and dim candlelight. The city stretched below them in soft blues and oranges. The breeze tugged gently at her hair as she stood at the edge, arms out like she might fly.

“This is the most alive I’ve felt in years,” she said, her voice lower now, almost reverent.

Bob leaned against the railing beside her. “You look it.”

She turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.

“I mean—” he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean you just… look happy.”

She didn’t respond at first, only let the quiet hang between them.

Then, softly: “I guess I forgot I could be.”

They didn’t touch. Not here. But when she stepped a little closer and he didn’t move away, their shoulders brushed, and neither of them pulled back. Their silhouettes stood together, dark against the lights of the city, like two survivors just remembering what joy tasted like.

From there, it was a stumble into a back-alley karaoke bar filled with locals cheering each other on. Y/N shoved Bob into a booth with a devilish grin. “Your turn,�� she said, flipping open the worn songbook.

“I’m not singing.”

“Oh yes, you are.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ten minutes later, Bob Reynolds was standing under a flickering spotlight, mumbling the first verse of an ‘80s rock ballad with all the shame of a man sent to the gallows. But by the second chorus—her laughing in the front row, clapping off beat—he was belting out the words like a man possessed.

She joined him for the last chorus, pulling the mic from his hands. Their voices collided in awful, glorious harmony. The small crowd roared. Bob bowed theatrically. She curtsied. Their laughter echoed off the walls.

They exited hand-in-hand, still breathless.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed like that in years,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You were awful,” she grinned.

“You were worse.”

They ended up on the curb of a quiet street, shoes in hand, legs stretched out. Her head leaned on his shoulder for just a second. A quick, unspoken moment of surrender to the softness between them.

Neither commented on it.

They didn’t need to.

Because in the electric warmth of the night, with the stars overhead and alcohol blurring the edges of their pain, they weren’t test subject and scientist. Not invincible man and guilt-worn genius.

Just Bob and Y/N.

And the world, for now, was big enough to let them forget who they were supposed to be.

--

The lab was silent.

Cold, humming white lights cast long shadows across the floor, washing the room in sterile calm. After the warmth of the city, the contrast felt like stepping into ice water. Gone were the neon colors, the blaring music, the laughter echoing through open streets. Now there was only the quiet whirring of machines, the distant click of cooling vents, and the echo of their footsteps down the hallway.

Y/N walked a little ahead, heels in hand, her skirt brushing her ankles. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Their silence wasn’t heavy.

It was… tentative.

Careful.

Like something had changed out there in the night, and now it followed them like a ghost—gentle, but undeniable.

Bob paused just outside his room, looking at her. “Hey,” he said, voice low.

She turned, her makeup slightly smudged, her eyes tired but soft. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks. For tonight.”

Her smile was faint. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, I mean it,” he said. “I haven’t felt… I don’t know. Like a person. In a long time.”

The words landed between them, bare and honest.

Y/N looked at him for a long moment, then stepped closer, letting the distance shrink just a bit. “You are a person, Bob,” she said quietly. “You’re more than what they made you. More than the serum. More than what you’ve done.”

He swallowed, eyes flicking to the floor. “You make it easy to forget the other stuff.”

Her voice almost cracked when she replied. “Then let me help you forget it a little more often.”

Their eyes met, and there it was again—that quiet tension, the kind that made breathing feel deeper. Neither moved. Neither touched. But the air between them felt fragile, like a ripple waiting to break.

He gave a small nod, eyes searching hers. “You know... there was a moment tonight. Just one.”

“Hm?”

“When I looked over at you, dancing… and laughing,” he said, voice rough with sleep and something else, “I thought, if this is it—if this is all I get—then maybe that’s okay.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, stunned by the honesty of it.

She didn’t know what to say.

So instead, she did something smaller. Simpler.

She stepped forward and gently reached for his hand, still bruised from a recent test. She didn’t hold it. Just brushed her fingers along his palm before letting go.

He looked at her like she’d touched something deeper than skin.

“I should go,” she whispered. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Okay.”

She turned, but before she could walk away, he spoke again—so softly she barely heard it.

“Y/N?”

She stopped.

“You looked beautiful tonight.”

She didn’t look back. Just stood there in the hallway, letting the words settle into her.

Then: “You weren’t too bad yourself, Bob.”

She walked away with a small smile playing at her lips, her footsteps echoing into the silence of the lab.

Y/N’s footsteps echoed softly through the hallway, fading with distance as she walked away from Bob’s door.

But something tugged at her.

It wasn’t just his words. It was the way he had looked at her—like she was something fragile and rare. Something he couldn’t quite believe was real. It had been a long time since anyone had seen her like that. If ever.

She slowed.

Then stopped.

Turned to glance back.

The sterile hallway was still and empty, but the weight of everything hung there—what they'd said, what they hadn’t. Her heart was pounding, not just from nerves, but from the pull she could no longer ignore.

Before she could talk herself out of it, her feet moved. Fast. Purposeful.

She doubled back and reached his door, pausing just long enough to take a breath. Then she pushed it open.

Inside, Bob had his back turned, shirt halfway off as he reached for the dull light green set of clothes folded on the cot. He turned, surprised by the sound, his shirt still hanging from one arm.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, uncertain.

She just looked at him—really looked. He was beautiful in his brokenness, in the way his shoulders tensed like he was always bracing for pain, in how human he looked now compared to the power she’d seen before.

Her shoes hit the floor with a soft thud as she stepped inside.

“I’m going to regret this,” she said under her breath, more to herself than to him. Her voice cracked a little. “But can I do something really quick?”

Bob blinked. “Uh… yeah. Of course. What do you—?”

He didn’t get to finish.

Y/N closed the distance between them in two quick steps, reaching for him—hesitant for a second—and then her hand slid to his jaw, thumb brushing lightly along his cheekbone.

And then she kissed him.

Soft at first.

Searching.

Bob froze, eyes wide, every part of him stunned by the sudden contact. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to deserve it.

But her lips didn’t lie. They trembled slightly, like she was scared too. Like this was something neither of them knew how to survive, but they couldn’t stop.

And then, slowly, something in him gave way.

His hand found the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, and he kissed her back.

Deeper this time.

Not desperate. But reverent.

Like she was something holy, and this was the only language he had left to speak.

Their bodies pulled closer, the air between them too charged to ignore. His shirt slipped to the floor, forgotten. Her hands gripped lightly at his sides, holding him there like she didn’t know how to let go.

When they finally broke the kiss, their foreheads rested against each other’s. Their breathing was heavy, uneven.

Bob’s voice was rough, full of everything he couldn’t say. “Why did you do that?”

Y/N closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “Because I didn’t want to walk away without knowing what it would feel like.”

Silence.

Then his fingers brushed against her wrist, gently. “And now that you know?”

She opened her eyes.

Still afraid. Still unsure.

“I’m still trying to breathe.”

He smiled softly, bittersweet. “Me too.”

"Ok so..now I really have to go I have to shower and sleep cause my feat are killing me but...I see you tomorrow Bob." She got up, all smiley at him, making her way to the door.

"I see you tomorrow Y/N." For the first time in a long, Bob felt it, he didn't know if it was love, he didn't even know how complicated things could due to their circunstances but for now, his path started to make sense.

Everything happens for a reason right.

[citygirlyuno305]

Yuno

This is weird but I’m going to speak as a person right now just generally, rather than as any kind of professional or anything. I’ve hesitated to say this for a while, and to speak on Yuno at all, because of my own complicated feelings and because I fear the fallout. But with the new cover and everything I feel like I have to, or I have to get it off my chest. So if you read this, I’m sorry in advance for indulging in what is undeniable projection and bias. I have to put a content warning for harmful sexual relationships and violence here.

I’ve never admitted this to anyone beyond those who already knew, or with my actual public profile or name/ID attached. At age 17, I’m already fucking cringing, I was involved in a sugar-daddy situation. Me, age 17, and a man who was about 40. He had a daughter two years younger than me. I met her. We were friends on facebook. We would eat dinner and I’d have sex with her dad for money after she left to go to her mom’s house. No, I did not need the money. I can’t begin to go into what motivated it at this time because it’s like scratching a barely healed scab. God, I feel gross even thinking about it. Engaging in things like that is unsafe for ANY high schooler. No one stopped me though. My parents didn’t know, and it was shockingly easy to conceal from them, but my friends and siblings did know. Some simply shrugged. Some asked to see pictures of the guy, encouraged it. Some even asked me to ask him if he had friends who wanted to do the same thing with them.

This was obviously disgustingly predatory, but also, just disregarding our ages, it was an extremely violent sexual relationship just generally. Any ‘I worship my sweet sugar baby’ shit when we spoke was significantly outweighed by the things I had to to do. But I did them and even managed not to feel dehumanized at the time because I literally hated myself. So his depreciation fed my own self-hatred. It became very out of control, very quickly.

Predictably, I got pregnant after a little while. Again, I was 17. It was legal, so I had to get an abortion myself. I was pro-choice my entire life- still am. Guess what? Despite that, I felt like shit about that abortion for years. Sometimes I still feel like shit about it. Does that make me getting an abortion less forgivable?

I ask because it seems to be how some are framing their view of Yuno’s innocence or guilt. And I’ve been nice about it or I’ve ignored it up until now, but it’s gotten to a point where it just makes me realize that a lot of people are selfishly self-imposing their own opinions on the character without taking the time to understand what the character themselves needs to heal- like it doesn’t matter to you whether she’s mentally well, or safe. If this doesnt apply to you I hope you take no offense. Is the abortion a huge part of her character? Of course. But it is far from her entire character, and I can’t help but feel like we failed her by not even considering other aspects of her mentality, even if our votes wouldnt change.

To the extent that she regrets her choice, I get that. For the great many people (mainly on twitter) who seem to think abortion is something you can “girlboss queen never cry” your way out of feeling anything for, you’re so woefully wrong that it’s almost alarming. First, being that Yuno’s seemed to be self-inflicted by throwing herself down fucking STAIRS, i can’t even begin to imagine the level of pain she felt. Even when I took that goddamn pill I felt like shit for a week. But more than the physical pain, there IS an emotional pain and a mental pain that just dulls everything else around you. Its more than just societal, the actual biological impact, the abrupt halt of natural processes and jarring hormonal shifts, it literally fucks with your body and your head. I did not want a baby at 17. I did not regret the choice. But I can fully see how some people do once they get an abortion because even for me, it literally felt like a part of me was missing. Gone. Like a part of ME was ripped out. I genuinely hope no one reading this ever has to go through that. And I can’t fathom how much worse that mental pain must be when the abortion is nonmedical.

Is that a reason to make abortion illegal? Fuck no. But I have to make that clear because even saying that has gotten me bombarded with accusations of being prolife, when I’m not.

And you know what, everyone was so kind to me about it, I’m so lucky, really, in retrospect I see that. But when I was SEVENTEEN, it became something that made me so blindingly mad- “its not your fault, youre just a kid, you didnt know.” Yes, I was a kid- but I did KNOW. It felt like that part of me that I killed-because yes, thats how it truly felt-also took my agency with it when it left. Like no one gave a shit enough to tell me that I made a shitty call insofar as getting into that relationship in the first place, and now I’m sitting there with this immeasurable feeling of self-hatred and guilt over something that I did willingly and knowingly (from my POV), I’m feeling this insane emptiness and pain and numbness and I have no one around me to blame so I internalize this self hate even more. Because I couldnt even be angry and upset without simultaneously feeling MORE guilt when the people around me weren’t lashing out at me. I don’t know how to describe this. It felt like no one was holding me accountable for hurting myself, and it was alarming and driving me insane to toe the line between being a victim of my own exercise of choice, and to have no one hold me accountable for the exercise of that choice, even though I myself would not hold anyone else accountable or call them guilty for making the same choice. It felt like no one gaf because those absolving comments designed to make me feel better also somehow felt like I was also being deprived of recognition for the somewhat traumatic experience that it truly was. And even now I really struggle to call it trauma because I still grapple with the idea that I cannot exercise a choice and call it trauma. But its like, no one is angry at the perpetrator (me) for what they did to the victim (also me). And if thats the case, do you really care about me at all? I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words. But that’s where I’m like, we have kind of deprived Yuno of her own victimhood by insisting her actions were victimless.

That said, seeing the line “I wanted you to care enough to scold me and tell me I was wrong” actually hit me pretty hard. I don’t blame Yuno for wanting people to care. Because it truly doesnt feel like it in this instance sometimes.

Double it and pass it to the next person if Yuno really did kill herself when she did it. Because at that point, we’re telling her two things- 1) abortion is okay you didn’t commit murder- okay, fine. But ALSO 2) its okay that you killed yourself, no harm done. No wonder she thinks we don’t give a shit about her, we were too busy politicizing her to consider the fact that we were telling her she didnt err when she fucking offed herself.

And I want this part to be absolutely, abundantly clear: I do not say any of this to demonize SWs. In a manner of speaking I was one. I’m not sure how similar it is to Yuno’s situation but broadly speaking, we live in a world that is generally unsafe for women. Particularly young women, and even more so teenage girls. And we shouldn’t be indifferent to a high schooler showing us that she was having sex with grown men for cash. We shouldn’t demonize her for it, but we shouldve cared enough to probe into what caused her to think this was something she should do. Her friends and parents didnt. I wasnt mentally well when I did it. And call it a girlboss queen shit thing all you want, it fucked me up monumentally after. I still cant think about it without feeling disgusted with myself. And I dont want Yuno to he disgusted with herself but I also dont want to affirm a belief that its genuinely not a problem for high schoolers to do this. People can scream about “well 18 is legal!!!!” all day- its a shitty argument to begin with, though. (If the law said 12 was the age of consent, would you feel comfortable saying “Well its legal!!!” to a relationship between a 12 year old and a 30 year old? No, right? Because the law is not always the baseline of morality). But- and again this is in no way designed to demonize sex workers- situations like Yuno’s are undeniably dangerous.

Is it her fault that something happens if she is attacked? Absolutely NOT. But I still wish someone had given a shit enough about me, my friends, siblings, anyone, to tell me to stop putting myself in a position where it could easily occur. They didnt even tell me that after I got the abortion. Its not that I wanted them to scold me for the abortion-I wanted ANYTHING, but if I’m specific, I wanted them to scold me for what led to it. I wanted them to yell at me for even getting into the sugar daddy situation, which I engaged in willfully because of my OWN self-loathing and need for some form of attention, my OWN warped perception of what constitutes positive attention and what I had to be of value and worthy of that attention. Because I was 17 and I knew that most every time I was yelled at by someone or scolded it was because they cared about me in some form, even if yelling was inappropriate in a given situation. Its weird- without giving too much away here, I managed to keep my abortion from my parents despite being a minor. Maybe half a year after the fact, I told my mom, and only because she was expressing this deep concern that I was suicidal, telling me I wasn’t myself. She wasn’t wrong, of course, I was completely different, idk about suicidal, but certainly depressed. When I told her, she cried, not because shes prolife or anything, but because she was so distraught that she didn’t see what was happening. Frankly she couldn’t have, with the way I went about it and how our lives are structured. And I hate when my mother cries, I love her to death. But her crying felt good. Not like weird masochism good, but like vindication good. Because I knew something was wrong but no one else seemed to think something was wrong for so long, and her weeping over this confirmed for me that yes, I’m right, something- anything- was materially, truly, WRONG with this situation. And when she probed for details I cried too because I forgot how good it felt to have someone who cared enough about me personally to go deeper than superficial opinions on political things, to actually form a personalized opinion or seek more detail as to me specifically. She begged me not to keep up the sugar baby thing, and she was right to do that, and it simultaneously fed my need for care while also maintaining my agency. I am truly lucky beyond words for getting to be my mother’s child.

Anyway, that said, I see how Yuno probably also wanted that from us. To care about the why, and not the what. It didn’t seem like her parents were super involved. Unless I’m missing something.

But that’s the thing, its complicated. I’m pro choice but I hated my choice, but I dont regret my choice, but I do regret it and don’t hate it- I literally can’t put it into words. Its not so black and white. And I think demonizing Yuno for maybe wanting that or harboring the same complicated feelings about her own situation is antithetical to the entire purpose of pro-choice ideology. Is her exercise of choice somehow less forgivable because she might regret her choice?

The answer should be no. To me, anyway.

I would like it if people gave Yuno the same energy that they give any other character. She is a person. She is not just a medium to express any given ideology. And give her the courtesy of trying to understand how it feels to be forgiven for something that you don’t forgive yourself for. Because it doesn’t feel good. I’m in my 20s now and still cannot forgive myself sometimes.

I’m not saying we should have voted X or Y or advocating that Yuno is some kind of monster for what she did. That’d be pretty hypocritical. I’m not unilaterally placing blame on Yuno for her actions either. I’m also not pretending we’re the same person- though the timeline conversation with Shidou where he tells her she’d be good as a healthcare professional, is alarmingly similar to something that happened to me. And that same “Haha, quit playing around,” that’s exactly what I did too. Because I hated myself too much to think it was true. And it took a lot of work to crawl out of that hole. Like, yeah, I’m a lawyer now. I have a different life. I do not require validation from sexual partners to feel joy, I understand the difference between good and bad attention. But part of me will always be partially submerged in it. I think ignorance to the reality that even something that isn’t itself immoral can have dire consequences on the actor goes unrecognized sometimes.

If someone called me a girlboss after my abortion, knowing the circumstances that gave rise to it, or not even bothering to address them, I would’ve blown my fucking brains out.

[starrihan]

Higher Than Heaven (Yeonjun Fic)

→ Pairing: Yeonjun x afab! Reader

→ Plot: a group project is the last thing you want for your midterm, but working with the student who smokes makes it 10x worse

→ Genre: smut, tiny tiny bit of angst, protection (yes!!), kissing, hickeys, piv sex, reader is judgmental + hates smoking, swearing (Imk if i missed any!!)

→ Warnings: smoking, mentions of food, joke about dead grandparents

→ Word Count: 7,746

→ Notes: hey guys! This is the first fic of my Sanctuary Series! For more information about the series I would recommend going to this post here!I just want to clarify that I do not share the same views as the reader does in this fic, it was purely for plot purposes! Hope you enjoy pt 1 of the series 😚

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

You were always a goodie two-shoes. Perfect attendance, good grades, class president, the story writes itself. You grew up playing different instruments and were always enrolled in a sport or after-school club to keep yourself busy and your portfolio reflecting nothing less than perfection. So how did you go from valedictorian and class president of your high school to a college student who is on the verge or dropping out? 

The amount of work you’d allowed to accumulate over the past few weeks was enough to scare even the professors, making them question whether they actually assigned that much work. You could feel your grays coming in at the sight of all your work, exhaling as you decide to tackle the easy assignments first. 

It’s the middle of the day on a Thursday. You had a couple of assignments due tomorrow night that you absolutely could not afford to push off any longer. You had already asked for extensions on most of your assignments so far and you didn’t know how many more dead grandparents you could have before your professors questioned the validity of your failed punctuality when it came to turning in your assignments on time. You had class at 3 p.m, giving you a good two and half hours to get some work done. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You pack up your belongings as the clock strikes 2:30 p.m. You had gotten a couple of your easy assignments done, though it was very taxing to say the least. You make your way to your class, bundling up as the cold was brutal enough to warrant a cancelation, though, your university would never do that (speaking from experience because wdym its 2℉ out and i have to walk to class when theres black ice on the ground??).

You make it to your class about 15 minutes later, shivering from being cold yet sweating due to the many layers you had on. You take a seat next to your best friend, who had gotten there before you and saved your seat. 

“Can we go get food after class? I’ve had back to back classes and meetings all day and I’m starving.”

She drones on. You nod as you take out your laptop, waiting for the professor to start class. You’re prepared to mindlessly take notes for the next hour and half during lecture, but are pleasantly surprised when the professor doesn’t pull up the lecture slides. 

“Good afternoon class. I can all tell you guys are doing great so far.”

Her joke lands for some people, getting little chuckles and giggles from different corners of the lecture hall.

“Your midterms are a month away. I would normally give an exam for this class, but this year I have decided to switch it up. I have you all in pairs and you will be submitting a group assignment as your midterm. You will not be required to present but I will give you free reign on the design, layout and mode of presentation on the project meaning you can use any platform or software you would like to get the information across. I have sent you all emails with the name of the person you will be paired up with.”

You and friend look at each other and groan, knowing that the chance of you two being in a group is slim to none. Surely enough, you check your emails for your project partners.

“Who is Choi Yeonjun?” 

You ask, looking to your friend to see if she has any answers. She scans the room, presumably to see if he’s in class to point him out to you. 

“You see that kid in the middle row to the left? The one with the red hair? That’s him.

You look at the back of his head, sighing as you realize you don’t know this person and that this project is going to take a lot more time out of your busy schedule. 

“At least you’re not working with Choi Beomgyu. I heard he can be a handful.” 

Your friend rolls her eyes, burning holes in the back of the blonde boy's head, who happens to be sitting next to Yeonjun. You follow your eyes to see the boy, laughing at the irony of your partners sitting next to each other, just like their partners were. 

The rest of the class is drag, the growling of your stomach making it seem longer than it was as hunger consumes you. 

“Let’s go to the dining hall. I can’t afford to spend any more money on that overpriced cafe.”

Your friend says as you follow her out. It’s gotten pretty dark outside and there weren’t many students walking around in the cold. There were a couple of people here and there, probably walking back to their dorms after class. You two find yourself walking behind a person with their hood up, paying no mind to him until a cloud of smoke hits your face. Your audible groan at the smell of weed alerts his attention as he turns around and apologizes for smoking right in front of you. As he pulls his hood down, you recognize the tuft of bright red hair sitting on the top of his head. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you guys were behind me. I didn’t mean for the smoke to hit you.” 

‘Great,’ you thought. Not only did you have to work with a random stranger, but he also smokes publically on campus. You didn’t like smoking or people who smoked. You couldn’t understand why people do it or what joy butchering your throat and lungs could bring you. Your friend knew that about you and sensing your irritation, she speaks up for you, dismissing the incident on your behalf while you both walk ahead of him. 

As soon as you know that you’re far enough away from Yeonjun, you ask,

“Can we switch partners?”

Your friend snickers.

“If he smokes, I can almost assure you that his friend does too, so switching partners wouldn’t help.” 

You finally enter the dining hall, taking in the heated building before putting your stuff down in search of mediocre food. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You spend the next few days catching up on any missing work, putting the project aside since you still have a month left to do it. You decide to use Sunday as your rest day, drained from the assignments you were able to get done. You still had many assignments left to do, but you could only do so much work and you were already feeling burnt out. Doing more work wouldn’t be eventful in any way. 

You prepare for your day as normal, showering and throwing on a cute, weather appropriate, outfit as you make your way to the cafe on campus. You needed something better than the dining hall coffee for a change. You went there quite often, as you were high school friends with one of the baristas there. You smile as you spot him, walking up to the counter. 

“Taehyun! How’ve you been?”

The boy beams brightly at you, loving your cheerful spirit upon seeing him.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you for a couple days! I’m good, how are you? And, do you want your usual?”

“I know, I’ve been busy and broke. But I’m doing alright, just catching up on all of my assignments. And yes please.”

“Oh, that’s good at least! Also we have a new employee that I’m training so it might take a minute to get your order. Is that okay?”

“Yeah of course! Take your time. Thank you!” 

You say, paying the balance of your meal and waiting at the end of the counter to get your food. You see a tall boy with red hair come out from the kitchen. You scoff to yourself as you recognize Yeonjun. ‘Of course he works here,’ you think. It takes him a couple of minutes to make your drink, still new to all the syrups and flavors that are available. As he finishes he calls out your name. 

“Y/N!” 

You walk up to him, remaining polite as you thank him for your order.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry if it took a while, it’s only my third day here.” 

“It’s okay, thank you for the food!” 

He stares at you and you’re about to grab your stuff and walk out, but he stops you.

“Wait, Y/N? Are you taking history 2204? With Professor X?” 

“Yeah?”

You feign ignorance, pretending not to know who he is. 

“Ah, I see. I’m Yeonjun. I think we’re partners for this project. It was nice to meet you.” 

He says as he smiles. You felt a little guilty about your prejudiced dislike towards him. He seemed nice enough, so what if he smokes? And you couldn’t lie to yourself, finding his smile and crinkled eyes cute.

“Oh yeah! It’s nice to meet you too!” 

“Can I give you my number? So we can discuss what days work for us to meet up and work on the project?” 

You nod as you hand him your phone. You watch as he types away his number, smiling as he hands it back to you.

“Thank you, Yeonjun. I’ll text you my schedule and we can figure out what works then.” 

He wished you a good day and you smile, finding his manners charming. 

༄ ༄ ༄

A week had passed since you met Yeonjun at the cafe. You were officially back on track as you submitted the last of your missing assignments the night before, finally being able to focus your time and energy on this project. You had yet to message Yeonjun and you didn’t know why you were nervous to text him. You didn’t want to start off the messages awkwardly so you went with a simple yet forward message to start the conversation.

“Hey! This is Y/N from history class. You gave me your number last week at the cafe.”

You release the breath you were subconsciously holding, hitting ‘send’ and waiting for a response. You didn’t want it to seem like you were glued to your phone, waiting for him to message you back so you bide your time by doing other things around your space. Cleaning up your desk, putting away your clothes, etc. 

You hear your phone go off, waiting a couple minutes to check who the message is from. You groan when it’s just one of your friends asking if you wanted to hang out later. You replied ‘sure,’ and went back to doing anything you could occupy yourself. 

It had been a couple of hours since you messaged him and still no response. Now pissed that he hadn’t yet gotten back to you, you decided to get ready to go out with your friends. There was a party at a bar on campus and you allowed yourself to go out as a reward for completing all your assignments. Putting on some light makeup, you chose a rather revealing outfit despite the winter weather, assuming that it was probably going to be hot in the bar. 

You met your friends there and all started with some drinks. You were talking about your days, just checking up on them. You had all been so busy with midterms coming up that you barely had time to hang out. After having about two more drinks, your friends dragged you onto the floor, dancing to whatever music the band was playing. 

“Y/N!!” 

You hear your name being called and turned around to find the source of the noise. You spot Taehyun and instantly your mood brightens up. 

“Taehyun! I didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“I wasn’t planning on coming but my friend asked me to come with him. I think you’ve met him before, Yeonjun? He’s the one that made your order a week ago.” 

You grimace upon hearing his name. At first, you cut him some slack because he seemed nice enough. You felt guilty about judging him because he smoked. But after not messaging you all day and then hearing that he was at this party, you went back on your word, the idea of disliking him appealing to you again. 

“Oh yeah, I know him. I remember meeting him last week.” 

You say, emotionless. 

“I want you to meet him again. And my other friends too, they’re all cool so I think you’ll like them.” 

You trusted Taehyun so maybe you had to hold off on your hatred a little longer. Though you were good at using your words, your expression and body language always failed you, never being able to hide your negative emotions. 

“These are my friends, Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu and Kai.” 

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you guys, I’m Y/N!” 

“Ah yes, we’ve heard a lot about you. Taehyun told us how you guys were best friends in high school.” 

Soobin said, his tall frame and black hair are easy on the eyes. 

“Yeah, me and Terry go way back! It feels like we met just a year ago but it’s already been 7 years”

You say, laughing. Yeonjun chuckles at your comment, sipping at his beer. 

“It’s nice to formally meet you Y/N. And I like your outfit, it suits you.” 

You stare towards him is cold but your cheeks betray you, heating up at his compliment towards your outfit. 

“Thank you…” 

Your night goes on, hopping between your friend group and Taehyun and his friends. One by one, they all start to leave as you’re left with one of your friends, Taehyun and Yeonjun. You introduce them all to each other and stay at the party for a little longer before deciding to leave. 

“I think I’m going to head back, Y/N. I’m tired and I have classes back to back tomorrow,” 

Your friend says, gathering her things.

“Alright but you can’t walk back by yourself? It’s too dark and you know how dangerous it can be.” 

You look around, trying to find a solution so that your friend doesn’t go back by herself. 

“Taehyun! You live on this side of campus right? Can you walk back with her?”

Taehyun looks to your friend, who’s blushing a little as you try to help her out. 

“Yeah sure but, what about you? You live on the opposite side so what are you gonna do?” 

“I can walk her back. I live around there anyways. It would be no trouble, really.” 

Yeonjun says, smiling as his eyes disappear. You mentally curse yourself for being left with Yeonjun, even though there was nothing else you can do about it. You all nod and go your separate ways, Taehyun with your friend and you with Yeonjun. 

On your walk back to your dorm, Yeonjun fishes a lighter out of his pocket, using it to light the joint that was in his other hand. Taking a drag, you immediately smell the inebriating plant and walk faster. He can sense something off between the two of you, the tension weighing down the atmosphere. 

“Did I do something to upset you? It just… seems like you don’t like me or don’t want me around?” 

You stop in your tracks, having been walking in front of him this entire time and turn around to face him. You exhale loudly before starting:

“First of all, I was not in the best state when the professor announced we were working in random pairs for this project. Not really your fault but then I’m walking behind you as we leave class and you’re smoking! Let alone, the smoke blows into my face and I hate smoking, let alone people who smoke. Then I met you at the cafe and you seemed really nice so I gave you the benefit of the doubt and thought that maybe I judged you too quickly and then I felt guilty. But then this morning, I text you and you left me on delivered all day and then I find you here, at this party and now you’re walking me back to my dorm. So yeah, you can say I’m not really fond of you.” 

You huff, the feeling of letting all of that off your chest almost euphoric. He puts his hand with the joint down next to him, taking his phone and checking his messages, and found that you did in fact text him and he didn’t read it. 

“I’m sorry for not reading your message, I was busy all day and I’m not allowed to use my phone during work. And I do apologize for smoking in front of you, even though it blowing in your face isn’t my fault. But that’s it? I didn’t actually do anything to you, so what’s the judgment for? Why do you hate people who smoke?” 

You didn’t want to stand in the cold any longer, and you didn’t want to have this conversation either. Really, you were avoiding his gaze because you really did have no valid reason to hate him. He never actually did anything to you. But you couldn’t back down now, otherwise you’d be embarrassed. You just huff as you turn on your heel, walking in the direction of your door, the rest of the walk back remaining silent. 

He walks you up to your building. You feel your phone ding, grabbing it from your pocket to check the notification. 

“I sent you my schedule. Let’s get this project done as quickly as we can so we don’t have to see each other again.” 

You hang your head low, guilt hitting you like a truck at the sight of an upset and hurt Yeonjun waiting for you to walk in. Even though you told him that you didn’t like him straight to his face, he still had the courtesy of waiting for you to enter your building so he can say he waited until you were safe to leave. You look back at him one last time, feeling worse than before as you run in and take the stairs up to your room. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You stare at Yeonjun’s schedule that sits in your messages, debating on whether or not you should ask your professor if you could work alone. You’re seriously contemplating it but ultimately decide that you should at least fix whatever you started, as it would be unfair to Yeonjun to leave him to do the project alone, though after your encounter last night, you’re sure he would appreciate not being your partner anymore. 

“Hey. I’m free this weekend if you are to work on the project.”

His reply is almost immediate, like he had been waiting for you to text him back. 

“Yeah, I’m free this weekend as well. Time and place?”

“Would you be comfortable coming over to my dorm at like 12 o’clock tomorrow? I want to apologize for the things I said and the way I acted…”

You bite your lip as you send the message, waiting for the rejection message to pop up.

“Sounds cool. I’ll see you at 12 tmr.”

No rejection? You were utterly surprised at this chance of redemption though, a little taken aback at how nonchalant he sounded. You lived in a single dorm so cleaning up wasn't that bad. You made sure to have plenty of snacks and drinks stocked in your mini fridge and made a little cozy corner for him to work in, while you would sit at your desk. You even made sure to text Taehyun and to ask what Yeonjun’s favorite drink was so you could have it ready for him when he arrived. 

༄ ༄ ༄

You woke up early in the morning, getting ready for the day as you make your way to the cafe to pick up the drinks you had ordered for both yourself and Yeonjun. 

“Hey Taehyun! Do you have those drinks ready for me?”

“Hey! Yeah I do. I have your usual and an iced americano for Yeonjun!”

The boy says, big eyes gleaming as he hands you the drinks. 

“Thank you! I’ll see you later!”

You didn’t tell him about the events that transpired after the party, and from the looks of it Yeonjun hadn't told him anything either. You say your goodbyes and make your way to a little pop-up event on your campus. They were selling cookies and cupcakes to support their club, so you thought it would be a nice gesture to buy you and Yeonjun both a cookie and a cupcake each. 

Struggling to open your door with all the treats in your hands, you manage to get inside of your room and put all your stuff down. You check the time to see that it’s only 11:30 a.m, relieved to see that you still had some time to yourself. 

You hear a knock on your door a little bit later. You had sent Yeonjun the details of your dorm room before he got there but were still startled by the knock. You compose yourself, nervously opening the door to see a blank-faced Yeonjun staring back at you, this time wearing a loose sweater that hangs off his shoulder on one side, gray sweats and black, thick framed glasses. 

“Hey Yeonjun. Come in, I have some things prepared.” 

He nods as he walks in, slipping off his shoes at the little welcome mat you have placed in front of the door. The dorm itself is pretty small, enough for one person but it could still comfortably afford a guest. 

“First of all, I want to start with a verbal apology. I’m sorry for being prejudiced against you based on your smoking habits. And I’m sorry for lashing out on you last night when you asked a valid question. I know it wasn’t your fault that the smoke blew into my face and I guess I was just anxious about this project and texting you that I didn’t even stop to think and consider the fact that you could’ve been busy and didn’t have time to check your phone. Secondly, I asked Taehyun what your favorite drink at the cafe was so I got you an iced americano, and a cookie and cupcake from the fundraiser one of the clubs on campus is having.” 

You shyly hand over the cup with his drink and the snacks that were packed into a little plastic box. He takes the snacks out of your hand and for the first time all week, you relax your shoulders as Yeonjun smiles, accepting your apology and finding it cute in the process. 

“Thank you Y/N. I know you don’t know me and I don’t know what your deal with hating smoking is, but I accept and appreciate the apology nonetheless. Shall we get started?” 

You nod as you instruct him to put his stuff down in the little workspace you created for him, a small throw pillow and fox blanket resting on the inflatable chair you had blown up for him to make use of. He chuckles at the cute setup, settling his stuff down and getting comfy to start working.

༄ ༄ ༄

Throughout your working session, you had some conversation here and there when things got boring or you ran into a particularly difficult part of the project. A couple hours into working you both decide to tap out, noticing the time and finding that you had been working for 6 hours straight. 

“Oh my god, it’s been 6 hours!” 

You say, surprised that you were able to focus on the same assignment for so long though, to your credit, it felt like many different assignments bundled into one. 

“Damn, I didn’t even notice how late it was. That wasn’t so bad actually.” 

Yeonjun says, getting up to stretch his legs, americano and snack box empty as you both refused to leave the room to eat lunch. He picked up his trash, throwing it in the garbage before returning to his corner, looking at you before asking you a question you didn’t think he’d ask:

“Would you ever try it? Smoking I mean?

You stare at him blankly. Your immediate answer was no. Smoking is bad for you, it can cause illness or death. But when you opened your mouth to answer, you didn’t expect this to come out: 

“Maybe one day?” 

You’re speechless yourself at your answer. You were so adamant on hating smoking and never wanting to try it. What about Yeonjun asking you made you change your answer? Was it the way he so confidently stood up to you last night? Or the way he walked you to your dorm despite learning about your true feelings for him at the time? Or the way you wanted him to find you different from the character you first gave off, the one that judged him for smoking in the first place? As if he could see the inner struggle etched onto your face he remarks,

“I thought you hated smoking? What makes you want to try it?” 

Your face heats up at your own silence, but you respond anyway.

“I do hate it. And I actually don’t want to try it. I don't know why I said that. But why do you smoke in the first place?” 

You ask, trying to change the subject to be towards him. Catching onto your little trick, he humors you. 

“It’s a relaxing way to unwind after a stressful day. Sit back, throw on a movie and take a couple hits and you’re there. Relaxed as can be with no other care in the world. You should try it, maybe then you won’t be as tightly wound.” 

You scoff at his little jab at you towards the end of his explanation. You couldn’t lie, with the way he was explaining it to you, the idea of smoking did sound very enticing. But nonetheless, you were willing to stand your ground on this topic, after all, this whole situation you were in with Yeonjun stemmed from your hatred towards smoking and you weren’t going to back down now. 

“As if. And I am not tightly wound, thank you very much. Maybe you can’t tell because you’re brain fried from all the weed you smoke.” 

Thinking your remark has granted you victory in this argument, Yeonjun smirks, offering you a challenge. 

“Try it. Prove me wrong that you won’t feel relaxed. That it won’t make you feel like a weight has been temporarily lifted off of you.” 

He reached down into his bag, pulling out a metal box and setting it on your desk. Upon clicking it open, the smell of weed immediately wafts through the room, filling your nose and causing you to cough slightly. 

“Do you mind not opening that up in my room? We’re not supposed to smoke in the dorms anyways!” 

You said, grabbing air freshener to dilute the smell of the weed. 

“Relax, it's fine. Plus the hall directors on this floor all do it too, so they won’t care.” 

You scoff as he takes a seat, carefully grinding the bud so as not to get any on your desk. He then fiddles with the contraption used to pack the weed into the paper, sealing it off after having packed it fully. 

“I’ll demonstrate how to do it and then you take a hit, okay?” 

You gulp nervously, teetering between the idea of kicking him out or waiting to see how this all plays out. Were you really going to get high because a cute boy challenged you? You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts as you see him flick open the lighter, the smell of burning paper replacing the smell of weed in your nose. He lets it burn for a while, opening your window in the process. 

“When you take a hit, blow out of the window otherwise you’ll set off the fire alarm.” 

You mock a smile as he laughs, bringing the joint up to his lips as he takes a small inhale. You watch as the fibers of the paper burn, the weed contents turning gray. You analyze the way he takes the hit and hold it in his throat for a second before slowly blowing the cloud of smoke out of the window. 

“Your turn.” 

He passes you the joint, as your clammy hands impatiently reach for it. You look at him one more time nervously, bringing the joint up to your mouth and inhaling. You don’t know how fast you ripped it, throat burning and violently coughing as Yeonjun scrambles in your fridge to bring you a bottle of water. You chug the water to stop your coughs, handing the joint back to him as you catch your breath. 

“Nothing about that was relaxing in any way.” 

“That’s because you did it too fast. Look, watch me. You slowly inhale, don’t let the feeling of it in your throat bother you otherwise you’ll start to cough.” 

You hold a little grudge in your stare, cursing at the fact that you were so easily convinced to try the one thing you spited and how your resolve crumbles so easily before your very eyes. You watch him bring the joint up to his lips again, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before taking another hit. This time you watch how he holds it in his mouth, counting the seconds before he blows it out. 

“Think you got it this time?”

You take the joint from his hand, silently reassuring him that you’d be fine. You try again, this time slowly inhaling. Remember his words from just a few moments ago, you let the particles settle in your throat for a moment, slightly inhaling before releasing the breath, successfully blowing the smoke out of the window. You look up at Yeonjun with big eyes and a proud smile. 

“I still don’t feel relaxed.” 

“You will in about 3 more hits and 15 minutes.” 

You continue to pass the joint to each other, careful not to rip it too fast or inhale too much. You can feel your eyes start to get a little droopy, a constant smile appearing on your face as you feel your body loosen. You feel slower but not heavy as you turn to Yeonjun and start giggling. 

“I can tell that you’re starting to feel it now. Gonna tell me you don’t feel relaxed?” 

You nod, giggling at his smile. The longer you stare at him, the cuter you think he is. Even in your high state, you couldn’t blame the weed for the attraction you felt for the red-haired man. Maybe you were starting to form a little crush. You think about the sweater he’s wearing, how his neck and collarbone are so perfectly on display, longing to be nipped at. Or the way the glasses make him look more sophisticated and smart, you did like nerdy looking boys. And the way his thick lips wrapped around the joint, eyes following his every move as he takes another drag. You couldn’t help the way you were rubbing your thighs together, the idea of his lips on yours creating a need to form within you. He looks at you, dumbfounded as he himself is now high as well. 

“How are you feeling Y/N? Do you feel good? Do you feel relaxed?” 

This time, you could blame the weed for what you say next:

“I feel great. I would feel even better if you kissed me.”

You laugh at your own comment, finding Yeonjun’s shocked expression priceless and thus further causing you to laugh. You allowed yourself to be bold, not knowing when again you’d have this opportunity. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Y/N. You’re high right now and so am I. Neither of our judgments can be trusted right now.” 

He tries to play the mature, responsible role. He was the one that got you high so he felt responsible for any and all actions made by you or towards you by himself. But the slight, ever-growing tent in his pants was giving him away, revealing that he was not as grounded in his resolve as he wanted to be.

“What? You don’t believe me? Should I prove it to you?”

You take his previous words of challenge and use it against him, playing him at his own game. You walk up to him slowly, eyes red and droopy as you stare into his. You place your hand on his chest, tippy toeing to try to reach up to his lips. 

“Help me out a little?” 

As if all rhyme and reason was thrown out the window, Yeonjun doesn’t hesitate to lean down, capturing your lips with his own. He throws one arm around your waist, the other carefully holding the joint so as not to get any ash over your floor. Your hands remain on his chest as your lips move slowly in sync, breaths heavy from the temporarily shortened capacity of your lungs. You still feel a burn every time you inhale, but it’s worth it for the way Yeonjun has you feeling right now; completely relaxed and carefree. 

He pulls away for a second, grabbing your hand with his free one and placing the joint in between your lips, guiding you to take a hit before he puts it in the metal box with his other weed essentials. His eyes watch you in awe as you close your eyes to take the hit. He pulls you onto his lap as he takes a seat on your desk chair and you happily follow, hands around the nape of his neck as you play with the hairs there. You take your time holding the smoke in and he kisses you again, running his hands along your sides, squeezing as you gasp, letting the smoke out from your mouth into his. He takes the opportunity to gently slip his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan at the contact, grinding down a bit into his thigh. Your mouth is dry, partly due to the cotton mouth you're experiencing, and partly due to the nerves that had worked their way into your body when you decided to be bold and admit to wanting to kiss him. 

He licks the inside of your mouth before pulling away a little to suck on your tongue, teeth grazing it as he pulls away to trails kisses down your jaw and neck. You’re panting out of breath at his actions, the wetness between your legs only growing as you feel his hard-on press against the side of your thigh. You giggle as he nips a particularly ticklish spot on your neck, the effects of the weed present and causing him to giggle as well. 

“Can I kiss your neck?” 

“Well when you ask so nicely…”

He laughs, pulling away from your neck and tilting his head to the side, granting you permission to mark him up. You lean down, lightly nipping at his milky skin, biting around the area of his collarbones and he rests his hands on your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thigh. Your little whimpers at the contact only turn him on more, hard cock throbbing against his sweats as you eye the clear outline of them. Pulling back to look at your little marks, you’re satisfied as you pull him into your lips once again, this time more hungry. His hands that were settled on your hips move to grab your ass, squeezing as he presses you down harder on his thigh. Your moans are drowned out by his lips as the makeout becomes heavier and messier, saliva escaping from the corner of your lips and dripping down your chin. He pulls away first, admiring your red and puffy lips with a dazed smile. He stands you up, grabbing the joint and taking a big hit, holding it as his hands sweetly caress your face and he gives you another kiss, letting the smoke cascade into your mouth as you try your best to inhale and not choke. He smirks watching the excess smoke slip between your mouths, putting down the remainder of the joint and feeling you up underneath your shirt. 

“No bra?”

“I was in here all day. There was no need for it.”

You respond simply, taking a step back to fully take your shirt off, giggling as you watch his eyes open dramatically at the sight of your bare tits, nipples hardened as a result of the cold air. He pushes you against your desk, leaning you back over it as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, not even bothering to get you both on the bed. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud. You moan at the contact, harshly gripping his hair as he grazed his teeth against them. He takes the chance to slide his hands down the waistband of your pants, settling just above your pussy. 

“Yeonjun…” 

Your whimpers turn him on further as he begins rubbing circles on your clit through your panties and you throw your head back at the sheer amount of pleasure you’re feeling at the moment. He switches his attention from one nipple to the other, trading his fingers up and down your slit, feeling the wetness collect on the fabric separating his fingers from your heat. You don’t realize your grip has gotten impossibly tighter, accidentally pushing his head further into your chest, not that he minded. 

“You’re rough, I like it.” 

He pulls his head away from your chest and you whine at the loss of contact, the warmth his hold brought you being replaced by the cooling of his saliva all over your boobs. He pulls you close enough to him to help you take off your pants and underwear, sitting you back down on your desk as he admires your glistening lips, sliding down both his sweats and his boxers. 

He goes over to his bag and pulls out a condom before rolling it on to his painfully hard erection. 

“You just carry condoms on you at all times?”

“It came in handy, didn’t it?” 

He smirks at your failed attempt at being snarky, grabbing your waist as he slides the head between your folds. Your arms rest on his shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as the other twiddles with the necklace he has on.  

“You tease too much…” 

Yeonjun guides you back and forth on his dick, relishing in the little yet satisfying pleasure he’s giving himself right now. One hand rests on your pelvis, thumb reaching down to circle your clit as you hiss, biting your lip to suppress the moan you desperately want to let out. 

“Please Yeonjun…” 

Your begging only made it harder for him to resist you, slowly bringing the head down to your sopping entrance, groaning as he pushes it past your walls.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Gotta stretch you out on my cock.”

You wince as he pushes himself in deeper, releasing a sigh of content as he fully sheathes himself inside you. He keeps his thumb on your clit, the speed of his actions constant. 

“Y-you can move now…” 

He moves slowly, still letting you adjust before moving at a more constant pace. You’re mindful of the moans pushing past your open lips, finding it hard to contain them as he sets a firm rhythm. You look down beside you and pick up what’s left of the joint. Yeonjun takes note of your actions, holding you steady with both of his hands as you grab the lighter to reignite the substance. You bring it to your lips once again, letting the effect of the weed wash over you, reveling in the heightened effect of the drug. 

You hold the joint up to Yeonjun’s mouth, smiling lazily as he takes a hit, his hips never stopping their relentless pounding into your pussy. He attaches his lips to your neck once again allowing the smoke to escape and you to stabilize yourself while his thumb goes back to circling your clit, this time much faster than before. He also speeds up thrusts, the volume of your moans increasing as his harsh thrusts knock the desk back into the wall over and over again. You’re afraid of the amount of noise you’re making, worried about whether or not your neighbors can hear the scandalous sounds coming from your room, but all worry flies out the window when Yeonjun leans you back, bringing your hips up to a whole new angle for him. 

“Yeonjun!!” 

You scream as his tip hits your spot so deliciously, legs wrapping around him, pulling him that much closer. He chuckles as your face scrunches up, indicative of your close release. He can’t help but to move faster, pistoning his hips at an incredible speed, one that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as a gush of liquid comes rushing out of you. 

“Yeah that’s it, squirt all over my cock for me. Let it all out…” 

You’re so high that you barely even register the fact that you just squirted all over him, creating a mess on your floor. Your feelings only seem to intensify as the overstimulation kicks in, sensitive walls clenching down on him as your second orgasm approaches you quickly, his fingers still working your clit. 

“I’m… I’m gonna cum again… Y-yeonjun please…” 

Your whines come out broken and sporadic, not sure how much more you can take. 

“Hold on for me a little longer baby, I’m almost there.” 

You nod as you pull his head back down to you, kissing him one last time as he nails his final thrust, hips stilling in you as he feels himself fill the condom. Your pants and sighs fill the now smokey room. 

“I didn’t know you could squirt like that baby girl. You’re so fucking hot”

He carefully pulls out of you, making sure not to let any cum seep out of the condom. You wince as he pulls out, legs feeling like jelly as you release him from your hold. After discarding the condom, he quickly reaches for the napkins you have sitting on top of the fridge, cleaning you up before kneeling on the cold floor to wipe up any remnants of your release. 

“You look good when you’re on your knees,”

You say playfully, biting your lip as you watch him clean your floor. 

“I was right.” 

Your head feels empty and you’re slightly tingly. The high you were having definitely intensified the feeling you were having during sex but it did nothing to help jog your memory. 

“What are you talking about” 

“Have you already forgotten”

You shrug as you jump off the desk, using his shoulder to help ground yourself as your legs recover from their jelly-like state and proceed to put your clothes back on. 

“I told you that smoking would help you feel more relaxed. I guess in your case it also helped you be more bold.” 

Your usual eye roll was replaced by a giggle. 

“Did I really say that? I guess I had no idea what I was talking about?” 

He laughs with you as he finishes cleaning the floor, pulling his pants back on before putting his weed materials away, shirtless. 

You keep staring at him, realizing that you were too high and too needy to notice his toned abs before. 

“I can send you a picture of them if you want? You don’t have to keep staring at me like that.” 

He pulls his sweater over his head to which you pout, upset that your view was now covered. 

“Relax, you’ll see them again the next time we do this.” 

“Next time?” 

You couldn’t say that you hated the feeling of being high, but maybe you weren’t in the right mind to be making decisions like that. 

“Yeah? Next time we work on the project we can get high and do this again. It was fun.” 

He puts his stuff away in his bag, leaving it on your inflatable chair. He wasn’t just gonna leave you after fucking you whilst you were still high. 

“We got a pretty good portion of the project done today. We don’t even have to meet up to finish out individual parts.” 

You say, reminding him about your 6 hour grind to finish as much of the project as you could. 

“What are you trying to say?” 

He says while fixing his glasses and hair in your mirror.

“I’m saying the next time we meet we don’t have to do work.”

He makes eye contact with you through the mirror, his smirk hard to hide at your insinuation.

“You dirty girl. So bold when you’re high, only want me over to have sex.” 

“Well… to have sex and get high! I do enjoy your presence but I’ve never felt so good before. That was like heaven.” 

Even though he didn’t know you that well, he could tell the effects of the weed were still strong on you, watching you yap away, knowing you probably won’t remember this conversation in the morning. He just laughs at your comment as you put your stuff away. 

You watch as he goes back to his seat, moving his bag back to the floor. You walk up to him, sitting down on his lap. You tangle your fingers in his hair, staring at his lips again, which are also swollen. His eyes follow your gaze and he throws his head back in laughter, scaring you a little as you flinch at unexpected sound. 

“You’re still horny?” 

“What makes you say that?”

You play dumb as if you weren’t just drooling over his lips. 

“But we just put our clothes back on!” 

He whines, fixing your position so that you’re properly straddling him. 

“Yeah but, you aren’t gonna reject me right? Not when I’m high and needy because of you?” 

You feign your best soft voice and puppy eyes, trying your best to hold back from laughing in his face at your own antics. Yeonjun takes your face in his hand, giving you a sweet smile.

“No of course not, that would make me a monster.”

He says, pulling you back in for another kiss as you settle in. Maybe smoking a little bit of weed wasn’t so bad after all. 

༄ ༄ ༄

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[gachagon]

I think this new update is about Julie becoming the new "face" for Welcome Home (the TV-show and possible merchandising) For starters, this is the first time ever that Wally is not the main one on the website.

Aside from the fact that he's missing in two separate art pieces featuring "everyone", this is the first time that a different character has been on the front cover. That, and in all of the extra material we found even when Wally is there, he takes on a much more passive and observant role in the story. Normally, the story revolves around the Neighbors putting on a show of some sort, or Wally going around the Neighborhood to gather people for the next activity of the day.

However, here, Wally is not the one who finds the solution to any sort of problem and is only really mentioned once or twice. There is the cool radio show, but again Wally isn't the most proactive host. Most of the speaking time is taken up by Frank and Julie.

Another thing I noticed is that because Wally isn't really in the spotlight this time around, We the reader (and subsequent viewer of this non-existent show) are not included in the activities at all. Nobody, not even the narrator, talks to US about what they're all doing that day.

Which is a bit strange when you really think about it, because all of the Looky-Loo story books are told with the context that it's a play being put on by the others, and the show is much more inline with something like Sesame Street or the Electric Company where the viewer is sometimes an active participant at home.

This says to me that Wally truly is the only puppet who can see "us" both canonically within the shows universe, and in the context of the Restoration Project. Julie, even though she is the "star" this time around, does not seem to have the same level of control or even awareness that Wally had. So being the "star" of the show doesn't grant you the ability to interact with the viewer (you).

Another thing about this update is that it seems we're trying, but failing, to really define what Julie Joyful is. Like, we know Julie is a Rainbow blush monster and that she makes flowers bloom, however I am of the opinion that this update reveals that Julie actually doesn't know what she's doing or how to make flowers bloom on her own.

I said earlier in a different post that Julie doesn't want to join her families band as the drummer, and we know from this Looky-Loo storybook that singing is the key to making a flower bloom in the first place. So it stands to reason that all Julie would have to do is just sing to make the flowers bloom. So why doesn't she just do that?

I think it's because the narrative wants Julie to join the band with her siblings and has been nudging her in that direction. But Julie doesn't want to for whatever reason unknown to us, my personal theory that has no basis is that I think Julie used to be a character that appeared in the background but who got popular with kids so the company brought her to the forefront eventually.

And now in this update she seems to be the main attraction of the whole show, and is even on the front page. But I think she's desperately afraid of having to return as the drummer for the family band because then she won't have a place in the neighborhood anymore.

There's also items like the soda that was advertised here that seems to be strictly Julie themed. Alongside this Storybook featuring Wally:

There's a distinct theme of "joy" being this mystery element that can't really be defined as easily as one wants. The soda is so vague about what Joy is, and Wally's painting is so abstract that it's hard to understand what he meant when he painted it. All of this says to me that Julie tried to be the new face of Welcome Home, but that it was incredibly difficult either for the writers or herself, because she wasn't sure deep down what her own purpose was.

All of the characters on the show have a defined purpose or job or skill, but Julie's only purpose seems to just be "happy". She reminds me of a lot of girl characters in childrens shows who happen to only exist to fill a market for young girls, but who are so shallowlly written that they don't really have much use narratively like the other characters.

The way she's paired with Frank it is clear that she has a two-man comedy type of routine with him where he's straightforward, blunt, and frowny and she's the super happy go lucky type, so maybe eventually the writing team for Welcome Home paired them together all the time because they couldn't exactly figure out what to do with Julie by herself.

[captainsophiestark]

Home Is In Your Arms

Rhysand x Reader

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Written for day six of the @sjmxreaderweek event!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Day Six Prompt: Adventure/Home

Summary: Rhys and his mate have both had exhausting days. Luckily, they're both home to get some rest together.

Word Count: 1,075

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed as I shoved open the door to the townhouse, my whole body heavy. I'd walked miles across Velaris today, running basic errands, meeting with people who needed to talk to me as High Lady, crossing off administrative tasks I had not wanted to deal with, and checking in on a handful of people and projects. My planned day had started out with much less to do, but things just kept coming up in the past few days, until I didn't have a choice but to do one thing after another from sun up to sun down today.

My muscles ached and my head felt dulled and tired. All I wanted to do was flop into my bed and shut down for the rest of the night. I strode though the front door of the Velaris townhouse, intending to do just that. No one else was supposed to be here tonight, which meant I'd have the place to myself to go down like a sack of bricks.

I glanced into the living room on my way to the stairs, only to stop dead at the sight of a very familiar figure already laying on the couch, one arm across his eyes.

"Rhys?"

My mate groaned, and despite my exhaustion, a happy little laugh bubbled out of me as I moved around the couch to give him a hug.

"I thought you weren't going to be home from the Court of Nightmares until tomorrow?"

Rhys sighed, holding me to him a moment longer and leaving one hand tangled in my hair, even as we pulled back enough to speak.

"For the first time in hundreds of years, I managed to finish business with Keir earlier than expected. I knew you were busy in the city today, so I was hoping to surprise you here when you got home. I... may have caved in to my own tiredness while I waited."

I just smiled and put a hand to my mouth, trying and failing to hide my grin.

"Well, it's honestly an amazing surprise. Although I'm so tired I almost walked straight past you to go collapse in bed."

Rhys gave me a tired smile, shifting on the couch so he could put his arms around me. I leaned back against his chest and the two of us sank down into the cushions together. Instantly, the last few lingering stressors of the day melted from my mind as I sunk into the comfort of the person I loved, my best friend in the world.

"I think we've just made a critical mistake," I said after a moment. I had to fight to keep my eyes open, comfortable and content as I was against Rhys's chest, and the only response he could muster was a soft hum against the shell of my ear. "...I don't think I could get up from this position if my life depended on it."

Rhys huffed another laugh, shifting and tightening his arms around me but making no moves to get up.

"Well, then we may just have to give in to our fate and sleep here, just like this."

I smiled, turning on my side to curl into Rhys. I could hear his heart beating as I laid my head on his chest, and my own heartrate slowed in response. The streets of Velaris were nice and quiet outside, and so was the house around us. Slipping into a peaceful sleep with him here would be the easiest thing in the world.

"...I just feel like we're going to regret the decision in the morning, when we wake up as sore as if we'd been training with Cass and Az. Or worse, when one of us kicks the other off the couch in our sleep in the middle of the night."

Rhys let out the heaviest, most drawn-out sigh I'd ever heard in my life. He practically went liquid beneath me, apparently trying to merge his form with the couch completely. But then, on the inhale, he suddenly stood, scooping me up into his arms in the process.

We just stood there for a moment in the living room, Rhys holding me as I looked at him in surprise.

"I can't believe you actually managed to leave our couch. That's my High Lord, right there. Ultimate resolve and power."

Rhys snorted and rolled his eyes, but I caught him smiling all the same.

"If it had just been me, I couldn't have done it. But to make sure my High Lady doesn't wake in the morning with a neck that feels broken from her chosen sleeping position? I found the strength."

I laughed again as Rhys squeezed me tighter, then started heading for the stairs. I'd been a zombie when I'd first walked through the door of the townhouse, but just being around Rhys was enough to bring me back from the brink. I still needed to sleep, now, but the utter exhaustion mind, body, and soul and the buzzing in my brain had been alleviated.

We tumbled into bed together, both of us taking a moment to ditch the street clothes before wiggling under the blankets in a way incredibly undignified for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. Of course, neither of us particularly cared.

I curled up against Rhys's chest again, laying my head over his heart so I could hear its soft, steady beat as I drifted off to sleep. His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me tight into his side, and he placed a gentle, sleepy kiss on my forehead once we'd settled in. We'd never even bothered to turn on the lights.

"I'm glad I made it home to you tonight," he mumbled, clearly already halfway to sleep. "I don't think I could've gone another night in the Court of Nightmares without seeing you."

"I'm glad you made it home tonight, too," I said, my voice just as weak and sleep-affected. "It was a long day. But it's easy to forget about it all with you."

I felt Rhys smile against my forehead, and he gave me one last little squeeze before his body relaxed. I could tell from his breathing he'd fallen almost immediately into a deep sleep, and I wasn't far behind him. I was home safe, in the loving arms of my mate, snuggled up together in our bed. There was nothing else in the world that mattered to me more than what I had here.

****************

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[sarcasticscribbles]

BOYCOTT EUROVISION FOR ISRAEL PARTICIPATION.

I am the Eurovision gay this time of year, I love this show. Not only is my country hosting 2024 but it's also in a city I love, but I can't watch as people sing about peace and love while Palestinians are getting killed by one of the participants.

I've complied a couple of petitions, open letters and information regarding Eurovision: Eurovision isn't the highest priority regarding Gaza, but this show is marketing & tourism for countries, Israel is using it to pink wash their politics

According to SVT, Swedish television network in charge of Eurovision 2024 in Sweden Malmö, Eurovision is apolitical, and therefore Israel qualify. They refer to any calls for boycott meaningless ( via )

SVT statement:

[ID: "SVT statement on the debate over Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest

Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest is generating debate and today a number of Swedish artists have called on the EBU to cancel Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest 2024. It is the EBU’s decision which public broadcasters may take part in the event, and as the host broadcaster, SVT follows the EBU’s decisions. The humanitarian suffering in this deeply complex conflict is devastating. Nobody can be left unmoved by the current situation in Gaza, or by the Hamas attack in Israel. We are also concerned about these developments. We understand and respect that groups of people wish to make their voices heard. As the host broadcaster, SVT has an ongoing dialogue with the EBU about the challenges of producing Europe’s largest TV-production in times of unrest. We are humbled by the task and are working to ensure the project can be carried out in the best way possible, with the vision that music unites." END ID]

Eurovision has always been political, and was created as a celebration of peace after WW2. Songs are statements, and EBU took action by banning Russia and Belarus for the invasion of Ukraine. It's a way to show sympathy and solidarity, which Gaza is in need of now.

Why Eurovision is so important to Israel is the opportunity of pink washing, and appearing liberal and LGBTQ-friendly, that the show encourages. This leads to great marketing and tourism for the country, alqueerian on twitter did a great thread about it:

[ID: Tweet from @ alqueerian on X formerly known as Twitter. Tweet: "A really quick thread on pinkwashing and why it’s wrong: pinkwashing is a term that was coined by LGBTQ Palestinians to specifically refer to the use of homophobia as a justification for israeli war crimes, ethnic cleansing, mass displacement, starvation etc." END ID]

Full thread

WHAT YOU CAN DO:

Here are a couple of petitions, open letters and links to encourage the ban of Israel in Eurovision

And if all fail: we boycott

Here are two petitions for the ban of Israel: Petition 1

Petition 2

A list of emails and contact information for broadcasters regarding Israel participation: copy, paste and send. Document

It's created by verilybitchie on YouTube who also made a great call to action video I can recommend

[ID: Screenshot of verilybitchie youtube video "Genocide at the Eurovision Song Contest". The video is showing an article by Chris Lockeyer, news reposter, titled "Israel to compete at Eurovision despite boycott threats" The article says: "The European broadcast Union said its member organisations approved Israel's participation in the competition and it remains aligned with other competition organisations on its stance." The article is from December 19th, 2023. END ID]

And for Swedes, I think it's extra important for us to speak up; here's what we can do:

Open letter via Björk & Frihet, a charity in Skåne offer letters to sign but also have pdf version to print at home!

[ID: Photo from Björk & Frihet, a swedish charity offering open letters to sign to send to the government. "Stoppa folkmordet" as the letters are ladled, means "stop the genocide" END ID]

This is also a letter regarding the contest being held in Malmö, a city with a long history fighting for Palestine! Sign here

[ID: Vote for Swedes in Malmö to sign to protest Israel's participation in Eurovision. END ID]

Meanwhile, don't forget your daily clicks to help Palestine while we wait for EBU to stand by their words and prove we are united by music!

[ID: Iceland's Hatari holds up Palestinian flags during Eurovision in Tel Aviv, May 19, 2019. END ID]

[ph1l5eyelash]

i think there was something weird about Gangle’s mask in episode 4 and people are not talking about it enough.

im just kinda throwing out ideas here, I have no concrete theory, just things I noticed and thought were interesting.

AND IF YOU HAVE OTHER THEORIES REGARDING ANY OF THIS, TELL ME PLEASE IM SO CURIOUS

OKAY SO, first of all, I think we can all agree Gangle was acting weird in this episode— like, uncharacteristically weird. that could’ve easily (and obviously at least partially) been the fact that she was literally at her breaking point, on the verge of abstraction, but between the creepy vision Ragatha saw and the weird analog horror training video, I feel like it has to be more than that.

Talking about the vision Ragatha saw… what the fuck was that guys and why is nobody talking about it????? gooseworx did say “i just thought it would be funni.” when asked about it, but she has also said she often misleads us with her answers to the point that its “borderline gaslighting”. this is clearly an example of that, something so incredibly ominous and seemingly unrelated to the rest of the episode would not just be thrown in for no reason… it has to mean something. not to mention the creepy face when she turned around looks weirdly— intentionally— similar to Pomni’s face while she was possessed in episode 3.

I have a theory that whatever was possessing Pomni had something to do with Gangle’s mask in episode 4.

Speaking of this part of episode 3, I don’t think Pomni’s possession was apart of the adventure, or at least, not how it was intended to go. Whatever was possessing Pomni was hurting her in a way we have not seen in other adventures— this was not unintentional trauma like her and Gummigoo glitching beneath the map in episode 2, that was obviously not supposed to happen. This was intentional. As Jax said, Caine would not do something malicious to the humans, it’s not in his nature (which he said in a “i know that for a fact” sorta way, which is a whole other conversation). Not to mention, he said this DIRECTLY after Ragatha’s vision of Gangle looking eerily similar to whatever was possessing Pomni. So what was that?

And not only did it hurt Pomni— “how’s your wife, Kinger”??? are you kidding??? and this was not said nicely, it was clearly mocking him. how could mocking someone’s dead (or abstracted i guess) wife be any LESS intentionally malicious????

also, Caine is forgetful. This is shown by him forgetting they have a suggestion box, and more interestingly, through Zooble’s therapy session showing that Caine forgets their trauma. With such a large emphasis on Caine forgetting Zooble’s trauma, it would not be completely unreasonable to assume that he forgets the others’ trauma as well. Kinger’s wife abstracting, for example.

So with this moment being outright malicious towards both Kinger and Pomni, and with Caine’s forgetfulness being focused on in the same episode, I feel strongly that this was not Caine’s doing. Or at the very least, “how’s your wife, Kinger” was NOT Caine’s doing.

That raises the question, if Caine didnt do this, what did? And how does it know about Kinger’s wife abstracting— how would an NPC in an adventure know anything about the characters outside of the adventure?

I don’t have an answer to that question, but I have a looser theory that could possibly be related??? this one might be a little far fetched, but hear me out:

During Gangle’s weird (WEIRD) analog horror training video, Jax asks “when did you make this?” Sure, this could be meant to be a funny line that doesn’t mean anything… but he has a good point. When DID she make that? And why does it get so meta and scary? Malicious… one could say— I mean, Jax was terrified.

In the video, she was clearly projecting her failed dream of being a manga inspired comic artist, but if whatever was possessing Pomni knew about Kinger’s trauma, and with the theory that it has something to do with Gangle’s mask, I don’t think its impossible that it could know about Gangle’s trauma as well.

Assuming that whatever was possessing Pomni is actually intentionally connected to Gangle or her new mask, maybe that’s what made the video, not actually Gangle.

That would answer Jax’s question of when she made it— she didn’t.

That would explain Ragatha’s weird vision.

While the video doesn’t have any direct ties to the possession or the face, it definitely has pretty significant indication that she’s not herself— whether thats literally or figuratively. and idk man it was creepy and weird. as I said, im not set on this theory at all, i dont have any concrete idea what was going on here, but i know it has to be something.

this scene and Pomni’s possession were the only moments in the show that felt like the characters were being intentionally harmed— the only instances where they were intentionally made to feel real fear. The characters know that they will not actually be hurt during the adventures, they know that Caine wouldn’t put them in that situation. Sure, Pomni got jumpscared and her eyes popped out, they were panicked when trying to escape the angel head, they were panicked during the whole truck-chase scene in episode 2, but they knew it was all just apart of the adventure and they were gonna be fine in the end.

This fear was different. This was real fear— and they were intentionally made to feel that way. These instances were the only time the characters were genuinely afraid that they were in real danger (aside from the abstraction and backrooms-void situations in episode 1, but obviously those were not intentional).

I think whatever this is is trying to intentionally harm the members of the circus.

side note:

Zooble just found a mask that specifically looks like its for Gangle in their box of parts? why??? obviously it was for Gangle, so why was it in Zooble’s box of extra parts? did Caine put it in there? I guess that would make sense cuz Caine gave them the parts, but again, why give them a mask obviously for Gangle?

Which could mean nothing…? But it is weird that Zooble just randomly happened to stumble across a comedy mask… or maybe i’m just looking too deep into that.

Im gonna definitely post more about whats going on with jax in this episode (“nobody is seeing this, right”, “caine wouldnt do anything malicious its not in his nature”) because that feels important, but thats a theory for another day. this episode had so so much good information and my theory brain is absolutely spinning.

anyways yeah, i dont know. I feel pretty strongly that Ragatha’s vision and Pomni’s possesion are connected and that whatever that face is is important, but again, these are just ideas and the second theory is kinda just spitballing. i dont know if any of this makes sense. either way, all the theories make my brain happy and gooseworx’s storytelling is so amazing to me, whether any of this is right or if im completely missing the mark, its so interesting and i cannot wait to find out what the fuck is actually going on in this show. gooseworx, you talented storytelling genuis you, mwah!

if you have any theories on any of this, please share!! i would love to hear your ideas.