#school badges images

[reunionatdawn]

Why I think you should be able to romance Yosuke in the P4 Remake

Canonically speaking, Yosuke is pretty much Junpei 2.0. The straight bro best friend to the MC who is obsessed with getting a girlfriend. However, there was a romance route for him that was cut from the game, probably late into development. This would have no doubt recontextualized his entire character arc.

"Comphet," short for compulsory heterosexuality, is a term used to describe the societal assumption that everyone is naturally heterosexual. This concept suggests that people may feel pressured to form heterosexual relationships due to cultural norms and societal pressures, rather than genuine attraction. My opinion is that Yosuke's original character arc was supposed to be an exploration of this idea, due to how much support there was for it in the narrative. And here’s why I think they should add this idea back in for the remake, which looks to be on the horizon.

In P4, everyone's shadow was connected to their sexuality or gender role. Chie was a tomboy who was jealous of Yukiko's femininity. Yukiko was a "Yamato Nadeshiko" who was sick of being fetishized as the ideal girl, which in Japanese culture, is often overly meek. Kanji was bullied because of his feminine hobbies and adopted a hypermasculine thuggish persona. Rise felt disillusioned with her oversexualized idol persona and the performative aspects of show business. And Naoto dealt with internalized misogyny which manifested in her adopting a male persona.

Yosuke: And what's this about checking out this world for Saki-senpai's sake? Hah! I know the real reason you came snooping... You just came because you thought it sounded like a good time! What else is there to do in this shithole? A world inside the TV—now that's exciting! You didn't have a single other reason for coming here, did you!?

Yosuke was the odd one out, as his shadow mainly involved his repressed resentment at living out in the countryside and being very lonely. His shadow also had the least humiliating baggage to expose. He had feelings for Saki. But his shadow self's "dark secret" was that he was more excited about exploring the TV world than genuinely investigating her death. Shadow Yosuke accuses Yosuke of not being as sweet on Saki as he appeared to be. However, this idea didn't really go anywhere.

When the Magician card is reversed in a Tarot reading, it can suggest manipulation. In a relationship context, it means that someone may be presenting a false image or facade in order to manipulate the perceptions of others. And that idea certainly fit Yosuke. He pretended to be carefree. But what if he was also pretending to be heterosexual? What if the "horny straight bro" was just a mask? Is there any evidence of this? Actually, I think there was.

Shadow Yukiko: Tonight, Princess Yukiko has a big surprise—I'm gonna go score myself a hot stud! Welcome to "Not a Dream, Not a Hoax"—Princess Yukiko's hunt for her Prince Charming! And I came prepared: I've got my lacy unmentionables on, stacked from top to bottom! I'm out to catch a whole harem, and the best of the lot is gonna be all mine!

The Shadows in P4 are partly comprised of the suppressed thoughts and emotions of the actual person. There was a part of Yukiko's subconscious that felt like she needed a "Prince Charming" to save her. But the shadows who showed up on the Midnight Channel were also formed from the desires of what the general public wanted to see. Yukiko herself didn't really want to score with a harem of hot studs. It was the male students at Yasogami High who truly wanted to see that happen.

Yosuke was very nonchalant about failing the "Amagi Challenge". He took it in stride, almost as a badge of honor. And I found it very interesting how he showed absolutely NO reaction whatsoever to what Shadow Yukiko said. Nothing. If it were any other boy at school, I'm sure he would have had something to say about the most popular girl talking about how badly she wanted to lose her virginity to a bunch of hot studs. But Yosuke acted like he couldn't have cared less. He just said that the stuff she was saying sounded weird and that was it.

Yosuke: I haven't changed addresses since before we moved to Inaba. I mean, I might get a text from someone…It's hard to call, y'know? If I called people just to tell them my number changed, they'd get annoyed. And some of them never planned to text me anyway… Oh but hey, don't look at me like I don't have any friends!

According to Saki, "Hana-chan" didn't hang out with the other guys much. But in Rank 3 of his Social Link, it seemed like he desperately wanted to have closer relationships with male friends. And that may have been the true reason he happily took on the Amagi Challenge when he was a new transfer student. He probably just wanted to fit in with the other boys.

Yosuke: Haha…I never thought I'd be talking about serious stuff like this. Before I moved here, it was all small talk…Stupid, trivial things. I thought that was fine. It's only with you guys that I talk seriously like this. I dunno why, but I feel like I don't have to lie… Especially with you. You've already seen the worst of me and all. But well…thinking about it now, if someone had to see that, I'm glad it was you. It's a bit late now, but… Thanks for going in with me that time. Yosuke is smiling sheepishly…

By Rank 4, Yosuke acts very different around Yu than he does around the rest of the Investigation Team. He never acts this serious or sincere around anyone else. The other members of the group also open up emotionally to Yu. But Yosuke especially acts like a totally different character. He takes off his mask around Yu and only Yu. He's probably the first friend—especially a male friend—that he ever had where he could just be himself instead of adopting a false persona to fit in.

Yosuke: I can't get my mind off certain things whenever I have a spare moment… (option 1) Yu: Certain things? Yosuke: Uh, you know…stuff. I mean, well… Argh! Let's not get into it! Why do I get the feeling this is going to turn into a depressing conversation!?

During an evening conversation that occurs around Golden Week, Yosuke hints at some unresolved baggage related to his Shadow.

(option 2) Yu: Like Saki-senpai? Yosuke: Oh, come on... Of all the things you could bring up, you pick that one? I mean, that's part of it, but... I dunno, how do I put it? Argh! Let's not get into it! I don't wanna have this conversation!

Saki was part of it, but not the only thing. And he was blushing, too. The implication was probably that he was developing feelings for someone other than her and he might have been feeling a bit guilty for that. Or at least, that was my own personal interpretation.

Yosuke: Y'know, Chie and Yukiko seem different lately. They're a lot closer. Oh yeah, I was just curious, but are you...Ehh, never mind. If we keep chatting, we're gonna be late.

But there is evidence for that interpretation. After Golden Week is over and the group is headed back to school, Yosuke attempts to ask Yu if he is interested in Chie or Yukiko. The fact that he was so hesitant about asking made it stand out a bit to me. He probably had feelings for someone within their friend group.

Yosuke: Oh, I almost forgot. It's kinda off-subject, but as long as you're on the line, mind if I ask something? It's something I've been meaning to ask for a while. So…what do you think about Yukiko and Chie? I mean, let's not mince words: Which one's your type?

Before the stakeout for Kanji, he finally asks Yu which girl is his type.

Yosuke: Huh? Seriously? So that's the kinda girl you go for, huh...? She is a great girl, though. Plenty of fun to be around, too.

If Yu answers that he's interested in Chie, Yosuke acts a bit surprised. Not in an insulting way. He just assumed it would be Yukiko because all the guys in school were crazy about her.

Yosuke: Ohhh, I had a feeling you'd say that. She's actually pretty interesting. I never knew she was like that. My image of her has changed completely, but I like her way better now. Hey, but don't worry. This is just between you and me. Okay, see you tomorrow.

If Yu says that he is interested in Yukiko, Yosuke says he suspected as much. He doesn't say anything about her looks or anything. Interestingly, he just says that his image of her has changed, but he likes Yukiko more now after seeing her true self. Almost as if he didn’t have a very great impression of her before.

Yosuke: That being said…Yukiko, can I have your cell number? Chie: Hey…Was this your plan all along? Yosuke: Uh, no? I got everybody's phone number except for hers. And the Y section of my address book needs some filling out.

During the stakeout, he asked Yukiko for her phone number. So, the player would probably assume that Yosuke wanted to go out with Yukiko. That is what Chie assumed, after all. But I think that was a red herring.

Chie: Hey, how do you think the others are doing? Yosuke: Beats me. For all we know, he's hitting on Yukiko as we speak. Chie: Yeaaaah, no. He's not like you. Yukiko doesn't seem to be interested in that stuff anyway. Wait—are you saying he's interested in her? Yosuke: Huh!? Uh…I…wouldn't know…We don't really talk about that kinda stuff…Hahahaha. Chie: Now I'm even more suspicious! You know something, don't you? Yosuke: I-I seriously don't know! It's not like we've been hanging out that long, haha…

But Yosuke actually seemed less interested in Yukiko herself and more interested in the possibility that Yu might be interested in her. Even if Yu tells him that he's not interested, Yosuke probably didn't believe him. So, it’s possible that he wanted to become closer friends with Yukiko so that he could know right away if she and Yu started dating.

Shadow Kanji: I think that you three…would make wonderful boyfriends. Yosuke: S-Stop it! Y-You got it all wrong!

Kanji's arc introduces the idea of homosexuality into the story. And Yosuke got worked up over Kanji's shadow FAR more than he did with Yukiko's. When he called Yu after Kanji's Midnight Channel program aired, he was "too flustered to get his point across". And Yosuke felt the need to deny Kanji's Shadow almost as much as Kanji himself did.

Shadow Kanji: Accept me for who I am! Yosuke: Wh-Whoa! I really don't swing that way!

It gave me the impression that themes of Kanji's dungeon were just as relevant to Yosuke's character arc as they were to Kanji's. Perhaps even more so in some ways.

Kanji: I, uh…I don't really get it myself. Girls are so loud and obnoxious, so, y'know…I really don't like dealing with 'em. Guys are a lot more laid-back. S-So, uh, I started thinking…What if I'm the type who never gets interested in girls…? And I couldn't accept that, so I kept spinning around and around in my head… Yosuke: Well, I can understand the part about feeling more relaxed around dudes.

Homosexuality is a societal taboo. It is often something that people suppress and do not accept within themselves. It is actually the perfect subject to explore for a game about the shadow self. I don't think Kanji was gay. But I do think that Yosuke was originally supposed to be. And a lot of what Shadow Kanji said hit a little too close to home for him.

Chie: Well, the night's kinda fun. We cook our own meals with mess kits and sleep in tents. Yukiko: The four of us are in the same group. Yosuke: The same group, huh…? Does that mean we sleep together at night, too!? Chie: You wish! Guys and girls sleep in different tents! I'm warning ya…If you leave your tent at night, you'll be expelled on the spot.

When Yosuke found out that they were all in the same group, he actually stood up out of his chair. You're meant to think he reacted this way because he was thinking about sharing a tent with girls. Typical straight teenage boy. But I'm sure he knew they weren't sleeping with the girls on a school trip. His reaction probably had nothing to do with the girls. He probably got worked up about sleeping in the same tent as someone he had been developing feelings for.

Yosuke: This is as good a time as any, so…I-I want you to be honest with us. Kanji: Uh…okay? Yosuke: A-Are you really…you know…? Kanji: Am I really what…? Yosuke: What I mean is, uh…Are we gonna be safe with you? Kanji: Wha—!? Wh-Wh-What the hell's that supposed to mean? I-I already told you guys I'm not like that!

According to Jung, psychological projection is a major aspect of the shadow. When individuals project, they unconsciously attribute qualities that belong to their own shadow onto others. This allows them to avoid confronting these aspects within themselves. If they had stuck with that original idea, I don’t this scene would have been so controversial and offensive to people. By taking Yosuke's same-sex attraction out of the narrative, the game felt a lot more juvenile as a result. Yosuke's homophobia could have been used to explore his shadow self. But instead, it was just used to take cheap shots at Kanji for no reason other than comedy.

Yosuke: W-Well then why are you all hot and bothered about it!? That's just more suspicious!

The irony of this line certainly wasn't lost on me. And I don't think the writers were so lacking in self-awareness that they didn't realize how Yosuke was the one getting all hot and bothered by anything related to homosexuality after Kanji's dungeon. I think it was supposed to raise some suspicions in the player about Yosuke's sexual orientation.

Yosuke: And c'mon, you guys gotta admit I chose some good suits. Those girls might be childish on the inside, but I bet they're gonna turn into some fine-looking women before too long! Don't you think so, Yu?

If Yosuke was always intended to be written as a straight guy or even a bisexual guy, this part would come across as misogynistic and kinda creepy. Even Stupei wouldn't buy swimsuits for his female friends. But if Yosuke was actually meant to be a gay boy, this is more of a sad attempt at imitating a straight boy to appear "normal". And if that were the case, his behavior with girls is a lot more forgivable.

Yosuke: So…? You keep the goods under the futon? (option 1) Yu: Huh? Yosuke: C'mon…No need to play dumb. Don't worry. I'll still be your friend even if you're into the freaky stuff. Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

Yosuke wasn't truly interested in Yu's dirty magazines. He was only interested to learn more about what kind of girls he was into. I know they added a scene in Golden where Teddie finds Yosuke's porn stash and he shows it to his parents. It's played straight as pure comic relief. "Haha, Yosuke never stops thinking about girls". But in his Rank 5 SL, this felt like it was meant to be a more serious topic.

(option 2) Yu: Of course. Yosuke: Hahaha! Why are you acting so dignified about it? Alright, I'll check 'em out when you go take a piss or something. I'll expose your embarrassing tastes!! Yosuke looks like he's having fun.

The "embarrassing tastes" comment was interesting.

(option 3) Yu: What, don't you? Yosuke: Haha! Like I'd hide mine in such an obvious spot! One time, my mom found it and read the title out loud to the whole family… Yosuke is reflecting on his past…

It actually sounds like Yosuke was the one with "embarrassing tastes". If his mom felt the need to shame him in front of the family like that, it leads you to wonder what he was looking at exactly. Sure, it could have been some typical straight boy stuff. But what if it was a men’s magazine or something? Depending on how traditional his family was, he could have received disapproval for that.

Yosuke: So, you ever invited a girl in here? (option 1) Yu: I haven't. Yosuke: Haha, maybe you're more of a man's man than I thought. Yosuke seems happy…

Yosuke seems happy if Yu is not planning to bring a girl over.

(option 2) Yu: I will soon. Yosuke: Seriously!? That mean you're working on someone!? Yosuke is keyed up…

And he gets keyed up if he is.

(option 3) Yu: I have. Yosuke: Seriously!? Who'd you… I'll stop there. I think it's better I don't know. Yosuke is smiling wryly…

He probably assumed it was Yukiko and he didn't wanna know any more details than that. Again, due to comphet, most people would probably assume that he was just jealous because he wanted to date her himself.

Yosuke: Because she likes him…? M-Man, kids sure are mature these days…Well, my first love was in first grade, too! I've always been ahead of my time. But, well…I don't really need that in my life right now. It's just not the time…I have something I need to do before that can happen…

But he actually didn't. His true feelings are quite different than his public persona where he's obsessed with getting a girlfriend. Especially in Golden, like with the motorcycle scene. Yosuke said he was ahead of his time. And I think he was. His character arc seemed to be about being closeted and coming to terms with it. But that was a trickier subject during the time period which the game first came out.

Rise: And the bustline… Yosuke: Huh? Rise: Mine aren't that big. Yosuke: Oh yeah, I see what you mean now… I-I mean…What am I saying!? U-Um, I'm sorry…!

Similar to Yukiko's Shadow, Yosuke had no real interest in the sexual aspects of Rise's Shadow. The Midnight Channel zoomed in to emphasize her chest and waist area, which was due to the general public's interest in her sex appeal. Yosuke told Yu he could tell it was Rise by the hairstyle. However, in front of the others, he said he knew it was her because of her figure. It's a minor detail, but it suggests that his reaction was completely performative. He didn't even recognize her figure in person that well anyways.

Chie: Let's hurry and rescue her! Yosuke! You better not slack off, hoping she'll "bare it all" if we take our sweet time! Yosuke: I-I wouldn't pull a stunt like that! Yukiko: …… Yosuke: Wh-What's with the silent treatment!? I won't do that, I swear! Believe me, I know! We'll rescue Rise before the fog sets in!

The female members of the team assume that Yosuke would want to take as long as possible to save Rise so he could see her strip.

Shadow Rise: Eee, how embarrassing! Is this too hot for TV!? Well, if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing all the way! I'm gonna bare it all for you! Heehee! Stay tuned! Yosuke: I-Is she serious about baring it all!? Is it me, or are these shows getting crazier and crazier!? Yosuke sounds excited. Yu: We're in no rush. Yosuke: Huh? But if we don't recue her, isn't Risette gonna...s-strip...? *gulp* Dude, we can't let her go through with that!

However, if Yu actually suggests that they take their time, Yosuke doesn't even get why. He doesn't want to see her strip and never even jokes about it, like Junpei no doubt would have.

Snooty student: So it's Kazumi now that Saki's dead!? Don't even bother, she has a boyfriend. Didn't you get it!? Saki didn't like you! We heard so from her! She may have acted that way, but… They started to badmouth Saki-senpai… Yu: Shut up! Yosuke: Yu… Snooty student: Wha—Who are you!? You shut up! Yosuke: You're the ones who should shut up!! What do you know about Saki-senpai!? She didn't do things half-assed like you! She looked lazy, but she worked hard! She talked bad, but she was good inside! So she hated me? I knew that! She's not here anymore! I'm left behind! …Just leave me alone.

In Rank 6, Yosuke didn't become angry when he listened to the girls gossiping about Saki. He only lost his temper when they insulted Yu.

Yu: You were just upset. Yosuke: N-No, I was just… Yosuke is smiling pathetically… Yosuke: Damn…Another pathetic display from Yosuke, huh? Thanks, though. Hearing you say that stuff to them…It made me happy.

Saying "You were just upset" in Rank 7 is a flag that unlocks the option to hug Yosuke in Rank 8. And the Rank 8 hug was probably a potential romance flag, just like when Rise was crying, and the game warns you that this is an important moment and there's no going back. The fact that these flags were still left in the game suggests the romance route was taken out relatively late in development.

Yukiko: The people at the inn keep asking me questions every day, like "What kind of guy is he?" and "Is he handsome?" *chuckle* I'm sorry I got you involved. Yosuke: …… Oh, uh, I'm going to go take a little walk. Yukiko: Huh? No, it’s not what you think!

When Yukiko is at Rank 6, this is the dungeon dialogue between them. There was definitely a love triangle going on between Yu, Yukiko, and Yosuke. Yosuke was clearly jealous.

Kanji and Teddie were conveniently removed from the equation. But Yosuke was a King's Game option. Kanji wanted Naoto to enter the beauty pageant to prove to himself that he was into girls. And Yosuke signed up all the girls. Was he also trying to prove himself straight?

Yu: What kind of girl do you like? Yosuke: W-well, for me, um... I guess a girl that's kind and sorta fragile, you know? Someone I'd want to protect...

Yosuke actually had a hard time with this question. He gets one on those blank scribbly symbols over his head. He was actually describing a Yamato Nadeshiko, which is the idealized woman in Japanese culture. A very safe and generic answer for someone who is "totes into girls" but has no specific type. Kanji's answer to this question was more detailed because he had a specific girl he liked in mind.

Male class rep: Okay…your turn. Who would you want to date? Yu: Yosuke. Yosuke: Okay, we get it! You're good at role-playing! Now quit it! You're creeping me out… Kanji: There are many forms of love…Didn't you tell me something like that? Yosuke: No! Not at all! Well, I admit, I'm pretty dependable…and decent lookin', right?

If Yu sits on girl side, Kanji is also an option. However, Yosuke is the one who gets hot and bothered by homosexuality. At least in public. Privately, he apparently told Kanji off-screen that he had nothing against other forms of love.

Yosuke: Your turn. What type of girls do you like? Yu: A kind girl. Yosuke: Ooh, me too! You get this urge to care for and protect them...

If Yu sits on the boy side, Yosuke is the one who will be forced to sit on the girl side. And he will single out Yu with his question, to learn what type of girl he likes. He can respond that he likes a girl like Chie, a girl like Yukiko, or a kind girl. Yosuke is very happy if Yu says he likes someone he has the urge to care for and protect.

Yu: Any of us you like, Yosuke? Yosuke: Well, you guys are all wonderful... But I think you'd be the most reliable. I-I mean—You idiot! Don't make me play along!

Yosuke would choose Yu to date because he's "reliable". It begs the question. Did he want a kind girl to care for and protect? Or did he truly want to be the kind fragile girl being cared for and protected by a reliable guy?

Yosuke: …I found this. It's a Print Club sticker I took with Saki-senpai… When I first got here, she insisted on taking it… Back then…somewhere inside me, I thought I was above this place… A lot of people saw me as the enemy because Junes was going to ruin the shopping district. But…when I met her, she told me, "Parents are parents. You're you…" Even if she didn't really mean it…it made me happy. Because of her…I started to think maybe this town wasn't all that bad. But then… Yu: She dumped you? Yosuke: No… that didn't matter. As long as she was still alive…

Yosuke was still mourning Saki's loss in Rank 8. But his relationship with her was not particularly close. They were coworkers for less than a year and he knew she didn't even like him. However, she accepted him. That's why he latched onto her. He probably thought he liked her romantically. Maybe he even wanted to like her, since he was so lonely. But I think as he spent time with Yu, he slowly realized that he never really did. But he did have those feelings for Yu.

Yosuke: Yu…I get it now. I wanted to forget about Saki-senpai. How she's not here anymore. I wanted to forget that…I was living a boring life in the middle of nowhere. When the murders started, I got excited…I thought there was finally a point to me being in Inaba…I thought I could forget Senpai was gone…and the fact that I was such a loser…I jumped at the murders and never once thought about what I was doing… I… didn't even take the first step…

I believe Yosuke liked Saki as a person, but he wasn't in love with her or anything. She was a crutch to help him forget his loneliness. And when she died, he latched onto the excitement and mystery of TV world as a distraction. And he felt very guilty over that.

Yosuke: But I think I'm awake now… I need to get over the fact that Saki-senpai isn't coming back… That when this case ends… I'll have nowhere to run… And I won't have changed… …… …You made me realize that. It seems you were able to act as Yosuke's crutch… You feel a bond between you and Yosuke.

The reason Yosuke was crying was probably not because of his deep grief over losing Saki. It was likely because he had found a new emotional crutch. And he was a lot closer to Yu than he was to Saki and even more afraid of losing him. He was afraid of what would happen when the case was over, Yu went back home, and he was all alone again.

(option 1) Yu hugs him Yosuke: You dumbass…That's for girls…

Yukiko's character arc was about moving away from stereotypical femininity and the whole ideal of Yamato Nadeshiko. She became more independent and assertive. But I think Yosuke's character arc was probably meant to mirror hers in many ways. He wanted to be the "girl" in a relationship, but he learned to view that desire as something shameful and he was unable to acknowledge it within himself.

(option 2) Yu pats his head Yosuke: Haha... Quit treating me like a kid...

Amusingly, the kanji for nadeshiko (撫子) also literally means "child being petted".

Yu: Be a man. Stand up straight. Yosuke: Haha… You're right. I wonder what'd be going through my mind if I was man's man like you. Yosuke is smiling weakly…

Yosuke was not a man's man like Yu. He had an obnoxious dudebro persona he adopted in a social setting, but it was not his true self.

Yosuke: This town I hated so much? Now, I love it. There's still nothing here, but I have family and friends...and you. The important things are never far off...They're all around you. Yosuke seems a bit embarrassed... Yosuke: I always wanted to be "special." I thought my life'd finally have meaning if I was "special" to someone. That's why I was really excited when I got my Persona. But I really didn't need it…It's not what you have or what you can do…Just being born, living your life…Before you know it, you're already special to someone. Yu: You're right. Yosuke: Yeah…Like you…You're special to me, you know?

Comphet can cause people to pursue romantic relationships even when they are not sexually attracted to the person. They often don't feel like someone of the same sex is even an option. I don't think Saki was truly "special" to Yosuke. But he wanted to be special to someone else so badly, and he thought that a girl was his only option. So, he latched onto the first girl to show him a tiny bit of acceptance.

Yosuke: There's something I wanted to tell you. Somewhere deep down… I didn't trust you. No, it's more like…I was jealous of you. I thought you were like me. Coming from the city to the countryside, I thought you'd be bored out of your mind here. But as soon as you got here, you called your Persona…Became our leader, gathered people…You're a hero. I like you for that, and I'm proud of you…But I guess I was jealous at the same time. Yu: I didn't know. Yosuke: I didn't know it either…When I called you "special," I thought some more about it. I think out of everyone, I wanted to be acknowledged by you the most…

Yosuke had an unused confession where he would tell Yu that he liked him. And based on the Japanese wording, there's almost no chance it was meant in a platonic way. It's how people express romantic liking. He was jealous of how Yu was special. But I don't think it's because Yosuke wanted to be the hero, the way Junpei did. Yosuke wanted to be special to Yu. But he didn't feel like he was good enough because Yu was more objectively cool and special. He wanted to be an equal partner.

Yosuke: So… I want you to hit me! Give me a good one. Knock out all this crap inside me. I want to be equal to you. I want us to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. So c'mon… Will hitting Yosuke make you and him equal…?

In Rank 10, the game asks whether fighting will make them equal. I couldn't help but laugh. No, I didn’t think it would. It made no sense to me whatsoever.

Yosuke: Phew…The sky's so high up. Is Saki-senpai watching us…? Is she smiling at us? Senpai…I'm going to live. Without lying to myself, without deceiving myself… Days like today, days like before when I did nothing… They're all important days… They're all days you didn't live to see… I'm going to live them here.

As the culmination of his character arc, Yosuke said he would not deceive himself anymore. I was left wondering... When did that happen exactly? I could understand if this dialogue happened after Yosuke confessed his feelings for Yu and finally came out of the closet. Whether Yu reciprocated or not, it would have been an amazing conclusion to his arc and made him a much more interesting character. But sadly, it never happened.

I have no idea why they needed to have a fistfight for Yosuke's Persona to evolve. I think that when the romance confession part of the SL was taken out, the "dude brawl" scene was probably added in its place. They needed some emotionally cathartic moment, but didn’t really know what. I know this wasn’t the intention, but it almost felt like the game was telling me I had to beat the gay out of Yosuke. I didn’t like that.

The question now is: will Atlus change this Social Link in the inevitable remake? I think there’s a good chance they will. The P3 remake removed the transphobic scene. In Catherine, they added a route where Vincent embraced his bisexuality. And Yosuke’s over-the-top homophobia just wouldn’t fly nowadays without some kind of character development.

[4mrplumi]

ZERO (i) : SCAVENGERY . (ms/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, referenced assault, violence, toxic relationships, eventual fem love interest, bug taxidermy, unhealthy coping mechanisms, murder, sociopathic tendencies, full on master list.

> a/n; horribly in love with the idea of a self-sufficient classy mean judge. reblogs and interactions appreciated!! a lot (●'◡'●)

in fact, you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition, their thanks.

you won’t say you’re not petty, not childish, not absurd and not disgusting for what you’re doing, but you’ve heard it innumerable times before, and don’t mind it now. in a matter of days, the limits you’ve placed on yourself have become the bane of your existence.

bright, technicoloured posters with you favourite bands and characters hang on the walls, music playing merrily on a small portable speaker you’d bought with your self-earned pocket money. it all provided the perfect image of a regular teenager, to the extent that you weren’t really creating a civilian identity like your family, but living through it. normally.

it makes you giddy, and you know it shouldn’t, to be so unsuspecting. your grades are mediocre, but your teachers praise your work, you’re not popular enough to go be invited to every party, but enough to be friends with three quarters of the grade, not dedicated enough to a franchise to know it super well, but still enjoy it through multiple perspectives. normal, exceptional, and normal.

that’s what makes it all the more rewarding to do what you do. since being adopted at eleven, you’ve pieced together the caped identities of the monolith you call your family with lovely colour-coded pin boards and pictures. you know they escape into the night to fight not criminals, but fight crime, beating and getting beat in the process.

you think it’s tedious, but you never comment. there’s not much you remember prior to coming into the manor, except the raw experiences from fleeing cheerfully down unkempt, spray painted, molding stairway chambers with your friends away from an angry neighbour, laughing the whole way down. sharing fries for one among six to seven people, since money was hard to get by and harder to go around and listening to the one person who could afford school talk about it. pushing your friends on the swings and them tying your laces in return, since the swings were too far from the ground to push yourself, and scratchy velcro was for “sissies”.

you could say your childhood was rugged, but fairly kind for a gothamite. you weren’t given the life of a gilded richman’s son like tim, or the hard street crime life of jason. you weren’t raised by assassins or masters like damian and cassandra, not clever and determined like duke, not gifted with athleticism like dick. normal, incredibly. lucky, even.

you cannot think of anyone when you think of family. you considered your group of friends (acquaintances does your relationship better justice, but at ten, everyone was a friend if they didn’t wear a badge and a cap) family, but you knew that’s not what the word meant. they’d go back home to fighting parents, single mothers, thieving fathers, earning siblings or aging aunts and uncles. you would go home to a quiet one-room apartment and a poor quality mattress.

it’s not fair to say you weren’t cared for. the neighbourhood considered you their darling child, your friends’ parents sending you food, aunties reading you stories and elderly residents providing comfort when you wanted the rare support of an adult. but you had no family because by your accord, you would have to return home to them for someone to be family.

it’s the opposite now. you return home from school to bruce wayne and his entourage of misplaced children, but your interactions are stiff as stone. you go out to diners and have the most soulless conversations, stay in the house and refuse to partake in their exchanges.

because you are different. their morals are aligned to your guardian’s, of justice and strength and so on, so on. your morals are aligned with your survival, no one else's, selfish, scavenging. you cannot get along on a base value, because you don’t belong to their nest of canaries. you are, as a silly buzzfeed quiz at five in the morning said, a shrike.

yet still, you seeked the warmth of family. the resurgence of that feeling you once had in your old life. you could never return, having now experienced the fruits of luxury, having lived too far from “home” for far too long, with the added weight of a bruce wayne shaped shadow that followed you. the immense danger it would bring to yourself and those around you would be preposterous, unimaginable, but no more horrifying than the awkwardness you'd receive from you old not-family. scrutinising stares, untrusting glances, forced waves. no, no, it wouldn’t do. you don’t want to feel miserable. 

it’s enough that your presumed family already gives you those looks. sneers from damian, concerned glances from cassandra, brief unease from dick, ignorance from tim, you could go on and on and on. and you’re not stupid. you only have yourself to blame.

your vanity, as the buzzfeed quiz had said, in curling cursive font that sometimes turned to boxes on the ui, presented itself as a horrifying ignorance. unlike a peacock’s gushing beauty, your pretty-factor extended only as far into first impressions. when someone gets closer, enough to see the white of your eyes, they shrink away.

crude comments, satirical dismissal, and sharp judgement are things that have, in air quotes, made you unlikable. when watching a documentary about bug-taxidermy on one of the tvs, damian had walked in and commented on the generous “inhumanity” of it. instead of justifying the practice with explanations of how ethical it was, you’d scoffed and called him dramatic. he antagonised you, and you couldn't care less.

mean things left your mouth without hesitation, “who cares” and “you’re doing too much” at the simplest things. but you didn’t do it on purpose. growing up, kindness was reserved only for people in your circle, barterers of goods and generosity. you were polite to the old ladies who brought you food, nice to the new kid who looked at you for guidance, and offered support to people who’d offered that to you too.

you had no obligation to be kind to the wayne household. they had done nothing for you, other than pulling you out of a blood stained alley and providing you a home you didn’t ask for. you weren’t let in on their family bonds and not given the chance to create mutual trust with them, and were not keen on it after their whitewashed kidnapping either. 

perhaps you had the frayed edges of low-class living from gotham’s alleys, but you also had firmly set, stich, stern and strict guidelines about your behaviour. you would not make the first move, and you would not do more than fulfill debts. one favour for another, never more.

that’s what makes your secretive secret side job exhilarating. you have no need to do what you do, except for a sense of duty. the term itself, obligation, is unfamiliar, exciting. like many, but not the majority, the batman and his menagerie’s morals seem too high standing for the crevices of gotham’s underworld. only the red hood can relate, and even he is too far from the truth in your eyes.

death was a permanent solution to the wrongs of people. but you could not simply just wipe out a criminal from the street and call it a day. the only striking similarity between you and bruce wayne, was that the two of you didn’t fight criminals, but fought crime. you snuffed it out as it started hinting at the surface, not waiting for a track record or a ticket list on a license. nothing was forgiven, because you were not obliged to forgive.

you did not forgive, but did excuse. the theft of food, the death of someone too touchy, the fractured ribs of a parent too cruel, were excused. because like you, the suspect, the criminal, was also simply bartering. a favour for a favour, a wicked death for a wicked life. they would be let off from your radar, until someone else got to them. you were not obliged to save them. you are duty-bound only to rid. 

out of habit really, you resorted to violence. seeing a lady bothered by a fellow too close a few months back, you did what came naturally without the supervision of domineering adults and officers and shot him point blank. for a second, the woman stilled, painted in blood from the spray that arced to her, before screaming in horror and fleeing, without so much as a glance in your direction. 

you were unperturbed by the lack of thanks, with a hint of humour at the thought, since it meant you were not indebted to her and she was not to you. 

but it’s the realisation that comes shortly after, that a fine or a scolding would not similarly scare away the man, and he was now well taken care of. and you think of the other scummy people hiding gotham’s crowded basements, and think of their freedom. it makes you angry, it always has, truly it does. death was not an uncommon occurrence in gotham, the murders and abductions, cruelty and pain all as abundant as the trash, poverty and crime within the city. why was it only an offense when it came to the people who perpetuated it?

comfort does little to save victims. a bag of cash and a pat on the back will not rid them of their memories, sadness, or their losses. you are neither sympathetic nor can you relate, but you are angry. have been angry. on their behalf. the world is a rotten and sick place, and this city is especially so. and while batman is a poor janitor, the red hood one too late, and the monolith of your family too distant, you are decided. you’ll wash this place clean like a broken truck, knowing it’ll never work again, but look pretty as it remains.

and you, a good-for-nothing, always scorning, useless kid, are unsuspecting. you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition or their thanks.

> a/n i think this is a solid part one for a prologue bit. the crow choir series is getting a bit neglected because i want to think over its intricacies a bit better. in contrast, this is a very kick and throw kind of plot line, more fun to write for.

i've been super nervous to post on tumblr but am enjoying it. hopefully will upload the next bits soon, interactions so very very appreciated! esp ideas in comments or asks, because it makes me feel like i'm not wiling away the time i should use for other things (T_T) overall just feels nice too.

thank you for reading!!

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Meatball

For @jilymicrofics March 2025

This could have done with a bit more editing, but I wanted to get this done for James's birthday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We always wanted three kids, right from the very beginning,” James tells the man, as he settles back and makes himself comfortable. 

Well, as comfortable as he can, anyway; he’s understandably nervous. Anyone would be, in his situation. 

“Harry, that’s our eldest, came along a little bit sooner than we planned,” he continues, as the man makes some notes on a clipboard. “We’d only been married four months when it happened, barely out of our teens. He’s fifteen now. Fifteen! I can hardly believe it.” He shakes his head, in fond disbelief.

The man, who is wearing a badge on a lanyard that identifies him as Ian Jenkins, hums in response, which James takes as his cue to continue. “It was tough, you know? We were so young, and having a baby was a big adjustment, so we decided to wait a while before we tried again. Lily, that’s my wife, she started taking those Mug… erm… those mug-nificent birth control pills. Said she preferred them to the methods that are popular in… uh… in our community.”

“I see,” says Ian Jenkins. “Now I just need you to—-”

James, now a little flustered after his near-breach of the statue of secrecy on top of his natural apprehension, ignores this and ploughs on with his tale instead. He’s always been a talker, especially when he’s nervous. “It was six years before Daisy came long. She’s the image of her mum, is our Daisy, red hair and green eyes. Gorgeous, her eyes are. Harry got Lily’s eyes too, but otherwise he’s basically my clone. Lucky boy, eh?” he grins.

Ian Jenkins doesn’t respond, merely brandishes his clipboard in James’s direction. “If you wouldn’t mind—

James pays it no attention. “We were a lot better prepared for it, second time round,” he explains. “I think that’s why we didn’t leave it so long next time; there’s only eighteen months between Daisy and Simon. Simon’s the odd one out in the Potter house—blond hair and blue eyes, like Lily’s mum. And her sister, actually, but we don’t like to dwell on that. I honestly thought we were done then—three beautiful kids, exactly what we wanted.” James looks Ian Jenkins in the eye, who seems rather startled.  Now, I know what you’re asking yourself!”

“Actually, I really don’t think that you—”

“What happened?” asks James, very dramatically and entirely rhetorically. “It was when Harry went off to school, you see. Boarding school, the same one Lily and I went to, up in Scotland. It hit us hard, our baby being that grown-up and independent and so far away from us. We thought—well, maybe just one more? Who knows, maybe it was just a moment of madness and we’d have changed our minds, but Lily fell pregnant almost straight away, so that was that. Four kids.”

“And that’s all very interesting, Mr Potter, but—

James chuckles. Honest-to-Merlin chuckles. “Or so we thought, anyway. Turns out, it was actually five! Twins! Can you believe it? That took a bit of getting used to, I can tell you!” He shakes his head at his own naivety. “We thought we knew what we were doing with babies by then, but twins are a whole different set of hoops… erm… yes, very different, anyway. Mia and Elspeth. Lily’s hair, my eyes, absolutely gorgeous but my goodness—they’re three now, but I feel like I’ve aged at least a decade since they were born. I love those girls with every fibre of my being, love all my kids like that, but hand on heart those two are trouble. The idea of them as teenagers is frankly terrifying. I expect they’re my punishment for my own adolescent misbehaviour.”

He grins at Ian Jenkins, who looks back blankly, and James decides that Ian Jenkins would definitely have been a Ravenclaw if he wasn’t a Muggle. “Mr Potter, I really must insist—”

“Anyway, Lily went back on those pills, and we thought that would be fine. And it was; right up until it wasn’t. No idea what went wrong this time. Lily tells me all sorts of things can interfere with them, and the next thing we know, number six is on the way.”

“Mr Potter—”

“Which is amazing, of course, we’re very happy about it. But we thought enough really is enough, and that’s why I’m here really; get it sorted before the littlest Potter arrives in a few months. We’re not getting any younger, are we, and this one really does need to be the last one.”

“Mr Potter—”

“We clearly need something a bit more foolproof, and Lily thought this Mu… uh, this medical procedure would be best. When she explained it to me, I thought she was having me on to begin with, but then she got a pamphlet for me and it’s hard to—”

“MR POTTER!” yells Ian Jenkins, finally at the end of his tether. “I really must insist that if you want to have your vasectomy today, you need to sign the consent form!”

“Yes.” James agrees, taking the clipboard at last. “I can’t say I’m not nervous about the old meatballs, but, yes, I do. On both counts.” He takes a deep breath and scribbles his signature at the bottom of the form and hands it back again. 

Ian Jenkins’s expression softens. “It’s normal to be nervous, Mr Potter. I promise it will be fine. A little tenderness, some bruising and swelling, but it will heal within a few days.”

James nods. “Even if it wasn’t, I reckon Lily’s done more than her bit for team Potter. It’s my turn to step up now.”

Ian Jenkins nods reassuringly. “If you could undress please and lie back, the anaesthetist will be in shortly.”

James does as he’s told. Yes, he’s scared, but he knows this is the right thing. 

He bloody loves his kids. But most of all he bloody loves his wife.

[blueisquitetired]

Feral in Hisui- Where are they now?

No one was expecting the hubbub they caused when returning to the future. It was pretty overwhelming.

Elesa handled the brunt of the publicity, doing interviews and speaking at length about her time in the past.

Emmet and Ingo were less interested, but they did sit through a couple more private ones.

It took a while for the battle lines to open back up (as Ingo had to get recertified and used to the city) but once they did they were more popular than they had ever been before.

It calmed down a little over time, but the fact the facility heads were known time travelers certainly helped drive up traffic

Elesa ended up dating and then later marrying Skyla

She and her designers did several collections inspired by Hisui, as well as a pro body image campaign that highlighted her new Hisuian scars

The former Lady Sneasler was given the nickname “Queenie” which she was quite proud of. She brags about it to anyone who will listen.

She ended up having several more litters over the course of her lifetime, much to the dismay of the local environmentalists.

Their poison actually made them quite well adapted for city life, and they quickly found a place in the local city ecosystem. (for better or worse)

A similar situation was caused by Snowball the zorua, who had several litters of his own after evolving.

Thankfully, these had much less of an impact on the local ecology, as the Hisuian zoruas mostly just integrated themselves into preexisting packs.

Now Unova just has both kinds of zorua/zoroark running around, and that’s just normal.

Akari had a lot to catch up on in school, and spent most of her first few years in the future with private tutors.

She still attended some of her classes in Saint Georgia’s School for the Deaf in order to socialize with peers her age.

She never grew to love the city, but was fine with the suburbs that they ended up moving to.

Her journey was (unsurprisingly) a gym run, which she did absolutely fantastic in.

She probably would have made it to the champion, if she hadn’t gotten distracted after her seventh gym badge and disappeared into the woods for six months.

(Which, while unusual, was still a valid use of a journey. It did give Ingo half a heart attack when she stopped contacting them for a while, but thankfully they were able to track her down without much trouble. After that, she dutifully called at least once a week until her journeys end)

As an adult, she ended up working as a pokémon ranger, a job she was uniquely suited for.

She thrived there, and became the best ranger in the Unova branch’s history.

Melli’s letters were recovered within a week of returning to the future. Ingo cried the whole time he was reading them.

The warden had lived a long and full life, which left quite a few letters to get through.

During his lifetime he fell in love and got married, and later adopted and raised three children with his husband.

To him, Akari was always his first child, and he always spoke fondly of her.

Emmet used his newfound powers of poké speak mostly for mischief.

Turns out pokémon are great for catching up on the hottest gossip, since no one holds back around them.

Sometimes, he sends his joltik swarm to spy on people- but this is generally ineffective as baby joltik are terrible at staying on task and remembering instructions.

He still has nightmares on occasion and the mental scars never fully disappear- but he’s still the happiest he’s ever been regardless.

Ingo misses Hisui sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade his current life for the world.

He visited enough doctors on their return home to grow absolutely sick of them, but he will admit his quality of life has improved dramatically.

He never fully heals from the soul damage, so many memories remain lost to him and he suffers relapses on occasion. Still, most of his memories return, and he’s made enough new ones to make up for the ones that don’t.

He becomes a subway boss as soon as he possibly can, and it’s just as wonderful as he had hoped.

All of their old pokémon were thrilled to see him when they met again, and the feeing was mutual.

They ended up getting along with his Hisuian pokémon without much trouble, and they all battle together well on the subway.

Ingo never regrets going home.

[simmingsamantha]

LIKE NIGHT AND DAY: A TS3 LEGACY CHALLENGE

Hello y’all! I am back with a different sort of legacy challenge compared to my usual nostalgic-ish challenges. This legacy is eight generations, each based upon a specific time of day, from midnight to nighttime. I tried to add both good and bad traits to the sims for some unique and interesting gameplay. I’ve also added sims badges that are entirely optional to complete for each gen (I just like collecting badges myself lol). Each generation has a unique color palette that you can follow if you want. The google doc even has images of the palettes for visualization. I highly recommend checking out the google doc for better formatting on desktop, too. You'll need most EPs (except maybe Into the Future). Store content is referenced, but none of it is necessary. If you have any questions or comments, don’t hesitate to reach out. Hope y’all enjoy this challenge! 

Tag: #lnad3 or @simmingsamantha on tumblr 

Click for the google doc: xxx

Generation 1: MIDNIGHT - BURNING THAT MIDNIGHT OIL

Midnight marks the beginning and ending of each day. It is the transition time from one day to the next. It is a symbol of new beginnings, potential, self-reflection, secrets, the unknown and transformation. 

Traits: Commitment Issues. Dramatic/Diva, Natural Born Performer, Neurotic, Star Quality Career: Acrobat/Magician/Singer  Lifetime Wish: Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous  Lifetime Rewards: Engaging, The Hustler, Watering Hole Regular Aesthetic Colors: Black, White and Gold 

Goals:

Max the mixology and dancing/club dancing skills.

Additionally, max two of the following hidden skills: dominoes, pool, dartboard or shuffleboard.

Win a Simfest 

Never go to bed at a decent time/have an atrocious sleep schedule  

Become publicly disgraced 

Either sue for slander, pay off the paparazzi or deflect scandal onto other celebrities 

Live in a penthouse or luxury apartment once you begin to make money and gain fame 

Live in a city-esque world

Hire a butler 

Rely on your butler to take care of your children's needs

If you have the playpen and walker, use those to teach your child to walk and talk.

Befriend a vampire 

Marry a celebrity that is a higher level than you 

Collect the Lounge Lizard/Cranstan Boonitz and Blingaboo gnomes 

Earn $20000 in tips from your chosen Showtime career (sim badge) 

Perform in each venue type at least once 

Have one biological child and adopt another child

Generation 2: THE WITCHING HOUR - THE WITCHING HOUR IS AT HAND

The witching hour is a time of night associated with supernatural events as well as the appearance and amplification of power of witches, ghosts and demons. Tends to include the time between 3AM and 4AM. 

Traits: Brooding, Heavy Sleeper, Loner, Mean-Spirited, Supernatural Fan Career: Fortune Teller or Ghost Hunter  Lifetime Wish: Zombie Master Lifetime Rewards: Alpha Wolf/Immortal/Magic Hands Aesthetic Colors: Purple, Black and Grey

Goals:

Max the logic and alchemy skills 

Become a “creature of the night”: a witch, werewolf or vampire

If a witch, max your spellcasting/magic skill and duel at least 5 other witches 

If a werewolf, max your lycanthropy skill and form a pack of at least two other sims on the full moon

If a vampire, turn at least three other sims and make ten sims “think of you”

As a teen, join the mausoleum clerk part-time job or join the debate team after-school activity 

Own a black cat

Go all out for Spooky Day 

Collect all five colors of Gnomes of the Darned 

Bind the Malleable Mimic Voodoo Doll to another sim 

Learn all spells from Lady Ravendancer Goth's Book o' Spells (regardless of occult type) 

Learn all potions from Lord Vlaimir’s Magic Cauldron 

Complete the Celestial Explorer logic skill challenge 

Discover 25 stars for the Master Astronomer sim badge 

Marry another supernatural, preferably another “creature of the night” 

Buy a Bonehilda coffin 

Befriend the Grim Reaper 

Buy the Philosopher’s Stone and Flying Vacuum lifetime rewards 

Have twins (one of which is the heir). Roll a d4 die to determine how many other kids you’ll have.

Generation 3: DAWN - AT THE CRACK OF DAWN

Dawn marks the beginning of twilight before sunrise as indirect sunlight is scattered throughout Earth’s atmosphere. Dawn is associated with illumination, hope and happiness. 

Traits: Angler, Eco-Friendly, Hopeless Romantic, Loves the Outdoors, Technophobe Career: Angler or Gardener (Self-Employed) Lifetime Wish: Bottomless Nectar Cellar  Lifetime Rewards: Super Green Thumb  Aesthetic Colors: Light Pink, Light Orange, Light Blue

Goals:

Be a twin; live with your twin for your entire life (Dusk).  

Dusk is your polar opposite. For most of your life, you two hate each other. Reconcile only as elders. 

Max the nectar making, fishing, and gardening skills

Harvest 100 Perfect harvestables (sim badge) 

Live on a farm 

Have chickens and cows if you have the store content 

Own a Cowplant - be sure to feed it! 

Complete the Uncommonly Good, Outstandingly Rare and Omnificent Plant opportunities 

Grow a money tree and life fruit 

Own and use Grandma’s canning station

Join the Scouting after-school activity as a child and teen 

As a teen or young adult, visit Champs Les Sims (where you discover your love for nectar making) 

Complete the Flavorful Feet and Master of Nectar Making skill challenges 

Complete the Ameatuer Ichthyologist fishing skill challenge

Have a big family (at least four kids)

Marry your first romantic interest in your young adult lifestage

Generation 4: MORNING - GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE

Morning is the period from sunrise until noon, and is associated with breakfast, the start of a new day, and fresh starts. 

Traits: Ambitious, Disciplined, Friendly, Good, Proper  Career: Business or Military  Lifetime Wish: Martial Arts Master or Physical Perfection  Lifetime Rewards: Meditative Trance Sleep, Extra Creative Aesthetic Colors: Beige, Light Yellow, and Peach  

Goals:

Max the photography, athletic and martial arts skills

Complete three photography collections

Reach martial arts tournament level 3 regardless of lifetime wish chosen 

Try to jog or bike everywhere 

For an extra challenge/sim badge, jog 2000 kilometres or perform 200 hours of cardio workouts 

Only eat breakfast-type foods 

Own a pet bird 

Get cheated on after getting married to a co-worker

Join the spa receptionist or spa specialist part-time job as a teen

Have a massage table and wind chimes on your lot 

Collect all butterflies (excluding the ones you need to travel for) 

Generation 5: NOON - THE MOMENT OF TRUTH HAS ARRIVED, IT’S HIGH NOON

Noon is the time when the Sun reaches its apparent highest point in the sky. Noon is a time of productivity, of nourishment and of clarity and enlightenment. 

Traits: Charismatic, Hot-Headed, Loves the Heat, Natural Cook, Workaholic  Career: Culinary  Lifetime Wish: Blog Artist   Lifetime Rewards: Fireproof Homestead, Born to Cook  Aesthetic Colors: Shades of Yellow 

Goals:

Max the cooking, artisan and social networking skills

Have a pet lizard 

Join the Drama after-school activity as a teen 

Have at least three best friends

Meet with your friend/s at least once a week 

Complete the Blog Baron social networking skill challenge 

Complete the Star Chef cooking skill challenge 

Use the SimFinder App to find your partner 

Get into a fight with another Sim once a season 

Have a distant relationship with your child/ren due to your workaholic and hot-headed tendencies. 

Prepare 200 perfect meals OR Prepare 3 Perfect meals of the following: Grilled Cheese, Hamburger, Stuffed Turkey, Goopy Carbonara, Tri-Tip Steak, and Stu Surprise for an extra challenge (and sim badge) 

Make angel food cake and experience the “warm fuzzies” moodlet 

Generation 6: AFTERNOON - DOG DAY AFTERNOON

Afternoon is the time between noon and sunset. It is associated with a dip in human cognitive and productive functioning, leisure activities, and the end of the workday.

Traits: Absent-Minded, Slob, Nurturing, Mooch, Unlucky   Career: Education Lifetime Wish: Master of the Arts  Lifetime Rewards: Professional Slacker, Vacationer  Aesthetic Colors: Turquoise, Pale Yellow and Dark Yellow 

Goals:

Max the painting and guitar skills  

No skill challenges this gen unless you want to 

Adopt a dog

Have your dog max the hunting skill but do not train them yourself 

Join the Art after school activity as a teen 

Never clean up after yourself - hire a maid if it gets real bad 

Limit your physical activity (it’s too hot for that) 

Celebrate Leisure Day 

Live in a sunny climate world 

Own and use the store tea set 

Get suntanned at least once 

Host a “game night” (play games like dominoes or gnubb, stuff like that) every week with your family 

Enjoy a picnic and/or beach day with the family occasionally 

Have as many kids as you want. Teach them to walk and talk using the walker and the playpen. Only actively teach them to potty. 

Generation 7: EVENING - THE EVENING OF LIFE 

Evening is the period of a day that begins at the end of daylight and overlaps with the beginning of night, indicating the time where the sun is close to the horizon. It is the quiet, winding-down, ending part of a day. 

Traits: Couch Potato, Night Owl, Bookworm, Virtuoso, Shy Career: Journalism  Lifetime Wish: Professional Author  Lifetime Rewards: Acclaimed Author, Observant Aesthetic Colors: Dark Orange, Darker Purples and Magnetas 

Goals:

Max the violin, piano and writing skills 

Join the Newspaper after school activity as a teen

Have only one friend during childhood, and end up marrying them 

Grow old with your partner 

Complete the Speed or Prolific Writer writing skill challenges 

Complete the Librophile sim badge (read 60 unique books) 

Complete the Master of the Literary Arts badge (write 2 Sci-fi, Drama, Humor, Mystery, Romance and Vaudeville novels in that order) 

For an extra challenge, write 80 total novels (sim badge)

Be more of a homebody sim

However, you should go out on the town once a week with your partner to see a movie or something like that. Something chill. 

Complete the Master Pianist skill challenge 

Watch at least one Symphony

Stay up late writing your novels and articles for work more often than not  

Generation 8: NIGHT - THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT 

Night is the period of darkness when the Sun is below the horizon. Historically, night has been a time of increased danger and insecurity. Artificial lighting increased the range of socially acceptable leisure activities during the nighttime and introduced nightlife as a significant part of urban culture. 

Traits: Rebellious, Evil, Kleptomaniac, Party Animal, Genius  Career: Medical then Criminal  Lifetime Wish: Possession is Nine Tenths of the Law  Lifetime Rewards: Legendary Host, Inappropriate but in a Good Way   Aesthetic Colors: Dark and Navy Blues 

Goals:

Max the street art, science and drum skills 

Own a pet rodent (even better if they’re a rat) 

As a teen, prank the school and as many plumbing appliances as you can find 

Barely graduate high school; never do your homework 

If the opportunity presents itself, throw a teen party while the parent/s are away 

Get kicked out of your household due to your teenage antics 

Go to University for a degree (preferably the Science and Medicine major, as that’s your first career). 

Support yourself in college by playing for tips on the drums and Day Jobs

Spend most of your time in Uni juiced and partying but manage to get at least a C 

Complete 10 Day Job or Dare opportunities (sim badge) 

Try every herb and coffee bean at least once (sim badge)

Get to at least level 5 of Nerd and Rebel influence 

Join the Medical career after college for the money but get fired for missing too much work 

Join the Criminal career (either branch) after you get fired

Steal every time you leave your home lot 

Throw parties for every holiday 

Complete the Always Wanted street art skill challenge 

Befriend a raccoon 

Have kids or don’t: it’s the end of the legacy! Will you let the legacy be tarnished by the Night sim or will they turn their life around? It’s up to you! 

[yuurei20]

Hello! I was wondering if you have a post for the difference of the JP and EN versions of the Fairy Gala IF event? I wasn't able to find it in the master list, thank you!

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🧚

I am so sure there was one before but I cannot find it either, oh no 💦 While the Fairy Gala IF event had no significant changes, something fascinating happened in Silver's Fairy Gala IF vignette!

During the event itself we have a line by Ortho that confirms the craft faeries are female: he refers to them as 彼女たち (kanojo-tachi), which is a plural form of she/her.

Ortho could have said something else (just "the fairies", for example) if the game did not want to specify gender, but they intentionally chose the plural form of "she/her," instead.

But then, in Silver's vignette, he repeatedly refers to the same faerie (or an identical sprite) as "he/him," and "he/him" was an addition to the English-language adaptation.

In Silver's original dialogue he never actually specifies any pronoun at all, gendered or otherwise!

The images above include very literal translations which are a bit awkward in English ("Something is being made" etc.) as that is something the Japanese language does that English does not.

The EN adaptation is adding pronouns to dialogue all the time because the English language needs them in order to make sense, and while usually they get it right, sometimes they do not.

More here:

So where did "he/him" come from? Possibly from two factors:

It is possible that the localizations team(s) do not have access to the game's visuals as they work. (This is not uncommon in the translation industry. For things like subtitle translation we will often just receive an excel file or .txt file with time codes from the client, and otherwise no context. If it's a continuation of an ongoing project then we can usually fill in the blanks based on previous experience, but if it's something new then there will often be a lot of late-stage corrections.)

We have received hints before that this might be the case, such as ・The EN game describing the Diasomnia armband as yellow ・The EN game rewriting Kalim's "badge" as "armband" ・The EN game adding to Jade and Floyd's dialogue to make it sound as though they are at Octavinelle when they are actually in the school's courtyard

2. The craftfairy's personal pronoun of choice is 俺 (ore), which can be associated with men, but it is not exclusive to men and actually varies by person, situation and region.

More here:

Technically the faerie could have been of any gender if we were only going off of the dialogue from Silver's vignette where nothing is ever specified, which would make EN's interpretation neither right nor wrong.

But as the game has Ortho specify "female" through his choice of word for "they," I think this was maybe an example of pronoun confusion for EN :>

And that was all for Fairy Gala IF! Thank you again for this question!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello, hello!!!I saw your post here with the answer to the question (If the age restriction was done away with, do you think Harry's name would have been picked for the tournament at 14?). And your thoughts on Cedric and Hufflepuff, and I'd like to know your opinion. I've always disliked the Hufflepuffs and Diggory himself because of their behavior when Harry was chosen champion. Cedric is always called a good guy, but he did nothing when his friends wore badges against Harry and laughed with them about it. Your thoughts?

I'm so glad I found your blog! You are miracle!

Hello again 👋

(Referencing this post)

Well, I don't dislike all the Hufflepuffs in the books (I like Susan Bones a lot because of the 2 lines she has in the whole series), but I do find it interesting that a lot of the students we see in Hufflepuff when Harry's at school, don't really exemplify Hufflepuff traits.

The Potter Stinks badges I'm kinda fine with. Like, I can understand it. See, Hufflepuff usually doesn't get the spotlight, and then they have Cedric Diggory as the school champion. Of course, they're excited. And then, oh, what's that? Harry Potter from Gryffindor is stealing the Apotlight again as the fourth champion! WTF? This isn't right!

For them, supporting Cedric and renouncing Harry is the just and fair option. Becouse Harry isn't supposed to be a champion, and they're supporting the "true champion". It doesn't really matter Harry didn't want to be a champion, it's unfair he was chosen as one at all.

So, I get it. I get the support for Cedric and resentment of Harry. It's other smaller things that make the image of the house fall apart a little for me.

It's Ernie McMillan making grandiose declarations not becouse it's the right thing to do, but for appearance's sake:

“Well said!” barked Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. “Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we’ll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!” He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, “Surely not!” When nobody spoke, he went on, [...] “Er . . .” said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass him. “Well . . . I’m sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.” But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. “I — well, we are prefects,” Ernie burst out. “And if this list was found . . . well, I mean to say . . . you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out . . .” “You just said this group was the most important thing you’d do this year,” Harry reminded him

(OotP, Ch16)

Or his general concern with appearance over substance, really:

Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect’s badge gleaming on his chest.

(OotP, Ch11)

It's Justin and the others snap judgment of Harry in CoS without actually being fair and hearing him out:

the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn’t have explained. He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful — but certainly not angry and scared. “What do you think you’re playing at?” he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

(CoS, Ch11)

and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.

(CoS, Ch9)

It's Amos Diggory having no idea what "fair" is even if it punched him in the face and being the most insufferable character that isn't an outright villain:

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” said Amos Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last year. . . . I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. . . . You beat Harry Potter!” [...] “Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. “I told you . . . it was an accident. . . .” “Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!” “Must be nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley quickly

(GoF, Ch6)

(I hate that man sooo much it's not even funny.)

It's Cedric needing to be nudged to tell Harry about the egg from Moody/Barty as I mentioned in the post you referenced.

Zacharias Smith being a bit of a prat is fine, it's not like he's ever pretending to be anything else, so at least he's honest. But the point is that a lot of the Hufflepuffs we meet aren't exactly just and fair people like their house would suggest.

And I love it.

I mean, we talk about how Gryffindors aren't all brave, like Remus and Pettigrew who are both cowardly lions who'd rather run away in many situations. Or how Slytherins aren't all bad, that "the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters" and that Slytherin is more than just power-hungry evil people.

Showing Hufflepuffs who aren't noble, just, and hardworking is great. In fact, it's essential worldbuilding. It's another nail in the coffin of houses not being the be-all and end-all of who a person is. Becouse Hagrid is wrong in what he tells Harry:

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.”

(PS, Ch5)

Some Hufflepuffs are assholes, some Slytherins are nice, some Gryffindors are cowards and some Ravenclaws aren't smart. Houses aren't just about what you are, but what you value, what you want to be. I always saw someone's house as a mix of their traits, yes, but also their priorities, approach to problem-solving, or what they value most about themselves.

Remus and Peter may be cowards, but both of them value bravery greatly. They both looked up to James for his courage. There could be a Ravenclaw who isn't the sharpest, but they like to learn and solve riddles, even when they aren't any good at it. Slytherins like Tom Riddle, who value bravery and courage and despise cowardice like a Gryffindor, but they're so set on being great, of leaving a legacy, that the hat places them in Slytherin. Hufflepuffs like Ernie, who want to be noble and looked up to as a beacon of justice, but it doesn't come naturally to them so they act the part ("fake it till you make it"). I love this idea of Hogwarts houses that all these Hufflepuffs exemplify. Houses aren't always what you are, and sorting is more complicated than that.

So Cedric isn't the peach perfect noble and just Hufflepuff and it's great. Becouse people aren't always perfect and just and he's human. I would give him that he is a hell of a lot fairer than some of his housemates. But I don't think Cedric is the poster child of a just Hufflepuff — he isn't, and I prefer him that way. He's nice, don't get me wrong, he's not a bad person, but the idea that he was so perfect just because he died tragically sucks.

[yallthemwitches]

Chapter 7: Seventh Year

He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. Maybe it was unintentional, but his thumb gives a slow caress to her cheek.   “I know I’m an idiot—I don’t deserve anything more than what you have already given me for the past six years— hell, I definitely don’t deserve the second chance back in fifth—but I want you to know, need you to really understand that I have been so foolishly in love with you since the moment I met you.”

Ah, the final chapter! Read under the cut or on AO3! 🥺

A single letter arrives the third day into summer: a drawing of a headstone in a billowing thunderstorm. There is no caption, but there is an epigraph: 

Here lies James Fleamont Potter: willing killed by Lily Marie Evans

She sends his owl back empty handed. 

The summer passes in a single grey blur: she goes to work at the corner pub, comes home, stares at the ceiling. It’s a monotonous hellscape of a life, but it’s still better than being back at school—facing him.  

She doesn’t escape though, not totally. In her dreams he returns again and again. Many of them are just memories, though warped and made bizarre by the saturation of the light or blurry fuzz of the images. Others he shifts through the many versions of himself throughout the years as though searching for a frequency—his height, hair length, slope of his neck changing in milliseconds as he walks alongside her on some unknown path in the forest. She knows when the dream is about to end when the antlers begin to grow—slow and cumbersome from the top of his head. 

“I’m still waiting.”

When not busy with work, her days are spent mostly convincing herself it was all just a fault in judgement. She didn’t ever actually fancy him, not truly. He had simply tricked her again, lulled her in with his beaming smile and warm, enveloping presence until a third year version of herself took hold. She does her best to wrap everything about him—his laugh, his smile, his smell— all into a little box to be shelved in the back of her brain and for a while, it works.

Never, never does she allow herself to think of the night before holiday, because she knows how easy it would be to relapse if she does— the rejected blankets on the cold stone floor, the soft buzz of weed in her veins, the warmth of his hands as they slide under her skirt, whimpers so soft they could have been the wind…

She keeps it all mostly at bay, until another letter arrives.

Due to your outstanding achievements in academic and social standings, your professors and I are pleased to offer you the prestigious position of Head Girl for the 1977-78 school year. Please find your badge attached and a list of duties required upon arriving in September.

It’s laughable how much she can read between the lines: It’s charity. 

She isn’t a fool—Dumbledore might keep them sequestered within the walls of his fortress, but there was a war going on outside and it was finding its way through the cracks. She had to hand it to him—it was smart on his part. Dumbledore might continue to refuse a position in the ministry, but he was no stranger to politics. The end of the letter made that more than apparent:

Fellow Gryffindor, James Potter, will serve as Head Boy alongside you to share in the duties and expectations that come with the position. I highly recommend reaching out over the holidays to prepare for your upcoming posts. I look forward to working with you both in the next coming months.

Best Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

It produces an actual laugh, deep and hateful and cold. Of course he chose a pureblood, a boy with a quidditch pitch, a boy who fits in, a boy who will become something in this world because he is destined for it—and you, the token muggleborn. There was no better optics.

“What’s that?” Petunia scrunches her nose at the badge weighing heavy in her hand. She tosses it across the table, letting it skitter to a halt for her sister to see. 

“It’s your dream come true—I’ve been promoted to head freak.”

Turns out one of the many duties of being ‘head freak’ was receiving an onslaught of correspondence that she is neither prepared nor willing to answer. 

“ I just heard the news—James Potter??? Head Boy??? (Congrats by the way!)”

“It’s karma babe—Dumbledore is fucking with you, that or the universe is trying to tell you something….”

“EVANS. Everyone has gone nutter. Prongs is MIA—first mentally and now (as of an hour ago) physically. Seeing as you are his keeper now (see: Head Girl) I am not-so-kindly requesting you to FIX IT.”

“Fix it.” If only it were that easy. 

“There’s a deer in the garden,” her dad says from the window. Lily looks up, leaving Sirius’ letter to lay open like a cadaver in her lap. Her dad pulls back the curtain further and a rush of sunlight pours in. 

“Mighty rack on it too. Can’t say I’ve seen that kind of wildlife around here since the factory went in? Have you?”

It takes a second to register his words.

Rack meaning antlers. Growing, twisting, closing in—no, creating a cage. Protecting. Golden eyes piercing back. 

“No, I haven’t.”

She doesn’t respond to anyone—folding up each parchment into one big lump of words. When she attempts to shove them in her pocket, she finds the space already occupied. A note from a lifetime ago. 

“ I’ll always pick you!” 

She stares into the eyes of flobberworm James on the page, half hoping it will animate and explain itself. 

“No, you won’t.”

She goes to work, comes home, stares at the ceiling—but a letter from James never comes.The quaffle was in her court so it shouldn’t feel so much like a rejection, but it does. It twists deep in her stomach. 

Nobody could ever love a freak like you. 

She turns her eyes away from the ceiling and scans her bedroom. Letters litter the floor, some from the avalanche this morning, others from a past James she isn’t quite sure ever existed. 

You’re being stupid. This isn’t about fancying him anymore. Grow up. 

With much effort, she drags herself across the room to the table and pulls out a fresh piece of parchment. 

Dear James Potter, 

She stares at the page and a full minute passes. 

How are you?

Congratulations on getting Head Boy.

I don’t know whether I want to strangle you or snog your face off or strangle MYSELF for wanting the latter so badly it hurts.

With a wave of frustration, she throws her pen down and pushes the parchment off the table to mingle with all the rest on the floor. Scrubbing her face, she reaches for a fresh parchment before freezing, her gaze shooting outside the window.

Devil’s Snare winds up her stomach and into her throat to cut off all air supply. She must be dreaming—going fucking nutter—there was no other bloody explanation for it. 

James Potter is in the garden. 

He doesn’t notice her and she doesn’t wait for him to look up, rushing out her bedroom and down the stairs. When she wrenches open the door the sound startles him, his eyes jumping up wide and bright. His hand instinctively runs through his hair and it hits her how long it’s been since she’s seen the tick. “I got over it,” he had shrugged one of their many days studying last year—back in the short period they called each other friends. “ You said you hated it, so I stopped.”

“Alright Evans?”

His eyes flit over her from head to toe, a small blush forming on his temples. It makes her very aware of the short, muggle dress she had thrown on that morning. A small half-smile threatens on his lips.

“Ah, muggle style wins again.”

The way he says it—low and tight, barely above a whisper—makes every stitch of common sense in her want to unwind.

The backdrop of Cokeworth and the smell of toiled earth does not mesh well with the world she has built around him for seven years. At school, it was easy to be guarded, stone walls giving way to stony dispositions, but here, among the dregs of her mum’s garden?

Her floodgates are open and the water is rising fast. 

“How did you get here?”

She can hear how shaky her voice is, cold and hard in the summer warmth. If he notices, he ignores it—stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning his attention elsewhere.

“Lavender by the gate—it’s good luck, you know.” He nods his head over to the creaking metal fence in front of their house. Her mum had said the same thing back when her condition was just a big word on a piece of paper. How dare he know. 

“We have a garden too but it’s only for potions ingredients—Dad insists on growing his own, the uptight sod,” James continues, averting his gaze. If she didn’t already know this dance of his, she would find it laughable. Here we go: his specialty. Deflect, joke, talk in circles. How predictable, how infuriatingly—”

“So, I’m sure you saw I was made Head Boy.”

—straight forward?

“I did,” she stutters, taken aback, “but I don’t see how that warrants a house call.”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been answering my letters.”

It hits hard and fast, stinging on impact. She had expected a lot of things from him when they would finally have to meet again, but pain and resentment on his part was not one of them. 

“I’d hardly call some silly drawing a letter.”

“You used to.” His eyes narrow, steely and cold.

“Well, this time there was nothing to say, so drop it.”

She wants to sound sure of herself, but it comes out warped and cracked, like the records they used to listen to on the dorm room floor—like the one that played when…when…

No No No No. Don’t go there, never there…

“I think you should leave.”

It’s not the tears blurring her vision that make the words stick in her throat, but the look on his face as she says them. Pale and helpless and deliberately not James. The James she knows is a ball of light, an endless force of energy ringing laughter through the halls—not, some beaten boy standing in the polluted haze of the moon.

He scrubs his face, knocking his glasses askew. 

“Please. I just need—”

“No.”

“ Merlin, I’m being serious I—”

“I said no. Goodbye Potter.” She twists on her feet and her heels dig into the soil, breath coming painful and shallow from her windpipe.

“I am going to decline the Head Position—I wanted you to hear it from me.”

It pierces sharp and hot into her heart. She spins back towards him to find him still frozen in place. Suddenly, the urge to run, wrap her arms around him and tell him to stay passes over her like a chill.

“Why.”

“Because I don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, sure. A pureblood not deserving it .” 

She can see the anger rise in his shoulders, his brow knitting into a tight line. Good, show me something Potter.

“What are you talking about? You of all people should know that—”

He stops abruptly, letting out an exasperated sigh. His steeled reserve drops. 

“Look—Dumbledore is nutter for giving me this badge and we both know it. I’ve been a bloody nightmare to them for years—they could have picked anyone else, honestly anyone , and they would have made more sense.”

She snorts. “Never took you to be the self deprecating type.”

It awards her a joyless laugh. 

“Sure you have—I’m the biggest wanker of them all. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

Anger twists in her veins, propelling her back towards him as though ready to strike. She waits for him to recoil, perhaps search for his wand, but he just watches her return, the ends of his untidy hair catching glints of moonlight and quickening her heart.

It’s not until she’s standing back in front of him that she notices something warm and damp pattering onto the skin of her folded arms. His face immediately softens and she can tell he wants to rush forward and wipe the tears from her cheeks, but he won’t and she won’t let him. 

“ Lils,” he pleads, eyes dragging across her tear stained face, “I’m doing this for you.”  

“Do not call me that,” she hisses, wiping her cheek impatiently, “You have no right. And don’t give me that, you have no idea what I want. I don’t care if you are bloody Head Boy or dead at the bottom of the lake at this point I—”

He lets out a strangled cry, turning away from her to clench at his hair. When he turns back, he wipes his eyes, a glassy sheen now coating his irises. 

“You’re right, Evans,” he says, making no effort to smile. “I don’t know—so enlighten me. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” 

A jolt of electricity runs up her spine, threatening her nervous system to short circuit. How many times over the years had he said those words and when did he actually start meaning them?

All of them—every single bloody time.

It unlatches the box that kept the memories of him at bay and suddenly the images seep through like ink on a canvas. James past and present float through her vision like beautiful, wonderful, infuriating ghosts. 

“Be Head Boy or don’t, I don’t care,” her voice breaks, a choking noise bubbling up. “—but stop playing all these games with me because…because I won’t be able to survive it—really Potter. I mean it. I know you are an arrogant prick and probably get your rocks off watching me wallow and make a fool of myself after you like I’m still bloody thirteen, but I’m not some plaything you can just toss around and take the piss whenever you—”

He closes the distance between them so fast, she hardly registers it, both hands cupping her face and demanding her attention. 

“So it wasn’t the drugs. You meant to kiss me.” 

The heat rises so fast it scorches her cheeks. 

“I wish I had never done it.”

“But at the time—you wanted to.”

She wiggles under his hands but he doesn’t let her go, eyes wild and determined. 

Vulnerable. She’s far too vulnerable. 

“What does it matter?” She gasps, tears falling between his fingers, “Like I said, it's all one big game for you. The lads probably got into your head that it was a good idea to—what did they call it?—’pop your muggleborn cherry’ so you decided to entertain my pathetic little relapse and snog me just to say that—”

“Is that really what you think of me?” He cuts her off, nostrils flaring, “Lily, I don’t know what reality you are in but you’ve got this all wrong. I don’t know how I could have made myself any more clear…”

The memories boil over again—every moment he has ever shown her kindness or, god forbid, attraction being shrouded by some other, sinister inner voice. 

“Well, you aren’t being clear!” She screams, finally wrenching his hands off her face. “One day you are giving me foot touches under the table, writing me little letters… and the next you recoil from me in your bloody bed !”

There’s a beat of silence, then James lets out a laugh so unhinged and feral she takes a step back.

“Fucking Hell, you are delusional.”

An insult sits at the top of her tongue but he keeps laughing, all of the tension in his shoulders melting away. He looks completely mad, keeled over with his hair tousled and glasses barely hanging on to his ears. 

“Evans,” he pants, trying to catch his breath, “Me recoiling from you? That was out of self preservation.” 

His words sink to the bottom of her stomach, setting off the flutter of a thousand little snitches. 

“If you had even gotten close—pressed up against me even slightly— I would have made a fool of myself, you’d have felt me make a fool of myself. Merlin, I’m embarrassed just saying it.”

Oh. Oh.  A flush streaks across her face and neck, trying her best to not linger on what it implies—

“Do you get it?” He gasps, finally righting himself and raking a hand through his hair, “Please don’t make me elaborate on the fickle anatomy of a teenage boy, Evans. I’m standing on your bloody doorstep…”

It’s not possible. He’s taking the piss…

Like aligning tiny intricate puzzle pieces, one clicks together with another. 

“But Elodie…Slughorn's party—” she stammers, her whole inside churning, “I know she asked you—Christ, she asked me if she could…”

He looks as though he has been slapped, eyes wide and body leaning back. When he recovers, he speaks slowly.

“Lily…I went to Slughorn’s party looking for you.”

“Rubbish.”

“Fucking honest,” he stammers, eyes getting more bright by the syllable.

“Elodie did ask me, but I turned her down. I went because you had been so weird about wanting me to go in the library—” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shoulder clenching breath. 

“—And yes, maybe I was hopeful that you had been trying to ask me…you know, just in a real bloody confusing kind of way.”

Another click of a piece, but instead of making it easier to decipher, it makes everything turn belly up. Years worth of interactions with him racing past her eyes, now at an angle she hadn’t considered before.

But you’re a muggleborn. A freak. No one could love you. Just a plaything to take the piss out of. The sirens begin in her head and they are deafening, making it hard to even think.

“James,” she murmurs, eyes stinging again, “It's too much. I think you should leave.”

Something flashes across his face and his eyes darken, jaw tightening in indignance. 

“Sorry, but no. Not until you get it.”

He walks towards her, slow and somewhat unsure of himself. It’s a jarring visual—James being hesitant. Ever since she has met him, he has thrown himself into everything with such gusto and trust. Now, he steps deliberately, like dodging a thousand trip wires waiting to unlock a trap door. 

She should run—rush back inside the house and slam the door, leaving the beautiful curve of his jaw, and the square of his shoulders and the moonlight in his hair out in the street. But by the time she is ready to dart, his hand reaches back up to her cheek, rooting her to the spot. 

“I want to propose something to you but I need you to give me the floor again.” His words echo from fifth year, ringing as steady and warm as they did back in the forest. 

“I want you to stop over thinking things—get out of that brilliant, freaky, fucking fantastic brain of yours and listen to me— and really listen because I don’t think I will be able to say it again—so will you humor me? Please?”

Another stab from the past. Just like in his dorm, he’s not asking, he’s begging. She doesn’t know what to say, feeling the heat of his hand and sharp stare of his eyes lulling her away like in a trance. Eventually, she feels herself nod. 

He closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. Maybe it was unintentional, but his thumb gives a slow caress to her cheek. 

“I know I’m an idiot—I don’t deserve anything more than what you have already given me for the past six years— hell, I definitely don’t deserve the second chance back in fifth—but I want you to know, need you to really understand that I have been so foolishly in love with you since the moment I met you.”

There is no air. No sound. They are hovering untethered in a void. 

“I didn’t really understand what the feeling was until probably fifth year—and even then I did an utter shite job showing you—but, again, I need you to know that there isn’t a day that passes where you aren’t on my mind, where just the thought of your hair or the color of your eyes or the way you hold a bloody quill doesn’t make me want to implode with a happiness that I certainly, certainly have no right to feel.”

It’s a sadness she has never seen on him before. One that cuts to the bone.

“If you still hate me and want nothing to do with me after this, I swear I will never bother you again, but I just really needed you to know—and it’s not a joke, not me trying to take the piss or play games with you like you constantly seem to think. I am obsessed with you and honestly at this point I wish you would just be cruel about it and go on and tell me to fuck off—”

She lurches forward on her toes, slotting his mouth against hers before he can continue to spiral any further. His lips move soft and warm just as she remembers and a small gasp of Lils drifts into the air. Unlike the time in the dorm, his hands move slow like drifting through water, down her neck and back, savoring each centimeter they drop until they wind around her waist to pull her in deeper. Only after the fact, maybe days or months later will she realize that all the noise and voices that usually plagued her brain have vanished. The silence is so delectable.

When they finally come up for air, it makes her laugh—a real, raw one that tilts her head back and cuts through the night. Eventually she realizes he had started to laugh too, pressing his forehead against hers and kissing the lingering vibration away.

“Merlin, your laugh,” he groans into the crook of her neck, pressing an impossibly large smile into her skin. “I’m addicted to it—how did it take you this long to understand I’m hopeless for you. Seriously, just take me out of my misery…”

It makes her laugh again, but this time he catches it, his lips sweeter than anything she could ever imagine. 

“Don’t worry, I will.”

* * * * *

Of all her seven years of Hogwarts, she has never noticed how intimidating the double doors to the Great Hall are. Have they always been this big? This…terrifying?

“Evans— you’re doing it again. Let me in.” 

She feels the press of warm and familiar lips into her cheek, lingering by her ear just to make her skin prickle like he knows it will. Arse.

“It’s going to be fine—dare I say, even brilliant.”

She snorts and he rewards her with another kiss to the neck—something she’s grown very fond of in their final stolen weeks of summer. 

“Says the boy who is so chuffed about showing off he could die.”

James flashes her a smile, beaming from ear to ear. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he cradles her to his chest, leaning his chin in the crook of her neck. 

“Give jabs all you want, Evans. I am chuffed—but hopefully I don’t die anytime soon because I have big plans for us…namely some that involve that comfy looking couch back in the Heads’ office…”

Heat rises to her cheeks and his smile grows wider than humanly possible.

“ Stop,” she groans, reaching up to tug at his hair, “We are seconds away from shepherding loads of first years to their common rooms…becoming role models… .You can’t be bringing up things like…like…”

“Hm, like what?” He wiggles his fingers against her stomach, making her squirm against him. 

“Nevermind—you’re impossible,” she sighs, resigning herself. He continues to feather kisses up her neck, finding her pressure point and nuzzling his nose. She can’t even pretend she doesn’t like it.

“James?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me again how this year is going to go.”

He hums against her skin, then pulls up—eyes wide and shining and full of an adoration no one has ever shown her in her life.

“Well–” he tsks, holding her with both arms around the stomach and swaying her playfully. 

“Upon walking through these doors I will swoop you into a romantic kiss and the whole school will cheer.”

“Alright, territorial. ”

“Then,” He continues ignoring her, “We will become the best Head Boy and Girl this school has ever seen: catch wannabe death eater pricks...dole out detentions...make use of our ability to stay out after curfew to snog….”

“Funny, that last one wasn’t on the duties sheet.”

He gives a small growl and she reaches up to give his chin a shake, kissing the bicep that wraps around her. 

“Oh, it was definitely on there—and anyways, don’t hate me for trying to make up for lost time.”

She spins around, burrowing her hands into his hair and his response to it is blinding—her bright star that will never go out. 

“Let's get through the welcome feast first,” she says, peppering his cheek with kisses. His arms tighten around her, a hum of satisfaction escaping his lips. 

“Whatever you want, Evans.”

When they turn to enter, James’ face is still beaming and she wonders if he has broken the record for happiness. He reaches out and takes her hand, and she knows her eyes must be bright and brimming with a word that has hung on her lips all summer-love.

As the door opens she waits for an outpouring of thoughts, the chanting of mudblood…the gasp of her kind ever being associated with his…the sound of her sister’s voice or Severus’ or even just her own telling her that she will never never be good enough. 

But she is enough. He thinks she’s enough. And with a squeeze of his hand, it all goes silent.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Playing for Keeps | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Chapter 7

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Words: ~4,200

Tags: Modern AU, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Hurt/No Comfort, Drama

Sebastian scrolled through his phone, the pale glow illuminating his face in the dim light of the Slytherin common room. He sat slouched in his favorite armchair, headphones in, blocking out the faint hum of conversation from the other students scattered around. He didn't have the bandwidth to hear what they were saying—he had enough noise to deal with on Wandsworth.

The school’s dedicated social app was buzzing. Post after post dissected the scene at Garreth’s party, each one worse than the last. His jaw tightened as he skimmed the endless stream of comments.

“Absolutely disgusting. Treating someone like a bet? They should both be expelled.” “Poor Chouette. She didn’t deserve that.” “Honestly, what did she expect? She’s not exactly the kind of girl someone like Sallow would go for.” “Can’t believe she thought she had a chance with Sallow OR Prewett. Beauxbatons rejects don’t belong here anyway.”

Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down slowly as he forced himself to stop reading. The words on the page blurred together, their weight sinking into his chest like a stone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

The bet had been stupid. Reckless. Immature. A moment of poor judgment, driven by pride and insecurity; a way to save face, a knee-jerk reaction to Leander’s smirking challenge. It had been about proving something then, about not letting someone like Leander Prewett have the upper hand.

But it had spiraled so far beyond that now.

Sebastian had planned to call the whole thing off last night at the party. He’d seen the way Leander was angling toward you these past weeks, his intentions clear in every lingering look and easy laugh, and Sebastian had told himself enough was enough. He knew Leander was going to make his move, and Sebastian intended to stop it, to shut the whole thing down before it got out of hand.

But it was too late.

He clenched his jaw, the memory burning in his mind. Leander, smug as ever, had standing with you by the fire, talking with that performative charm he always wore like a badge of honor. You’d been laughing—actual laughter, soft and unguarded in a way that made something twist uncomfortably in Sebastian’s chest. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until Leander leaned closer and kissed you.

The image played on a loop in Sebastian’s mind, gnawing at his thoughts and stirring a mix of anger, guilt, and jealousy he couldn’t suppress. And the sight of Leander leading you toward the bathroom, his hand on the small of your back, had lit a fire in Sebastian’s chest that refused to die.

The noise of the party faded as he stormed after you both, his steps quick and purposeful, anger and guilt fueling each stride. He wasn’t thinking—he couldn’t think, not when every nerve in his body screamed at him to stop whatever was about to happen. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight enough to ache as he pushed through the dimly lit hallway.

When he caught up to Leander, you were already inside, the bathroom door closing softly behind you. Leander leaned casually against the wall, his smugness radiating off him like a beacon. He looked too pleased with himself, his confidence grating on Sebastian’s already frayed nerves.

“The wager's off,” Sebastian said, his voice low but seething with barely contained fury.

Leander raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What’s your problem, Sallow? Jealous?”

Sebastian’s fists twitched at his sides. “This isn’t a joke, Prewett. You’ve had your fun. It’s over.”

“She’s already half in my pocket,” Leander had said. “That kiss sealed the deal. I've got this in the bag.”

Unfortunately for both of them, neither noticed the nosy fifth-year lingering nearby, their phone raised discreetly. By the time Sebastian turned to leave, his head spinning with frustration and guilt, the damage had already been done.

A single tap of the screen was all it took. The recording, raw and damning, was sent into the hands of the entire school within minutes. The chaos spread like wildfire, the whispers turning into shouts as screens lit up with the heated exchange.

Sebastian hadn’t grasped the full extent of the fallout until this morning. When he woke, his phone was flooded with hundreds of notifications—tags, comments, DMs, and the inescapable reality that everything had spiraled completely out of control. And the damage wasn’t just confined to the walls of Wandsworth.

The group chat was chaos, messages piling in faster than he could read. But one notification had stood out, glaring at him from the screen like a punch to the gut:

“Chouette left the group.”

Sebastian had stared at those four words far longer than he wanted to admit, guilt twisting in his stomach like a blade. He could almost hear the deafening silence left in your wake, the absence of your name among the chat participants louder than anything the others could say.

He didn’t know what was worse—the fact that you’d left without a word, or the fact that he couldn’t blame you.

And this morning, even more messages had come in, fast and furious, each sentence sharp enough to cut.

Imelda: I still can't believe you two. A bet? Are you actually that pathetic? She deserves so much better than this. Imelda: And Sallow, I hope you're ready to run laps at practice tomorrow you prick Poppy: What were you guys thinking? I can’t believe you’d do something so shitty. Leander, don't come to summoner's court practice. Cressida: Disgusting, honestly. Natty: I thought you two were better than this. Clearly, I was wrong. Adelaide: Imagine implying that someone is only worth 50 galleons?

Sebastian sighed heavily, the sound muffled through his headphones as he leaned back in his chair. The ache in his chest wasn’t unfamiliar—it had been gnawing at him since you verbally dismantled him at the party—but now it felt like it had spread, weighing down every part of him. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to face the day, the stares, or the whispers. But skipping breakfast wasn’t an option. If he didn’t eat something before class, he’d spend the morning distracted by hunger on top of everything else.

Dragging himself out of the chair, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. His headphones stayed firmly in place, the music turned up just loud enough to drown out the murmur of voices around the common room. He didn’t want to hear them. He didn’t need to. The looks were bad enough.

By the time Sebastian reached the Great Hall, the tension in his chest had coiled into a knot so tight it was difficult to breathe. He paused at the entrance, his gaze sweeping the bustling room. Students were chattering, laughing, and leaning over their plates, the usual hum of morning activity filling the air. But as soon as he stepped inside, the energy shifted.

Conversations faltered. Heads turned. It wasn’t immediate, but a ripple spread through the room, quieting the usual din as more and more eyes landed on him. The weight of their stares was suffocating, and for a fleeting moment, he considered turning around and leaving.

Instead, he forced himself forward, his shoulders squared as he made his way toward the Slytherin table. Imelda, Ominis, Nerida, Grace, and Violet were clustered together, their heads bent in quiet conversation. As he approached, they looked up one by one, their expressions hardening with a mix of cold disapproval and pointed disdain.

Sebastian slowed to a stop, meeting Ominis’s gaze for a brief, excruciating moment. His friend didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The message was clear: Don’t sit here.

For a heartbeat, Sebastian considered trying anyway—saying something to break the tension. But the weight of their collective silence crushed the thought. With a sharp exhale, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and moved past them, heading for the far end of the table where no one else was sitting.

Sliding into the seat, he kept his eyes down and reached for a slice of toast, forcing himself to take a bite. It tasted like nothing, dry and flavorless in his mouth. Glancing around the room, he noticed Leander sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, as well. His usual entourage had abandoned him, and he looked utterly miserable.

For a fleeting moment, Sebastian felt a grim sense of satisfaction. Serves him right. Leander deserved to feel the full brunt of this mess, deserved every ounce of guilt and isolation that came with it. After all, he’d been the one to start the bet, the one who’d pushed it too far.

But the feeling didn’t last.

Because no matter how much Leander deserved this, as much as Sebastian did, it didn’t undo the damage.

And the worst part was that Sebastian knew. He knew he’d set this all in motion. If he’d just said no to Leander—if he’d kept his mouth shut, if he’d done literally anything else—you wouldn’t be bearing the brunt of the fallout. But he hadn’t.

Across the hall, the sound of laughter broke through his thoughts, sharp and grating against his ears. He glanced up, spotting the sixth-year cheerleading captain at the Ravenclaw table, her head thrown back in exaggerated amusement. As if sensing his gaze, she turned and locked eyes with him, a slow smile curling across her lips.

Sebastian’s stomach churned. He quickly looked away, shoving the rest of the toast into his mouth and swallowing hard. But it was too late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her approaching.

“Morning, Sebastian,” Amelia Rosier greeted, her voice light and sweet, with a practiced undertone of flirtation. She stopped beside his seat, placing a perfectly manicured hand on the table as she leaned slightly toward him.

Sebastian didn’t immediately respond, keeping his headphones in as though he hadn’t heard her. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d move on.

But she didn’t. Instead, she reached out and tapped his shoulder lightly. “Sebastian?” she repeated, louder this time, her tone teetering between playful and insistent.

Sighing, Sebastian pulled one earbud out and glanced up, his expression carefully neutral. “What?”

Amelia tilted her head, her platinum hair catching the morning sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling. “Oh, don’t be like that,” she said with a soft laugh, sliding into the empty seat beside him uninvited. “I thought you could use some company. It’s looking a little lonely over here.”

“I’m fine,” Sebastian replied flatly, already regretting giving her any attention.

She didn’t seem to notice—or care—about his tone. Instead, she smiled brightly, her blue eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction. “I just wanted to say, I’m so glad all those ridiculous rumors about you and her are finally cleared up. It’s such a relief to know you’ve got better taste than that.”

Sebastian stiffened, his grip tightening on the edge of the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Amelia blinked, feigning surprise. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “She’s fine, I suppose. But let’s be honest—she’s not exactly your type, is she?”

The knot in Sebastian’s stomach twisted painfully, a tight, unforgiving grip that made it impossible to breathe properly. He opened his mouth to respond, to say something—anything—but no words came. Instead, he just stared at her, the weight of his own guilt and shame pressing down on him like a physical force.

Amelia misread his silence as agreement, her smile widening. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, people were saying such absurd things. Like you’d ever go for someone like her.” She gave a soft, dismissive laugh, brushing a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “But I get it now—you were just being polite. You’re too nice for your own good sometimes.”

Sebastian’s stomach sank deeper with every word Amelia said. Her voice, syrupy and smug, grated against his ears. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the growing urge to snap at her. Once, not so long ago, he might’ve taken solace in her words. He might’ve let her assumption bolster his carefully constructed reputation—the one that had always made him feel untouchable, even if it meant pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

But now? Now, it just made him feel sick.

Amelia kept talking, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “Honestly, I think it’s kind of sweet that you were so patient with her. You probably didn’t want to hurt her feelings, right? That’s what makes you different from guys like Prewett. You actually care about people.”

The irony of her words was too much.

“I’m not too nice,” he said, his voice cold and clipped. “And I don’t need your commentary.”

Amelia blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his sharp tone. Her smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered, her polished demeanor snapping back into place like a well-practiced spell.

“Oh, I get it,” she said with a soft laugh, waving a perfectly manicured hand dismissively. “You’ve been under so much stress with all this drama, haven’t you? It’s only natural to feel a little overwhelmed. Honestly, I think you’re handling it much better than most people would.”

Sebastian bit back a scoff, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he forced himself to remain silent. He didn’t trust himself to respond, not without letting the bubbling anger and shame in his chest spill over.

Amelia leaned closer, her voice dropping just enough to make the conversation feel intimate—though it was anything but. “Anyway, don’t let it get to you. You know how people are—always looking for something to gossip about. But things will blow over soon. They always do.”

She straightened, her hair catching the light again as she smoothed down her uniform, her tone shifting to something lighter, more playful. “And hey, I’ll see you this weekend at the Quidditch match, right? I’ll be in the front row, cheering for Slytherin.” She winked, adding with a coy smile, “Especially for you.”

Sebastian didn’t look up, keeping his gaze fixed on the table. He gave a noncommittal grunt, hoping it would be enough to end the conversation.

Amelia, seemingly satisfied, stood and adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t be such a stranger, Sebastian,” she said breezily, flashing him one last dazzling smile before turning on her heel and walking away.

The moment she was gone, Sebastian let out a long breath, leaning back in his chair.

The words Amelia had said kept replaying in his mind, echoing alongside the cruel comments he’d seen on Wandsworth. You were just being polite. You’re too nice for your own good sometimes. As if that was all it had been. As if you were some sort of pity project for him, when the truth was so much messier and infinitely more complicated.

Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the thoughts away, but they stuck like thorns. With a sigh, he grabbed his bag and stood, slinging it over his shoulder as he left the Great Hall. The stares and whispers followed him all the way to the door, but he didn’t look back.

He had class to get to, even if the day stretched out before him like a gauntlet.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, he kept his gaze down, fiddling with his quill as he waited for class to begin. The room buzzed with low chatter, punctuated by the occasional laugh or hushed whisper, but all of it felt distant, as though he were trapped in a bubble of his own making.

And then you walked in.

Imelda was right at your side, her steps purposeful and sharp, her head held high as though daring anyone to say something. Her usual smirk was replaced with a hard, cutting edge, her eyes scanning the room like a predator on the hunt for prey.

You, on the other hand, looked as though you hadn’t slept in days. Your eyes were red and puffy, your shoulders hunched slightly as though you were trying to make yourself smaller. The sight made something twist painfully in Sebastian’s chest.

You didn’t glance in his direction as you sat down, Imelda immediately taking the seat beside you. She shot him a glare that could’ve rivaled the Killing Curse, and he quickly averted his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Leander entered a moment later, looking no better than Sebastian felt. His usually smug expression was replaced with one of quiet misery, dark circles under his eyes making his already pale complexion look even worse. He glanced briefly at you before taking his seat across the room, his head down and his shoulders slumped.

Sebastian barely registered Professor Hecat’s entrance or the beginning of the lesson. Every word went in one ear and out the other, the weight of everything pulling his attention away. He kept glancing over at you, unable to stop himself. Each time, he caught the way you stared blankly at your notes, barely scribbling anything down. Imelda, for all her sharp-edged confidence, kept casting worried glances in your direction, her lips pressed into a thin line.

The rest of the day was the same. Each class dragged on, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. Everywhere you went, Imelda was there, sticking close to you like a guard dog. She sat beside you, walked with you in the halls, and even lingered outside the classroom doors during breaks, her gaze daring anyone to step out of line.

The walk to the common room after classes felt longer than usual, the dimly lit corridors stretching endlessly in front of him. Sebastian's footsteps echoed against the stone, the only sound breaking the silence. By the time he got inside, the murmur of Slytherins gathered near the fireplace only served to deepen the knot of tension in his chest. He avoided their gazes, making a beeline for the stairs.

When he reached his dorm, he dropped his bag unceremoniously onto the floor and collapsed onto his bed with a groan. Dinner could wait—or, rather, he could skip it entirely. The thought of sitting alone at the table, surrounded by people who didn’t even try to hide their disdain, was too much to stomach. Instead, he rummaged through his nightstand and pulled out a small stash of Honeydukes sweets.

For hours, he leaned back against the headboard, eating candies as the glow of his phone illuminated his face in the dark. His thumb moved almost mechanically as he scrolled through the endless posts on Wandsworth. The app was still a raging dumpster fire, as he’d expected—but he couldn’t stop looking.

“I don’t care what people say—she’s not pretty. At all. I mean, it’s no wonder Sallow wasn’t serious about her.” “If she dropped a few pounds, maybe someone would take her seriously. As it is? Good luck.” “Can’t believe she made the Quidditch team. I’m winded just looking at her. Imelda gave her the spot out of pity.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw, the words gnawing at his insides like a parasite. Every comment, every cruel jab, felt like a grotesque distortion of the truth. These people—people who didn’t even know you—had reduced you to a caricature, as if you were nothing more than a joke for them to dissect and destroy.

And worst of all, he knew he’d started it.

Him and Leander, with their stupid, petty bet. Their idiotic need to one-up each other. It had been so easy to brush off in the moment. Too easy. Because he’d told himself it didn’t matter—that you didn’t matter.

But you did. Merlin, you did.

The memory of that day in the Undercroft hit him like a hex, the sharp echo of Ominis’s voice cutting through the haze of guilt and self-loathing.

Ominis had seen through him, as he always did. He’d stripped away every excuse, every fragile defense Sebastian had thrown up, and left him with nothing but the raw, undeniable truth, even if he denied it at the time.

Sebastian had been watching you. He had been obsessed with you. But he’d let fear dictate his every move—fear of what people would think, fear of the whispers that would follow him down the hallways, fear of the judgment that would come if anyone knew the truth.

And for what? To protect his fragile pride? To avoid the risk of anyone realizing that he was attracted to you? Really, really attracted to you? That Sebastian liked you? That he wanted someone who didn’t fit the mold of what everyone thought he should want?

Someone who was the “right” kind of pretty. The kind of girl that came with a neat little package of approval from the boys in the locker room, from the gossiping girls in the hallways, from the ever-present crowd that always seemed to be watching, judging. He could already hear their whispers, their sly, knowing remarks. “Sallow’s standards must be slipping.” “Didn’t think he’d go for someone like that.”

It had been easier—safer—to fall into line. To flirt with the Amelias of the world, to keep up the illusion that he wasn’t the kind of guy who might want something different. Something more.

But if he were honest with himself—really honest—he’d known. He’d known he liked you from the moment he first saw you in the Great Hall.

The memory was burned into his mind like a brand. The confident tilt of your chin, the delicate line of your nose, the soft curve of your cheeks—all of it had captivated him instantly. Your eyes had caught the light with an unreadable glint, and your lips, plush and slightly parted, had made his heart stutter in ways he couldn’t explain.

A single strand of hair slipping loose to frame your face had him wondering, despite himself, what it might feel like to twirl his finger around it.

He could still see the way your robes draped over your frame, the fabric cinching just enough at your waist to hint at the soft curve beneath before cascading in fluid lines that seemed to move with you. It was maddening, the effortless way you wore them, as if they were tailored specifically to make him lose his composure. And beneath them, he could see the stretch of your crisp white button-up, the fabric pulled taut across your chest, hinting at the faintest sliver of skin where the buttons strained against their confines.

And your scent—Merlin, your scent. It was as vivid in his memory as if you were standing beside him now. Like ripe berries crushed in the heat of summer, balanced with a faint tang of citrus that lingered just long enough to leave him wanting more.

Sebastian groaned, dragging his hands down his face before letting them fall limply to his sides. His gaze flicked up to his phone screen, the glaring numbers seeming to mock him: 2:14 AM. The realization was a heavy weight on his chest—he’d spent hours stewing in his own frustration, scrolling on his phone and replaying every moment of the party like a broken record. And for what? He wasn’t any closer to figuring out what to do.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. His fingers tugged at his hair in frustration, his chest tightening as the storm in his mind refused to quiet. Sleep was out of the question—his thoughts wouldn’t allow it. The guilt, the anger, the confusion—it all churned inside him, clawing at him like a living thing.

Finally, he pushed himself upright, the bed creaking softly beneath him. Staying here would only drive him mad. Tossing and turning until sunrise wasn’t an option, not when every fiber of his being screamed for some kind of release, some way to escape his own thoughts.

He reached for a hoodie draped over the back of his chair, pulling it on with a resigned sigh. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well walk it off. The castle would be quiet at this hour, the corridors deserted and bathed in a soft, eerie glow from the enchanted torches lining the walls. It wasn’t the first time he’d wandered the halls at night—he practically had the art of sneaking around the castle down to a science.

He snatched his headphones off the desk, shoving them into his ears before slipping out of the dorm.

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[oftenwantedafton]

and then there was us | william afton x f!reader

chapter 3

After a lifetime of being a family of two, your mother marries a wealthy British gentleman with one child of his own: a teenage boy that is one year older than you.

His name is William Afton.

At first, he seems rather reserved, introverted, a bit standoffish. But with time, the walls crumble and you begin to form a friendship with the young man who harbors a shared penchant for fantasy literature and videogames and a deep fascination with the design and function of animatronics.

Now your parents are finally going on their honeymoon, leaving the pair of you to fend for yourselves for two weeks. Soon your friendship evolves into a forbidden romance that grows more and more intense with each passing day, the burden of this secret harder and harder to keep.

It is no longer a question of if you should or shouldn’t; only of how you can have more of each other for as long as possible.

Explicit content, underage sex, pseudo incest, 8k words

ao3 link

The hot water pelts your skin.

You don’t linger long beneath that assault in the shower, hastily scrubbing at your body while William fixes the bedding in your room. You think it is an excuse to keep occupied, because the alternative—being in this deluge beside each other’s naked bodies—is more temptation than either of you can resist right now. It surprises you how much want there is still in you after being so recently sated, the fingers hastily lathering your skin with the bar of lavender soap abruptly stuttering over sensitive places just newly awakened. You’d already caught a glimpse in the mirror above the bathroom sink of the raspberry tinted mark your new lover has inflicted on your neck, the fragile vessels surrendering to the intense strength of his ravenous mouth, rupturing and releasing your life force close to the skin’s surface. It will be visible above the level of your school blouse collar; its central placement means your hair won’t be able to shield it from view. A layer of concealer will be necessary, lest your classmates begin teasing you, demanding to know the intimate details, the who and where and what, precisely, you did as you try to evade the dissaproving glares of the faculty. A reputation is what you’d have. Good Catholic girls don’t do things like this. Especially not with their stepbrothers.

You realize your hands have stopped moving. You’re thinking of his hands instead. His mouth. His body above yours, trapping your wrists. The last of the suds dissappear down the drain. You set the soap back in its dish and jerk the chrome handle until the spray of water ceases.

Once out of the walk-in shower, you spend a few moments pondering your now damp reflection in the mirror, noticing the inky centers of your pupils still blown wide with desire, the slight swell of your lips, that blotchy badge of desire he’d gifted staining your throat like a pendant dangling from some invisible choker. Familiar, and yet different, this image; recognizeable, and yet changed.

We shouldn’t be doing this. We should stop, before it’s too late.

What constitutes too late? you argue back at yourself. Which boundary is the one that should be deemed the final transgression, forever condemning you? When you’re completely naked together? Touching bare flesh? Kissing it? The penultimate sin of letting him inside of you?

God, does the thought of that go straight to your core. You finish wrapping the towel around yourself, clutching the ends of the fabric tightly after tucking it into a lazy gather above your breasts. The desire is stronger than ever, drowning out that nagging guilt more and more readily.

It’s already too late, you think. There is no going back, because I don’t really want to. He says I’ve already got him wrapped around my finger and I’m so caught up in him, in this fragile, forbidden thing we’ve begun building together. I want him.

You hear the soft knock on the bathroom door just as you’ve finished applying a quick blast of hot air from the hair dryer over your sodden locks. “You can come in.”

The door swings inward and William steps inside the room, dark lashes lowered in a moment of charming shyness before they lift and he dares to view you properly. “All finished?”

“Yeah, just.” Your eyes linger on the sharp lines of his collarbones and a freckle you’re just now noticing dotting the alabaster skin above his left hip, and your mouth waters at the thought of caressing and tasting him, mapping with fingers and tongue, committing the details to memory. Veins run like roads, straight here, forked there, the pathways along the tempting flesh carrying blood cells stripped of oxygen appearing blue because of some trick of the eyes, your biology teacher had said once, something about the way wavelengths of light are absorbed, the red sinking in deeply while the blue reflects back an optical illusion. You feel equally as starved for oxygen molecules like those depleted cells now, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth past the sudden dry, burning ache in your throat, aware that you’re staring but unable to look away.

“Bed’s ready,” he says, his voice gruff, and you realize his gaze has wandered to your breasts, the rounded curves shifting and straining against your hastily tucked towel with each rapid breath you exchange. You carefully pull the plug on the hair dryer and coil the cord around the barrel, then place it back on the shelf. He takes a step closer, effectively blocking your exit. Your gaze dips to the stained boxer briefs clinging to his narrow hips. You shiver at the sight of that lingering evidence of the blissful sin you’ve committed together still waiting to be washed away.

There’s an awkward little shuffle as you both shift to move around each other, skin brushing skin, soft, nervous laughs dusting against bodies. His fingers clutch your upper arm and you instantly jerk to a halt. His mouth is what draws your attention now, those lips that had once been perpetually pressed so thin, so narrowed with disdain, now plush and full, inviting you to taste them. So you do. You curl a hand behind his neck and his head lowers to capture your mouth. Closed, first, then open, the mint flavor you’d noted earlier absent now. A little sound escapes one or both of you, a moaned hum of pleasure, of longing, his arms snaking around your torso to gather you in a rapid crush against his chest while you toy with the strands of hair curling over your fingers. You silently curse the barrier of the towel between you. You want to feel all of his bare skin pressed against all of yours. The drum of his pulse. You clutch his lower back and your nails dig into his flesh, leaving little crescent moon shaped marks as your mouth explores his shoulder. Devour. That is the thought consuming you. A hunger like you’ve never known.

The small, secretive smile curving his mouth now tucked against the side of your neck sends another wave of warmth through you. “Careful,” he cautions, his voice still gravel, the British accent uttered in this grittier tone digging deeply into your gut, sending a new thrill of arousal inside of you. “I’m only human. My restraint can only be tested so far.”

“You should have taken a shower with me,” you murmur against his skin, your lips roaming to the much coveted collarbone. He exhales loudly when your tongue paints a stripe there. “Instead of being so responsible and proper.”

“The whiplash between pushing me away and this is a bit overwhelming, I must confess,” he mutters wryly, stroking your hair.

“It wasn’t easy. This isn’t easy, either,” you admit, drawing back slighty to study his features. “I know it’s wrong, but the guilt doesn’t feel the same anymore. It’s like…like I was standing at a crossroads, deciding between being with you and not, and now that I’ve seen what it’s like, I don’t see how I could ever go back. I don’t want to go back,” you add softly, your tone almost pleading. For forgiveness. For permission. Guidance in one direction or the other. Please, let it be that other.

“I know,” he agrees, smoothing back the stray tresses that have fallen across your face. “I feel the same way.” He kisses your lips gently. “Let me finish in here. I’ll be quick. Go get settled.”

You nod, reluctantly relaxing your grasp of him and clutching the knotted towel to keep it in place as you exit the bathroom. Your bed, you discover, has been neatly made, the covers turned down, pillows fluffed and appealingly positioned, a set of your pajamas and panties thoughtfully laid out for you. Cami and shorts, you notice, and that’s one of your cuter pairs of underwear, printed with little rosebuds and a satin bow adorning the center of the waistband. Skimpier clothing than you’d normally wear at this time of year, but the additional body heat you’ll be sharing beneath the covers will likely be more than sufficient to keep you comfortable. Assuming it even stays on, you think, another tingle radiating between your thighs. You hastily get dressed, tossing the towel in the hamper and checking your appearance in the dresser mirror a final time before perching on the edge of the mattress, waiting for your stepsibling to finish showering.

William returns moments later wearing pajama pants, his chest still bare. His hair is slicked back, but there are already stray pieces stubbornly falling forward. The mattress dips as he sits beside you and you lean over to kiss his shoulder, tasting the lingering traces of his body wash.

“Ready for bed?”

“Mmm…maybe.” The truth is, you’ve forgotten all about being tired. You don’t want to sleep. At all.

“Maybe? Have you seen what time it is? We have to be up in a few hours.”

“We don’t have to be up that early,” you counter. “You’re the one insisting on it.”

“Tell you what. We’ll do rock, paper, scissors. If I win, we get up early. If you win, you can adjust the alarm time. Is that fair?”

“Deal.”

“Alright. On three. One…two…three.” His fist remains closed while you spread your index and middle finger, groaning at the results while William’s teeth flash in a grin. “Well, fair is fair. That settles that.”

“Best of three?” You plead.

“No. That wasn’t part of the rules. Don’t be a sore loser,” he reprimands gently, reaching to adjust the strap of your top that has slid over one shoulder.

You pout but relent. “Okay, fine. You get the light.” You climb across the bed and he reaches for the lamp on the nightstand, the light extinguishing with a soft click.

You immediately reach out for him in the darkness, your fingers siphoning through his damp hair, then trailing down to his cheek. “You should have used the hair dryer. The pillow is going to be all wet now.”

“More complaints? You’re a very hard girl to please,” he teases.

“Not really,” you murmur, your head shifting, searching for his mouth. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of the sensation of his lips and tongue against yours.

He groans against you. “We have to go to sleep. Stop being so damn attractive.”

“Want me to change into something else? Cover up a little better?”

“No,” he growls, gripping your waist and tugging you closer. “This is perfect.”

“So naked wouldn’t be better—William!” You squeal when he slips a hand beneath your top, lightly stroking your ribs. “You just wait, next time I’m going to pick out something risqué for you to wear.”

“Which would entail what, do you imagine? My underwear selection is less than enthralling, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe not for you. I rather like seeing those bits of fabric clinging to your hips for dear life.”

“Oh you are naughty, aren’t you?” A kiss is pressed against your cheek before his mouth finds yours again.

“What are you going to do about it?” You challenge, licking his mouth open again. Your tongue wrestles his briefly before he pulls away, panting.

“Nothing at the moment, because we need to go to sleep.”

“Make me.”

The mattress springs creak as he shifts positions, climbing over you, his hands pinning your wrists by your face.

You struggle weakly against him, not really properly testing his strength, letting his weight keep you pinned beneath him. “For someone that wants to go to bed so badly, you don’t seem tired, either.”

“It’s not that I want to; it’s that I know we have to.” The regret audibly overshadows his words and you finally sigh in defeat, your limbs growing still.

“You know how much I want you, Sis,” he breathes against your cheek.

“Yes,” you whisper back, your pulse quickening at the reappearance of this taboo nickname. Do you dare return the gesture? Maybe not just yet.

“Tomorrow, we can…” His voice trails off as he nibbles your ear, leaving the possibilities to your imagination. “We have to get some rest now, okay?”

You don’t want to surrender, but you know he’s right. “Okay.”

You feel his body shift again, sinking down beside you once more, and you scoot closer, resting your head against his chest, sighing in satisfaction as his arm curls around you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You close your eyes and concentrate on the rhythm of his breathing, trying to match it with your own, surprised to feel yourself start to slowly doze off, sleep about to claim you at last.

***

Morning comes too soon, wan gray light creeping around the edges of the heavy curtains over your windows. The sound of the alarm is harsh and you scowl, trying to reach over your stepbrother to slap the snooze button.

“Don’t you dare.”

You can only faintly make out the British youth’s features, but he’s definitely frowning at you.

“So tired,” you mumble, reaching for one of his hands and attempting to stretch it towards the alarm clock. “Come on, use those long arms of yours.”

“I warned you about this.”

He sounds far too alert for this hour, especially considering how late you’d both been awake. You huff and continue to try to manipulate his limb until he chuckles softly against your hair, easily shaking free of your grip and tapping the snooze button to silence the blaring noise.

“Five minutes. That’s all you’re getting.”

Another sigh escapes you, then you shift until you’re propped up one elbow, looking down at your stepsibling. “Five minutes, huh? Better make the most of them, then.” Your face descends and you find his mouth and he hums a little surprised note of appreciation. “Scratchy,” you remark, dragging the backs of your knuckles against the stubble lining his cheek.

“I have no sympathy for you. Wait. Come back here,” he growls, seating his hand at the nape of your neck just as you’re about to move away, tugging you back towards his lips. There’s a little more force behind his kisses now, prying your lips apart with his tongue and nudging against yours. “I could get used to waking up like this,” he murmurs when you part for air.

“Does that mean I get another five minutes?”

“No.”

His face tips in the direction of the clock and you touch his jaw, turning his head back towards you. You remain like that for several moments, just studying each other in that vague half light, half darkness, each of you seemingly waiting for the other to make the next move.

“Shut off the alarm,” you whisper.

A slight movement against his throat as he swallows, then obeys your command, fumbling blindly, unwilling to break eye contact, forcing you to direct him towards the correct button, your fingers colliding and tangling together.

William’s hand travels down the front of your throat, grazing when he reaches the hickey, visible even in this dim lighting. “I didn’t mean to mark you up,” he apologizes.

“No?” You tease. “You sure about that?”

A grunt of sound and his hand continues its downward trek, dragging roughly down the outside of your camisole to massage one breast. You hiss in pleasure as he grabs the hem of your top and shoves the material upward, exposing your stiffening nipples. You like the feel of his hands on your bare skin, their slightly calloused surfaces roughened from all his tinkering. They’ll only get coarser as time passes, and that thought right there, that idea that you’ll still be with him like this in some future period of time makes your chest ache. You briefly conjure an image of an older version of your heart’s desire with laugh lines and crows feet and hair more threaded with white, but the vision is fuzzy, as if you can’t quite reconcile those changes. You focus once again on the present. He’s kissing you now, not your lips but your breasts, softly suckling while you card through his hair, the sensation igniting your core. His fingers seem to be hesitating by the waistband of your shorts until you clamp around his wrist and push downward to guide him, giving permission.

His face moves back to yours while his fingers dip through the folds of your sex and your back arches, knees folding and separating. You can hear how wet you are as he explores your pussy, spreading your liquid arousal around your clit, tracing gentle circles.

“Fuck, that feels so good. Just like that.”

“I want to make you cum.” His voice grates beside your cheek and you nod, then moan an affirmation. His middle finger drags back through the dew at your entrance and then strokes over the nub peeking from beneath the hood and your pelvis arches upward while your head grinds against the pillows.

His lips pepper your writhing body while he continues to caress your bundle of nerve endings, somehow instinctively figuring out the placement and rhythm that winds you up. Now your legs want to close, trap him, keep those deft fingers plucking. You feel heat blossoming in your spine, a warm wash of it that spreads across your skin and echoes inside of you. Your cries of blissful pleasure are masked by his mouth pressing against yours. Eventually you’re too sensitive for any more caresses, gripping his wrist this time to steer him away.

William pulls his hand free and sucks on his fingers, then kisses you roughly, gifting you a taste of yourself. “I’m going to eat that pussy after school today,” he pants against your mouth.

You exhale a shuddering breath at this crude promise. “I want you to cum, too.”

“In the shower. Let’s go.”

Normally you let the water run and lay things out before you get ready, but there’s none of that this morning. Your stepbrother turns the dial and strips out of his pajamas, helping you divest yourself of your own garments before you both step inside the walk-in.

His tall frame blocks most of the spray of water when you initially reach for him, finding his cock hot and flushed. He curses as you begin stroking, pulling in lazy pumps while he sucks on the slope between your neck and shoulder, threatening to leave another mark. You can feel the difference between his arousal and the water; the persistent, syrupy slick of precum as your fist moves faster and he groans, pressing you against the wall. He’s doing most of the work now, fucking into the tight ring of your fingers while your lips move in a frenzy against his own.

“Ungh…I can’t wait to be inside you.” The confession is muttered close beside your ear. You wonder how long it will be before you cave, giving in to that temptation. “Oh, fuck yes…” He moans into your mouth and his hips stutter a bit as he finally spills over your hand and you grin in satisfaction at the feel of taking him apart. His panting lips brush tenderly against your forehead before you finally begin the work of washing. You’re already addicted to this new partnered showering, naked and pressed close, hands moving over each other’s bodies, learning all the scars and freckles, the flat planes and rounded curves and just how sensitive so many places are beneath fingertips and lips and tongue.

“We have to go,” he murmurs regretfully once he’s done making sure the lather is rinsed from your hair and you nod, following him back out of the shower. There is color in his cheeks that looks healthy; his lips seem to keep struggling to fight back a smile. He’s so happy, because of you. You siphon through his damp tresses as he’s bending over to towel dry his legs and his head lifts, his cheek now cradled in your palm. He grins, trapping your hand and turning his face to kiss it before continuing drying off.

Your eyes meet in the mirror when you’re standing side by side brushing your teeth, his little foamy smirk eliciting a matching one from you. You find dozens of reasons to touch him: reaching for some necessary hygiene element, changing positions, colliding and splashing at the sink. You reluctantly part ways to get dressed for school, then meet once more in the hallway, assessing each other’s appearance. His tie is sloppier than usual and you’ve neglected to make sure your knee highs are at even levels after having to discard the tights you’d originally intended on wearing once realizing there’s a tear in them. The liquid foundation you’d applied doesn’t completely obscure the love bite he’s gifted you, but it will have to suffice. There is no time for a proper breakfast, forcing your stepbrother to retrieve a package of toaster pastries, the corner of one foil pack clutched between his teeth as he struggles into his jacket while you toss some things from the fridge into a lunch tote and hastily finish packing your school bag.

You don’t say much in the car, occupied with a Hi C juice box and a cherry Pop Tart while William drives, balancing his own meal between his thighs until he reaches a stop sign or red light and he can fully devote himself to the task. Thankfully there had been no frost on the windshield to contend with today, and good thing—you’re just going to make it to home room on time by the skin of your teeth.

Needless to say your stepbrother’s favored parking spot has long since been occupied, forcing him to park further away, nearer the trees that border the property. He takes much broader steps than you and you soon fall behind until he turns to see you rushing to catch up, holding out a hand for you to take and then pulling you along towards the entrance.

“William, wait, I can’t go that fast,” you protest, laughing, the burst of humor stealing your struggling breath. The door slams behind you once you clear it and you cling to the banister, panting. “We…made it.”

“Only just.” He points upward and you recognize the sound of the final bell.

“Shit. Alright, I’m going.” You readjust your bag on your shoulder.

“Language,” he reprimands softly, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “See you at lunch.”

Then he’s moving, already clearing the first flight of steps, disappearing from your vision.

***

You’re too nervous to eat lunch despite your lousy breakfast.

The leftovers you’d hastily tossed together that morning hold no appeal. You don’t even sit in your usual spot under the stairs, instead lingering near the edge of the staircase, waiting for your stepsibling.

The tall British youth appears several moments later, rushing down the stairs. “Sorry, I got tied up in something…”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He reaches the ground floor, shoes slapping loudly on the linoleum. “How’s your day going?”

That crooked little smile of his instantly melts you. “Okay,” you murmur.

“Just okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Think we can do something about that?” His eyes dart to the open doorway and back to the stairs before he seats his hand against your neck and kisses you. “God, I’ve been dying for that all day.”

You push against his chest, nervously glancing around. “William, we can’t, what if someone sees?”

He clucks his tongue impatiently, then smirks. “There’s an unused classroom nearby. Just storage. Old lock. Very easy to pick.”

You blink in surprise at this announcement. “You know how to pick locks?”

He shrugs and grins, looking more proud than sheepish, then leads you around the corner to a door you’ve never really noticed before.

“Keep a lookout for me?”

“Okay.” You try to angle yourself so you’re blocking his actions from view in case anyone walks by.

“Almost got it. Right…there.” He straightens and turns the knob and the door swings open creakily. “Go on in.”

A strong scent of dust and old varnish assaults your nostrils as you duck inside the abandoned classroom. There are stacks of chairs and desks and boxes labeled with magic marker, filled with things like “VHS tapes” and “Holiday decorations” along with other relics from the past.

William quickly follows you inside and shuts the door, exhaling a little sigh of relief. The light from the hallway filters in through the twin frosted glass panes, the only source of illumination in this windowless room.

“How come you know about this place, anyway?”

“Helped bring some stuff here once. My sophomore…no, had to be freshman year. Probably was the last time it got visitors.” He scuffs at the coating of dust on the floor before gathering you against him. “Anyway. Enough of that. Missed you like crazy.” He nuzzles your throat and you shiver.

“It’s only been a few hours,” you murmur.

“So you didn’t miss me?” His teeth nip your earlobe.

“Yes, I did. I left our lunches under the stairs, though. I’ll go get—”

“—Stay right where you are. I don’t care about lunch. The only thing I want to taste is that mouth. Well, and maybe something else, but that will have to wait until after school.”

“William!” You gasp. Your body is definitely interested in that addendum, but you’re still feeling nervous about the possibility of discovery.

“Mmmm?”

“Aren’t you worried about someone seeing us together?”

“We’re safe here. No one is going to come in, I promise you.” He strokes your cheek and smooths back your hair. “I can’t help myself. Now that I know what it’s like to be with you, it’s all I want.”

“I like it better when it’s just the two of us,” you mumble.

“It will be, in a couple more hours. I’ll be on time.” He kisses you again and you twine your arms behind his neck, trying to relax, melting into the sensation of being in his arms.

“I can’t wait,” you whisper against his lips before claiming them again.

William’s hands run over the curves of your buttocks, gathering the fabric until he reaches the hem, then slides his fingers over the thin layer of your panties. You whimper at this teasing caress, at the feel of him pressing against you, the hard bulge at the front of his trousers not quite where you need him until he grabs your waist and lifts you onto one of the desks, shoving your skirt up your thighs and grinding his body between them, sending little clouds of dust into the air.

“William…fuck…” escapes your mouth when he hits the right spot, mashing perfectly against your concealed clit. You find yourself caring less and less about someone walking in. It is so blindingly addictive, being with him.

“Fuck…” He echoes your curse, his head jerking back to look at your features, his pale eyes hazy with lust. You turn your face slightly, lapping at the pad of his thumb, inviting it into your mouth. He pushes it inside slowly, inching it along your tongue, watching raptly as your lips tighten around it before he extracts it again. “God damn, what happened to being worried about getting caught? I have to calm down,” he mutters, resting his forehead against yours and dragging your skirt back down over your thighs as much as he is able to while still standing tucked between them.

“I don’t know. I lose myself when I’m with you.” You stroke his cheek. “This thing between us…this is more than just lust, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, his face lifting to regard your features. “Yes, it is.”

You nod, watching as he finally moves away, attempting to straighten clothing and adjust things while you do the same, turning so he can brush away the remnants of dust staining your clothing. That soft little smile of his is back and you share one of your own, waiting for him to peek out into the corridor and declare it free of observers before you both exit. Lunch break is nearly over. The time has sped by once again.

William presses another kiss against your mouth after you gather your things from beneath the stairs. The pair of you linger by the banister, hesitating, reluctant to part even though you know the bell will soon sound and people will begin pouring out of the cafeteria.

“You go up first. I hate walking away from you,” he says quietly.

“Alright. See you soon.”

You find it’s not much easier to be the one leaving the other behind.

***

The afternoon classes drag.

Eventually the final bell rings and you dart for freedom, exchanging texts between your locker and your school bag and grabbing your jacket. You get as far as sliding one arm in the sleeve and then keep walking, your only thought that you finally have a chance to be alone with your stepbrother again.

There’s a brief moment of confusion when you see a foreign car in William’s usual parking spot, and then you recall that he’d had to park elsewhere since you’d both been tardy. Funny how that was only mere hours ago; it feels so much further away than that. You hear footsteps behind you that you immediately recognize the tred of, slowing your pace until the British teenager draws even with you. His fingertips brush against yours and you smile, walking faster now that your goal is so nearly in sight. He grabs your hand and tugs you along again and you laugh, sending puffs of clouded breath into chill air. The hands normally so steady handling the delicate components of his projects suddenly shake as if with palsy as he struggles to fit the key in the lock, shaking his head and cursing himself before he finally manages the task.

You make it as far as the exit to the parking lot before he clasps one of your hands, and as far as the first stoplight before he leans over to brush his mouth against yours. Still risky, considering someone from school very likely could be in this same traffic pattern, but you don’t have the heart or the will to refuse him.

He grabs both of your backpacks from the backseat when you return home, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. A voice calling out interrupts your progress, a middle aged woman you don’t recognize approaching the chain link fence bordering the yards.

“William! I promised your father I’d keep an eye on things while he was away. How’s everything going?”

You see your stepsibling’s shoulders stiffen. “Fine. We’re fine.”

“That was some storm the other night, wasn’t it?” She peers curiously in your direction, perhaps expecting an introduction.

“Yes. Listen, we have a lot of homework to do, and we’re expecting a call from our parents, so…”

“Oh, sure, sure. Just wanted to say hello and let you know we’re here if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” William says curtly, turning away and nudging your arm. “Go, now. Before she tries to make more small talk or invents an excuse to come in,” he urges under his breath.

You need no further prompting, unlocking the door and hurrying inside. Your bags are dumped unceremoniously on the floor and William grabs you, his mouth immediately covering yours. “Hi,” he greets you afterwards, as if it is his first time seeing you today.

“Hi,” you return shyly.

“Want to go to my room? Or should we rock, paper, scissors?”

“We can go to your room.”

He grins, slotting his hand in yours and leading you to the staircase. You’re accosted once you reach the hallway at the top of the stairs, and again at his doorway.

“Um, hang on. Not that anyone can see in at this angle, but…” He twists the rod controlling the blinds over the windows and the slats fold downward. “Nosy woman. I should’ve known she’d be looking over here sooner or later. And that wasn’t dad that put her up to that, either; I’m certain that was entirely her idea.”

“She’s just trying to be nice,” you say, reaching for his hands as he turns back to you.

“Nosy,” he repeats, frowning, then his expression clears. “Now where were we?” His face bends and you close your eyes, savoring the comfort of finally being alone, of being able to do anything you want. You feel yourself being gently steered towards the edge of the bed, still made up from the previous night, gone unused because he’d shared yours instead. He reaches for the hem of your skirt again. “Remember what I promised you this morning?” he purrs against your cheek while his thumbs tuck inside the waistband of your panties. “About a certain after school snack?”

“Yes,” you breathe, feeling heat pooling between your thighs at his lewd reminder.

He squats down, bringing your underwear with him, your rumpled skirt falling back into place. “Sit on the bed.”

You obey, sinking down on top of the comforter at the edge of the mattress. William shifts until he’s resting on his knees, once again toying with the pleated folds of your uniform skirt, leaning forward to kiss your neck. He presses gently on your shoulders to indicate you should lie back and you snatch one of the pillows from the head of the bed and slide it behind you before lowering your upper body down, your knees still hooked around the side of the bed.

The hands cupping and parting your legs are shaking, tremoring as if something buried within is rattling to break free. You think about him saying he’d unleashed a monster within you, and you wonder if this isn’t one of his own emerging as your feet are guided to rest on the mattress. His hands move to shift your skirt again, baring your pussy to him, and your breathing ratchets up in anticipation.

You feel his breath just before his tongue licks its first stripe over your flesh, a soft stroke over the folds and your clit and you gasp, your hips automatically lifting in search of more contact. You reach for him, one hand sinking into his hair. He hums against your sex, still licking you gently, slowly, pausing at times to plant a kiss there, or along your groin, or inside your thigh before returning his attention to the bud that has begun swelling, begging for notice. The pace quickens and you keen and grind against him, tugging on his locks. His nose and chin dig against you as he latches over your pearl and sucks hard, delivering sharp flicks of his tongue. You feel pressure against your entrance, slight and questioning, and you gasp encouragingly, your hips lifting invitingly when he slowly inserts a finger into your leaking canal.

The answering moan that vibrates along your pussy at the sensation of spearing that narrow space nearly has you undone right then; again when your hear the sound of a zipper and realize he’s opening his fly with his free hand, unable to resist stroking his cock while eating out his stepsister’s cunt. You can hear that hand dragging along his erection in time with his thrusts into your juicy pussy and the movements of his tongue through the slick of his saliva and your arousal soaking your pink flesh.

“William,” you groan in a voice so thick with lust you barely recognize it as your own. You push yourself up on one elbow, eager to watch, to see exactly what he’s doing to you, to himself, adding another layer to the erotic events unfolding. Black eyes meet yours, the waves of dark chocolate and ivory hair mussed from your restless, greedy fingers.

“Mmm-hmmm.” This hummed encouragingly against your body, sending another wave of pleasure through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of bliss. You renew your grip in his hair, focusing on the feeling building within you until at last you cry out, spasming against his tongue and around his thrusting finger. He doesn’t stop until you beg for a reprieve, keening and whimpering and writhing in that nearly intolerable ecstasy. The rattle of the belt buckle becomes more insistent while he fists his cock furiously, both shoulders shaking as his own release erupts seconds later, his mouth pressing wetly to your thigh while he moans in pleasure.

That first glimpse of him crawling onto the bed next to you, dragging the back of his wrist against his soaked mouth and nose and chin, tresses tousled from your frantic grabbing, is something you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He looks absolutely wild, the animal within released, jerking at his tie impatiently to loosen it, shrugging out of his blazer and dragging his shirt overhead. You run your hands over his bare skin before unfastening the buttons of your school blouse, suddenly craving the sensation of his body pressed nude against yours.

You both shift positions, now lying beside each other properly across the length of the bed. He unhooks your brassiere in leisurely movements, drawing small circles along your spine and shoulders while your breathing returns to normal. You stare at his half hidden face, pressed into the same pillow that cradles your own, returning the smile he gives you, that slow, lazy, secret drag of a curve, enjoying this moment. You comb through his hair and he kisses your chin and jaw and neck and you feel it again, that sharp lurch in your chest, aching and raw. There is no longer the question of if you should or shouldn’t be doing this in your mind; rather, a pressing need for more, as much as you can have for as long as you can have it.

“So,” he says, rather aimlessly.

“So,” you agree, your grin widening.

“Definitely the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, considering you barely eat, I’m not sure how much of a compliment that actually is…oh!” He surprises you with how swiftly he moves, fingers darting to your ribs. “Okay, I’ll take the praise.” You dissolve into giggles, attempting to exact your own revenge but it seems for now, at least, he’s immune to your tickling.

William flops back, raking a hand through his hair and sighing, then frowning. “We should probably throw a load of laundry on.”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea, considering how messy you are—” You throw your hands up just in time to block him from another assault. “Well, you are,” you grumble defensively.

“I wager there’s a fair stain from you on the blanket now too,” he counters, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Your mouth falls open then closes, another grin of surrender on your lips. “Did I really make a mess?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

You clear your throat, feeling a flush creeping into your cheeks. “So, should we tidy things up then?”

“In a minute. Come over here.” He drags you against him, burrowing his face against the side of your neck. You sigh contentedly, content to drag your fingertips along his skin in random patterns.

After awhile the suggestion is made to get changed into more comfortable clothing, to begin necessary tasks like homework and making dinner, your stomach finally reminding you that you’ve barely eaten anything all day. Angel hair pasta seems like an easy, fast choice. William puts garlic bread in the oven while you overlook the pot of boiling noodles and a garden salad appears through a joint effort. Simple fare, but to you the meal is perfection. You eat at the table, his chair dragged close to yours. You chat about school and offer to load the dishwasher and that’s when you receive the routine phone call from your mother to check in on how you’re doing. Once again the conversation is cursory, the underlying eagerness to return to your stepbrother pressing pleasantries and reassurances rapidly from your lips.

Back on the living room couch, you make fun of advertisements and comment on the events unfolding in some made for cable tv drama before seeking out William’s childhood novel, continuing to read the narrative out loud while his head rests on the pillow of your thighs.

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs once you fold the top corner of the next chapter over to mark your place, shutting the book and setting it on the coffee table, “about what forms the animatronics should take. This story makes me think that animals are the best choice.” He straightens, sitting upright beside you.

“Which ones will you choose?”

“I’ve been debating that. My mind keeps lingering on traditional forest creatures: bear, rabbit, fox. But three’s an odd number. Four would be better balanced. Maybe a bird of some kind…”

“What about a sassy duck like in the story? Every adventure needs a villain of some sort, right?”

“Hmmm. Maybe.” He glances at his wristwatch and frowns. “How does the time keep flying like this?”

You recognize the cue for what it is. Time to get things ready for school the next day, bags packed, clothes ironed. Teeth brushed, alarm set. You don’t argue about the early hour, thinking it’s worth sacrificing sleep if you get to enjoy another morning like the one the two of you’d had today.

You snuggle against him in your bed once the tasks have been completed, tossing out name suggestions for his planned robotic creations.

“Okay. Bear first. What do you have so far?”

“Look, I’ll be perfectly honest. This part is definitely not my forté. I’m going to need your help here. I’m at the point where I’m ready to just call the fox Foxy. I know that’s terribly unoriginal.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, so a bear. What kind of bear, by the way? Like a panda, or…?”

“Uh, brown. I guess I was picturing a grizzly.”

“So something strong and masculine, then. The guy at the party in the football uniform, what’s his name?”

“Ugh, Fred. Typical jock. I swear he lives in that outfit. Convinced he’s going to get a full scholarship next year. We’re not seriously going to name my creation after him, are we?”

“What about making it sound a little less formal, then? Freddy?”

William grunts. “I guess that could work.”

“What about the rabbit? What’s he look like? Or is it a she?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You should probably make each character a different color. What’s your favorite?”

A soft snicker. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Purple.”

“Purple?” You repeat doubtfully. “Do you even own anything purple? I’ve never seen a single possession of yours that’s that color.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he concedes, then sighs, glancing past you at the alarm clock. “I think we’re going to have to put a pin in this naming thing for now.”

You groan in protest. “Can’t we stay up a little bit more? I wouldn’t mind getting a little further in Amy’s Eyes.”

“Tomorrow we’ll read more, I promise.”

“And play Dungeon Master?”

“Noooo,” he draws out the vowel. “My grades would plummet for certain. Save that for the weekend. Actually, speaking of which…” He pauses, his eyes shifting from yours. “What do you think about going out one night this weekend? To the movies, maybe. Walk around the mall. Have dinner. Something like that.”

“You mean like a date?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, shyly meeting your gaze again.

Funny how he can go from so confident like he’d been in his bedroom that afternoon to so bashful just mentioning the idea of a date, you think.

“I’d like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” You lean over to brush your mouth against his. “I’d like to go out with you.”

“Right. Okay, then.” He touches your cheek. “I’m going to shut the light off now.”

You nod, watching him lean to switch the lamp off.

For a time there is silence. You think about the book from William’s childhood, the slight cliffhanger that you’d left off at, when one of the characters began inciting a mutiny by its fellow crew members, the clever duck using perfectly crafted excuses to plead his case to each group of animals that were once inanimate plush objects.

“William?” You ask softly.

“Yes?”

“Does your book have a happy ending?”

“I don’t remember, to be honest. I’m sure it does. Don’t all children’s books?”

“I guess so. Actually, wait a minute. No, they don’t. What about Charlotte’s Web?“

“The pig got to live.”

“Yes, but the spider died. I cried my eyes out the first time I read that.”

“What about when spiders die in real life? Surely you’ve extinguished your fair share.”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so?”

“Well, they don’t talk, for one thing.”

“Maybe not in a way you understand.”

“Are you seriously guilting me for squashing insects?”

“Arachnids, actually. Both Arthropods, though.”

“Oh, hush you.” You shove at his shoulder and hear him chuckle softly. You share his mirth briefly before the smile evaporates, your thoughts sobering. “It’s a good story. I just want it to have a happy ending.” You pause. “I want us to have a happy ending.”

You hear your stepbrother inhale sharply. “We will,” he pledges.

“How can you know for sure, though? Everything is stacked against us.”

“Because we have to. We have to,” he repeats. You hear the mattress creak, feel him shift to turn on his side to face you even though it’s too dark to see your features. His hand finds one of yours and drags it to rest firmly against his chest, his apical pulse palpable beneath your fingertips. “You could cut this out of me, and it would fill right back up again. That is how much I want you. Need you…”

His lips rediscover yours in the dark.

[honeyvettel]

17+24 PeccoVale

17. tending to an injury/wound/illness + 24. showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house | pecco/vale, set after jerez 2025, slight daddy kink. cw: mention of blood, wounds, self-harm. [1.1k]

(from this prompt list here)

pecco never thought of himself as a violent guy. not even when he was younger, when boys his age would spend afternoons smashing broken things in the empty lots outside turin, or picking pointless fights in school courtyards just to feel the weight of their own fists. he never joined them. he stayed in his lane, quiet, unbothered, keeping his distance; and maybe that’s what made them hate him most of all— the way he seemed not to care, the way he never flinched. they must have thought he believed he was better than them. and he did, sometimes. now, pecco is not so sure anymore. not when he’s been lying crumpled in the corner of his motorhome for the past half hour, watching blood bubble out from his knuckles and pool on the floor in slow, sticky drops. drip.drip.drip. he isn’t a violent guy. it’s just that sometimes the ringing in his head gets too loud, and the air presses down so heavy it feels like it might choke him. and when it gets like that, he needs to let it out— something not as final as jumping off a rooftop, but close enough to scrape against the same kind of hurt. so he punched the wall. big deal. people do worse these days, he tells himself— shoot their families, set their lives on fire for no reason at all. a few cracked knuckles hardly makes him a monster. still, it’s not the same when you spend years polishing this image of yourself, parading around your gentlemanly qualities, the kind of man who gets to wear a clean badge around and stand among the good guys. pecco wonders if they should take that badge away now, after this— inconvenience. he scoffs under his breath, staring down at the blood drying slowly across his knuckles, flaking at the edges. it had felt good at first—the first punch, and then the second—the sharp, jarring shock of it collapsing the noise inside his head into a perfect, blissful silence. now, all that he feels it’s just guilt. tomorrow there’s testing; tomorrow he’ll have to show up into the garage and explain the torn skin to his mechanics, find some half-truth that doesn’t make him sound as fucked up as he feels. he doesn’t even have a first aid kit lying around to try and save the situation— just his hands, split open and empty. he presses a fingertip to the worst of the scabs, feels the pain spark outwards like fireworks, a reminder to himself of what he’s capable of doing to his own body. he sits up, before he can start slipping into that dark place again. and he walks, to the only person he knows can make everything right again.

“pecco.”

when he opens the door, valentino’s voice cuts through andalusia's heavy, humid air—sharp, and surprised. he fixes his gaze to the way pecco is curling his hand to his chest, trying to hide it with the trembling shelter of the other. but the blood is too visible not to notice. "come, come," valentino says quickly, already turning back inside. "sorry," pecco mutters, stepping in. "i—i don’t have a kit in my motorhome."  he feels like he should offer an excuse—a slip in the shower, knocking something over in the garage. but he knows valentino is smarter than that; he has always been able to see through their clumsy lies. “sit on the couch,” the other instructs. valentino disappears into the bathroom, and comes back holding a small plastic box. when he finally gets a good look at pecco’s knuckles he hisses under his breath. “ah, that looks–” but doesn’t finish the sentence. he gathers pecco’s hand between his own, and starts dabbing antiseptic into the worst parts, brows pinched. pecco knows how squeamish valentino is with blood and injuries; he is too, more often than not. sometimes he wonders if he’s inherited it from him — the way every kid from the academy carries some piece of vale without even noticing. he looks down at the split skin and feels his stomach turn. “don’t look,” valentino shushes, as if he can read pecco’s thoughts. the cotton ball soaks through fast, and valentino swaps it for another with quick, steady hands. “sorry, i don’t— i can’t—” pecco stammers, the words crumbling as his throat tightens. the shame coils like a cord around his heart; he feels like a child, disobeying his father’s warnings. but vale only flicks his wrist, a light, dismissive gesture. “you should ask luca about the time i tried to put a dent in the garage door,” he says, voice easy, almost laughing. “pathetic, really. barely scuffed my knuckles, but the pain—god, it was something else.” he peels open a sterile bandage and begins wrapping it around pecco’s bruised hand, the touch gentle. “bad times, those,” valentino murmurs, half to himself. pecco guesses it must’ve been those grim years at ducati, when the bike was a wild, stubborn thing refusing to bend. the thought twists inside his gut; he’s got the best machine on the grid and here he is, punching walls like a messy teenager. “there we go,” valentino says cheerfully, tucking the last strand of gauze neatly under the strip of tape. pecco stares down at the bright white of the bandage, how the blood is already seeping through. a wave of humiliation crashes over him before he can do something about it, hot and stinging. his hand looks small, ridiculous; useless. “pecco,” valentino says, when he notices the tears that has gathered around the corner of his eyes, a note of sorrow stitched into his voice. he rises just to fold back down beside him, knees brushing. valentino's arms open, and pecco goes without thinking, curling small and tight. “it’s nothing,” valentino breathes against his temple, pressing a kiss there, light as a benediction. his hand moves along his back —up and down, up and down— a slow, unhurried rhythm meant to soothe. “daddy’s here,” he says around a chuckle, the same teasing lilt from the other day in the garage, where they had hugged and vale told him about his nonna. he had gathered him in his arms, shaking him gently, laughing. ma che bravo che sei, ma che bravo. she’d just shake me, and shower me with praise, vale had said. pecco doesn’t know what to do with any of this, now. he just buries his face tighter into valentino’s shoulder, heart hammering hard and uneven. “you’ll figure it out,” vale says, voice lower, pitched soft against the shell of his ear. “i know you will.”  pecco, selfishly, tries to believe him.

[kuroshadow4]

Rating Diabolik Lovers boys outfits(Carla)

I almost forgot to post my daily outfit rating for DL 😅😅

We are starting the Tsukinami brothers with Carla

Tomorrow will be my favorite Tsukinami brother, Shin

School uniform ver 1

I will say, his school uniform looks so much better in the anime ver then the game. I think because of the game lighting but I really love Carla's school uniform. It has that noble gothic feeling to it and I didn't expect his scarf to be that long. 10/10

2. Casual wear

It has that mysterious vibe but ahhh idk it looks complex for a causal wear. 6.5/10

3. Bloody bouquet

Surprisingly I am not a Carla fan but his bloody bouquet outfit is one of my favorite outfit for him. Similar to Kou, Rejet try to experiment with Carla's hair by cutting it short and fits so well with his purple suit(he looks so good in purple too). 10/10

4. Lost Eden

It's simple I like but I don't like that random purple vest that he is wear. Rejet try to hide that by making his scarf purple but I don't think it's working. 5.5/10

5. Chaos Lineage

Carla in purple is always good but this outfit is ehhh not my favorite. 6/10

6. Zero

Carla's Zero outfit is similar structure as Shu's zero outfit. Noble and Grand which fits him very well. I do like how it has a bit of a military style to it as well. 7.5/10

7. 9th anniversary

Ok why does this outfit SLAPS. I love the gothic noble image, I am not a huge fan of that feather badge on his shoulder but it is working so I am not gonna complain too much. The wolf by his side(wolves are actually my favorite animal) 10/10

8. 10th anniversary

Carla's first school uniform is already a noble style so the royalty accessories already is balancing very well. I will say I think it's very unique for Rejet to change the style and color of the cape fluff to a black mess fluff. 10/10

[lcvrboys]

i sleep so i can see you (i hate to wait so long)

ੈ✩‧₊ chapter 1: sam likes josh

view it on ao3 next chapter

image credit: @bratjosh one of my FAV accounts for screencaps!! <3

pairing: josh washington x sam giddings

synopsis: The first time Sam has a proper interaction with the twins' older brother, she's on the ground. When Sam is in the tenth grade, he's the reason she gets called to the principal's office. She's got her phone beside her pillow at full volume at all times and he's why. She realises that she'll be making excuses for him all her life. Josh and Sam in the years leading up to the prank. Or, all the boys people Samantha Giddings has ever had a crush on.

a/n: hi.... this is my first post on here officially - i am LONG retired from writing, but i have loved these two since FOREVER and wanted to give it a shot. expect many chapters!

word count: 4.6k

The first time Sam has a proper interaction with the twins’ older brother, she’s on the ground. It’s the scrape of wet gravel dragging across her back and stinging pain that makes her eyes water that embeds the event into her memory forever. She recalls looking up from the schoolyard floor and seeing a flannel with a white t-shirt under it, the fabric flapping wildly in the cool wind like a superhero’s cape. Even now, when she thinks back to that moment, it isn’t the fight that she remembers first - it’s the bright red on his white shirt from the other boy’s nose. He’s got the boy’s arm pinned behind his back.

She knew that middle schoolers got into fights, but it had never happened so close to her. And over her childish badge, too? Embarrassment bubbled in her stomach.

Sam is in the fifth grade, but she still wears a pink glittery badge with gold stars on her pencil case. It says Save the Manatees in big white bubble letters and she’s ashamed to admit that her dad bought it for her when they went to the conservation centre in Florida. That was last summer, before she was old enough to realise that the trip was the last time she would see her parents within the same vicinity of each other. Now she will spend her second Christmas alone with her mother, making do with Christmas movies on the TV and dinner alone because her mother’s on the night shift.

It was the last day before winter break and Hannah and Beth wanted to spend time at Sam’s before they went back to their lodge for Christmas.

“It’s nothing special, just so you know,” Sam said quickly.

The twins didn’t care, but Sam’s ears reddened at the thought of the twins stepping into her mom’s little 80s style apartment. Despite going to school in the Hills, the twins were rich - a whole different plane of existence than the other students. Their dad was the Bob Washington, but if you met them you wouldn’t even be able to tell, by the way that Hannah has kept the same pencil case since the third grade (she’s emotionally attached to it) or the way that despite receiving designer earrings from her father every Christmas and birthday, Beth still wears spiky rubber earrings from Claire’s (“but they’re cute!” she protests, whenever someone points it out).

So she had let them start to walk her home, before she had felt for her little pink pencil case and noticed that it didn’t occupy its usual spot linked around her bag strap.

“Just because your daddy’s famous doesn’t make you the boss of me.” The other boy chucks the badge to the floor. Sam couldn’t tell the boys apart through her blurred vision - through her dusty eyelashes their arms were linked like two bulls at the horns. The older boy chuckles like this isn’t even his maximum capacity, and twists the other’s arm further with effortless ease.

When Sam finally is able to blink away her tears, only mortification ensues. It was Hannah and Beth’s brother who had come to her rescue; the infamous Josh Washington, who had won the affection of all the girls in the fifth grade.

Before she was friends with the twins, she had heard all sorts of stories about Josh Washington. Sam had never spoken to Josh, only seen him around school with his cocky half-smile and bag on one shoulder decorated with patches of obscure rock bands.

“He’s really cute,” a girl in her class once told her. “But he’s scary."

“My brother’s in his class and he said a special anger management teacher takes him out of class for one period every day,” another girl mused. “It’s because he’s insane, I bet.”

Sometimes she had tried to sneak a peek at him when she was over at the Washingtons’ - she wanted to know how the oldest Washington actually lived - if he really lived up to his infamy. He occupied her imagination sometimes - she would always imagine what he did beyond that great oak door he hid behind. He danced, maybe - she imagined big, scary Josh Washington whose knuckles were always bruised - he would sway along in his room with his headphones on like she would sometimes with his hands clasped over the sides. Sam already decided in her head -yes, Josh Washington wasn’t scary one bit.

Hannah and Beth always spoke highly of their older brother, despite the whispers from kids at school. Nothing anybody said about him was true - well, only half true - Josh had a wild temper, but the baseball incident only occurred because the offending party called Hannah a baby; and he actually didn’t attend anger management classes - it was a visiting therapist prescribed by his (private, and very expensive) psychologist.

The twins had mentioned he had struggled with mental health issues, but assured her it rarely affected his day-to-day life and if he hadn’t had to go to the therapist every day, you wouldn’t even be able to tell. This didn’t bother Sam - she had realised that there was something deeply wrong with her parents since she was maybe eight, and was well-equipped with dealing with people of questionable levels of emotional stability.

The younger boy tries to spit on him, but Josh kicks in his calf so that he drops to one knee. “Pick it up and say you’re sorry.”

The boy mutters a sort of apology in the direction of Sam and kicks the pin towards her. He’s trying to break out of Josh’s reach like a wild dog, but her hero is stronger and he presses harder onto the boy’s arm. A tornado of dust is getting kicked up around her by the boy’s legs, flailing ferociously and she has to use a hand to shield her eyes. Through the smut she can see Josh like he’s suburban Jesus, light from the classrooms peeking out from behind his silhouette.

“Nicely." Josh says it like it’s a threat.

A choke escapes his mouth as Josh lets him sink to the ground like water.

“I’m sorry,” he coughs out. The boy and Sam are on even footing now - she reddens as he extends an arm to return the pin. He doesn’t want to look at her, eyes trained to the floor behind him but Josh nudges his head with his knee so they are face to face. It seems stupid now, and she raises a shaky arm to take it back. The badge is mangled, a great crack extending through the diameter of the plastic right through the stars.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” the boy spits, and he makes himself scarce, red rubies of blood trailing him.

Sam looks to his savior and his expression softens. She must’ve looked visibly shaken, because when he pulls her to her feet he’s taking care to act with gentle motions.

“Are you alright?” He dusts off the gravel from her back with a touch so light she can hardly believe that his fists were the cause of the blood dripping down his shirt. Josh double taps the middle of her back to signal Sam to lift her shirt. Her bare back is grazed with blood and dirt - she hadn’t realised how hard she had been pushed to the ground until now.

Years of having two younger sisters have taught him well, because he uses his drink bottle to clear out the dirt from her graze with a careful hand, then wipes it clean with his shirt. When the cool water makes contact with her skin she tries not to shiver - LA is rarely cold but it’s the middle of winter and the breeze makes it bite. With a careful finger he brushes the dirt out of the plastic badge and fixes it back to her pencil case.

“My badge,” she says dumbly. It’s all she can muster at the moment.

Ten minutes later, Josh is walking her back to her sisters, a gentle hand on the small of her back, so soft that she’d almost forgotten she had grazed her back on the gravel. When they walk together, the heat of his touch warms her so the winter breeze doesn’t hurt her as much as it should. He’s not at all like what the kids in her class say - he’s actually quite normal, because they’re talking about their favourite music and what movies they like to watch, and Josh promises her that he’ll show her some real horror movies next time she’s over at the Washingtons’. He has his schoolbag around one shoulder, and Sam’s on the other, her pencil case looped around the strap of her bag. Josh has a steady arm around her throughout the whole walk back and it doesn’t relent, even when she thinks kids are making fun of him because he’s hanging out with an elementary school kid.

“Oh my god, Josh, what happened to you?!” Hannah gasped at the red swelling skin around his eye.

“Oh, Sam, your poor badge,” Beth touches her hand to the fissure on the pin and then the gravel lines lining Sam’s back. “Was it that asshole from Ms Johnston’s class? I’ll show him next time I see him.”

“No need,” Josh says, proudly brandishing his bruise. “He won’t touch Sam ever again.”

From then he’s been her knight in shining armour - Josh makes it his duty to be her personal bodyguard, assuring her that he’ll walk her home from school every day, even when it rains. He holds her bag too, and proudly, even though it’s pink, which makes her flush out of embarrassment, but also secretly pride. She imagines they will get married when they’re older and get a house with two kids and a dog. When they’re back from Christmas break, Josh dons a Save the Manatees badge on his bag as well, to which Sam responds by ironing a The Cure patch onto her own. He gets them matching star pins for their bags, just like the stars on her badge, and Sam keeps it on the left strap of her bag, next to her heart.

This only makes them subject to the twins’ relentless teasing, and they sing “Josh loves Sam!” as the three of them walk home from school.

Hannah mostly likes middle school - when she has classes with Sam and Beth. She's jealous of the way that most of the other girls wanted to be friends with them, and wondered why it was that she ended up so weird. She has fourth period art class alone, which usually she would like if she actually knew anybody in her class. Everyone else has already packed up their kits, but she's sitting in her stained white t-shirt with her glasses folded in her lap. Sam rushes to her side and wraps her into her arms, dabbing her face with her sweater sleeve. Something that she's sure of is that middle school girls are evil - she's certain, by the way the girls in her class call her 'Hannibal,' because her dad makes horror movies, and the way they splatter blotches of paint on the back of her shirt.

"Oh, Han," she sighs, rubbing her shoulder. "Don't listen to them."

"Be honest," Hannah hiccups through tear-strained eyes. "Do you think my brother is insane?"

Sam brushes her fingers through Hannah's hair and smooths it back, tucking it behind her ears. She finds it endearing, that out of all the things that the girls have teased her about, Hannah's the most worried about her brother. That's the quality that she loved the most about the youngest Washington daughter - she loved her family as hard as she could, with every fiber of her being and with her whole heart.

"Everyone's insane. They were all over him like, a month ago," she rolls her eyes. "They're being ridiculous."

Hannah sobs softly into her hands, hot tears burning through Sam's sleeves.

"Hey, hey, don't cry." Sam picks up the fattest paintbrush on the table and draws a thick line running through her stomach, the red dripping down her shirt like blood. She pulls a face and makes a spluttering noise, like she's a horror movie victim, and the blood splatters on the table and onto Hannah's arm. "Look. I'm insane too."

She smiles, but Hannah's voice still cracks when she speaks. "You're going to ruin your hoodie."

"So? We'll be matching, at least." Sam dips her finger in the thick paint and traces out H + B = BFF :) on her chest, and then onto Hannah's back. "Don't be sad, Han. Who cares about those girls? It's me and you forever."

When they enter the ninth grade, Josh is happy to make them a part of his world, a world where he possesses the ability to spin everyone around his little finger. He always calls out to her in the cafeteria, surrounded by a throng of admirers, his smile always the widest and brightest. Sam rolls her eyes but there’s a part of her that thinks it’s endearing that so many people are enamoured with him.

Beth doesn’t need his help at all, because on the first day of high school all the girls in their homeroom are asking her opinion on their clothes and inviting her to the movies over the weekend.

“They don’t like me," Beth huffs. “They only wanna be friends to get close to Josh.”

She didn’t know when she started paying attention to the way Josh’s shirt stuck to his body, or when she first realised her heart quickened whenever he had texted her first. In a way, she understood why so many girls at school liked him - he was naturally charming; he had a way of leaning close and listening with his whole body whenever someone spoke to him, making them feel like they’re the most important thing in the world.

While having an objectively hot brother definitely added to the appeal, Sam understood why everyone wanted to be friends with Beth, too. She could find a way to make anybody laugh - she and Josh shared the quality of being able to mess around through life like it was all one big game - a trait that Sam never quite got the hang of.

Sam’s first high school party is a pool party at the held by Josh at the Washington estate. The oldest Washington had been entrusted the house by Bob and Melinda for the weekend, freshly out of the hospital, who responded by promptly buying a keg. It's September but it's still hot outside, and she hasn't spoken to Josh properly all summer break. Sam doesn’t think she’ll ever be one for partying, but she can’t help but to admit that she loves the rush of epicureanism that comes with holding a red cup in her hand for the first time. It’s 100 degrees, and Sam matches navy low-cut swimsuits with the twins. They’re racy - not something she’s ever worn in her life before, but she’s excited to get a taste of the high school life. Hannah refuses at first, but Sam and Beth convince her, and they sparkle in their silver beach cover-up skirts.

Sam helps Josh and the twins set up, unfolding the ping pong table for beer pong in the garage while Beth blows balloons. When she’s done, she gets up to look for Hannah, who said she was setting up snacks. Despite coming over every other week, she loves the intrigue of the Washington house - its tall ceilings and dark oak floors. Every time she’s here, she stops to take in the sheer size of it, and admire the gorgeous antique furniture Melinda’s decorated the estate with. She stops at the doorway of the living room to see Josh, dancing alone to the newly set up speaker system.

It’s an old 80s funk song, and he’s shaking his shoulders, singing along to the catchy chorus, until he catches her eye and sways his arms along to her, snapping in time to the beat. Something about the fact that he isn’t even embarrassed - and instead starts whipping out more elaborate dance moves - makes her feel proud to know him. The worst part is, he’s actually good at it.

“You know how to dance, Sammy?” he asks.

She breaks into a silly shoulder roll. “Baby, I know how to dance.”

He pulls her into a salsa and she can’t help but giggle. His hands are gentle and strong, clasping her hands firmly and it makes her blush. Josh claps in time to the beat, pulling her hands towards, then away from him and raising his hand to twirl her. The Washington living room is huge, and the newly set-up speakers make the music feel like it’s radiating below their feet. He drops a hand lightly to her hips and shimmies her along to the song. She has to admit, it’s fun - and she rolls her hips and claps as their laughter rings out through the room.

She accidentally locks eyes with him, but he only smiles and gives her a squeeze on the hip. Sam turns her body to him and he stops for a second, looking down at her lips and then back up at her eyes again.

“Hey, uh, Sam.” He pauses like he’s hesitating. “Thanks for, y'know ... looking out for my sisters while I’ve been gone.”

“They hardly need looking out for.” She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “We’re all here for you, Josh.”

Josh reaches for her and her heart starts to quicken. She wants to know what it feels like to close the gap between them, to experience what she’s only seen in movies. They’re standing so close - all she would need to do is take a step. Her mind starts racing at the idea and she quickly waves it away - no - it can’t be Josh.

A beat of silence.

He brushes her shoulder with his fingertips.

“Sorry. Dust on you.”

Her gaze is abruptly interrupted by mock gagging noises at the door. They break apart from each other immediately, Sam sheepishly smiling and making herself busy with her hair.

“Um, gross.”

Hannah is at the door, crossing her arms. She’s peering at the two with an intense look of amusement and surprise.

“Get a room, lovebirds.”

“You’re no fun, Han,” Josh smirks, but another song starts playing and Sam takes Hannah’s hand and leads her into a rumba box step. Dancing with Hannah is easier, she thinks - she doesn’t feel the pressure of being perceived, unlike when she’s dancing with Josh.

When it gets dark later that night, Sam has to put a t-shirt on to keep the goosebumps from pimpling her skin. The alcohol seems to make everyone around her immune to the breeze though, because everyone’s still in their swimwear. She’s on the karaoke machine between Beth, Emily and Jess, who’s definitely had too much to drink, because the latter is holding on to her with a death grip and yelling expletives at any man who comes close to her. They’re singing a girly pop song, complete with some silly choreography from Beth and Sam memorised from years of playing Just Dance together.

She doesn’t notice, but Josh surveys her from beside the pool, smiling at her childish moves. When the song is about to end, she sees him watching and winks, pointing a disco finger at him.

“Sammy!” Josh calls out, and she excuses herself to make his way towards him. He’s following her with his eyes, until she reaches his side, which makes him look away as if he’s been caught. He's lighter now, maybe the effect of a few beers, because his shoulders are back and relaxed and he's moving in slow motion.

“Yes, Josh?”

“I just wanted to let you know that…” he leans down to get closer to her. There’s a split second where he pauses, and she can’t tell if she imagined it, or if he gazes down at her lips. They’re locking eyes now, for a beat too long, and Sam holds her breath waiting for the impact of his words.

“You got something on your shirt.”

He reaches down as if to brush something off her. Her heart jolts when instead, he loops an arm around her waist and tries swinging her into the pool.

But her reflexes are faster. She latches onto his wrist and pulls him in with her, giggling as they plunge into the cool water. They’re panting a combination of laughs and shivers now and Josh bobs to break the surface of the water, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes.

“You’re gonna have to do a whole lot better than that to get me, sweetheart.” He lunges for her waist and she feels him circle it with his hands, hoisting her above his head. His movements are strong and steady, and despite being in the water, it feels safe.

“Don’t you dare drop me Josh-” she starts, but she’s too late, and he chucks her in the water with a deafening splash. Sam tries to get him in a headlock, but he wrestles her off, hands clasping around her wrists, sending shivers down her spine. Josh moves both of her wrists to one hand and pokes her side with the other and it makes her squirm into him.

They’re wrestling now, hands intertwined as she tries to splash him in the face. She’s surprised at how strong he is - she realises he’s never seen him shirtless before, only hoodies and pyjamas - and he’s much more muscular than he expected, chiseled like a statue.

“Wait, wait, wait, shhh.” Josh pulls her close into him and pivots her body so their bodies are pressed together. His hands are closed over hers so that they’re steady, stopping her from splashing any further. He leans down to her ear, and she can feel the electricity flickering from his wet chest pressed against her back. Sam suddenly feels hot, and she inhales to get her bearings again.

“Do you see that?” he whispers. His alcohol breath tickles her ear and she tries her best not to flinch. He nods towards Chris and Ashley sitting by the side of the pool, almost social distancing from how far apart they’re trying to hold a conversation. Their bodies are turned in towards each other, and it’s endearing how obviously in love they are - despite neither of them knowing. Ashley giggles at a joke Chris says and shifts closer to him, to which he turns away and runs a hand through his hair.

“Aww, so cute,” she muses. Her back is still pressed against him and she’s aware of how warm his skin feels against her’s.

“I know you think I’m cute, Sammy, you don’t need to remind me.” A cocky smirk lights his face, and she splashes his face with water. He breaks away from her, shielding his face from the chlorine with his hands.

“You’re so annoying. I meant them.”

“Don’t you think that all they need to finally hook up-” he bumps her with his hip, “is a little push?”

That’s how by the end of the night, Josh has convinced Chris and Ashley to have a chicken fight with them, and Sam feels like her face should not be flushing this much thinking about her legs wrapped around her best friend’s brother’s shoulders.

Ashley lunges for her and Sam steadies herself, tensing her legs around Josh’s arms. He responds by tightening his grip around her shins.

“Watch out, cochise. My girl can fight.” Josh taunts. My girl. The phrase shouldn’t make her cheeks flush as much as it does - Josh would flirt with anything that walked. She swerves from Ashley’s grip, reaching for the other girl’s arms. Ashley swipes at her but she dodges, reaching down to splash her with water. The two interlock fingers, trying to twist the other into the water, but Sam’s stronger and she almost topples Ashley forward into the water.

Ashley steadies herself, obviously flushing from accidentally brushing Chris with her chest. If he’s also embarrassed, Chris is doing a really good job at hiding it, because he jerks forward, giving her the momentum to push into Sam. Josh is able to weave out of the way, positioning Sam at Ashley’s side. The girls hold onto each other’s arms, and finally, with a quick but heavy push, Sam is able to get the other girl into the water with a splash.

Ashley grabs onto Chris’ hand as she falls and the both are submerged, laughing and clinging to each other. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes as they both break the surface of the water, still smiling to each other. Sam places her arms on Josh’s head and drops her chin so she’s resting on them. “Aww. We won, but they really won.”

Josh laughs. “Mission accomplished, huh, Sammy?”

She reaches down and splashes him with water. “When’s it your turn to get a girlfriend?”

“When you get some better dance moves.”

Sam rolls her eyes.

She’s in the upstairs bathroom drying herself off, when she overhears Josh’s voice through the open window. It’s early in the morning - maybe 8am - and the party has well cleared out, so that now the only occupants of the house are Sam, Josh and the twins. The girls are heavy sleepers, especially after the excitement of last night, but Sam’s always been a morning person and she wakes at 6:30 to go for a run.

“So you’re not able to make it.” He says it like it’s a statement. His voice is gravelly - she doubts she’d ever heard it without its jovial tone before.

A pause.

“It’s important to me.”

“I know, Dad.” A sigh. “Forget about it. I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

A click to signal the end of the phone call, and a loud crash. Sam tries her best to make haste before she catches Josh. The door of the bathroom bursts open and Sam’s hand darts to her shirt, legs still bare.

“Fuck!” Josh covers his eyes with his hands. His eyes are red rimmed, like he didn’t get enough sleep, and he smells lightly of beer. Josh clears his throat and his voice is almost back to normal. “Sorry, Sammy.”

She tries to pull on her leggings and t-shirt as fast as she can, cheeks reddening. “No, no, I’m sorry.”

He peeks through his fingers and smiles weakly. “You decent?”

Sam bats at him with her t-shirt. “Josh!”

“Hey, I just need the medicine cabinet and I’ll be on my way,” he smirks. “Unless you need some help here.”

“You’re incorrigible.” She steps out of the way so that he can reach the bathroom mirror, and she’s suddenly aware of his presence right behind him. He pops open a couple of bottles and swallows the pills dry, not even stopping to read the labels.

After Sam has been with the Washingtons for more than half of her life, she realises that being friends with Josh is like having an alarm clock and not remembering what time you set it for. Sometimes he would be genial and warm, and other times he would freeze over. Sometimes he would pass her notes in the hallway. Sometimes, he wouldn't look at her at all. When she makes the swim team, he draws her three little manatees on a sticky note with speech bubbles above them saying, "You did it!" and "You're amazing!". She keeps them on the inside of her binder. Despite knowing him for so long, she still can't figure him out.

When the fall turns to winter, Hannah calls her in tears from the hospital. Josh won't be home for three months.

next chapter

[feralferrule]

Saturday’s Child, Chapter 1

A Modern AU Bad Batch Echo/OC fic

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Word count: ≈4800

This piggybacks onto @clonethirstingisreal’s Hunter/OC fic Hunter and the Librarian but might end up diverging a bit (like a multiverse! lol)

Background: Modern AU; the Batch lives together in a vaguely modern, North American location. They are all actual siblings and veterans. (Well, Omega isn’t a veteran) My OC, Althea, is an artsy-crafty university student who has a part time job as a medical courier. Echo is a permanently disabled combat veteran and volunteers at the VA hospital where he starts noticing a new girl and becomes smitten. Althea is pretty much based on me but this story is not really autobiographical, although there are elements that are/were real. It is my escapism fantasy of how things could have been if I had had half a brain

Let’s see, warnings? Yes, warnings: so far I’ve got a very vague reference of abuse, but nothing specific and you’ll only notice if you don’t blink. There’s self image issues, characters going through medical procedures, some suggestive comments, and there will be discussion and situations surrounding mental health issues like depression and ptsd. It’s SFW (so far, at least this chapter, maybe not forever -I’ll warn ya)

Althea drove slowly around the service side of the hospital. She was still learning the ropes of her medical courier job and had started deliveries at the VA about two weeks ago. She was now comfortable navigating its large complex of buildings after getting lost the first time. She parked by the service entrance nearest to the lab and got out of the vehicle, zipping up her jacket against the winter chill. It was a sunny day but the crisp wind blew cold and dry. She pulled her lip balm out of her pocket and swiped a layer of shimmery pink on her lips.

Her wavy dark auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail under her fluffiest crocheted hat. Some strands framed her face and their red highlights caught the sunlight. Her skin was paler in the winter having lost its tan from the summer and her nose flushed pink with cold. She pulled out a small bin of vials and other packaged supplies from the trunk, closed and locked it and pocketed her keys in her hip pocket, the big plush school mascot on the keychain dangling. She walked up to the service door and balanced the bin on her hip. She tapped in the code to the door. It didn’t open so she knocked. The wind whipped around the building and through the too-thin material of her pants. She felt grateful for the warm, fluffy socks and boots the pants were tucked into.

A large pickup truck pulled up to the curb and a man in an orange vest got out with a tool box and approached her at the door. He glanced at her badge she wore on a lanyard around her neck.

“Delivery? Hold on, I'll get it open for ya,” he said, setting his tool box down and rummaging for something in it, “but we’ll be tearing this whole wall apart and taping it off so you’ll have to leave through another way.” Althea stepped out of the way for him to get at the door. Some more men arrived in another truck. Althea automatically widened her stance and held her head higher as they approached with a ladder and various construction tools. She leveled each in turn with steely eye contact then turned to wait as the first man removed the door’s keypad and got it open.

“Ok thanks for the help getting in, have a nice day,” Althea cheered and hurried inside wondering why they were getting started so late in the day.

The men went about their job while sneaking glances of her before she disappeared through the door. She was used to the male gaze. Althea didn’t consider herself pretty, but she was and had features that people always called “exotic” (she’d grown to really dislike that word) when she was younger and there were fewer people around who looked like her. Men, particularly, would stare- especially after she matured. Sometimes things got uncomfortable or downright ugly. So she was glad to get inside.

Inside she walked down a long hall, through a storage room and into the back of the laboratory where technicians were running tests on various samples of blood, taking things in and out of a refrigerator and checking logs on countertops. A timer for something beeped urgently. A shorter woman in a white coat and goggles came over and peered up at her. It was Phyllis. She was tiny, helpful, chipper and down to business. A real buzz bomb.

“Oh good, you’re here! I hope you have the reagent we ordered last week.”

She took the bin and unpacked it checking a printout of a manifest she pulled out of her pocket and unfolded. Althea looked around as Phyllis finished checking everything off. A door was propped open to what looked like the blood draw area across the room. She could see a tech wrapping an elastic band around the arm of a man who was sitting at her station. Althea thought to look away to not be nosey but she caught the eye of a man standing behind him. He looked familiar, maybe he worked here she thought. He seemed to startle but also seemed to recognize her then he looked away and down just as another tech paused at the door and blocked her view.

“Alright everything accounted for, thank you so much, how are you adjusting to the new job? Are you finding everything easier now?”

Althea handed the mobile device she carried for work over for her to sign for the delivery, “Yes, I think I know where everything is now and have made better time this week. Oh hey- they are fixing the door back there and said to go out another way, where should I go?”

“Oh there’s another way back there over past MRI.” She waved her hand vaguely towards the lobby, and tipped her chin up in that direction with her lips pursed out. “Just follow the signs but keep going.” Another alarm beeped, “gotta go -have a good afternoon.” She patted Althea’s arm and turned to another tech and started firing off instructions on what to do with the supplies.

“Bye, Phyllis,” Althea took her empty bin and opened the lab’s door to the hallway. Her device buzzed and she pulled it out. She tapped on the message and walked down the hall and through a door to the laboratory waiting room. There was a notification from dispatch, a stat pickup across town. Oh boy- just as rush hour was about to start.

As she approached the waiting room’s door to the main part of the hospital she noticed a person in a wheel chair in her line of sight as she was looking down at the map on her device. She reached out and pressed the door’s large silver accessibility button on the wall and stepped aside.

She looked over at the person and smiled. It was the guy getting his blood drawn. He’s just a kid, really, she thought. He had an arm in a sling and blanket over his legs -and the foot rests were folded up. Oh, Althea thought, and made her eyes move up again. That’s when she noticed two hands on the wheelchair’s handles- one was prosthetic. She looked up further and saw the man from the blood draw room, staring like a deer in headlights.

Up close she could see he had sharp features. A strong nose, almost hooded eyes. His cheekbones were prominent on his angular face. He was on the pale side of swarthy, like he should be darker skinned but lost his pigmentation- but didn’t seem unhealthy. He had warm, light hazel eyes and well defined lips and a hint of a five o’clock shadow along a square jaw. Oh he’s so interesting, handsome, Althea thought. She looked down at his volunteer badge. Echo, that’s an interesting name. And he was in shorts? In this weather? Oh- those are both prosthetic legs. Her eyes snapped back up to his face, self-conscious of staring.

The lower man looked up at him, smirked, and gave him big eyes and tipped his head toward her. Althea looked at the doorway and the spell broke. The volunteer, Echo, cleared his throat and stammered, “Thank you, ma’am, af- after you.”

Wow, nice deep voice, Althea thought to herself. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said and walked out, pressing the button again to keep the door open for them. She strode into the lobby realizing she wasn’t sure which way to go. She turned around to see the two men just outside the lab. It looked like they were stopping a disagreement short as she approached them and asked Echo where MRI is.

He opened his mouth to talk but only said, “Um..”

The younger one in the chair pointed and said, “Just down there to the left.”

“Thank you again and nice day to both of you.”

“Wait- what’s your name?” asked the younger man.

“Althea,” she said, turning back to face them.

“Oh that’s a beautiful name, don’t you think so, Echo?” He paused looking at Echo who just nodded slightly and swallowed. “I’m Trace and this is Echo. We were just going to get a coffee if you’d like to join us.” He said hopefully. Echo looked like he wanted to hide and Althea noticed his cheeks flush.

“Well, thank you, but I have to run a stat pickup right now.”

“Oh you’re a courier,” he said looking up at Echo, "Will you be here later?”

“Stop bugging her, she’s working.” Echo finally broke his silence- in his nice deep voice.

“Not today.” Althea said with a tiny smile at the two of them.

Trace made a show of disappointment.

“But I might be later in the week -just not sure exactly when with my schedule.”

“Ok well maybe we’ll see you around then, huh, Echo?”

“Oh yeah maybe yeah,” Echo blubbered.

Althea smirked at Trace and slid her eyes up to Echo who was standing rather stiffly at this point. Her work device buzzed “Alright gotta go guys, see you around, maybe.”

“Bye,” Trace cheered.

Echo mumbled a “ma’am” with a nod.

She smiled at him and he brightened up, the flush on his cheeks reaching his neck.

“Bye, Echo.” Althea said, holding his almost golden eyes in her gaze before turning away.

His body tension slackened and his mouth hung open a bit as she walked away briskly looking at her device. Turning the corner she glanced back and Trace was facing Echo gesturing and shaking his head. Echo was pacing around a bit, running his hand down his face and tugging at his collar. His legs looked really high tech and he wore actual shoes. He moved around so naturally, if he had long pants on she’d never have guessed he was an amputee.

That was interesting, she mused, Trace sure was outgoing and friendly. Does Echo not like me or was he embarrassed, he sure was acting funny? Maybe he was nervous around me. Guys can be like that. Oh maybe he does fancy me. The thought gave her a little thrill that she tried pushing down to focus on work.

She found the hall for the MRI, passed its door and pushed through the heavy exit door to the back parking area. The door she came through was covered in plastic and a scaffold was in front of it. The guys working on it milled around. She hopped in the car setting the bin on the passenger seat and started last week's recorded class lectures on the car’s audio system. Just this last job and then she could run to the store before doing some real cramming for tomorrow’s exam.

*******

“What in the hell was that?” Trace jibed, “ ‘Ma’am’,” he added in a mock lowered voice mimicking Echo’s deeper timber.

“What are you doing, Trace?”

“I’m doing what you should be doing, talking to that girl you’ve been mooning over the past two weeks.” Althea was out of earshot so he had raised his voice some. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been here a lot more lately, always with your head on a swivel. Lookin’ for her the whole time. Shoot, you almost pushed me into a wall last time she was here. Then, when you have a chance to talk to her, you blow it!” He threw his arms out to convey his point and winced, having forgotten his injury.

Echo sighs, “What’s the point? I’m not in her league.” He said as he went around to the back of Trace’s chair, gripped the handles and steered Trace into the coffee shop across the lobby.

“Stow the self deprecation, man. I saw how she looked at you,” Trace said and Echo’s eyebrows raised up a bit. But then he lowered them into a frown.

“She could have anyone, she could be with an athlete or some rich guy’s trophy girlfriend. Why would she waste her time with me?”

“Imma tell you right now if she wanted that she’d be doing that and wouldn’t be a courier going to university.”

Echo side-eyed Trace at the counter. “We’ll take two regular coffees please,” he said to the barista.

The barista pushed two piping hot, lidded paper cups over to him and took the cash he handed her. “Need a receipt?”

“No thank you, keep the change.” He said sliding the cups down the counter a bit.

He steered Trace over to a table and returned for the coffees. He sat down across from Trace, handing him one and asked, “How do you know she’s going to university?”

“Her keychain, it was hanging out of her pants pocket, eye level for me.” He waggled his eyebrows and Echo rolled his eyes. “It has the university mascot on it and she’s wearing one of those rubber bracelets with university logos. I'm telling ya- she’s going to school, not looking for a sugar daddy.”

“She probably has a boyfriend.”

“You can’t know if you don’t ask, Echo.”

They sipped their coffees. Echo stared across the cafe with a scowl. Trace had let up on him, letting him work it out in his head.

Echo drained his cup, “You’re right, I shouldn’t assume anything about her. Come on, let’s get you to your PT session, you’re making good progress.”

Trace shakes his head, “Yeah let’s go.”

********

“Bye Echo.” “See you later, maybe.”

Althea’s voice replayed in his mind along with the image of her deep brown eyes studying his face, her lips barely parted. He ran through all the glimpses he’d had of her over the past couple weeks. He was sitting in the living room at home. The tv was on but he was staring out the window watching his memories of her lips curving in an easy smile for everyone, her politeness to the veterans, and her sweetness to him and Trace, glimpses of her curves under her jacket, that perfect a-

“Is everything alright, Echo?” Tech had just come downstairs and noticed Echo sighing and staring out the window.

“What, oh, yeah, fine.” Echo said, grateful he had a throw pillow in his lap. His train of thought had started having an effect on him. He had it bad he suddenly realized.

There were voices at the front door and it swung open. Wrecker and Hunter clomped inside in their work boots and started peeling off their jackets. Crosshair came down the stairs freshly showered, in his work uniform.

“Ah hey Echo is here,” Wrecker boomed, “Where ya been?”

“Volunteering at the VA, like usual.” Echo said a little defensively, taking in the abrupt change in the room with everyone suddenly in it.

“This is the first afternoon you’ve been home in over a week,” Tech pointed out, picking up the tv remote and turning down a loud commercial.

“Yeah Crosshair was just asking yesterday if you still lived here” Hunter laughed.

“So, what’s her name?” Crosshair sneered with a knowing smirk.

Echo looked at him quick, scowling.

“Aha, it is a girl!” Wrecker pointed his finger at Echo.

“Hey I never said that.” Echo grumbled.

Hunter raised his eyebrows, he and Tech side-eyed each other. Cross smirked and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

“So, when do we get to meet her?” Hunter teased as he sat down on the couch near the chair Echo was in.

Echo sighed, “Never. She’s way out of my league, probably forgot I exist already.”

“Have you tried speaking to her?” Tech asked.

“Well, Trace was playing wingman for me today but I blew it big time,” Echo said despondently looking back out the window and rubbing his arm at the prosthetic absentmindedly. He huffed a louder sigh.

“So who is she? Does she work at the hospital?” Hunter asked.

“Not really she’s a courier, drives between the hospitals and labs and places. Her name’s Althea. Trace said she’s a student at the university.”

“I see why you’ve been there so much, you don’t know when to expect her, do you?” Tech said.

“Yeah,” Echo huffed through his nose, “I guess I’ve been kind of a creep.”

“Does she like you back?” Asked Wrecker.

“I don’t- I don’t know, she’s friendly enough but she seems to be that way with everybody,” Echo said a little bitterly.

Suddenly, Omega burst in the front door yelling, “Bye, thank you!” over her shoulder. She sees them all facing a pensive Echo. “Hi guys, what's going on?” she asked, picking up on the energy in the room.

“Hey Omega, how was your study session at the library? You got homework?” Hunter tried distracting her.

“Yeah my table group did a bunch of research today, Kate’s mom drove us all home, and we have a big history project due next week. I need to go to the store for supplies.” She was talking a mile a minute as usual.

“I can take you,” said Tech. “I was just going to go buy a few things myself. What exactly do you need to get?”

“Craft things. Like for a building model.”

“Perfect, the craft store is right next door to the electronic parts store.”

“Alright I’ll be right back.”Omega dashed for the stairs with her backpack, almost crashing into Wrecker who’d come out of the kitchen with a handful of something he was snacking on.

“Slow down on the steps!” Hunter calls up to her.

“So what are you gonna do, Echo?” Wrecker said.

“I don’t know. If I see her again and she can spare a moment I’ll try to talk to her. I just don’t know when that will be. And it’s making me so distracted while volunteering. Trace really gave me a ration about it today.” He shook his head rubbing at his temple.

“Well you better do something, I don’t think I can put up with you like this,” Crosshair snarked, sipping on his coffee. Echo glared at him.

“I know, you can write her a note and put your phone number on it and give it to her when you see her.” Wrecker said, “you got this! Just don’t over-think it, brother.”

“Hey, you’ve faced so much fearlessly, are you really afraid of a no from this girl?” Hunter asked.

“It’s just been so long I didn’t know what to say. And besides, what do I have to offer her?”

Tech cleared his throat, “You are capable, strong, confident-“

“Uuuusuallly-“ Hunter interrupted. Echo side eyed him.

“Outgoing, resilient, intelligent and very creative in the kitchen.” Tech continued. “You are caring and dedicated and I’ve seen how women look at you- they find you alluring.”

“Are you trying to encourage him or stroke his ego?” Crosshair sniped.

“We’re trying to get him to get this girl to stroke his ego,” Wrecker laughed at his own awful joke. There was a round of groans, head shaking and snickering.

“That’s another thing- would she want to be with me?” He gestured toward his arm and leg prosthetics.

“Who knows? She could be a real freak,” Crosshair said into his coffee. Tech shot him a glare and Wrecker smacked him upside the head as he walked by heading back to the kitchen. Echo didn’t seem to hear that.

“Give her the benefit of the doubt,” Tech said, “You’ve got all the necessary equipment,” he added matter of factly.

“I’m leaving,” Crosshair sneered, acting disgusted. He took the mug back to the kitchen.

“I get you have concerns,” Hunter leveled Echo with a steady gaze, “but you have to figure this kind of thing out with the other person. You deserve love and happiness and you absolutely can give that to her.” He stood, patted Echo’s shoulder and followed Wrecker into the kitchen. Crosshair left for work and Omega bounced down the stairs babbling at Tech as they left for their shopping trip. Echo turned back to the window, considering his brothers’ advice and decided it was a good idea to have a note like Wrecker suggested on hand in case he saw her and she was in a rush again.

******

“I’ll be in here, if Hunter didn’t give you enough cash for your supplies come get me.” Tech and Omega were on the sidewalk in front of a row of shops.

“Ok, see you in a little bit, Tech,” Omega said as she bounced into the craft store. She wandered around until she found the aisle full of diorama supplies. She pulled the project outline and list of things she needed to build out of her pocket and started counting up the dollar amounts she needed for everything. It was adding up fast and she realized she didn’t have nearly enough money for everything. She put the few things she’d picked up back on their shelves and, looking at her project outline from her teacher, left the aisle and turned the corner to leave the store.

-And bumped into a woman carrying entirely too many skeins of yarn. All the yarn went down around them bouncing and rolling every which way in the aisle.

Omega looked around at it all and then up at the woman. “Oh I’m so sorry! Let me help you.” Omega said in earnest.

Althea laughed, “No worries kid, I wasn’t paying attention and really should have a cart for all this. I didn’t know it would all be on clearance. I couldn’t pass up all these great colors.”

“Do you knit?” Asked Omega as she reached for some pink yarn.

I only know crochet. But maybe I’ll try learning knitting.” She gathered up several skeins and picked up Omega’s project outline. “I remember making one of these in school. Are you here to get supplies for it?”

“Yeah but it’s all so expensive, I didn’t bring enough money.”

“Well the diorama stuff really is spendy, but you can DIY a lot of it for practically nothing. Do you have paints and glue?”

“Yes, I got a paint set for Christmas. And I have school glue”

“Well you just need some cardboard, newspaper and maybe some little sticks from outside to make trees.”

They walked up to the registers and plopped all the yarn down on the counter. Omega looked at the clearance stickers, “Wow you are saving a lot of money on these!”

“Oh yeah, they’re so expensive when full priced. It usually costs more to make a sweater than to buy one.”

The cashier rang her up and stuffed all the yarn into some bags. Althea made her way outside with Omega holding the door for her. “Thank you, you are so helpful!” Althea said as they walked towards her car parked backwards in a spot out in front of the store.

“You're welcome and my name’s Omega.”

“I love your name. I’m Althea, it’s really nice to meet you.”

Omega beamed. “I don't think I’ve met anyone named Aleetha before.”

Althea smiled, “Al-thea, but you can call me Allie if that’s easier. “It’s pretty old fashioned. I’m named after my mother’s grandmothers, Althea and Rose.” She opened up the back of her car and set all the bags of yarn inside then shut it. And turned back to Omega who looked a little sad for the first time since she’d met her.

“So you can get packaging materials in there that they just throw away,” Althea pointed at the electronics store. “They should have pieces of foam, too. Just go online and watch videos of diy diorama buildings and you’ll see so many demonstrations. Here, let me just show you where they keep it all.”

“Oh good, you’ll get to meet my brother, he’s a computer guy and is in there right now looking for parts.” Omega had cheered right back up. Althea opened the shop’s door and let Omega inside.

“Back for more trash or are you going to actually buy something today, Allie?” said a pimply, skinny guy older than Omega but younger than Althea. He was sitting on a stool behind the counter in front, slouched over a catalog.

“This is my charming cousin, Brad. Brad I have a crafting protégé here who needs supplies for a history project. You got boxes and foam in the back?”

“Yeah you know where to look.” He leaned back, flipping through the catalog which they could now see was for car parts.

They went to the back and found some boxes, foam panels, and scraps of clear plastic. “These are good for windows, you can color them with sharpies to make stained glass.”

“Oh that’s a great idea!” Omega’s eyes lit up every time Althea told her another technique or hack with different materials.

They heard a throat being cleared behind them and turned in unison. Tech was standing a few steps away with handfuls of cables and components, looking between the two girls with a curious expression.

“Hi Tech!” Omega turned to Althea, “This is my brother Tech. This is Althea,” she said carefully, “but you can call her Allie. She’s helping me with my project. She is showing me how to do it for free!”

Big age difference Althea noted, he’s probably close to her age. Maybe Omega’s the baby of the family. Ohhhh that makes her name make sense, hmmm. And why did he look familiar? He was good looking in a way she couldn’t put a finger on.

“Nice to meet you, your sister is so sweet, very bright.”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you too.” Tech replied in his clipped manner. There was an awkward pause as Tech wondered if she is the same Althea as at Echo’s work; it's not a common name. He made a mental note to look up the company name on the jacket she was wearing.

“Well I better be going. I need to get back to studying.”

“What are you studying?” Omega asked.

“Getting my BS in biology- I want to go into medicine.

Remember what I said about scrounging and don’t forget the corrugated cardboard for the roof.”

“Can we meet again? I want to show you when I finish,” Omega pleaded.

“Well I don’t know….” She said giving Tech an apologetic look to convey that she’d understand if he wouldn’t be keen on a strange adult befriending his kid sister.

Without batting an eye he asked, “What are you doing for Super Bowl?”

“Oh I'm not the biggest football fan, didn’t have anything planned-“

Omega gasped, “You can come over for our Super Bowl party! We’re going to have lots of food! And all my brothers will be there and some friends and we can play games- pleeeeese can you come?”

“Oh ok that’s this Sunday right?” Althea chuckled.

Omega was carefully writing on a scrap of cardboard and handed it to Althea. “Here’s our address. It’s not too far from here, a little past the library.”

“Well alright I guess I could swing by for a little bit and see your project.”

“Ok great!”

“What can I bring?” Althea looked at Tech.

“Well we are not big alcohol drinkers so if you want anything like that- but really you don’t need to bring anything,” Tech said.

“Ok, I’ll come up with something.” Althea said playfully, “see you both Sunday. Good luck with the project, Omega.”

“Bye, Allie! Thank you for all your help, I can’t wait to show you Sunday,” Omega said.

“Good evening, Allie,”said Tech.

She waved as she left, shooting a “see ya around, Brad” at her cousin. She hurried to her car and turned on the heater as she drove out of the parking lot, it was getting really chilly. She went over the encounter in her mind. Well, this evening went differently than I thought it would. And now I’ve got some serious peopling to do on Sunday. I suppose that’s going to be safe, after all Omega will be there and they seem like a nice family. And it will be nice to do something besides school and work and rotting on the couch with yarn.

*****

Tech clicked the search button on the screen. The first result was a sponsored ad for medical courier drivers.

“…first in medical delivery services and logistics…”

Bingo. His hunch was right. He felt very pleased with himself and his observations and sleuthing. But then started thinking better of it- is this too manipulative? Is Echo going to be upset with him? Will this be too much? He sat there with his doubts.

No. No, she is genuinely nice and a new friend of Omega’s regardless of the Echo connection. No, this will work out nicely. Should he tell Echo now? But what if she doesn’t show up? He got up and headed down stairs. Hunter would know what to do.

[misguidedasgardian]

I need to... (7)

... Solve this

A Targaryen special

MASTERLIST

Summary: A few weeks with the Targaryens

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

Warnings: There are mentions of them being Minors! at some point in their relationship, cursing, cheating, angst, depression, inappropriate relationship student/professor, might miss some warnings. I smoked something, and the holiday in the seven Kingdoms is celebrating the coming of Azhor Ahai, aka the princess that was promised, aka our Dany, who saved the au from eternal winter HAHA take away my computer

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Notes: This was hard, and I can safely say this will be the only chapter like this haha I did not check this, like I said, my brain melted jeje

I never wanted anyone else but my gorgeous girlfriend, ever, with her I had it all. The looks, the brains, the sex, the image. She wanted to go to that frosted wasteland, that was not even ranking in the first three universities, so I convinced her to go in the right direction, it was good of me, not bad, it was what she had to do, to become the best version of herself, the one who was perfect to become the wife of a politician. She was perfect for the imagine of a wholesome family, the one I was going to give to her.

I was Jahaerys, she was my Alyssane 

I had her, she was here with me, in Dragonstone, we were set for forever, I put a ring around her finger, a promise ring, I had my mother’s blessing, my father’s too, her godmother was a powerful friend of the family who gave money for my father and his career 

So what if I enjoyed a bit of female’s attention? So what if now I realize, that, under the right setting, under the proper social circle, I was the most interesting and sought after man in the entire school? 

What if I wanted to test how far I could take it?

Fucking a professor was like a badge of honor amongst guys, at least, that is what Criston Cole told me around campus, that if I managed to pull it off I could be some sort of God, I was just, reaffirming what I already knew

That I belonged at the top of the food chain, in Dragonstone University 

And my girlfriend didn’t have to know, she was already here by my side, with my friends, my school, dependent on me…

If you think about it, all men go through it, the younger version, the older one, this is just like that, a rite of passage 

Sadly, you did not see things as I did, you didn’t see the bigger picture, the future of us together, having a successful career, after letting out steam in our younger years, I thought you were going to be the Cyresse to me Maegor, there through everything, but no… 

Your shortsightedness was very illuminating for me

You did not see things so far into the future, and that was probably my fault for not train you properly for that, for what was expected of me, and now you for being my girlfriend, the picture my parents and even grandfather had painted for me and I was so eager to fulfill. The perfect roll.

My oldest sister was a disappointment, my brother Aegon was a disappointment, Helaena was… barely there

It fell on me

To be the perfect son

And I was gladly going to take that roll 

Because I could…

I was going to finish my degree in politics and diplomacy, I was going to marry my powerfull girlfriend, and I was going to give myself to public service and life, following a political career, it was all laid out for me… 

But this was just fucking great

As I watch her walking away from me in the dorm’s hallway, I knew something was going to be different

This wasn’t like other times, when we fought… no, it has to be, she needed time to cool off, the anger needed to dissipate, and when she weighs in the pros and cons, like she always did, she was going to achieve the conclusion that suited me, that she had to forgive me, there was too much to loose for her. Nothing had to change, not a single part of my plans

What is a politician's life without a bit of scandal?

Now I have other things to take care off

My steps are sharp and decisive, no matter how fucked up things look like, I have to keep my composure 

I know that at this time of day, she must be cleaning her art supplies after her sophomore’s class… And there is exactly where she was, with her back turned to me

“I want a paternity test”, is the first thing I say once I check quickly for undesired ears. She turned around and she looks shocked

“She told you? really? I was hoping to tell you tonight, I… had something planned, I gave her class an entire research about…”

“Before we do anything, I want a paternity test”, I repeat, no, this cannot happen to me, 

“I’m only like eight weeks”, she said, her hand on her lower belly

“I will wait”, she frowned, which by now, I have never seen her do, frown lines were not something that she had on her face 

“What happened?”, she asked, suddenly angry

“She knows”

“I know that”, she said

“And it never crossed your mind giving me a heads up? she had known for a week!”, I growled

“She pulled her threatricks today in my class, and I found out she knew”, she whined back, “but why does it matter?”, she kept asking, “you are finally free”

“For what?”, I ask, “to be with you?”, she looked like I slapped her, my sharp and disgusted tone gave that effect

“I thought that’s what we were doing”, she said, fixing her hair, trying to keep her composure, “being… together…”

“How do I know I was the only one you were fucking?”, I asked point blank, and she moved her hand quickly, I turn my face as her finger collided with my cheek, the sting came after

“I thought what we had was special”, she whined, tears in her eyes

“That I was going to drop everything for this?”, I asked bitterly

“I can be what you need”, she purred, I chuckled darkly

“like I said, I want a paternity test”

“Is yours!”, she fought

“I need it in writing”, I say back

“Why don’t you believe me!?”, she was losing it 

“Because I barely know you, and you said, you were taking care of yourself, and clearly you aren’t”

“No birth control is 100% effective”, she bit

“If the child is mine, the money won’t be a problem”, I said formally

“The money?”, she said back, “what about you?”

“I’m a Targaryen, I cannot be involved in this”, I only muttered, and I left the room

I had finals, I couldn’t be bothered, I had a plan and…

Fuck fuck fuck

The words in front of me, in my book, about the Valyrian republic started playing in my mind, dancing across the page, and suddenly I Was re-reading for the third time the same page because i couldn’t process the words

This is ridiculous

The plain page mocking me, the huge amount of information right then in front of me…

Fuck

Where are those stupid study cards?

Flashcards, I searched for them in my suitcase and once I found them, with your lettering, and colors for me to learn by chapter, one color a different chapter…

But these were old, for the midterms, not for the finals… 

FUCK

How hard could it be?, I started rereading, and summarizing, and after four hours and the librarian kicking me out of the library, I had nothing

A day wasted

How the fuck did I became so codependant in a studybody? even if that studybody was you?

The final was tomorrow, and I barely scraped two chapters of the four

This was going to be a long night

Not even Cole could pull me off of this 

The next day, after I barely slept I barely kept myself awake to give the damn test

I was obviously going to pass, but… I was not so sure about the excellency grade on this one

I’m so fucking pissed.

How could you abandon me at a time like this?

So selfish and short sighted

I slip one time, once! and this is how you are supposed to support me? be by my side? 

Two days had passed and no news from her, anything, she had left her ring on my nightstand front he last time we fucked, and she won’t even text me to get it back, and that was worrying… 

So, deciding I should be the bigger person and apologize so we can leave all of this nightmare behind us, I went to look for her…

Alys’ baby wasn’t mine, I knew so, I heard about this sort of thing all the time, I was not going to fall on this, she was trying to babytrap me, and I was not going to let that happen.

And you? you were punishing me, it's alright, I can take it, soon you will be back in my arms, and our lives together were going to be back on track

This was just a slump on the road, and you both should be thankful that happened so early on, so you could control it, and make it disappear in the rearview mirror 

And that is why, when I knocked on your dorm room, I found it strange that your name had been erased from the small white board on the door, and then Maris opened, and when she saw me, her eyes lit up, and her mouth shaped to a sick grin

“Aemond”, she greeted

“Maris”, I said shortly, “is (y/n) here?”, and her smile only got wider

“She told you the other day! she left”

“What?”, I asked

“Yes, she left!”, she opened the door and took a step away for me to look into the room, and her entire side was empty, completely gone, she, was gone, even her bed, Maris had already invaded your side

“Where is she?”, i ask, feeling all blood leaving my face 

“A nice, older lady came one day and helped her put everything in boxes, and in a couple of hours…”

“Fuck!”, I slammed the door no my way out and I cursed the day that nosey Cerenna decided to finally meddle in your life 

She was a poor influence on you, she has always had been

I grab my phone and dialed your number, number five on speed dial

It didn’t even ring.. did you?

No

I looked up the texting app and…

No photo

I send a text…

And… no double tick

No… no, no, no, no

Instagram?

Couldn’t find you

No

No, you were just punishing me, you were going to come back, you always did

Maybe you got scared, and Cerenna came and picked you up, but you were not leaving, not permanently, you were coming back

You were

So I wrote the first email

But it rebounded

Even email, uh?

So I created a new email address, and I wrote the first one

No big deal

I had other finals to get to

And giving you time to cool down was the best idea.

So I did my best

The amnio test I had to make Alys take was in about one more month, according to her… so nothing I could do until then, until after Winter Break 

I just had to keep it together, nothing had a turning point, I still didn’t hit the point of no return, I knew it 

Fuck Fuck

The semester was over, and I didn’t even want to join the celebrations of my classmates, or with Cole, who knew the dirty details of the lowest parts of Dragonstone, the whole city

But I didn’t have it in me

In fact, every desire I still held to celebrate the successful first semester of university was killed when I received word from my father, that we were all supposed to spend holidays together in King’s Landing… and all of us ment

Fucking Rhaenyra and all her family

The liberals, the underdogs, the pariahs 

It was going to be interesting

As soon as I arrived, the questioned was asked

“Where is she?”

As always you were expected to spend the holidays with us, and now, not even I had an answer for your whereabouts

“She is spending it with Cerenna”

“But they live in King’s Landing dear, didn’t you invite them? I’ll have to call them”, muttered my mother.

I looked at her intensely as she dialed the number, but it rang and rang, and nothing

No one answered

“That is strange”

“Cerenna mentioned she wanted to take her to a small vacation, you know they both aren’t as festive”

“But dear, is the week before the elections!”, she said urgently

“I know”

It was expected of me to take you back into the fold

So I did as the men before had done, before cell phones existed 

I went to your house

But it was empty, and no, I’m running errands empty

Empty empty as we will not be coming back anytime soon

We all lived in the same neighborhood, at the top of Rhaenys’ hill, a very exclusive palace

And then when I first started to think, you were not going to be so forgiving

At least, not as easy 

If you had been with another man, I would have been difficult to forgive you, I would have make you work hard for my forgiveness, it was alright, I was going to put up the work

When I came back to my father’s house, I came face to face with Jacaerys

“Jace”, I greet shortly

“Uncle”

“How is that frozen wasteland?”, I asked

“How is that sticking up your ass they put you in Dragonstone?”

“Feels great”, i mutter

“So as freezing my ass off”, he answered 

That little shit, that because he had other beliefs and wants to fight for survival in his university he believes he is better than me

Tonight the festival in the commemorations of Azor Ahai, the princess that was promised was commencing and it was going to be a whole week long, it was indeed going to be a long weekend, celebrating the coming of our savior, who saved us from eternal winter.

As my mother was performing her prayers, a phone dinged you opened your eyes to look at Jace, who took only one look at his screen and his face lit up, and then looked straight at me, with a mocking grin on his face

He had asked about you

I told him you were taking the holidays to be with your godmother

But something in his smiled and his mocking eyes

That little shit knew something 

“Where is (y/n)?”, he asked out loud, I growled

“I told you, she is in vacations with Cerenna”

“I don’t think she is”

“This is hardly appropriate”, mocked Alicent

“But concerning”, said Daemon, who presence here I still don’t understand, “elections are next week, and the Lannisters are not in town”

“How do you know?”, I ask

“Oh I know”, he mocked, Laena, hsi wife, smiled shyly, mockingly

Where they all in on it

“What does it mean?”, asked Viserys, recently catching up

“It means that neither Aemond’s girlfriend, nor her billionaire sympathizer godmother, nor her family of billionaires and politics financiers are here for election week, and i’m guessing, the reason for their absence has something to do with the fact that your son, has no fucking idea of where her girlfriend is”

“Meaning?”, he asked again

“Iluminate us Aemondd, where is your girlfriend?”

“On travels”, I said

“On holidays? on election week?”, asked Daemon

“Yes” 

“Aemond..”, whispered Alicent, “what did you do?”

“Nothing”, I growled

“You did something”, muttered Jace

“You know where she is”, i say angrily

“I know where she is going to be”, he mocked

“What does that mean?”, asked Alicent. I couldn’t take it anymore

You left Dragonstone, you canceled your enrollment, you finished your tuition. You told me you were going North and I didn’t want to believe it

“She left Dragonstone”, i say, “she met a guy from Winterfell University, and she left me, and Dragonstone”

“What?”

Rhaenyra had been oddly quiet, only looking at everyone, but now, she couldn’t hide her triumphant smirk in her cup of whine

“She left you?”, asked Alicent, horrified, “how could she do that?”

“The better question would be, what did you do baby brother?”, teased Aegon

“She left me”, i defended

“She wouldn’t do that without reason”, muttered Helaena, that, didn’t even seemed she was paying attention to the conversation

“What did you do Grandson?”, asked Otto HIghtower

“I told you, she left me”

“And she managed to convince the Lannisters to go with her? I don’t believe that!”, he said, raising his voice, Daemon laughed, drinking wine

What a great fucking dinner

“I’m sure there is an explanation for this!”, said Alicent

“She left with a guy named Ben”, I defended

“You know what? it doesn’t surprise me, she always looked like a problematic, wanton little tart”, the sound of a cup breaking in millions of tiny pieces made everyone fell quiet as Rhaenyra had crushed the damn thing with her bare hand

“Don’t you dare speak about her like that”, she growled. My mother only chuckled darkly, “she is the daughter of one of my best friends, and my son’s youth companion”

“Takes one to know one”, and that is when Jacaerys stood up

“If she left Dragonstone to follow her dreams clearly Aemond pushed her to do it, I know for sure the Lannisters wouldn’t get involved in all of this if the matter wasn’t serious”

“Jace”, called Viserys

“Call Tyland and ask him why he is not here”, hee demanded, “call him grandfather”

Viserys picked up the phone, and called his political ally, it ranged twice, and then it sounded like Tyland had hang up on him

“What did you do to my friend?:, asked Jace

“You haven’t spoken in years!”, I defended, “what do you know?”

“Enough!”, called Alicent, “we are in holidays”

The appetites were pretty much sated after that

I tried to speak to Jacaerys in the days that followed, but he wouldn’t tell me anything

Than the primaries came, and the Lannisters were a no show

And my father lost the primaries

Fuck

FUCK

And when I thought things couldn’t be any better

I was summoned into my father’s office, and when I entered, my parents, and my grandfather Otto were there

“What’s the matter?”, I ask

“Aemond, why did I receive an email about a Professor called Alys Rivers, saying she is expecting your child?” 

FUCK FUCK FUCK 

My phone ranged in my pocket, a text from Alys, a picture, a picture of us, fucking, a Terminantion letter..

All, in one day

“So now we know why we lost all the founding and costs us the elections!”, growled my Grandfather

It was the most humiliating afternoon of my life 

Alys fired

A picture circulating Dragonstone University

Alys taking me down with her

an email from the Dean asking me to meet her as soon as the vacations are over

And you? never to be seen

Alys claims you took and send the picture around

You had received all my angry emails, at least they didn’t bounce, but still, no answer

Daemon, and now Jace knew where you were and yet, they wouldn’t tell me

My mother lost a chunk of her hair in the reunion where they were berating me. Viserys stood awfully quiet, looking at the table in front of him, clearly calculating how much this was going to cost him.

And Otto was calling lawyers to prepare for the meeting with the Dean

The freedom I had, the reliance I enjoyed from my family, the trust they had in me, the respect, everything was destroyed.

Now, I was no better than my brother who tried to study multiple careers and couldn’t finish one, the one who had multiple ladies and scandals with sex workers, I was no better than him, my mistake had been more permanent, more public, and that, in the world of politics, was unforgivable

And yet

And yet

I needed to find you

It wasn’t even later, after I had my grandfather threaten the Dean with letting me continue my studies or else, even after the time was up and I told Alys to take the test

She tried to tell me she had already taken it, that she had found a lock of my hair…

But I made her repeat it, so I went to the doctor with her.

And while I waited for the results, I started to think, to meditate

Maybe I could turn this around

Maybe, if the kid was mine, I could get married. Alys was exquisite, in looks at least, she was enticing, had something about her, I could train her, to dance to the politics’ song.

You could do it, make all of this worth it. The Lannisters were back, clearly just wanted to give us a scare, they will never support the Liberals, they were just taking a warning shot, perhaps… 

Perhaps this could work

My father had a team, a PR team dedicated to this sort of thing, to spin things to make them look great, to gain advantage from the worst of points 

Yes, if the baby was mine, I could spin this around.

And then the results came

NEGATIVE

What a surprise… a gold digger tried to baby trapped me and she didn’t even do it right

She accused me to my mother of fathering a lie…

And now…

FUCK! 

If you had never found out, if Alys haven't told my mother

But you did, she did, you blew up everything, she also, and now… I had nothing…

As I stared at the results on that paper

“I never want to see you again”, I say to the woman in front of me 

“The test was wrong!!”, she cried

“You tried to baby trapped me, you accused me to my mother”, I growled

“You have to understand”

“If I see you again I’m going to make sure you never get another job teaching”, I threatened, and in tears, she left the apartment I had rented 

My respect from my family was gone

My flawless record in my elite university was gone

My reputation was tainted

You were gone

Since the second I lost you, I continued to lose everything else…

No…

If I win you back, if I take you back, I bring you back to me, all the problems were going to be solved 

So I put all my contacts to work, but I didn't have to look too far…

Jacaerys was happy to share pictures in a pagan party, and you were on them

Winterfell Fucking University 

And who was that fucking guy looking at you in all the pictures that look like a wolf pup?

lIke I say, my brain melted... I dind't even corrected this, is just rambling, but an insight of what happened when Aemond's life imploded!

taglist!

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys

[aoharushiyo]

the recipes for... | track 1 — chocolate pudding

Translation: en Proofreading: aca, dimi, kimi, myun, jay, jelly

Content Warning: light jokes about death

PatiBattle is my life. A masterpiece containing the quintessential element, the character that gives meaning to my very existence— yeah, you heard that right: his name is Chiyoda Reito.

PatiBattle is my life. A masterpiece containing the quintessential element, the character that gives meaning to my very existence— yeah, you heard that right: his name is Chiyoda Reito.

---

"Come the hell on, if I don't get there soon, it might all be gone…!"

I was held back after school for ages by the teachers today. Some lecture about my behaviour in class or something. Stuff like my attitude being all over the place, or reading manga under my desk in class… But why today, of all days? Of course, I just had to run my mouth and say that I'd listen any other day, please let me off just for today… but that just ended up adding oil to the fire and I got held back even longer.

[ Next Restock TBA ] "…"

I flew into the anime shop I frequented and stopped in front of the display case for newly stocked merch. I hadn't been able to pre-order, so all the merch I wanted had all already been snagged.

"Seriously… I wish this would stop happening…"

And it's just my luck that I don't have any friends I can ask to buy merch for me.

"'Restock TBA'…? The very concept of this should fuck right off."

Student life may as well be slavery. Sure, pointing and laughing at the working class and calling them corporate slaves has been a thing since ages ago, but isn't being a student pretty much the same thing? At these places called 'schools', you're physically limited to what you can do, you're forced into doing club activities after school, and even once you get home, you've gotta do homework or chores… All that takes up a shit ton of time. Adults always overestimate the amount of free time we kids have.

"Fuck…!"

Despite all of that, somehow I'm making do with the little free time I have. Attending events, making shrines, exchanging official and blind box merch, buying out merch stocks[1], nui outings, birthday pilgrimages…

"Aah… my life has no meaning anymore… Just end me already…"

I just couldn't take it any longer. I stumbled out of the store, and, after sparing only a glance to make sure no one was around, started hitting my head against the wall, over and over. Over, and over, and over. I failed. I'm a failure. I'm sorry, Reito, I'm so sorry that I couldn't bring you home.

The theme for the acrylic standee set this time around was 'Training Camp - First Year, Winter ~Wedding Cake~'. A set that dressed every single character in exquisite bridal attire. Not being able to get something like that on the day of its release is absolutely unforgivable. I might as well just die.

The way back was freezing cold. The weather sucked ass, too.

---

Today, I decided to go home instead of returning to the dorms. Here, I can do whatever I want without anyone getting in my way.

"…Yeah, I guess it'll do."

My feelings of frustration needed some kind of outlet. All of the love I was so ready to shower on my new standee had to go somewhere, too — so I eagerly channelled it into something else.

"Aren't you looking pretty good now?"

I held up my apron, extremely pleased with the crooked rows of can badges and pins that covered its entirety. Naturally, the apron was in Reito's image colour. And right over the chest, where my new merch should have been, shone in its place a new, extra-large aluminium standee.[2] That's right. In this patisserie kitchen, we don't have ita-bags — we have ita-aprons, obviously.

"I've gotta finish this before Reito's birthday…"

I guess you could say it's like a way of measuring love. If this weight is the weight of my love, then even if it's heavy because of how many things I've slowly added to it, I can't get enough. I just can't get enough of the insanity of wearing it. Merch of Reito is in ridiculously high demand, so it's really not great for my wallet, but… I'm fine with that. Because only then does it feel like I'm giving up even my soul for Reito.

"Now then…"

Finally satisfied with my sparkling, gleaming rows of badges, I moved onto the next part of my daily routine — checking socials. After all, numerous new fanworks are being created every day.

"Searching for… 'PatiBattle!'…" With great enthusiasm, I searched for every single keyword that I could think of. 'Patissier Battle', 'Chiyoda Reito', 'ReiOu', 'Rei0u', 'ChocoPudding'…[3]

"Damn, this person's art is so good… wait— wait, they drew this!? This is insane! Fuck, oh fuck… I can't take it, it's so radiant that I can't even look at it properly…!"

This must be what it means to be happy. Being able to see the masterpieces being born every day is happiness. While happily wading through my feed, I spent hours lost in the online world.

"…Ah."

There it was: Reito/Shouta. And… blocked. It's like I never saw it in the first place. It really was a shame that they didn't understand the better dynamic. But staying in your own lane makes the world go 'round, so never having to see it again was good enough.

And finally, after checking everything else, I'd left the best for last:

"Sanseiu-sensei…!"

Sanseiu-sensei, the god of ReiOu. Even if they hadn't uploaded anything new, I could spend hours rereading all of their older works.

"What's wrong? Could it be… is that embarrassment I see?" "H-hey! I still can't believe it… What would someone like you see in me…?" "If you keep saying things like that, I'll just go ahead and eat you up." "Mmph…!?" "…Delicious." "R-Reito-kun!" "Aren't you so sweet? Maybe… even sweeter than chocolate."

"Aaah, it's still this good every time I read this!? Even though I've read it before? This flavour never gets old no matter how many times I reread it! Seriously! What the fuck! I'm gonna go insane!"

After rolling around on my bed, I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it while writhing in glee. How was I supposed to remain sane after reading that!?

"It's so cute! It's so cute that I'm gonna die! Killing me directly would be less painful, Sanseiu-sensei!"

Throwing my emotions into this much disarray… that was the power of the great Sanseiu-sensei. I'd heard that they tabled at a large convention a few months ago, but…

"I wanna meet them and thank them…!"

I wanted to go so badly, but…

"…I can't deal with crowds…"

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[1] 無限回収 mugen kaishuu refers to the act of buying the same merch over and over without caring about the cost. If you've ever seen one of those huge birthday shrines with a million of the same pins? That's the energy.

[2] アルミ arumi basically is a shortened form of ‘aluminium’. This could refer to a can badge, but it could also be an aluminium standee, which is a cutout of an artwork from an aluminium can. Since Ushio is saying that instead of the acrylic standee, he got an arumi, and also that he mentioned can badges earlier, I've gone with this option.

[3] 礼王 is Ushio's OTP, Reito/Ouji. He'll explain this later! After this, he searches for 礼玉. Note that 玉 looks like 王; it's pretty common to use something to censor part of the name so that it doesn't appear in searches. I've replaced the O with a 0 to replicate the same effect since it wouldn't make much sense to literally transcribe it. 'ChocoPudding' is another version of their ship name (which he will also explain later).

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