#I have seen people get hurt really really bad

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

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The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never ever I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

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author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[fgumi]

⋆˙⟡♡ CHALANT

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!jaehyun x reader, GENRE; fluff, uni!au, headcanon, WC; 2.1k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive, A/N; oh to be loved by chalant myung jaehyun. TAGS; @onedoornet @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @prettyange1 @bee-the-loser @pumpkg @lucky-wy @leehanwish}

chalant!myungjae has never been shy about his crush on you. hell, he made it a public affair. anyone and everyone knew about it, including you. you didn’t really know what to think. this good-looking guy was openly proclaiming that he’s interested in you. it sounded like a trap, something that’d hurt you. at first, it was just words. people that knew you both would comment.

��did you know myung jaehyun likes you?” “can you tell your boyfriend to shut up about you?”

he’s not my boyfriend, you’d reply. you started feeling bad for these people at some point. here’s this guy that you knew next to nothing about and he’s talking people’s ears off about how he’s so in love with you. what is he so in love with? he’s never even talked to you. when it was people that you mutually knew, you didn’t think much of it. but then, there were strangers coming up to you.

“uh, are you y/n?” yes. “this dude, jaehyun, is like really into you. he would not stop talking about you at the party.”

so i’ve heard, you’d say. how is this guy telling everyone but you? you started getting annoyed, so annoyed that you finally confronted him. you tried to avoid when he was with his friends, not wanting to embarrass the guy further, but he was always with someone. so, one day, when you spotted him in the library, you decided that enough was enough. you marched right up to his table. what about me are you so in love with? you asked.

if anyone else said that and others overheard, they’d think you were crazy and narcissistic. but, because it was you, no one batted an eye. actually, they all leaned closer, hoping that this was the day jaehyun would finally shut up about you. jaehyun’s face went from shocked to goofy. he had this lopsided grin when he started.

“what’s there not to love? you’re insanely smart—i’ve seen the way you lead discussion sections. you’re really kind—you helped all those freshmen pass genetics even though you were clearly stressed about your stuff. you’re very particular about your drinks, but not in a rude way—i hear you apologizing to baristas about how specific your order is and then you leave a big fat tip. you love the sun. i always catch you sunbathing in the quad around 2pm after class—i swear i’m not stalking you! i just have a class in the quad. you’re funny—the side-eyes you give the people saying the dumbest things make me giggle. you—” you get it.

gosh, if only you could hide further into your hoodie. your face was bright red. all his friends were giving you exasperated looks, as if to say “please go out with him so he’ll finally shut up.” you didn’t realize you ran into him that much. you were constantly stressed, rushing to class, that people were just blurred faces to you. you barely managed to make eye contact with jaehyun and then you saw. he looked at you like you held the answer to all his prayers.

“if i take you on a date, will you stop bothering people about how you’re so in love with me?” you muttered. then, this guy has the gawl to shake his head. “absolutely not. but! i’ll shut up for a day.”

his friends nodded rapidly, begging you with their whole bodies to do it. a day was better than anything, they supposed. so, you asked him out. jaehyun’s grin couldn’t get any wider.

chalant!myungjae stayed true to his word and never shut up about you after that one (blissful) day. just like before, he talked about you with anyone that’d give him the time, even your professors. because you were in the same major, you and jaehyun had the same classes, just not the same section (much to jaehyun’s dismay). so, he’d hang back a few until you arrived so he could give you his notes.

“it’s a preview! so you don’t have to rush to catch everything.”

in those few minutes that you take to arrive, jaehyun’s talking to your professor.

“you should totally make my girlfriend, y/n, your ta! she’s always the top scorer and is helping out other people anyways!” “this is us on our second date. look at how pretty she is! i think she’s the love of my life.” “do you think you could transfer me into this section so i could be with her?” no, they’d say exhaustedly.

if your professors were at all bitter, they would’ve hated you. having to hear about you so much was tiring. but, they all appreciated love when they saw it—or, in this case, heard it. though they didn’t let it show too much, they did tend to favor you after hearing how much you enjoyed the class and helped others. you were certainly helping their ratemyprofessor scores.

chalant!myungjae was a confident person. but, he was never more confident than the times he could acceptably brag that he was your boyfriend.

you took part in dancing as an extracurricular, something that helped college be a little more bearable. because of this, you had performances and recitals. these were college events that jaehyun could finally look forward to.

he always came early just so he could grab a front seat. he was always the loudest, cheering you on whenever you were on stage. when he felt like he wasn’t loud enough, he forced his friends to come along. at one point, he made t-shirts for all of them to wear. we’re here with y/n’s boyfriend. of course, he wore his own shirt. y/n’s boyfriend on the back and the cutest (you didn’t find it all that cute) picture he had of you adorning the front. he was very very proud to be your boyfriend. and, of course, he needed to get you the world’s biggest bouquet every time. you told him that he didn’t need to get you such expensive flowers every time, but he shook his head.

“these aren’t expensive compared to what i really wanted to get you.”

later, you found out that he wanted to get you a thousand lilies of the valleys, your favorite. every time. you scolded him about it, saying how you were broke college students and couldn’t afford things like that.

to that, he said, “yet.”

chalant!myungjae didn’t care for possessing things, you included (because women aren’t possessions, he said), but, man, did he love being possessed by you. anything he could get to let people know he was yours, he’d have. his lockscreen? you. his desktop picture? you. he even had one of those photocard holders attached to his backpack with a polaroid of you. he had half the mind to get the big photocard holders, but he didn’t think you’d like that (you told him that was embarrassing). it didn’t stop at just pictures, though. he even bought himself a necklace with your last name attached. you asked him why he didn’t get your first name or even a necklace for you with his name.

“i want to take your last name! and i didn’t want to buy you something like that without your explicit permission.”

you just sighed adoringly. shouldn’t he have asked your permission for his necklace then?

chalant!myungjae wasn’t just all for show. he also did things that were less noticeable—like having a hair tie around his wrist at all times. you always managed to lose yours and were put out whenever you couldn’t put your hair up. when he saw your cute little pout, he vowed to always make sure you had a hair tie available to you whenever you were together (even if he loved your pout).

another thing he did was carry around a second hoodie—for himself, of course. sure, it made his backpack bulky, but you were worth it. there were days that you’d think the weather was going to be a mild temperature or the buildings weren’t going to blast the ac, so you’d opt out of bringing a sweater. but, when you sadly realized that it was freezing, he’d hand you his hoodie—the one that he was already wearing. you mentioned in passing how much you liked wearing his clothes, but only when they smelled like him, so he always gave you whatever he was wearing at the time and put the second hoodie on (that way you couldn’t say no with the reason that he’d be cold).

chalant!myungjae was always respectful towards women. his mother raised him right after all. there were times though when he wasn’t. like, when he’s getting hit on. you never said anything, never showed an ounce of insecurity. but, he made it his mission to get these girls away from him.

on your late-night outings, both of you dressed up. you looked good. you were bound to attract attention. but, one thing you told jaehyun from the start was that you wouldn’t subject your friends to feeling like they were with a couple when you went out. so, he let you do your thing while he did his. you guys always danced in the club near each other. that’s why you were privy to seeing him turn people away. in an odd fashion.

there were times he’d bark at them. there were times he’d act like he batted for the other team. there were times he’d point at you and show them that he was a taken man. but, the one time this girl didn’t catch the hints—the necklace, the photocard, his lockscreen, his blatant denial—everyone was in for a show.

“your girlfriend doesn’t have to know,” the girl purred, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. you see this happening out of the corner of your eye. you just said a silent prayer for her because you knew jaehyun was about to embarrass her. what you didn’t know was how.

he scoffed. “i tell her everything, even my poop schedule. she’ll know.”

the girl didn’t back off. “well, i don’t see her. she left you here all alone with me. can’t i just have you for the night?”

she’s persistent, you’ll give her that. that’s when you feel someone pull you away from your friends. you’re spun around and a kiss was planted on your lips. your eyes widened before you realized it was jaehyun. you let yourself enjoy the kiss, thinking it was going to be short. but it wasn’t. it was one of the most mind-blowing kisses jaehyun has ever given you. if you were sobering up, jaehyun’s kiss pulled you right back into a haze. he cradled your neck, kissing you deeper, as his other hand pulled you closer. even when the girl finally got the hint and left, he didn’t let you go. if anything, he seemed to take it as his cue to continue. when you heard your friends cheering you on, you let this be the exception to your one rule. when you finally pulled away for air, a string of saliva followed you. you just blinked at him while he had this goofy grin on his face.

“sorry, i had to show her who my girlfriend was.”

safe to say, he didn’t let you go for the rest of the night and you didn’t mind one bit.

chalant!myungjae didn’t really post on his social media. sure, he was active on it, liking his friends’ posts and yours (obviously). he became really active on it once you started dating. jaehyun skipped the soft launch and went straight into the hard launch. every story he posted, his friends could bet that it was going to be you with some corny caption about how much he loved you or how lucky he was. when he did post, they’d just be photo dumps from moments with you. at this point, his account became a y/n fan account. if anyone were to stalk him, trying to see if he was taken or not, they’d know immediately. in his bio, he had your user. his pinned post was your first anniversary date, where you looked absolutely stunning. his profile picture? it was the two of you.

oh, and was he in your comments.

first! i would’ve built rome in a day for you had to pick my jaw off the ground i won’t you. bad. i’m framing this something’s wet and i move my phone to my left hand…

ya... he was getting creative with his comments.

chalant!myungjae makes sure that you know, and the world knows, how much he loves you. he’ll never let a single doubt enter your mind about how he feels about you. you are his girl and he is very much your boy.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[spoiledprincessbratspostsblog]

needing

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language so I apologize for any and all mistakes. All GIF credits to the owner. Heavy implications of smut but no actual smut. Kind of Toxic!Rafe but idk??This is lowkey rushed but I needed it to get out there lol.

ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ʚɞ˚

Being JJ’s sister already meant people had a bad perception of you, but your attitude did not help the rumors anyway. You weren’t known for being nice to everyone, and that was fine because it scared the weirdos away most of the time.

You’ve always seemed strong and independent. Insults usually rolled right off you, and situations didn’t seem to bother you. Being hard-headed and having an attitude all the time was a good cover. But it was all a front. At home, your dad would constantly abuse alcohol, and you and JJ often bore the brunt of his rage. When JJ started sleeping at John B’s house and only saw you once a week, you ended up taking most of the hits.

You were friends with the Pogues, but not as close as JJ was, so you didn’t feel comfortable staying at John B’s house.

You met Rafe almost a year ago at a party. It was meant to be an emotionless hook-up and nothing more. But over time, what started as frequent, meaningless sex evolved into a friends-with-benefits situation. You two began spending a lot of time together, both with and without there being sex involved. He started taking you out to places and even to parties with his friends and others around.

But he wasn’t your boyfriend. And every time you attempted to bring it up he'd claimed he “couldn’t be the man you needed.” Despite that, as you grew closer, he eventually learned about your home life. Rafe wasn’t stupid—he knew Pogues had it hard—but he hadn’t realized how much your situation affected you. How you were really a sweet and caring person who had just been hurt by your situation. Once he did learn, he started spending more time with you at his house, claiming, “Look, I know this is just sex, but come on, I can’t have you around that bullshit, ‘kay?”

You didn’t complain—free days at Tannyhill with him were a welcome escape!

Everything was fine until Rafe started treating you like an actual girlfriend. You wanted to be his, but was he really capable? Anyway, it wasn’t what he wanted—he’d made that very clear—so it didn’t matter.

Then, you two got into a bad argument last week. You’d started feeling very dependent on Rafe, and you hated it. So you began to pull back, which only made him care more. One comment led to another, and…

“Rafe, stop. If you’re not my boyfriend, stop acting like you care about me like one.”

“My god! You don’t want me to care about you just ‘cause I don’t wanna be your boyfriend? S’pathetic.”

“Fuck you!” you yelled before storming out.

You hadn’t seen or talked to him since. He was pissed but still wanted to fix things; he just didn’t know how.

That’s when you called.

Your dad had come home drunk, yelling and throwing things. You could no longer bear it. So you called Rafe.

“Hey, I’ll be at yours in like half an hour,” you told him, not waiting for a response.

When you arrived, Wheezie let you in. (She already knew the procedure and wouldn’t snitch,) but she stopped you.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look okay,” she asked.

You put on your best smile. “Yeah! M’fine! Rafe’s here, right?” She nodded and let you pass.

When you reached Rafe’s room, he was sitting on his bed. His eyes instantly met yours. You climbed onto the bed, inching towards him, and eventually straddled him without saying a word while he stared at you.

“Hi,” you whispered before kissing him.

Rafe, being a man with needs, initially kissed you back. But after sensing something was wrong, he pulled back.

“Nah, nah, you were just over here yelling at me. I’m not mad, okay, but you’re not okay,” he said, concern in his voice.

You frowned as tears welled up in your eyes. “Rafe, m’fine. I’m sorry. You’re forgiven. Please just kiss me. Come on, I just need to forget.”

He kissed you again but stopped when he felt you begin to cry lightly, your breath hitching out of sadness.

“Nah, baby, come on,” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you tight.

You couldn’t cry in front of him. You couldn’t be so attached to him. It freaked you out, and you tried to push him off.

“Rafe, stop!” you cried, but his grip only tightened.

“What is it? Is it me?” he asked softly, stroking your hair to calm you down. “Your parents?” he whispered.

Finally, you broke down, crying into his chest and wetting his shirt with your tears. Although you had previously confided in him, it had never been like this. He whispered a series of “M’sorrys” as he stroked your hair.

When you finally calmed down, you pulled back and got off him, heading to his mirror to clean yourself up. He stared at you with concern.

“Shit, sorry. Okay, well, m’gonna go now,” you said quickly.

He immediately got up and walked over, towering over you. “The fuck you are. You haven’t told me what’s wrong or why you tried to forget by fucking me.”

“I just needed to forget, okay? No point crying over something I can’t change.”

“Something you can’t change?”

“What?”

“What is the something you can’t change?”

“The situation with my dad and your feelings toward me,” you calmly explained.

“Now, why’d you think fucking was gonna make everything better, huh?” he scolded, switching the topic.

You looked away. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d no longer be mad at me or wouldn’t care if I was crying if you got to fuck,” you said lightly.

He scoffed in disbelief. “You think that’s the kind of person I am? Baby, I care so much more for you than I’ll ever let on, okay? And this isn’t just sex. You are so much more to me as a person. It’s important to me that you know that, ‘kay?”

You nodded, still waiting for him to respond to your earlier comment.

His face softened. “Look, I wanna be your boyfriend, ‘kay? More than anything, fuck, believe me. But I can’t be the man you deserve. You deserve so much better.”

You scoffed lightly. “But I want you.”

He sighed. “Let me better myself. Then I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “Stay here tonight, yeah?”

You nodded.

Later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, he kissed your arms, shoulders, and face with gentle affection. “I love you,” he whispered before the both of you fell asleep.

[chocolate-mintdromeda]

And while we're comparing this:

There is no town or city in the USA that is only Mansions and Rich People. Even Pacific Palisades (which honestly I've never been through and maybe heard of in passing before these fires) have lower and low income areas. Have buildings where people work. Have restaurants and grocery stores. Schools where teachers work. Fire isn't a moral avenger. It's just fire. It consumes anything it can. So this fire is hurting A LOT of people, not just rich people. You're just hearing about the rich people more b/c they already have a platform.

LA County is really really big. The Palisades fire is one of (last I checked) four fires going on. Santa Ana winds (ever seen The Holiday? Those winds, they come and go and sometimes change directions) make fire season so much more precarious and dangerous. Lack of rain this winter and an unwillingness to listen to indigenous experts on land care makes those fires potentially devastating, because our cities butt up against wildlife areas, either preserves, parks or just wide swaths of land. Our fire department (that is currently being supplemented by prison volunteer labor) is struggling to fight these. If LA city is lucky, they can get help in, but it's not going to be like that show 911 or 911 Lone Star where the cavalry drives in. It's bureaucratic, it's slow, and it's only if others are able to.

ALSO, just remembered, a few months ago State Farm canceled a ton of insurance accounts in the area, because the fire hazard was rising. So people who had been paying into the system, for months or for years, who were trying to be responsible and invest in their future, got the rug ripped out from under them.

I remember people on tumblr scolding other users for mocking London citizens for complaining about the heat wave years ago. People were dying, even though the temperatures weren't "that bad". London infrastructure wasn't meant to help moderate heat, it was meant to keep heat in, and air conditioning was hard to get if it was even available. That awful freeze Texas had a few years ago, I saw people shut down others making fun of desperate families who died because of smoke inhalation or chemical inhalation because they were burning fires inside their house, sometimes their furniture, they were so desperate for heat. The people who were dying were more likely to be poor and/or minorities, regardless of how they voted.

So for the love of all, cut that out. Stop saying "Burn the Rich" or that Pacific Palisades got what was coming to them. They absolutely didn't. Two of my husbands co-workers lost everything, one came close. They're not well off, they just got lucky in being able to buy a house there, or they're a two income family so they can afford the HCOL and wanted to live closer to the ocean or have better schools for their children. You're going to say they deserved it? Shut up, or start helping.

A map from BBC compares the size of Palisades fire this week to the busiest area of New York and London

[kirain]

Do you think Spite cares about Rook and the others?

This is an interesting question. Canonically, spirits in general don't feel things the same way mortals do. They certainly have emotions, but they're less complex than ours, often aligning with what type of spirit they are. Spite is a malevolent spirit, therefore his emotions are mainly negative.

That said, since he's linked to a human, it is possible Spite's feelings are influenced by Lucanis, and vice versa. Unfortunately, the game doesn't go into a whole lot of detail on this, which is one of the many complaints I have with the writing. As we've seen from Dragon Age II, Anders was severely influenced by his spirit, to the point that it became lethal to the team, depending on your choices. Moreover, when you try to twist a spirit from its original purpose, it becomes a demon, and I'm forced to wonder if that includes making them feel more complex emotions.

Emmrich believes spirits are capable of expanding beyond their naturally simplistic state, which could very well be true if we consider the Evanuris—but Spite's case is fundamentally different. He doesn't take on a physical form and he didn't leave the Fade of his own accord. Manfred is a spirit of curiosity, making him a benevolent type, and he has no trouble distinguishing right from wrong (even pointing at Hezenkoss and yelling "bad"), but his emotions align with his nature and Emmrich is the perfect mentor, allowing him to fulfill his purpose.

Spite doesn't have the same luxury. Lucanis is an assassin, but he has no interest in harming innocents, he doesn't care about revenge, he isn't sadistic, and he even stops Spite from killing his cousin in a rage. So the questions we should really be asking are: can malevolent spirits feel positive emotions without being corrupted? Would Spite change at all? And was he already twisted from something else when Zara pulled him from the Fade? Solas implies he is or was actually a spirit of determination, but his agreement with Lucanis may have altered his purpose. This was such a missed opportunity that I wish the devs expanded on.

Now, whether or not he cares about Rook and the team, there is a factual answer. I don't even think it's open to interpretation at this point. Years ago, following the lore, I would've said "probably not", but he definitely shows some form of affinity for them, even "missing" Manfred if he dies. Yet the moment that gave me pause when it comes to Spite was in the Heights of Athim, when I neared the giant well. I managed to find a clip and I'd like to explain it.

The spirit in the well is a spirit of despair. These spirits lure people in with promises of something that brings them comfort, like it did to the farmers in the Hossberg Wetlands. In that scene, it's trying to lure Spite in using Rook's scent—meaning Rook is a comfort to Spite. He also gets irrefutably angry at Solas for hurting them. So whether or not this muddles the lore a little, I think it's safe to say Spite absolutely adores Rook.

[fashionteahouse]

i wonder - edward cullen x reader

next>>>

You patiently waited as the doctor came in. The nurse already checked your vitals. She tells you it’s been a pretty eventful day.

His face was magical in a way but you felt comfortable. His smile was bright and shiny and you couldn’t help but bring out your own smile.

“I know you’re ready to get this thing off.” he says to you and you nod.

It was true. You were tired of doing everything with one hand. The special saw cut through the cast and you look at the limb that’s been covered for some time. It felt freeing.

You walk out of the room as you thank the doctor.

“Now remember, no playing right away. Wait for a few days to a week.”

“Aw, really?” you say with much disappointment.

“It’s important that you don’t rush it. Your other hand I’m sure is thanking you.”

“It’s no fun playing with one hand.” you say with a playful pout and Dr. Cullen laughs a bit. Placing a hand on your arm, “It won’t be fun to hurt it even more.”

He glances elsewhere and he then gives you a polite smile before sending you on your way. You see him walk in the direction of the boy and a girl, around your same age as they talked quietly.

You then flex your hand, seeing that your wrist was a bit smaller than your other one. You test out of your wrist, pretending to play a few notes as if you’re at a piano. You shake your head as you clutch it.

You wince a bit as you understood what Dr. Cullen meant. You then sigh a bit before pulling out your phone to let your parent know that you’re done and on your way home.

“You play?” you hear a voice. It startled you a bit but it was soothing.

You slowly look up. You see that the boy that Dr. Cullen seemed to know, was staring at you. He was by himself instead of with the girl you seen him with earlier, waiting for an answer. His gaze was intense, which made you look down for a moment as you nod.

“How do you know?” you ask quietly. You didn’t know why you felt shy.

“I saw you test your wrist out as if you were playing keys.” He says. You look up and he brings on a soft but friendly smile.

“Do..You play?” you ask.

You expected the same answer as always.

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows raise a little in shock.

“Why are you…Surprised?” he asks with a low chuckle.

“Sorry..It’s just…I don’t know too many people who do play.”

“Did you just move here?” he asks.

“Yeah..I’ve been asking people..To you know, make friends but…” you end it with a shrug.

He opens his mouth to say something but you hear a small voice close to you.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

You turn around to see a brunette, she’s hanging near the corner of the hallway. She staring dead at the boy you were talking to.

You turn back to the boy in front of you. He had a look that showed he was conflicted.

You make a small wave and started to be on your way. You didn’t look back.

“It was nice while it lasted.” you say in your head.

“So what did the doctor say?” your parent asks you.

“They said I have to wait up to a week to get back into using both hands.” you say over dinner.

“Well, that’s not bad. You catch on quick.”

“I know…You know I want to enter the music competition soon.”

That’s when they paused their chewing.

“You’re…Thinking about joining that?” they ask. You nod.

“Oh.” they comment.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s just….It’s your hobby and all but..For it to be your career…It’s very hard to make a profitable career out of that.”

“So..All of these years of classes and lessons are just going to be thrown away? Just like that?”

“I’m not saying that. Maybe it shouldn’t come first. You’ve always have gotten great grades. Y/N, it’s your final year before you go out into the real world. Picking a smart and lucrative career choice will help you be more prepared while being comfortable and stable.”

You sigh as you dig into your dinner. The same old talk.

“You start school tomorrow. Are you excited?” they ask with a smile. You mutter out a yes.

You lie in bed in the new home. After the divorce of your parents, you had to choose which one to stay with to finish out your year. The parent you chose, chose to move away for new beginnings. You didn’t mind. You were a bit happy that you got to start fresh in a way. You were a bit tired of your old school and wasn’t afraid of change.

The heat blasted from the vents of the car as you wrung your fingers a bit. A hand meets your hand.

“Easy, Y/N. Your wrist finally starting to heal up.”

“I know. Sorry.” you say and the school comes into view.

“I will be here when school lets out. Have a good first day.” they say with a big smile.

You get out after giving your parent a quick hug and you slowly walk towards the building.

You looked at your phone, checking the room number of where your home room was.

Chatters of different students meeting up with their friends were surrounding you and your ears.

Your eyes catch a familiar face. The same boy from the hospital, was leaning against his car. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you.

You continue walking however, you didn’t want to be overbearing.

You kept saying yes to people asking you if you were new. You were a bit tired of the question.

At lunch, people from classes that you did make small talk with, did ask you to sit with them.

When school was over, you walked out to the school lot. You saw the same boy from the hospital. This time, he made an effort to make a small wave. A small smile formed on your lips as you waved back.

“Y/N. Over here!” you hear and you internally groan with embarrassment.

“I know what your car looks like.” you say as you close the car door. They only laugh.

The next day, you walk to the school stairs, you slipped on the patch of ice.

A hand catches you and your heart race. You steady your knees and you look up to find the same boy.

“Thanks.” you say and he nods with a tight grin.

You start to walk away.

“You never told me your name.” he says.

“You never told me yours.” you reply back as you look back at him.

Names were then exchanged.

Edward was his name.

You both began to walk side to side.

“How long have you been playing?” he asks with interest.

“Since I gained consciousness.” you say with a small laugh. It was true. You don’t remember the first lessons, you just remember always having to go. His small laugh sounded a bit like bell chimes. It made you prolong your eye contact with him.

“What about you? You seem to be the expert.” you say.

“A very long time.”

“What’s a long time?” you playfully challenge.

You watch as his eyebrows furrow, as he continues to walk.

“What’s wrong…?” you ask slowly in slight confusion.

Shaking his head slightly, you both stop at the classroom you were supposed to go in, “Nothing…I would like to hear you play sometime.”

“Really? Well some time next week I should be good.” you say as you raise your wrists and you walk in the classroom. As you sat down, you realize that he was still standing at the same spot you left him in. It wasn’t until you were fully seated, you see him walk away.

A teacher asks you if you could take some paperwork to the office. You accept since your class work is completed.

You walk in the office and find that Edward is murmuring to the woman at the front desk.

“Here you go.” you say and Edward turns around. The woman thanks you and tells him with apologetic intentions, “It’s January, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Cullen.”

You watch as he has a wave of frustration be painted on his face.

You held the door open for him as you exit out.

“Cullen…So, your dad is Dr. Cullen?” you observe and ask.

“Yes.” he answered. You both walk as if there isn’t a rush to get to anywhere.

“He’s nice.” you comment.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard that.” he says.

“So..The blonde girl is your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my sister.”

“Oh. Sorry.” you say sheepishly.

“It’s alright.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s heard that.” he says with a grin that makes you return it.

“So…How many siblings do you have?”

“Two brothers and two sisters.”

“Eventful.” you say and enter back into the classroom.

“How was school?” your parent asks you over dinner.

“It was fine.”

“Any new friends?”

“A couple. The people and the teachers there are nice.” you say as you look at your food.

“That’s good.”

“I didn’t know Dr. Cullen’s son went to this high school.”

“You met him?”

“Yeah. He’s nice too.” you say.

“The entire family keeps to themselves I heard.”

You nod at that.

You were in the middle of reading a book.

“No class this period?”

You look up and Edward is peering down at you as you sat in a chair in the school library, being immersed in the plot.

“Study hall.” you say.

He nods.

“What about you?”

“Free period.” he says as he sits in a seat that’s close to yours.

“Oh.” you say and close your book.

You look at him. “You know, I meant to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as he searched your face.

“You have unique eyes. Is it some type of…Condition or something?”

“….I guess you can say that….Yeah..It’s a condition.”

“Oh. Do you want to dive into that?” you ask.

“I prefer not. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me.”

“How did you mess up your wrist?”

You chuckle a bit before answering.

“Trampoline.”

It was his turn to match your chuckle.

“That’s interesting.”

“Yeah well…That’s what happened over the summer. Man, I was pissed. I was crying, not because of the pain, but because I couldn’t use both hands to play piano.” you say.

“Did you still use one hand?”

“Yeah. It’s boring though.” you say with a slight frown.

“Which wrist?”

You extend it.

“This one.”

You didn’t expect him to close his hand around it. His hands were cold, but it felt nice, like an ice pack. You’ve been using it to exercise it, so the cool sensation helped. In sync, you both lean in.

“Are you used to the cold? And snow?”

“Yeah. You?” you ask.

“Yeah. It’s my favorite time of the year.”

“Same. No annoying bugs.” you answer back.

He grins as he looked down at your wrist.

“Have you ever broken or sprained a bone before?” you ask.

“No.” he says.

“Aren’t you lucky.” you comment.

“I am.” he says and the bell rings.

You walk the halls to lunch, you find that the brunette girl from the hospital also went to the same school.

She looked at you only for a second before looking away.

In history, the teacher announced a project. You all had to pick a time period out of a bin, write in a journal and pretend to be someone who is living in the time period.

“Fun.” you said under your breath, you thought it was interesting.

A small journal was passed out, the teacher allowed you and others to work in groups if you wanted.

You started writing down your year in your journal.

“Are you working with someone?”

You look up to a familiar boy in the class. He was quiet, but sat in the back from the times you’ve been in this class.

You shake your head.

“Do you mind if we work together?”

“I don’t mind.” you say in a small voice.

As he sat down, he scoots his chair a bit away from you, but his presence was friendly enough that you didn’t feel offended, you felt a wave of calmness, you didn’t feel nervous like you thought you would be.

Smiling softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak in class.” you say.

He shrugged with his own quiet smile.

“What year did you get?” you ask.

“The 1980’s.” he says with a roll of his eyes, “What about you?”

“1860’s.” you say sharing your distaste for the year you had to do, with a roll of your own eyes. You quickly saw a sparkle in his eye.

“What? You think this time period was interesting?” you ask. He nods a bit.

“So much history happened within that time frame.” he said with certainty.

“At least the 80’s were fun. Big hair, good music, and colorful vibes.” you say as you thought of music videos.

“It was alright.” he says but clears his throat, “I’m a bit old fashioned. I don’t really care to learn much about that time period but it looks like I have to.”

“Yeah.” you say as you look at him.

“So. Have any trouble?” he asks.

“The heck did people do for fun back then?” you say. You wanted to snooze.

“Play games, read, gamble on horse races.” he lists.

“How do you know so much?” you ask as you doodle spirals on the edge of your paper to kill time.

“I guess you can say I’m a history geek.”

You laugh a little, “What’s your name?”

Jasper.

As the bell rang to leave, “Pray for me. Hopefully I won’t fall asleep while writing.” you say jokingly.

A small laugh escaped his throat, “You will be fine…You can always ask me questions..”

“Cool. See you…Around?”

He nods once as a small and petite girl skips to his side. She brightly shined her sparkling smile at you.

“Hi.” she greets.

You wave.

“You’re new right?”

You nod.

“When did you move here?”

“A little last week.” you answer. She grins as she nods in acknowledgment. Her energy was high. You felt it was a bit contagious as you couldn’t help feel the excitement rubbing off on you.

“Do you like it here?” she asks as you walk. She hugged Jasper’s arm as you all walk the hallway.

“It’s been good to me so far.” you say.

You all three talk as you made your way to your last class of the day. Learning the girl’s name you tell her, “Nice to meet you again Alice. See you, Jasper.”

Coming out to the school lot, you see that the rest of Edward’s family is looking at you by their cars.

You then knew who Edward’s siblings were. All expect one. He was muscular and he held the blonde girl close to him.

You felt a bit nervous.

It was the weekend. You were thankful that you got to sleep in.

Pulling out your keyboard, you fiddle with it with your one hand.

You were bored. You missed trying to learn complex notes but you knew that if you forced the fast recovery, you wouldn’t be better.

You scrolled through the website of the music competition. You knew exactly what song you wanted to play. You had to submit a recording.

You didn’t care about the prize money, but just to show off your talents was something that you wanted to do.

The weeks rolled by, you could finally play again. You parent comes home and that’s all they hear, the tinkering of the keyboard and the piano that was in the home.

“When’s your lesson?” they ask as you help them unload groceries.

“Next week. I’ve been practicing.” you say with a grin.

“That’s nice. Fill out for colleges yet?”

That’s when you got quiet.

“Y/N.” they say in a warning tone.

“I’m working on it. I just don’t know what I want to do yet.” you say.

“You were always good with tech. Maybe, do something with math. It’s your highest grade.”

“Ugh, no. I only make sure it’s my highest because it’s important.” you say. They only sigh with a slight shake of their head as they state, “Your time is ticking.”

In lab, you sighed as you mixed substances with your lab partner.

“You’re joining this class?” you heard your teacher ask.

You look up and you almost took your goggles off. Edward looks at you as you looked at him.

“Y/N, you have to weigh it.” your lab partner beside you, tells you, the pen is in their hand and ready to write down the information on the worksheet.

“Right. Sorry.” you say and weigh the concoction in the glass measuring cup.

You watch him join a group, making him the third person.

When class was over, “You’re in this class?” you ask, trying your best to hold your excitement. He was a year below you. You didn’t know why you were excited. You brushed it off as it being happy to see a familiar face.

“Yeah.” he says casually.

“Willingly?” you ask and he nods.

“Jeez, no offense but, do you enjoy suffering?” you ask. You hated that class. Especially lab days. You were glad that the next day was a study hall instead of a double period.

He laughs, “It’s not that bad. I enjoy science.”

You both enter the hall and you place your hands together, “Be my guardian angel?”

“Next report period when it’s time to pick partners, just pick me. You’ll get an easy A.” he says with a slight shrug.

Jasper suggested that you both take turns reading each other’s journals. The due date was the next day.

He did a good job. It made you want to live in the 80’s. For Jasper, it was as if he went through a time machine.

You slide each other your journals back.

“Man, what a ride. I would’ve thought you lived it.” you say. You didn’t miss the flash of happiness. He then makes his face neutral.

“I can say the same.” he says, almost looking proud at your journal.

“I thought you weren’t interested in that time frame?” he continued to ask as if he caught your hand in the cookie jar. You shrug with a smile.

“I’m not. But, you gotta do what you gotta do right?” you reply as gesture the classroom.

He nods at that.

Before you could push the door open to leave the school building, you heard, “Do you have a ride?”

You turn to see Alice.

“Oh, hey. Um…I do.” you say.

She seemed a bit disappointed.

“Well, tomorrow we have a two hour delay. We should come to school together.” she suggests as she picks her mood back up.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “How do you-”

The announcement came on, “A two hour delay is issued for Forks High School, tomorrow morning. Students don’t forget to….”

“Lucky guess. You should be gambler or something.” you say. She laughs a perfect laugh and links her arm with yours follows you outside.

“So, what do you say? I’ll get you breakfast.” she bribed.

“Oh wow, food? How could I say no?” you ask with a smile.

You still woke up at your usual time, you watched the snowflakes fall fast out of your window. You used the extra time to work the keyboard in your room with your headphones in. Your parent knows you have a way to school, they tell you to let them know if you need a ride back home.

You carefully walk down the steps. Edward leans against the car. You had to be careful with your steps as you observed the snowflakes that fell perfectly on him. You look away to not seem rude or weird. He closes the car door after you get in. Jasper and Alice is in the backseat.

“He was just standing out there like it isn’t freezing.” you say to them and they laugh as they looked at each other.

“I told you, it’s my favorite time of the year.” he says with a grin as he worked the steering wheel.

“You’re crazy, Edward.” you comments as you put your hands to the vents that blew out hot air.

“I know.” you heard him say.

People stared as you got out of the car. You didn’t know why. Your stomach was full from the breakfast that was in fact paid for by Alice. You had to fight with her to not be so sharing but she prevailed, saying she was keeping her promise.

“Uh.. Why are people staring?” you whispered to Edward as he walked close to you. Jasper had his arm around Alice.

“They just want to know how and why you’re around us.” he says with a lax expression.

Walking through the metal detectors and picking your bag back up.

“How do you know?” you ask.

“We stay to ourselves. Never felt the need to make new friends.” he explains as Jasper and Alice waved goodbye to you both.

After waving, you turn your head as you walk, “So, I’m the chosen one?” you say with a joking tone.

“That’s..One way to put it.” he says.

“So, answer their question. Why me?” you ask as you stop at your locker, placing your wet coat inside.

He leans next to the locker that’s beside you, “You don’t want friends?”

“Whatever.” you say with a light laugh, “If I don’t recall, you talked to me first.”

“I did?” he asks but you knew that he knew.

You shoot him a look.

“I still want to hear you play. It’s been more than a week.” he says.

With a slight smile as you look ahead of you as you walk, “You’ve been keeping count?”

“Call me excited. I want to see what you got.”

“Cool, I’ll send you a video when I get the chance.” you say and try to go into the classroom but a hand gently grasp your sweater covered arm. You look to him.

“In person.”

“Oh….Okay.” you say and you hesitantly walk in your classroom.

Your mind was on the thought of playing piano in front of Edward. You wondered how. Would he come over to your house? Would you go over his house? You immediately shook the thought out of your head. He already told you that him and his siblings really don’t bring people around them. But, you couldn’t help but wonder in your brain, “I wonder what made me the exception?”

“Y/N?”

You snap out of your thoughts. You clear your throat as the teacher and classroom was silent, waiting for your answer.

You look down on your worksheet and speak out an answer.

“Very good.” the teacher says and moves on.

Your class took notes in science, it didn’t help that you could see Edward from across the room. You didn’t know how it was possible for one to be so non sociable.

You sat sideways on the comfy library chair. It was in the back, the history section.

“Wait…You said you had two sisters. Who’s the brunette?” you ask in a bored tone, fidgeting idly with the book on one of the shelves.

“Bella Swan. She’s not related to us.”

“Oh. Your friend.”

Chuckling as he looked at his hands, “She’s not my friend.”

You look about. He watches you.

You sit up straighter, feeling slightly nervous under his gaze, “Something’s fishy.”

“What do you mean?” he asks in a stoic tone.

“Are you….” you sigh. He’s patient. You look down before looking up, “Are you and your siblings like….Blood related?”

He opens his mouth but you speak, “Sorry. That was rude. Damn.” you say.

“We are not.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you want to ask something else?”

“Is it obvious?” you ask and he nods.

“Well….” you say and look at him in the eye before looking at his fabric covered chest, “Are you all…Adopted?”

“Yes.”

You look at him.

“So….” you sigh and shake your head and he asks, “What?”

You sigh a bit before giving him a nervous smile, “I see how Alice and Jasper act towards….Each other…I’m not judging but…”

“Yes. They’re dating.”

“Oh.” you say as you swallow and grab a book off of instinct.

“Are you weirded out?” he asks. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. He simply asked.

You open and close it as you look down. “Yeah.”

“Many are.”

“Like I said, who am I to be someone’s judge?” you propose.

He doesn’t say anything after that.

At lunch, you chewed slowly. You looked up a couple of times at Jasper’s table. The blonde girl and the brawny boy who was their brother. They all three glanced your way and you felt small in a way. But, you look back to what the person next to you at the table was saying.

You wondered if the other brother played a sport, but he didn’t hang out with the guys who were on actual teams.

The history teacher turns on a movie and makes everyone write down answers for the worksheet.

You were thankful for the distraction.

Pulling your coat out, you hear your name.

You turn around, to find Edward standing there.

You look.

“Do you have any plans after school?”

You rack your brain, but it’s been such a relaxed day, that homework was done.

“Um…” you say and you immediately think of your keyboard that you left on your bed.

“Honestly I’m just trying to get home and relax.”

He blinked at your answer.

Alice then bounces in your view.

“Hey, you.” she says with a smile.

“Oh. Hey. Thanks so much for this morning. That really meant a lot.” you say.

She touched your arm with a grin.

“Come on, ride back with us.” she persuades.

“Oh…”

“We have a piano at our house.” she says.

“You did that on purpose.” you say with a small laugh as you close your locker and start to walk.

“What?” she asks.

“I wanted to go home and relax and here you are bribing me once again.” you say.

At your side, “Carlisle says that your wrists are way better.” Alice chirped.

“Who’s that?” you ask dripping in confusion.

“Sorry..Our father.”

You never thought to call your parent by their first name like that. But you still didn’t judge.

“Oh. Yeah. I’m just using my keyboard for right now.” you say as you walk out the school doors.

“Well.. Our piano is huge. You should see it. Maybe play for us.” she says as you walk down the school stairs.

“Hmm…” you say with dramatic sarcasm.

“Please?” she dragged on.

“You guys act like I’m a special composer or something.” you say as you look at both Alice and Edward.

“We’re parked over here.” Alice grabs your hand.

On a doctor’s salary, there was just no way. You subtly peered around the home.

The parents. They looked so vibrant. So youthful. Dr. Cullen almost shined as he stood next to his smiling wife.

“Hi, Dr. Cullen.” you say.

Esme was the mother’s name.

“I like your name.” you compliment. She seemed touched and complimented yours back.

“Carlisle is okay. I already know who you are Y/N.” he says in a friendly tone.

Shrugging your coat off, it’s taken out of your hands as Edward placed a hand on your shoulder.

You saw it. You silently let your jaw drop. You walk out from under Edward’s hand.

It sat tall and strong. It was grand. It was shiny as if it was newly purchased. You thought you were dreaming. You could almost hear it whispering your name.

“Oh my gosh.” you whisper.

“What is it?” You hear Esme ask.

“This piano….Do you mind if I-“

“Of course. Yes. Please do.” she says, almost excited as you.

You sit at the bench.

Edward was immediately near you and if you weren’t so distracted, you would’ve wondered how he had gotten there so fast.

With a smile that made your cheeks sore, your fingers pressed down on the keys with precision. Your foot tapped the pedal as music filled the living room. You stop your tiny concert short as you felt that you were overstaying your company.

“Why did you stop?” you collectively heard.

“Sorry..I didn’t know..” you say and you rise from the bench, feeling a bit sheepish from the attention.

The blonde that had her arms crossed looked at the area you were in, with slight interest. She reminded you of an ice queen.

“So. Whats the new rank?” the boy who was brawny spoke up. His voice was deep and displayed a smirk.

The blonde taps the back of her hand onto his chest with a clenched jaw. He looked at her with slight apologetics.

Edward chuckled next to you.

Emmett.

You knew off of the top, he knew how to liven up a room.

“Rank of what?” you ask.

“Nothing. Ignore him.” the blonde says snappily.

Rosalie.

Emmett and Rosalie reminded you of Jasper and Alice in a way. You didn’t want to ask questions, but you couldn’t stop the questions from coming inside of your brain.

“You’re talented.” Esme says to you without drawing attention.

You show sincere appreciation.

You held and read his music sheets as you sat on his couch. His room was spacious. He invited you up as he could tell you weren’t going to touch the piano anymore.

Edward let you take the lead in the conversation. Allowing you to talk about yourself and what you want to do passionately.

“A competition?” he asks with interest. You only nod as you sat his sheets down.

“So. When am I going to see you play?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment before peering at the floor for a moment.

“Soon.”

“I’m keeping you to your word.” you say.

“Please do.”

[a-stars-art-blog]

No, cause, what do you mean he was innocent?? Wdym for most of his life he was a happy and kind person? Full of hope and optimism for the future. Surrounded by people he loved and trusted and did the same to him back.

What do you mean those most important to him were ripped away all at once???

Hi my name is Maria and I’m gonna scream about Barok real quick

SPOILERS FOR DGS 2-4/5

I wish some people didn’t boil him down to “racist”

Like, i totally understand why people don’t like him and if the damage is done, it’s done. But it just doesn’t sit right when people refuse to acknowledge his character growth!! Especially if they make people feel bad for liking him.

I don’t think a majority of people do this, but I have seen it happen and it’s :((

AND ALSO!! I wish I depicted it, but the lyrics aren’t just Current vs Past Barok either.

I’ve been wanting to scream this for a while but-

HE KNOWS??? HE UNDERSTANDS HES BEING IRRATIONAL HE KNOWS HIS FEELINGS ARE WRONG

AND IT HURTS HIM

He’s keeping up this facade because it was helping the crime rate. Even though it was such a monumental burden on himself.

But it was too much for him.

And that kills me.

The way he had a limit. The way he tried to be strong and selfless. The way he probably felt that burden again upon his return. The way he convinces himself that he’s willing, able, even HONORED, to uphold this awful reputation. Even though he plays no part in it truthfully

The way he never wanted to be cold, rude, and ruthless. He really is a kind-hearted soul forced to change and sink himself further and further in rage and resentment.

You can really see younger Barok still in him.

He’s such a goddamn tragedy, he makes me sob, and I’m so glad by the end of the game, he’s finally getting a brighter future 🥹

[milli-moi]

Honestly, I have other thoughts on a few of your reads here on Agatha’s reasoning for wanting to make Wanda believe she is evil. At first I thought I disagreed but I don’t think I do, I think I more want to open the door (pun not initially intended - and then very intended) to other aspects of this pain.

I have a different perspective and honestly when I rewatched Wandavision after watching AAA I really felt seen.

I will never be a parent, it’s something I’ve wanted my whole life but in recent years my partner and I have come to accept that we don’t think we would be able to be the parents what we would want to be and that a child deserves due to our combination of disabilities.

This hurts like hell. I was somewhat numb to it for a year or two but then last year we learned that a friend who we used to be very close to and who had been told she might never have children, was pregnant. This destroyed me in a way I hadn’t expected it to and it continues to destroy me in a lot of ways. One of the things I hate most is an unbelievable jealousy.

I am not a jealous person- yes I’ve had moments but generally I am happy for people. The jealousy I have every time I see this friend’s family and other friends share photos of them spending time with the baby my thoughts are unreasonable.

Through this, watching another person you know (or relate to in Agatha’s case) live the life you wanted, you craved, and have it come to them so easily when you have suffered so much pain to not even have the outcome you needed, I felt a huge connection to Agatha.

I have not lost a child, no, but I have lost the possibility of being a parent and although it isn’t the same pain it is incredibly intense and hard to live with.

Agatha needs Wanda to be the bad guy, needs her to suffer because Wanda got the things she wanted, and if there was such a thing as deserving a happy ending then Agatha doesn’t see why her and Wanda deserved different things. They both had traumatic childhoods, they both turned to darkness to cope -Wanda to Hydra, Agatha to killing witches and dark magic - but Wanda, in a way, was rewarded for that. Wanda got adopted by the avengers, she got a new home, a purpose, a chance to be loved.

Agatha got her chance to be loved for the first time by Death. How cruel and ironic and filled with metaphor about unloved children is that? And even then, in a life of around 360 years, Agatha maybe got 50 years of happiness before it all fell apart.

Wanda experienced loss, but she was supported and comforted and then on top of that she got her children, her ‘spontaneous creation of life’ - just like she had with Rio, except Wanda’s boys got to live.

Agatha hates Wanda in a few ways, feels so much warmth towards her in others, but I think a lot of the hate, the anger is a case of ‘why do you get to be happy?’

On bad days, days when I’m really heavily reminded of my own life situation, without going into too many details I can say that I have wanted to say this to so many people. I think it’s a valid response when you have had disabilities, illnesses and conditions, mental health and your own sexuality hold you back so often.

When you look at the happy family your friend has and it makes you feel sick because you feel so many emotions, and in ways you never thought you were even capable of.

WANDAVISION DEEP DIVE part 3

(Wandavision entries: part [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

We left Agatha killing her coven in a flashback (but sparing their children). Back to present Agatha, and what is she doing? Pretending to talk to her rabbit. Look, she might be a dedicated con artist, but she can only come up with very cheesy characters, what can you do?

Is she meeting the real you, Agatha, are you sure?

oh she's so intrigued

She's about to be very very cruel, and there's a lot to unpack here. To her torture is a mean to an end, but there's also rage, jealousy, bitterness, so much bitterness there. She hates witches, and she hates Wanda. She also can't help sympathizing with Wanda, the parallels between the two of them are obvious. There are always so many contradicting emotions in Agatha.

Like, the way she's been teaching her about magic. She's taunting her, she's showing off. But once upon a time she was a clueless young witch denied knowledge from her elders. And now that Wanda is in that position, she could teach her. She almost wants to. She is curious, she loves learning, finding out how things work, and in other, better universes she is a teacher.

*angrily shakes a bird at Wanda*

LOOK WHO'S TALKING, OH MY GOD. But honestly though, that's why she can't help sympathizing. They are the same.

And she is a biiiiiit in lust too tbh. Not her fault she has a high libido. Agatha is having a DAY.

A good rule of thumb is, the more Agatha jokes, the more she's uncomfortable with a situation, the fact that she's making fun of a little boy tells you right away that she doesn't mean it. Sarcasm is her defense skill. She was barely able to contain her rage a moment ago, she is not as calm as she appears. And she doesn't like having to sit through Wanda's trauma one bit, both because she's sorry for Wanda and because she doesn't want to witness that pain herself. She had hoped to crack Wanda without having to do this, but she won't step down now, she won't relent.

that's a whole lesbian, dear god. thank you costume and hair departments and thank you kathryn hahn.

my theory is that detective Agnes of Westview was clearly created by Agatha herself rather than Wanda and speaks about her grim personality and eagerness to solve mysteries, but we'll get to that later

that's interesting, she smiles at Wanda, looks worried at the door for a second, then smiles at Wanda again. play acting or real concern? Wanda wasn't looking at her face in that moment.

her body language is something between intrigued and defensive

NOT THIS BITCH DRYING HER EYES AGAIN AT THE "WHAT IS GRIEF BUT LOVE PERSEVERING" SPEECH.

You know what though, for Agatha to know exactly what buttons to push to break Wanda, she'd need to have a deep understanding of how trauma and grief work. Which means she knows the way she blames Rio and hangs up on Nicky's memory is not healthy, but she is unwilling or unable to make an effort towards healing. Not that you can ever completely heal from something like that tbh, but she knows the way she's acting is making things worse.

The slow clap, she's such a cheesy villain. That (gay) way she sits though, she wants both to project strength and to shield her body, she is nervous. She's now 100% sure that Wanda is the Scarlet Witch. Time for her last gamble.

Knowing Agatha as we know her now, it's easy to see she's wearing her best witchy costume to put on the ultimate show. She made Wanda cry to get at her secrets, now it's time to make her angry. She could just have provoked her in the first place, but like I said she's at her core a coward detective and scholar and yearns to learn stuff. I really do believe that Billy and Tommy weren't in any actual danger here and it looks worse than it is. On the other hand, she is absolutely scaring them shitless, but like with Sparky she chooses to ignore their mental well-being if it gets her what she wants. She's not physically hurting them so that's fine, right? And, well, she did the same with Nicky. She loved him so desperately and also selfishly kept him isolated and kept killing in his name. There's a reason why she feels so guilty and can't face him now.

The parallels, tho. The episode starting with Evanora calling her a monster, and ending with her calling Wanda a monster.

Last episode!!!!

telling the kids to take cover as soon as she can get away with it. Wanted to hurt them my ass.

Pathetic! Are you even a real witch? Yep, her usual bit. And especially harsh too. Agatha is gambling a LOT here.

"The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no power, no need for incantation." Agatha was forged the same way, with pain and hellfire, does that give her a claim to Wanda's magic? (Also, power of mother earth on the poster behind? How very green witch!)

How hard and deliberately Agatha is working to traumatize Wanda even further, to make her believe she's a monster. And Agatha is in such an unique position to understand what Wanda is going through, what it means to be called evil for something you are and not for something you do. She knows what it means not being able to control your powers, Wanda never meant to hurt any of these people! She could teach her, offer her community and support. But what does Agatha do instead? Exactly what her mother did to her.

She wants to kill her to take her powers, and she wants to kill her because she's afraid of her. And yet she's also looking in a mirror. Doesn't her neck thingy look like a clergy collar too? She's on the other side of inquisition now.

have you ever read Passing by Nella Larsen? it made me think a lot about how marginalized communities isolate their most vulnerable members and recreate the dynamics of the oppressor, as a way to keep some form of control and also to express their trauma and anger. Wanda didn't do anything to Agatha, but she's the perfect target for Agatha to vent all her pain and anger and frustration.

Wanda tries to copy Agatha and make her relive her traumas, not a good idea trying to manipulate the master manipulator. Agatha has studied and observed and knows a lot about Wanda and that is why her manipulation is so effective, Wanda doesn't know Agatha at all, she's only heard lies so far. Here for example she assumes that Agatha killed the Salemites on purpose, she has no clue that their situations are so similar.

I told you that witches wouldn't accept you, that they would call you a monster and come after you. So much bitterness. That's Agatha's tragedy, and that is what's behind all her selfishness, killing witches, keeping Nicky isolated, torturing Wanda. Passing her trauma along. As much as she chose to be what she currently is... choosing the opposite would have been much easier if she had a community cherishing and teaching her. Just look at how much having an actual loving coven, even for a short time, will make a difference in the future.

and then Wanda wins not because she's more powerful but because Agatha couldn't stop herself from blabbing and showing off and teaching about runes. oh, the irony

what WANDA'S done???? Agatha, you've been poking a nexus being with a stick for days, you useless fuckup (affectionate)

lmaooo she fell ass up

LOOK WHO'S TALKING

Agatha under the spell immediately flirting with Wanda is maybe top five most hilarious things she's ever done

and that's a wrap! Ballad of the witches road here I come!

go to AAA part 1

[respectthepetty]

Hi, I read your post about Joong/Est & Dunk beef and I wanted to give you more information as I felt like you were missing some-- and bc I got to know them just 2 months and followed them on twitter and the things have been really insane? wild? and I just need to share.

So after Joong posted the tweet about him & Dunk not being on good terms right now, New(!) posted a reply to it "Is this okay?" (I assume he means is it okay to post such a thing?"). And after that Joong's tweet, I saw many fans who were unaware things have been weird btn JD finding out the two weren't getting along well. I'm not against actors sharing their feelings, but it really felt like a bad PR to me that hurts their branding. I was honestly wondering why GMMTV does not give their artists PR training when Joong suddenly posted a selfie of him & Dunk smiling with moustache filter and Dunk also posted a pic with him & Joong & P'tha who is CEO of GMMTV. AND Joong also deleted his tweet about the beef.

Now my unconfirmed theory is that after Joong posted that tweet, things got a bit out of hand and reached the ears of P'Tha and he made them sort of make up or at least ordered them to act more like usual, and for Joong to delete the tweet. In the event they had the next day, they were doing some fanservice too. It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay. I'm not sure JD are even on good terms right now (I don't think they are) - I don't know about Joong but Dunk seems to be trying to reach out like wishing him safe flight... but I sure do hope they can keep their working friendship or recover from whatever they are going through right now bc it would be really sad to see it end.

For Est/Joong, there seems to no visible movement for that side as far as I know except for both of their fans fighting each other like twice a week. They got into fight again today bc Joong doesn't even acknowledge or promote ThamePo even though he guest starred in it. The fan communities have been so toxic and weird and I just honestly feel so bad for the actors.

Anon, I turned off reblogs to this post except for the people mentioned within it because I just learned I could (look at this old dog learning new tricks!) and I hope this encourages you to come back to my inbox, anonymously, and offer more discussion without it getting muddled with others' thoughts.

Because I have a question.

But first I want to solidify one key point - I am invested in whatever happened between Joong and Est and, by extension, Joong and everyone else including Dunk. I just want to make that clear, so you don't think I'm trying to claim some level of emotional superiority with my following question because I'm not. I'm interested in everything you wrote because I'm nosy for no good reason, so I want to know what happened and all the details simply because I want to, and I want to make that clear before I continue.

Now, my question:

Why do you perceive Joong's behavior for the past few months as mentally unstable?

It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay.

You are not the first to write this. I have seen this sentiment in various spaces raised here with @waitmyturtles and @simysaru43, and on Reddit, so based on your comment, why do you think his behavior equates to him not being mentally okay? Regardless if he is or isn't, I want to know why YOU think that? And please know that I am genuinely asking anyone who has expressed this thought because I truly want to know others' perspective since I think his behavior is a suitable response to what is happening, whatever it might be (which, once again, I want to know what *that* is because I am soooo very nosy).

Joong is no longer friends (friendly?) with Est, yet they work at the same company; therefore, they must be around each other in a professional capacity. He doesn't seem to be friends (friendly?) with Daou anymore either. Yet Dunk, his work partner, hung out with them outside of work, so why can't he be bothered by that? People have stated it seems immature that he would dictate someone else's behavior, but I think we are underestimating the demands of their jobs and the unstated obligations they must abide by within their working relationships. Joong is an actor in a genre that is known for its (toxic) fans, so I am also surprised that GMMTV doesn't have a stronger grasp on any of its actors' social media presences, but Joong is also human, so having emotions, even public ones, is part of that.

So is the worrisome part of his posts that they focus on his emotions? Does it worry you that his posts are rooted in him publicly revealing his feelings? I'm not in the practice of defending men or their behavior, but I don't like the implication that a man feeling is cause for concern. That's why I'm asking why you are worried about him because I don't want to assume this is where you are coming from. I'm not asking for you to defend yourself or your comments because this is not a battle. I'm kindly asking for your perspective because my background (Mexican, Black, American) tells me this is messy behavior from a man, but my ideologies (feminist, anarchist, lover) tell me to be proud that he is allowing himself to display his feelings on a public forum.

But I might be missing something, culturally, generationally, or a third item I haven't thought about. Which is why I'm asking why his behavior is unsettling to you? I truly hope you respond, and if you want, I won't share your response.

Either way, let's discuss this further.

[fereldanwench]

Some thoughts on ~*playing an asshole*~ and other related topics:

I've seen a post cross my dash a couple of times saying playing a kind hero has been very welcome in today's current climate--This isn't meant to be a vagueblog at all, and I even considered replying directly to that post, but it seemed like it was a very personal reflection. I really don't want to come across as trying to contradict that experience because I don't think it's a wrong experience to have.

Especially since I actually remember having a similar response to Ryder and Andromeda back in 2017. It came out about a year and a half after my mother-in-law passed away, while I was working insane overtime hours, and a few months into Tr*mp's first term--I found the optimism in Andromeda and the routes I could take with my Ryder's personality to be exactly what I needed during a really rough time.

So I get it, I really do, and I don't think anyone is wrong for feeling validated by Veilguard's optimism.

But that post did make me realize some of the reasons I personally have had such a hard time connecting to any of the Rooks I've made: I really lost my sense of self and reverted in a lot of ways back to people-pleasing* over the past few years, and it's really only been the past year that I've felt like I'm coming out of that. Because of this, many of Rook's responses in dialogue, often regardless of tone (although "crossed arms" options mitigate this some), reminded me of how I am when I want to be on my very bestest behavior, even to my own detriment.

It's my work persona, the "customer service voice," trying to keep everyone happy and at their best regardless of my own needs because if I see anyone crack, that feels like a reflection on me and my failures. But I'm not really being genuine. This isn't to say that I want to be a full-blown asshole to anyone IRL--I rarely do unless they're being a raging asshole first. But this kindness is armor born of self-defense. It is not kindness for the sake of kindness.

(*Because I know this will get mentioned if I don't mention it: Yes, I did appreciate Harding's observations about her own people-pleasing tendencies, but this is about Rook, not Harding.)

I want to pick apart the whole "be an asshole" line, too (just in general, not directed at anyone specifically)--I do recall seeing folks use that expression to describe their own wants in the game, but I kiiinda feel like it's starting to be used in bad faith, as shorthand for anyone who just wants to play a character with more bite to them. Being assertive or stoic or stubborn or direct or confident doesn't inherently make someone an asshole. But even these aren't really character traits that Rook can really claim without a lot of headcanoning.

(And tbf, Veilguard isn't unique in this regard--I always found the dialogue options for the Inquisitor to pale in comparison to Hawke or the Warden. (And I know some people feel like Hawke pales in comparison to the Warden so you know. All of this is one big YMMV.) But I still felt like I could more organically craft a personality in Inquisitor than I can in Veilguard.)

I will also say, though, that I see absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to play "an asshole," and I also find it to be a bad-faith read to assume anyone who wants to be "edgier" in an RPG is harboring some secret desire to hard people in the real world. In 2018, after a lot of my grief and fear had shifted into anger, playing a ruthless Renegade FemShep was goddamn therapeutic for me. I had a lot of pent-up rage, and it was so cathartic to channel that into this no-nonsense woman who saw what needed to be done and would get it done no matter the cost in a completely safe fictional environment where no one actually gets hurt.

Anyway, there's more I could delve into on this topic, but I think I'll save some of my other thoughts for quieter spaces. I was having a hard time pinpointing what was keeping me from getting invested in my Rooks, and this was kind of an epiphany this morning so I wanted to brain dump.

[ya-what--ya-erster]

I’m taking the singular like on my prev post as a ye! So enjoy. And cry please

Tw for swearing, sort of talk of suicide but not really, and talk of sodas rodeo accident which I have dramaticified for the purpose of I wanted to. Read the tags.

…

Sitting in the truck on the way home, Ponyboy asks: “You’re real sad, ain’t you, Soda?”

And Soda, he smiles a broken smile and nods a little.

“Why’d I have to get hurt? Darry, why can’t I just ride?” His face slips from its half-smile.

“Life just happens sometimes.” Darry replies. And he should know.

“It’s what I dream ‘bout.” Soda says in an almost-whisper. “Every night, I dream about gettin’ hurt.”

“Thanks for tellin’ us.” Darry says.

“I usually wake up when that fucking horse steps on me. Then when I wake up my leg hurts. Or. Where it used to be. Feels like it’s there.” Soda’s crying so hard his head hurts now. “Stupid fucking leg.”

Darry thinks twice about correcting Soda for swearing. He supposes the situation calls for it.

“You need to find something you like doing.” Pony says. Darry his shoulder and shushes him.

“Nothing’ll ever feel as good.” Soda says.

“I don’t understand.” Pony insists. Darry tries to quiet him, but Soda tells him it’s fine. “I don’t get it why you get to be so sad. It’s been two years and everything. It’s not like you don’t have another choice for the rest of your life. All you’ve got to do is find somethin’ else.”

“Well, damn, Pony. If that’s how things work you oughtta get on with findin’ a new Johnny. I hear there’s a soc boy named Jack movin’ in. That’s close enough to Johnny, ain’t it-“

“Shut up!” Pony yells, hands over his ears.

“Soda!” Darry scolds at the same time.

“What?” He asks. “I’m only telling him the same he’s telling me-“

“It’s different and you know it. His best friend died.”

“I wish I would have!” Soda screams.

Darry slams on the breaks in the middle of the road.

“You say that again-“

“I wish I would have died.” Soda deadpans, staring Darry in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna stop your partners from comin’ over. Already told them it’s alright. But you ain’t going anywhere but work until further notice, cause I don’t think I can trust you out.”

“I ain’t gonna kill myself-“

“Until you find something else to try, you ain’t leavin’ the house aside from work. And after tonight you ain’t seeing Chet or Cherry until then either.”

“Dar-“

“Pony ain’t gonna talk for a week over this. Least you can do is take his damn advice, you hear?”

“Sorry, Darry.” Soda mumbles, tears threatening to break yet again.

[16-puppies]

Yes!! I absolutely understand what you’re saying and I agree pretty much. Like yes, it’s important to accept every nonhuman identity, and I don’t think the people who experience nonhumanity this way are necessarily “fakers” or “being nonhuman wrong” or are less serious about it than others, but also there seems to be an obvious difference between how these types of nonhumans experience the identity (as in more of a metaphorical, aesthetic, or symbolic way) vs how other nonhumans experience their identity. It also seems like these types of nonhumans make up a large portion of the community, so then you end up with this weird limbo where the therian community is both incredibly diverse and ridiculously homogeneous. Like, I remember making a post a few days ago about how there’s this sort of specific “dog therian aesthetic” that is super popular in the community, and it kindof leaves out the experiences of other people. It’s also interesting seeing this current clash in the community about how far away and distinct therians and other nonhumans are from being human in any way, and yet from what I’ve seen there is a lot more human influence on people’s identities than most of us realize.

Again, I don’t really want to say that nonhuman identities aren’t nonhuman if they’re created or influenced by emotions or if it’s identifying symbolically or metaphorically (even if the one identifying doesn’t realize it) because my dog theriotype very much still is/was influenced by emotions, specifically grief, but also… I still… researched? Like my dog theriotype is still one I was questioning before I experienced grief. I think one of the most confusing things about interacting with the therian community is going into it thinking that research of theriotypes and introspection was going to be a major focus for everyone over a year ago when I awakened and now im here and its… not really like that for a lot of people? And im not trying to be elitist about it and say like “oh you actually have to know 5 billion facts about your theriotype or you’re not valid, you have to know exactly which clade and genus your theriotype is from and if you cannot say their scientific name in perfect latin obviously that means you’re faking” because that would obviously be stupid but ALSO… if you’re supposedly a coyote therian, and all you’re basing it off is just “well I feel like this so I must be this”, how likely is it that you’re actually another small wild canine? Maybe you’re really a jackal, or a culpeo, or a short-eared dog, or a dingo, or a carolina dog, or some other canine no one’s ever heard of but because you didn’t care to research you’ll never know. How many therians have the wrong theriotype because of this?

I also feel like the community should be more accepting of temporary nonhuman identities… like, if you’re identifying as an animal because of emotions of feeling hurt, betrayed, angry, lonely, etc. and you heal from that, will the identity then disappear? We should at least be open to the possibility, because it’s not like identity is set in stone till the day we die. And there’s nothing wrong or bad or stupid with identifying as an animal because of these things, even if it’s seen as “out of the norm” for things like therianthropy. But like… I also understand what you mean by saying that these people don’t exactly understand what it means to be animal… so it makes me wonder, do we need a new term for this phenomenon, or would that be too much? Maybe just more encouragement to research and do actual self reflection?

LIKE… I WANT TO REITERATE THAT I GET IT. I really do get it. Sometimes I read things from a therian and I just shake my head like… is that really all you think it means to be an animal? And I’m so worried about talking about this in depth with most others in the community because I don’t want people to think I’m gatekeeping yknow?

I also think that some of the general negative ideas about humans and humanity that circulate in the community inadvertently discourage people from questioning their identity from time to time and realizing that they may be human or even partially human, or even discussion about partially human identities or metaphorical/symbolic identities like the ones described here. It’s another phenomenon that can be classified into what you described — following the masses and seeking community, even if that means misinterpreting a part of yourself. It’s like so many of us in the community are in a race to be “more nonhuman” than everyone else, and to denounce anything to do with humans and humanity even if that means denying a part of your nonhuman identity and how it intertwines with humanity. It’s not saying that we are all inherently human, but rather that it’s okay if your identity has ties to humanity or even if it’s fully human.

Conclusion i guess… I think there needs to be more focus on actually reflecting on your identity which is why I was drafting a post to “redefine” therianthropy to encourage this… as well as more awareness of therianthropy that is more than just psychological, spiritual, or physical. Like, overall I think it’s fine for people to metaphorically or symbolically be an animal and maybe having more awareness of this will help people understand and define their experiences more? Instead of all of us being lumped together when many of us experience therianthropy very differently? I don’t know… I really don’t know… I’m not sure it would be a good idea anyways because there’s already a lot of words that mean nearly the same things but just slightly different.. I feel like I see a coining post every week lol /lh .

(I hope this all makes sense and I hope I understood your points correctly lol, this is just mostly additional ramblings that I thought of in relation to all of this)

not take but I think nearly 90% of therian identities are at least somewhat subconsciously (or consciously) affected by emotional states and how the heart feels through the logical filter of the mind (like.. wanting unconditional love is clearly a canine thing, wanting respect and space is a feline thing, wanting to be feared and yet soft is like some big cat thing.. etc.. no? The stereotypes still are ever so present)

but idk man

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[edwinisms]

I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.

they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.